Chapter Text
---- Bella's POV ----
Time slips by Bella unnoticed these days. Since they left. They had become her closest family in the time she had with them. When they left, they took her reason to count each passing day.
Each moment has slipped past her in a haze of detachment and indifference. For the first two months, she could barely function. She lost all her friends, stopped going out, and lost so much weight, having gone off her food completely. It was only the threat of her father—Charlie institutionalizing her—that snapped her into at least pretending she was doing better. It got easier after a while. She started eating again, though she never had much of an appetite, and even made an effort to re-establish some of her friendships. But Charlie was no fool. He may not have been present in her life for the first seventeen years because of her mother forbidding him from seeing her, but he cared enough about her to see that despite the effort she was making, three months down the line, she still wasn’t doing well.
His suggestion that they move was admittedly unexpected but not entirely unwelcome. Forks held so many reminders of them, it was hard to breathe, let alone heal. Everywhere Bella turned, she’d see them there—in the school, her work, the forest, even in town. The places she once found comforting now felt suffocating, all tied to the ghosts of her memories with them. It was a constant, bitter reminder of all she had lost when they left. Of not being enough for them. For him. Edward had broken her heart when he left her. His family leaving too had destroyed any bit of self-worth she had left in her, and she didn’t know if she would ever get that back.
Denali was different. It was a new start—one that was as terrifying as it was liberating. She hadn’t realized until now just how much the presence of the Cullens had seeped into every corner of her life in Forks. Their absence had left an aching void that she didn’t know how to fill. But Denali? Denali was like a breath of fresh, cold air. The landscape was starkly beautiful in a way that felt less like a sharp reminder and more like an invitation. The towering evergreens stood like silent guardians, their branches heavy with snow. The air was crisp, clean, and utterly untainted by the past. In the heart of the small town, there was a peaceful quiet that felt untouched by the chaos of her former life.
The snow-covered streets were quiet and unhurried, the soft crunch of snow beneath her boots a pleasant contrast to the damp, muggy chill of Forks. Here, the world felt more open, more forgiving. The mountains rose up in the distance, vast and unmovable, yet somehow comforting in their immensity. It was a place she could lose herself, a place where she could breathe again. Here, there were no reminders of them—no lingering scent of a forest soaked with vampire history. No deep gold eyes watching her from the corners of her memories.
It made it easier to forget.
It made it easier to be herself again.
At least now, now that they’ve moved and have a chance at a fresh start, she’s been able to focus on healing, on getting better. It's become easier to breathe. She no longer feels as if she is fading from the world. She no longer feels as if she wishes she had died. Now, she has the will to fight. She has her father. She’s begun making friends, and she is even finding joy in the wintry feel of this little town. Denali, Alaska, is gorgeous, to put it simply. The snowy scenery everywhere is calming. The serene atmosphere soothing to her soul. The quiet of the mountains, the steady rhythm of the town—she could sink into it and forget the past, at least for a while.
And what makes it even better is Charlie seems to be feeling similarly. His eyes have begun to sparkle again in that fun-loving way they always did before. Before he almost lost his only child to heartbreak and rejection. Before they left her a shell of a girl in the middle of the woods on a rainy night three months ago.
He took up the job of Chief of Police here in town, and she was amused to see just how excited he was for what he described as "a complete change of pace, new challenges, and new colleagues." He came back from his first day with a buzz in his soul. As if the job had rekindled his passion for making a difference. A passion that had been lost in the dreary quiet of their small town of Forks.
Tonight would mark three weeks of him being in the job, and as a sort of welcome, his team had arranged a get-together for all the officers and their families to meet Charlie and, by extension, Bella as his only family. He had been excited about it from the moment his deputy had told him about it last week, and despite Bella's trepidation about meeting new people, she didn’t have the heart to tell him no. So here she is now, walking into his precinct to meet his team.
The room was crowded, and Bella could just make out the hum of background music over the din of voices. There was a sharp tang of coffee in the air, mingled with the scent of warm food, some of it unfamiliar, some too familiar. She swallowed a small lump in her throat. The chatter around her was like a background hum she barely registered, each conversation blending into the next until it all became a wall of noise.
Moving closer to Charlie, she linked her arm with his, taking strength from his steady presence. His scent—a mixture of fresh air and something distinctly comforting, like pine and leather—was a subtle anchor in the sea of unfamiliar faces.
"It’s alright, Bells. I’ve got you," he murmured, by now well-practiced in sensing and dealing with her anxiety in social situations.
"I’m alright," she whispered back, squeezing his arm gently in appreciation. If one good thing came out of them leaving, it would be the relationship she now had with her father. They had grown extremely close. He had cared for her at her worst and stood by her every step of the way during her recovery. It had been slow going, but they were getting through it. Denali had seen the biggest improvements for Bella, and she knew it made him proud that they could do father-daughter things like this, and she wasn’t about to let him down or worry him at his first-ever family event with his new team.
The first twenty minutes went fine. They were stopped repeatedly by different members of Charlie’s team and their families for introductions and well-wishes. The atmosphere was jovial, and the people were pleasant. Bella was just beginning to relax and believe that the rest of the night would follow the same pattern when it happened.
They had just broken away from one of Charlie’s assistants when a melodic voice called out to them.
"Chief Swan!!"
The blonde woman called kindly, her voice full of excitement, approaching quickly, and as her gaze met Bella's, she couldn’t for the life of her hide her reaction. She felt her blood run cold, her heart rate increase, and her breath caught in her throat as she spotted the unmistakable gold eyes of the woman. The fear Bella felt in that moment was palpable as she felt her feet freeze mid-stride, causing her father—who had started guiding them toward the woman—to be pulled abruptly to a halt with her.
"Bella, what is it?" Charlie asked, concern lacing his tone. Tearing her eyes away from the woman (who was so obviously a vampire) to look at her father, Bella saw the worry in his eyes, and she forced herself to take a breath and smile reassuringly at him.
"I’m fine, Dad. Promise, just a little overwhelmed. I’m going to go get some air. I’ll be back, don’t worry yourself." Bella replied, kissing his cheek quickly before turning and making a hasty exit.
Walking outside, Bella’s chest tightened, her stomach twisting with a familiar, painful churn. Her mind was suddenly flooded with memories—flashes of those same golden eyes that had taunted her relentlessly for months. Edward’s lazy smile, Alice’s obnoxiously loud laughter, Jasper’s probing gaze whenever he sensed something from her he wished to understand, Rosalie’s cold, dark stare always lingering in the background. Esme’s gentle, doting gaze as she flitted around the kitchen, Carlisle’s constant fatherly concern, and Emmett’s large, puppy-dog eyes that had made her feel so loved—all of them surged to the surface, each one a harrowing reminder of what she had lost. Of what had been torn from her. The walls she had so carefully built around her heart shattered with every painful flash of memory, leaving the agony they had left behind in their wake to pour through, drowning her all over again.
--- Irena Denali's POV ----
"Irina, you're the most patient. I'll end up scaring her. Kate would slip and reveal who we are." Tanya’s voice rang out with her usual unwavering clarity, layered with that quiet dominance only a true leader possessed. There was no room for misinterpretation. Tanya wasn’t suggesting—she was deciding.
Irina crossed her arms and exhaled sharply, annoyed. “You’re assuming she’ll even talk to me. Did you see the way she ran? She looked... terrified. That’s not someone who’s ready to be approached.”
“She didn’t look terrified when she was laughing with the other officers,” Kate chimed in, her tone clipped, all traces of her usual humour gone. “It was only after she looked at me that she reacted Irina. Maybe she saw my eyes.” Despite the serious note of their conversation, Irina couldn't help but roll her eyes at the slight petulance in Kate’s tone. Never before had a human run so fast, away from the vampire, before she had even half a chance of introducing herself.
Refocusing, Irina shook her head, frowning at her sisters theory. “That doesn’t explain the intensity of her reaction. It was more than fear Kate. She bolted like she was being hunted.”
Tanya, ever the calm centre of their trio, tilted her head slightly. “That’s what concerns me sister. We don’t know what caused it, we don't know this girl or what she knows. And we don’t get to guess. We assess. Quietly. Carefully. We cannot risk exposure of our secret." Tanya stepped closer still, her eyes softening. "Irina, she responded horribly to Kate. You’re our best chance at keeping her calm.”
“I don’t know if I can,” Irina muttered, her jaw tightening in protest. “She’s already on edge Tan. One wrong word and she’ll vanish.”
“She’s already vanishing, or is running out of the room as fast as she did not considered vanishing now?” Kate said, her voice softer now, a hint of teasing laced into her voice. “Something’s not right with her.” She added, more seriously.
Irina met her sister’s gaze and saw it there—concern, empathy, fear. “And what if I go and make it worse?”
“Then we try again,” Tanya said, stepping forward, her tone gentling but no less resolute. “But we don’t ignore her. We don’t turn away from someone who might know our secret Irina, or worse, someone who might need our help. Especially not you.”
Irina swallowed thickly. The ache in her chest had nothing to do with Tanya’s logic—it was something deeper, something older. She didn’t understand it yet. Not fully. But it clawed at her insides like a warning.
“Fine,” she muttered, her voice low and resigned. She turned on her heel and stalked off, the taste of obedience bitter in her mouth.
. . . .
She found the girl exactly where instinct said she would be—just around the far corner of the precinct building, cloaked in shadow. The scent hit Irina first: fear, salt, sweat, sorrow. Her heart—though long dormant—seized as if trying to beat for the first time in centuries.
The girl—Isabella Swan—was pacing, muttering to herself, hands twisting in her hair. Her skin was pale, the sickly sheen of tears coating her cheeks. Her frame was too thin, bordering on frail, as though the world had already taken too much from her.
Irina watched for a moment, unable to move. Something in her—something ancient and primal—snapped taut. Her breath caught in her throat, and the very world narrowed into sharp, precise focus. The girl’s voice was barely audible, a whisper of agony: “No, no, no,, not again. I can’t go through that again.” she chanted, over and over again and Irina couldn't help but take a careful step forward. Every cell in her body urging her closer to the distraught human girl.
Though - impossibly - as if sensing her movement, Bella looked up.
Tear filled golden-brown eyes met Irina’s. And in that instant, everything inside Irina shattered.
Time stopped. Her surroundings fell away. Sound dulled. Her senses were consumed by the girl—her mate.
The word detonated in her mind with the force of a thunderclap. Mate.
It hit her like a violent, all-consuming wave—pleasure, pain, instinct, and terror colliding in a kaleidoscope of sensation. Her limbs locked, her breath, breath she didn’t' need, came short and ragged. Unfamiliar heat rushed through her, coiling in her chest, her gut, her throat. Her fangs ached. Her skin buzzed and the urge to move, to touch, to claim was almost overwhelming.
But so was the fear.
Not hers—Isabella’s.
It rolled off the girl in sharp, jagged waves. Fear and grief and something else—something wounded, pouring from the girl as if she were seconds away from withering away into nothing.
Irina’s body rebelled. Her muscles trembling with the restraint it took to hold herself in check, every instinct screamed at her to reach out, to calm, to comfort. To fall to her knees if that’s what it took to ease the storm that was brewing in the brown eyed girl that had suddenly become Irina's reason for existence.
But her mind—her reason—fought back. She couldn’t risk scaring her further. Couldn’t risk pushing the girl to quickly. Not when every ounce of logic told her that her mate didn’t know who Irina was or what she was to Irina. She didn’t want to know. Not yet.
So instead she forced her voice out, soft, steady. Much calmer than she felt. “Hi. Isabella Swan, right?” she tried, hoping her attempt at conversation would at least give the girl pause.
Bella’s eyes widened in response, awe and confusion swimming in her expression. For a heartbeat, something shifted in the air between them. A flicker of something unspoken. Something uniquely theirs.
And then it vanished.
Fear reclaimed her mate, violent and immediate. Her entire body recoiling and Irina flinched, watching in horror as her mate visibly retreated further into herself.
She took a trembling step back, her hands raised slightly, palms out. “I’m not here to hurt you.” She vowed.
Bella’s gaze darted around, wounded and suspicious, looking for exits, for threats. For anything but Irina.
“I’m Irina,” she tried again, her voice barely above a whisper, desperate to have her mate look back at her. To see her. “Irina Denali. My sister Kate—she works with your father.”
Recognition registered on Bella’s face—and then something darker. Her face crumpled. A soft, broken sound slipped from her lips, before she was moving again.
She pushed past Irina, who let herself be moved aside. her mates movements were frantic, her breathing shallow and the vampire knew then that her chance for connection and clarity in that moment was vanishing alongside her fleeing mate.
Irina didn’t follow. She couldn’t. She was trembling, more so than she had ever done, vibrating with need and anguish and restraint. Her body screaming at the distance that was growing between her and the girl and her very being ached to give chase. Her instincts howled.
But her heart—the part of her that now belonged wholly and eternally to Isabella—knew better.
All she could do was watch as her mate fled, watch as she fumbled with something before she heard the unmistakeable sound of a number being dialled with shaking hands. Her eyes were wide, her heart aching and her soul screaming all the while.
Irina stood there, motionless, aching, her entire world walking away.
It wasn't until Bella disappeared around the corner, that Irina felt herself move once more, letting herself slump against the wall. One hand rosing to clutch her chest as though she could hold herself together.
As pitiful as it seemed, Irina wondered if this is what it felt like to die.
Her mate had run from her.
Her mate.
Every cell in her body rebelled against it. Her beast screamed for her to do something. To go after her. To protect what was theirs. But Irina—centuries old, always controlled, always careful—knew this wasn’t the time.
Tanya and Kate found her minutes later. She didn’t hear them approach, but she felt Tanya’s presence before she spoke.
“What happened?” Tanya asked gently. Worry etched into every syllable as both her sisters appeared by her side.
Irina didn’t look at her. “She’s my mate.” she said. Eyes distant, voice hollow.
A beat of silence.
Then Kate cursed under her breath. “well shit.”
“She’s terrified,” Irina said, her voice raw and cracking. “Of me. Of us. She ran from me. Ran like I was the thing that broke her.”
Tanya stepped forward and rested a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll fix it.”
“She shouldn’t be broken,” Irina hissed at her, her composure slipping. “She shouldn’t have to be fixed.”
“She’s still alive,” Tanya said, this time opting to pull her in close, ignoring her sisters outburst. “That’s where we start.”
Irina closed her eyes.
She didn’t know who had hurt her mate.
But she would find out.
And they would answer for it.