If you want to support or read some advanced chapters please follow me on: patreon.com/Jayjayempi
Nate nodded calmly at Jacob's vow. His voice—firm, leaving no room for objection—cut through the silence still hanging over the clearing.
"That's enough for me. We have nothing else to do here."
As if everything truly had ended with those words, he gently squeezed Alice's hand and turned to leave. Alice walked beside him without letting go, while the restrained murmurs between vampires and wolves seemed to fade with every step he took.
Vladimir, on the other hand, looked visibly displeased. It was like watching a hungry predator who had just had its prey snatched away. He clenched his teeth, frustration tightening his expression. He opened his mouth to speak—almost out of habit—but a single cold glance from Nate froze him in place. He lowered his gaze and moved reluctantly, following after Nate.
At least we still have the Children of the Moon… he thought, as if trying to console himself, though the idea did nothing to dull his frustration.
The newborns, seeing Nate and Vladimir withdraw, began stepping back as well. Slowly, they loosened the circle they had formed around the wolves, as though the tension keeping them rigid had suddenly evaporated. To the Quileute, watching that wall of pale bodies break apart felt like drawing breath after being underwater for far too long.
Only Jacob remained still, watching Nate's back as he walked away with Alice. Uneasy and with doubt pricking at his chest, he spoke aloud, almost without realizing it:
"So… you're leaving Forks?"
Nate seemed ready to continue walking without responding, but Alice stopped and looked at him over her shoulder. He understood the silent request, let out a faint sigh, and finally spoke in a flat, unembellished tone.
"That's right. I found someone who can track the vampire I'm hunting. But I need a sample of his scent. In our last fight, the one I had was ruined. I'll travel to his old den to get another… and then I'll catch him."
Jacob lowered his gaze slightly, thoughtful. The forest suddenly felt too big, too quiet. After a moment, he asked softly:
"Are you leaving… tonight?"
Nate nodded, emotionless.
Jacob pressed his lips together, still hesitant. Then he spoke clearly, like someone forcing himself to be reasonable.
"I have to tend to my pack that was injured… and calm the elders, who are probably nervous because we've been gone so long. If possible, wait until sunrise to leave."
He didn't wait for an answer. Before anyone could add anything, his body trembled and shifted; the great copper form of the Alpha wolf appeared in his place. With one last glance toward the vampires, Jacob ran into the forest.
The other wolves—exhausted and wounded—followed him like a single moving shadow. Even Jared, who had only just regained consciousness and still looked dazed, his leg limping, bolted after his pack with all the energy he could gather.
The forest swallowed them one by one until only the vampires remained under the cold moonlight.
Nate stared for a few seconds at the place where the wolves had disappeared. The silence that lingered afterward felt dense—almost strange—after the chaos of only moments before. The river's surface still rippled from the final echoes of the lupine stampede, and yet he remained motionless, as if trying to decipher something invisible in the distance.
He only emerged from his thoughts when he felt Alice's hand gently squeezing his. It was a small, delicate gesture, but enough to bring him back. She looked at him with wide eyes, filled with soft caution… and something deeper, more vulnerable.
"Do you think he wants to say goodbye? Or something like that?" she asked quietly, almost afraid of breaking the fragile calm around them.
Nate gave her a brief, gentle smile and lifted his free hand to brush a wet strand of hair from her forehead. The gesture was intimate, effortless, as though it came from a place untouched by any battle.
"I'm not sure," he admitted. "I don't think he said it just to say it… But from what I can tell, wolves can be just as volatile as newborns. Maybe he just got carried away by the moment."
Alice nodded, but her expression made it clear she wasn't entirely convinced. She lowered her gaze for a second, then lifted it again with a question already formed, almost desperate to escape.
"So… will we wait for him?"
Nate opened his mouth to respond, and the slight movement of his head made it obvious he was about to say no. It was the logical answer, the safe one—the one he'd repeated to himself even before the fight. But before he could finish the gesture, Alice spoke immediately, as if she had anticipated his refusal.
"I know you wanted to leave right away, but it would only be a few hours. I can pack what I need and say a proper goodbye to my family. After all… we might be gone for a long while."
The last words lingered between them—soft but heavy.
Nate hesitated. He had promised not to delay, not to risk losing the tracker's trail. But Alice was standing right in front of him… and turning away from what she asked felt almost impossible. She nearly always yielded to his decisions, adapted to his plans, accepted his pace and his risks. This time was different. This time it was something she needed.
And he couldn't deny her.
At last, he nodded, resigned, though a faint warmth softened his expression.
The newborns nearby watched the scene with a mix of disbelief and confusion. It was like seeing two versions of the same being: the lethal creature who had just subdued an entire pack… and this man smiling calmly beside Alice, leaning toward her as if she were the safest thing in a world full of violence.
For a moment, that contrast weakened their fear of him. For an instant, Nate seemed almost… human.
But the illusion lasted only until Nate glanced their way. His red eyes regained the icy hardness they knew so well. His voice sliced through the air with absolute authority.
"You heard him. Go back to Stefan and keep the tracker under control. We'll meet you at sunrise, and then we're leaving."
There was no need to repeat it.
The newborns reacted instantly. In seconds, several gusts of air crossed the forest as they all vanished at full speed. The severity in their leader's gaze dragged them back to reality: that was the Nate they knew—the unstoppable force of nature you couldn't challenge, avoid, or understand. Only obey.
In less than a heartbeat, silence returned.
And the only ones left by the river were Nate, Alice… and Vladimir.
The blond vampire had his brows furrowed—a gesture completely foreign to his usual mocking, poisonous smile. His eyes shifted between Nate and the direction the wolves had gone.
Vladimir hesitated for only an instant, but it was something he couldn't let go of, no matter the consequences. He took a step toward Nate, frowning with a mix of irritation and a genuine need to understand.
"Nathaniel… after all, I do need to know the real reason. Why did you let those wolves go? They could be incredibly useful. We still have time… if we kill the leader, I'm sure the rest will submit."
The sentence had barely left his mouth when Nate vanished from where he stood and appeared in front of him in the span of a blink. The difference in size between them was obvious, but that wasn't what froze Vladimir's muscles—it was the look.
Nate's red eyes cut through him like a cold blade. There was no rage, no explicit threat… only a calm so absolute it was more dangerous than any roar. A calm that warned there were boundaries he would not allow to be crossed.
Vladimir felt his body react before his mind did: a reflex as ancient as the instinct for survival. He lowered his gaze just a fraction—not enough to humiliate himself, but enough to acknowledge the invisible line Nate had just drawn.
And he understood immediately.
Nate wasn't going to tolerate another word about the wolves.
There would be no negotiation.
No insistence.
The subject was dead.
Though humiliation burned like venom, Vladimir remembered why he was still there—why he had accepted a deal that forced him, every now and then, to bite his tongue in front of someone far younger than him. Power. The future they were building together. A small price for something so vast.
Almost as if needing a reminder, he looked toward the forest where the Quileute had disappeared. He wondered, just for a moment, if he would have been capable of facing them the way Nate had—subduing them so effortlessly, neutralizing them without killing a single one, crushing their spirit with presence alone. That mix of brutality and perfect control…
The answer reached him instantly.
And to his surprise, it didn't anger him.
It made him smile.
A crooked, malicious smile—almost childish in its wickedness.
"Forget it…" he finally murmured, lifting his gaze with renewed interest. "I'm curious to see what else you've planned."
And before Nate could reply, Vladimir vanished in a rush of air, following the same direction the newborns had taken. His low laughter faded with the wind, lingering in the air like an unsettling omen.
......................................................
The walk back to the Cullen house felt shorter than it should have. The trees slipped past them like swift shadows as they advanced in silence, each of them processing everything that had just happened. Step by step, they discussed the story they would tell: simple, direct, and—most importantly—safe to repeat.
Jacob, as the new Alpha, had decided to reinstate the treaty. In exchange, he only asked that the Cullens ensure the protection of Forks, warning them whenever vampires from outside the territory entered the area and, if necessary, driving them away to keep the humans safe.
It was a functional excuse… though fragile. The Cullens couldn't stay in Forks for decades without raising human suspicion, and Nate knew it. But it was the best narrative to avoid mentioning the fight, the newborns, or any detail that could escalate tension. Besides, it maintained the public impression that Jacob had acted out of goodwill toward an old friend, not out of obligation.
When the clearing around the Cullen house appeared through the last line of trees, Nate stopped abruptly, sharpening his hearing out of sheer habit. He immediately caught the commotion inside the house—layered voices, tense and filled with anxiety. The loudest, as always, was Emmett's:
"We have to go after them right now!"
Several voices chimed in with the same urgency. Even Rosalie, usually more calculating, let tension bleed through her words.
The surprise came when Nate identified the voices trying to calm them: Carlisle… and Edward.
"We don't know yet what happened," Carlisle insisted. "If we intervene unnecessarily, we might make things worse."
"Give them a little more time," Edward added, his tone a blend of worry and forced reasoning, as if he were trying to convince the others as much as himself.
But the entire argument shattered in an instant.
The Cullens had undoubtedly heard their approaching footsteps. The moment they crossed the edge of the yard, the front door flew open, and Esme rushed out toward them.
The hug she gave them was immediate—tight, almost trembling. A mixture of relief, fear dissipating, and gratitude. The rest of the family followed close behind, each expressing their relief in their own way. Carlisle with a serene smile, Jasper with the tension easing from his shoulders, and Rosalie with a barely audible sigh. Emmett looked like he was restraining a tremendous urge to celebrate with a shout or a heavy clap on the back.
Edward was the only one who maintained a rigid posture, though his eyes betrayed the stress and the hours spent imagining fatal outcomes. He stepped forward—direct, straightforward.
"So… what happened?"
Nate gently pulled away from Esme's embrace and straightened his shoulders before answering. His voice came out calm, steady, and almost reassuring.
"Once again, the treaty has been reinstated. You can live here peacefully."
The effect was immediate.
The collective exhale that followed had nothing to do with breathing; it was emotional release, tension finally giving way, almost audible in the air. The atmosphere lightened around them, like a storm that had been hanging suspended for hours, finally dissipating.
For the first time in days, the Cullen house felt like what it truly was: a home.
No threats at the door.
No war on the horizon.
No constant shadow of conflict weighs on its walls.
A breath of peace—temporary, perhaps… but peace nonetheless.