Chapter 1: A meeting of Fates
Notes:
Act I - The Kindling
A spark in the silence. A choice in the dark. A love that sets the match.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
BPOV
I was holding onto Edward, my heart hammering in my chest, making my ears numb with its painful beats. We had been too late. So close and still—a second too late.
Jane was leading the way to the Volturi, the two guards that accompanied her flanking our sides.
I swallowed, and Edward's hold over my shoulders tightened ever so slightly in an attempt to comfort me, no doubt. I took a few shallow breaths, trying to slow my heart as we walked through the dark halls of the Volturi stronghold.
We entered an elevator—of all things to find in this ancient place. Edward's hold on me seemed to become more tense; a faint growl vibrated through him into me. I swallowed hard, anxiety rising even more.
"She is mine," he warned, looking at one of the guards. The taller one.
The guard chuckled. They locked eyes, and I understood that the Volturi vampire must have angered Edward with his thoughts.
"That's enough!" came the sharp, cold command from the child-faced vampire, Jane.
As the doors of the elevator opened, we entered what seemed to be a lobby, albeit with a medieval twist to it. A very normal-looking desk was near the exit, and a very normal-looking human secretary stood as we approached.
She bowed her head slightly in a respectful manner. "They are waiting for you, Miss Jane. They want to see the girl." She looked skeptically at me, and I couldn't help but note the hint of superiority she felt toward me. Something deep within me wanted to fight. But I was frozen. "Only the girl. The other… guests are to be taken to the south antechamber."
Edward grabbed me and pushed me against his chest. "She is not going anywhere without us," he whispered, his tone deadly. I closed my eyes, taking in the feel of his protective touch, reveling in the clear sound of his voice… that voice that had haunted me, made me hunt for its echo.
It was finally there, cruelly about to be taken away from me. Once more. I held tighter, but as quickly as he had grabbed me, Edward let go of me, falling to the floor, his body held in an invisible grasp, while a silent scream fought to escape his lips. His beautiful marble skin was cracking under whatever torture he was being put through.
Something snapped in me.
"STOP, please, make it stop!" I shouted, begging. "Please, please, make it stop!" I fell to my knees next to him, trying but failing to hold him as he convulsed through an indescribable pain. "Please, I'll go, I'll go, just make it stop, don't hurt him!" Tears were running down my cheeks, burning a path on my face, blurring my vision. I looked at Jane, who was clearly in charge. One of the guards was holding Alice in a lethal grip, and I repeated my prayer. "Please… Just don't hurt them. I will do anything."
After what felt like an eternity, Jane finally broke her focus on Edward and looked at me. Wiping at my face, gathering all the strength I had in me, I stood up, head held as high as I could manage in my shaken state. The other guard moved to grab Edward, and both he and the tall one dragged Alice and Edward away from us.
Alice had an air of defeated horror on her face as we briefly made eye contact, and I suspected she must have seen something happening to us all—probably something lethal. She seemed... broken.
"Come," commanded Jane. "The masters have waited long enough for you."
She turned her back on me as the massive doors behind us opened to reveal a cathedral-like throne room.
I followed. I would do anything they asked, but I was going to do my best to ensure the Cullens' safety. Every one of them. I would…
But what I hadn't expected was for my world to come crashing down so suddenly.
AroPOV
We had heard the little altercation behind the doors, of course, and something stirred in me… excitement, anticipation. This was such an unusual situation, and I felt eager to enter the play.
The human girl, Bella, had begged Jane to let go of my old friend Carlisle's first son, Edward. The intensity of her plea, the shakiness of her voice giving away to our well-trained ears that she was crying. Her emotions were so raw, so genuine… so pure. My lips curled into an anticipatory smile, and from the corner of my eye, I saw my brother Caius roll his eyes in the smallest of movements. A human would never have noticed. My eyes, however, would never miss a thing.
"Can't you simply deal with the sentencing?" my brother asked, a note of annoyance in his tone. "Must you always play with your food?"
I laughed. "Three thousand years of life at each other's sides, and yet you ask again?"
He smirked, again so faintly that only one from our race would notice. "Will you at least share this time?"
I chuckled and nodded. I would. Probably. "This seems to be a special one. Maybe Marcus, you would delight in joining us too, brother?" I raised an eyebrow, looking at my ever-so-still brother. If Caius' movements were minute, Marcus' were all but nonexistent.
Marcus sighed and turned his youthful face toward the doors that were now opening. If I had needed to breathe still, I would have been holding my breath.
BPOV
I walked in behind Jane, taking in the cold beauty of the marble room. Imposing columns, as high as those in the most impressive cathedrals I had seen, made me feel even smaller and more fragile than I already knew myself to be. I swallowed, feeling the hold of fear trying to suffocate me. My heart continued hammering against my chest. In between the columns, vampires with shining red eyes stood—too many for my panicked brain to count. Definitely more than ten. Maybe fifteen or twenty, I registered still. Everything in me screamed that I needed to run and my muscles tensed, adrenaline continuing to fuel me. I looked around for an escape before the rational part of my brain reminded me that I would be dead before even taking my first step.
Screw me and my stupid ideas. Running straight to the vampire lair, great idea, Bella. I told myself off as I continued moving forward.
I finished my inspection of the room and finally looked closer at the three vampires who sat on thrones, a few steps up on a platform. Royalty, Carlisle had told me. They certainly looked like it. If my heart could have broken my own ribs, now would have been the time. I whimpered internally. No sound seemed to be able to pass my lips anymore. Focus, Bella.
In the few seconds it had taken for me to gather my thoughts, two of the vampires had stood, and I heard several faint gasps echo in the enormous throne room. I looked around, expecting something was about to happen. Something that would probably be a very bad end for my short human self. I braced myself, wanting to close my eyes and forcing them to remain open. Alert.
Finally, my gaze focused back on the Vampire Kings—and that’s when my life ended. The thread of fate snapped around me as everything I thought I knew was redefined in a crashing moment of clarity.
Frozen, I held my breath.
Nothing else existed. Nothing else seemed to matter. I simply knew . My heart beat faster still, and I lost myself in crimson eyes that were full of life and promises.
I took a deep, sharp breath and slowly forced myself to breathe normally again, fighting to remain alert.
How to be brave? How to start moving again?
My world had shattered in a second, and my path was hurriedly rewriting itself in a breathtaking hurry.
How had I ever thought I knew love? I wanted to cry under the force of my feelings. My head felt light and I stumbled where I stood, afraid to fall.
The crimson eyes looked at me—too still to be real. They were telling me a story. A story of suffering that ran so deep it tore at my soul, shattering my heart as I fought to regain clarity, locked into his gaze. I wanted to… no, I needed to go to him. I had to hold him, comfort him, cherish him, and love him. But how can I love when I'm afraid to fall, when I don't even know who I am anymore?
But watching him stand alone? All of my doubt suddenly went away somehow.
I took a step.
One step closer.
As swiftly as the stillness had enveloped the room, it disappeared, exploding into a blur of colors, and I looked up into my vampire's eyes. His deep, crimson eyes, which were somehow alight behind a thin veil that gave them a burgundy hue rather than a deadly red.
And I was lost to them.
AroPOV
It all happened in an instant, barely the length of a human breath. But even without having to read any thoughts, I knew what had happened.
There, behind Jane, the human girl—Isabella—Edward’s forbidden love, had walked in with her head tentatively held high despite the clear fearful shaking we could all see running through her fragile body.
I could see the attraction. She would make an astonishingly beautiful vampire once turned.
What happened, though, took us all by surprise, and several of our present guards gasped in shock. I could forgive them, as in this moment they witnessed something so unnatural to their young eyes.
My brother was standing on my right. He had stood with such vampiric speed, a feat that no one had seen from him in over a millennium, and I, too, gasped slightly, barely maintaining my composure at such a sign of life.
My eyes took him in, his expression changing so fast that the girl would not have caught the shifts. But I did. We all did.
My gaze traveled toward the girl—and then I knew. It should have been impossible, and yet, this fragile human that so many vampires wanted to own had made the impossible happen.
I inhaled deeply, taking in her beautiful and soft scent. Her blood was… tantalizing. I had not lived for three millennia without learning to master my urges, however, and I chased away the thought, already beginning to analyze the possibilities…
This was going to be such a beautiful game to play.
MPOV
I had died every day for the past three thousand years, forbidden to truly end my existence by my base instincts and by the denial of clemency I had begged my brothers to bestow upon me during the first millennium of my unending torture. I had eventually given up, standing frozen in time, playing my role when needed, and altogether happy to leave my brothers to deal with the woes of our world. I had seldom taken part in battles or decisions, but somehow or other, I could not completely retreat into myself and invariably took part in the greatest moments for our kind.
But at that moment, I knew . Right now was the reason I had been held captive in an undying body—that my soul had been shrunk, piece by piece, until only an echo of it remained, waiting to be set alight once more. If only I had known...
I locked eyes with her , her soft brown eyes telling me more than words could. I could see the purity of her heart, her soul. I could read the care she could give, and the love that was overwhelming her beautiful spirit. I felt like moaning in pain under the assault of my feelings—feelings that had been foreign to me for three thousand years.
I could see her blood pumping life through her soft body, and a low, deep growl barely made it past my lips. Still, I knew that its meaning had not been lost on any of the vampires present. She was off limits. She was mine .
The young woman—Isabella. I remembered her name perfectly—took an awkward step forward. Before she had even put her foot down, I was standing in front of her, looking down into her beautiful chestnut-colored eyes. They had streaks of gold to them and a hint of forest green around her dilated irises. They were… eternity.
Suddenly, or maybe finally, her legs gave out, and I caught her before her knees even bent an inch. My hand cupped her face, bringing her gaze back to mine.
"Isabella," I whispered, her name a prayer on my immortal lips. "Do not fear, precious one." I reassured her as her gaze returned to mine. "No harm will come to you while you are here."
"Leave us," I heard my brother Caius' voice command behind me. Barely had he spoken before the throne room emptied. Within seconds, the guards had disappeared into the furthest recesses they could find—deep in the castle or the tunnels. When Caius ordered, one obeyed.
I was still lost in Isabella.
Time stood still.
She was… beauty. She was life. She was my life. From the dungeons, I heard the agonizing roar of despair from the young vampire who had claimed to love my Isabella. Foolish boy. I will not let anything take her away. What stood before me— every breath she took —had led our paths to this instant. The boy had merely been a tool of Fate, a way to bring us together.
I looked at the glorious light that surrounded her—a pure, ever-so-light green glow that enveloped her in an aura promising new beginnings and love in abundance. If I still had a beating heart, it would have been pounding in unison with hers. I caressed her cheek, letting my hand worship the gift that had appeared in front of me today. She remained silent, seemingly overtaken by the same whirlwind of emotions that had engulfed me. Her still-human brain was slower in understanding—and accepting—the meaning of this precious and unique instant.
"Brother, may I?" Aro’s voice broke the silence that surrounded us. He held out his hand toward me, ordering without words that I show him what I saw, what I felt, what I thought when Isabella entered my life.
I thought to deny him, to grab Isabella and run, but that would be in vain. I knew where I truly belonged, and against the base instinct that wanted me to keep both hands on Isabella, I offered one to my brother, who took it reverently.
I could not hold back a smile at his anticipation. Aro lived to be entertained. A fraction of a minute later, he let out a slow breath, his face telling me he was relishing the feelings and images he had experienced through my mind.
"This is… this line between you… is this...?" he asked, and I nodded in confirmation.
"Astonishing. Purely and truly astounding," he declared, a predatory smile spreading on his face. Yes, he was definitely plotting already. I sighed internally, already forming plans to keep his most extravagant ideas at bay.
"Would one of you care to enlighten me as to what happened?" Caius demanded, annoyance clear in his tone.
"Our brother has found his mate, Caius," Aro said, clasping his hands together in excitement. "A human mate in the form of the most lovely Isabella Swan." He laughed out loud at this declaration, and once again, I heard the tortured cries of the Cullen boy echoing from below us.
BPOV
Aro’s words seemed to call me back to reality, and I finally realized I was standing in front of my vampire, his unbending form giving me strength to stand despite the awe I had felt when I saw him for the first time.
And suddenly, it all made perfect sense. Every moment, every step, every hour had led to this. One step closer toward my… mate.
It all fell into place. I raised my hand toward his face, shaking in anticipation, longing to touch him, feel him. I needed to know he was real—that he was there.
My hand touched his soft, marble, almost translucent skin, and there were no words to express the feelings that shot through me.
"Hi," I whispered, somehow finding my voice and then immediately regretting my choice of words. Hi? Could I not come up with something more… meaningful? I berated myself. But this seemed to be exactly the right thing to say, as my vampire’s face broke into the most handsome smile I had ever seen in my very short life.
"Hi," he whispered back, his eyes full of promises as we held each other in the most perfect and natural embrace.
Notes:
A/N:
Thank you so much for reading! Queen of Flame is fully drafted (currently 35 chapters and ~85,000 words!) and is in the process of being edited and posted chapter by chapter.New chapters will go up every Sunday, with the occasional bonus mid-week update as I work toward making twice-weekly posts the regular rhythm.
I'm so excited to finally share this story—it's been years in the making, and I can't wait to walk it all the way to the end with you.
Feel free to leave a comment if you're enjoying the journey—it means the world and feeds my soul.
Chapter Text
MARCUS' POV
"I believe your human might faint," Caius said in his usual derisive tone, irritating me more than I cared to admit. Yet the fact that he had noticed spoke volumes. He cared, even if he refused to show it properly—and so I refrained from replying.
I forced myself to focus on Isabella as a whole instead of losing myself in the lull of her heartbeat or the depth of her gaze. She looked pale—more so than a human of her complexion should—and a flicker of anguish passed through me. She looked as though she’d been drained. I pushed the thought away, reminding myself she was likely just overwhelmed.
"Let's adjourn to the East Gardens," I decided, gathering Isabella gently into my arms. In a whisper of motion, we were gone, my brothers surely close to follow.
We entered the East Gardens, shaded by the castle as the sun dipped westward. Dappled light danced on the old stone paths, and I settled her onto a marble bench nestled within one of the alcoves. I knelt before her, my eyes scanning her face with increasing concern.
If anything, the daylight made her look even more ghostly.
"Isabella, precious, are you well?"
She didn’t answer immediately, her eyes unfocused. I reminded myself that humans could be slow—fragile. Still, I couldn't help but wonder what the Fates were playing at.
Finally, she spoke. "Bella, please call me Bella, I… I prefer it, if you don't mind." She shrugged, looking embarrassed.
I smiled softly and repeated my question.
"I am fine," she said with a nervous laugh. "Just a bit shocked with what just happened and… well, I am not a fan of speed." Her grin was half playful, and I chuckled in response.
"Apologies. I thought some fresh air might help you regain some color."
"The wind definitely woke me up," she replied with dry humor, and I marveled at how natural it felt to be in her company. "What happened?" she asked then, her voice uncertain.
My unbeating heart clenched. Did she not feel the shift? Could she not sense the invisible tether that had formed between us?
"Do you know of my power, precious?" I asked, needing time to consider how best to explain the truth without overwhelming her.
"You are Marcus, aren't you?"
I nodded, inwardly chiding myself for not introducing myself sooner.
"Carlisle explained that… you see relationships between people?" She sounded unsure, trying to recall the details.
"That is correct. For those I am close to, I can also see an aura—like a halo—that surrounds them," I explained. She studied me intently, her brow slightly furrowed. "Yours is the most beautiful shade of light green with streaks of white," I continued, watching as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing the tempting curve of her neck. "It took me centuries to learn what each variation means. And I have never been more certain of a meaning than I am now, Bella."
"What does it mean?"
"Can't you guess, precious one?"
She reddened slightly, glancing away. The return of color to her cheeks brought me immeasurable relief.
"Aro said that I am… that I am your mate?" The word came out as a whisper, laced with both awe and disbelief.
"Oh, beloved, you are that and so much more," I promised, gently taking her hands in mine to stop her from fidgeting. "As soon as I looked into your eyes, a part of me I thought long dead stirred again, awakened with such force that I can scarcely put it into words. Precious one, look at me." I waited for her gaze before continuing. "You are my mate, Isabella—Bella. Of this, I have not a single doubt. And from what I see in your aura, I have been blessed beyond all reason with the most generous and giving soul one could ever hope to find."
She blinked away a tear.
"I…" she hesitated, struggling for words. "I felt it too." Her voice was tentative, as though still trying to understand.
I helped her to her feet.
"It is a lot to take in. Do not worry—we have eternity to make sense of it." I tried to sound light, slipping her hand into the crook of my arm as I guided her deeper into the gardens.
BELLA'S POV
Eternity.
My heart fluttered at the word, warmth spreading through me at how right it sounded.
"Will you change me?" I asked without thinking. Out of the hundred questions I could’ve asked, that one seemed most pressing.
"I will," he replied without hesitation. I looked up at him, missing a step in surprise. "I am too selfish not to, and you seem too fragile to remain human for long," he added with a teasing glint in his eye.
"That's… hmm yeah, I am definitely that." I smiled as we walked in silence, soaking in the beauty of the gardens. Roses and wildflowers of every kind swayed gently in the breeze, and for the first time that day, I felt peace.
Earlier, I had been racing against time, desperate to save Edward from his own stupidity. I'd saved him—hurled myself into him to stop him from stepping into the light. Dramatic vampire, I chuckled inwardly.
The feelings I’d had in that moment had been overwhelming. But they were nothing compared to the way Marcus made me feel now. What I’d once believed was love for Edward… paled in comparison.
Now, I understood what it meant to feel a true bond. The kind of pull I’d seen in Sam and Emily, in the wolves who’d found their imprints—it made sense. It wasn’t forced. It was like putting on glasses for the first time and realizing the world had been blurry all along.
Edward had been my first love—a powerful crush that felt like the world at sixteen. Marcus, though… Marcus was everything. Marcus was love.
"What happened to Alice and Edward?" I asked suddenly, guilt crashing down on me for forgetting them even for a moment.
The panic must’ve shown, because Marcus squeezed my hand gently.
"They are merely kept in a guest room, awaiting their audience."
"Audience?"
"Edward, whatever his intentions, did plan to expose our race to humans. That is a punishable offense and will be discussed before my brothers, the senior Guard, and myself."
"Will… will you kill him?" Despite everything, I didn’t want that. I didn't want him—or Alice—hurt.
"Do you still hold feelings for him, precious?" Marcus’ tone held no accusation, just quiet curiosity.
"I…" I took a breath. "Not as I thought I did," I admitted. "Can you see my connection to them? Edward and Alice?"
He nodded.
"What does it tell you?"
"It tells me you care deeply. They are… family. The connection with the boy is weaker now. He is no longer a lover in your heart."
I snorted quietly at his choice of words. He raised an eyebrow. "Do I amuse you, beloved?"
"That was a very good description of how I feel, m… Marcus," I stumbled on the word, almost saying my love. How could something so new feel so old, so rooted? "And what do you see between us?"
His smile was soft and full of light, and my breath caught. I wanted to kiss that smile.
So I did.
I rose on my toes, brushing my lips against his. He responded instantly, catching me in his arms and deepening the kiss. Our lips moved together like a song, and I wanted more—so much more. I flicked my tongue against his lip and he parted them, allowing me in. His cool touch lit my skin on fire, igniting something I had no words for.
When we finally broke apart, eyes locked, breathless and dazed, he whispered:
"I believe this answers your question, beloved."
"It does…" I breathed. "It does."
MARCUS' POV
"My brothers are coming," I said just as Caius and Aro stepped into the corridor leading to the gardens. The old stone arches, wrapped in roses, made the place look like a forgotten abbey—a fitting backdrop for the ancient and beautiful beings who ruled this place.
Marcus returned my hand to his arm and smiled as his brothers approached.
"I see she is still awake," noted Caius, his voice laced with mock surprise.
"Caius…" I warned, already exasperated.
"What? I am simply noting that she looks better than she did minutes ago, Marcus." His smirk was shallow, irritating in its predictability. He wanted a reaction from me. He would not get it—not today. Not when I had been granted such a rare and precious gift.
Beside me, Bella stood with careful stillness, her heartbeat faster than before. I could feel her hesitation, like a small bird pausing before flight. Her gaze flicked from one ancient vampire to another, her eyes lingering on Caius with thinly veiled unease.
Aro, ever the smoother of tensions, stepped forward with his customary grin. “How are you, dear Isabella?”
Bella blinked, startled by suddenly being the center of our attention. “I’m… fine, thank you,” she replied softly, her voice trembling just slightly. She hesitated, likely unsure how to address him properly.
I stepped in gently. “Bella, let me formally introduce my brothers. This is Aro Volturi,” I gestured with calm authority, “and this is the one who regularly forgets his manners—Caius Volturi.”
Her polite smile didn’t go unnoticed, and the slight tick of Caius’s jaw told me I had scored that point. 2–1, my favor.
“You may call them by their first names,” I added with a smirk. “‘Mr. Volturi’ would be far too formal for family… and far too confusing.”
Bella gave a small nod, still tense, but I could feel her inching closer to me, as if instinctively drawn to my presence in the growing pressure of the room.
“Family?” Caius drawled, pouncing. “Avete già discusso i dettagli del vostro legame? Immagino che dovrà essere trasformata piuttosto presto.”
[Have you already discussed the details of your bonding? I imagine she’ll need to be turned rather soon.]
Bella flinched at the coldness in his tone. Her breath hitched.
My hand found her back again, tracing slow circles. “Do not meddle in what does not concern you, brother.”
He smirked, triumph flashing in his pale eyes. 2–2. Fine.
“It concerns me, Marcus. She’s human, and she knows of us. She has known for far too long. I’m merely stating the obvious.”
Bella’s body tensed further, her jaw setting, but she stayed silent. Brave little soul. “I was always going to change,” she declared with barely a tremor to her tone.
“Bella will be changed when the time is right,” I said evenly. “I will not pressure her into it. Nor will I deny her the chance to say goodbye.”
My hand on her back said what I could not out loud: I will protect you. Always.
Aro, thankfully, interjected. “Caius, basta così. Dovremmo festeggiare!”
[Caius, enough of this. We should be celebrating!]
He turned to Bella with his signature charm. “Dearest Isabella, congratulations on your bonding. It brings me great joy to see Marcus find companionship again… after the loss of our beloved Didyme.”
Bella turned to look at me, her eyes wide with quiet realization.
“You had a mate?” she asked softly, pain flickering behind her words.
“I did,” I said, my voice quieter now. “Didyme was my true mate—and Aro’s sister. She was taken from us long ago, before our power was truly solidified.”
The ache never dulled, not truly.
“I never thought… that I would feel the pull again. And yet, you—tu sei una benedizione, la mia preziosa Bella.”
[You are a blessing, my precious Bella.]
Without hesitation, Bella threw her arms around me, her embrace immediate and warm. She held on tightly, grounding me.
I held her just as fiercely, burying my face into the curve of her neck. My Bella.
Caius cleared his throat—deliberately. Bella stepped back with flushed cheeks, but she did not lower her head. She slipped her hand into mine, her chin tilting slightly as if realizing something new inside herself.
“Sorry,” she murmured, tucking her hair behind her ear. “It’s just… I can’t imagine how long you were alone. I’m sorry you had to carry that for so long.”
Her sincerity broke something open inside me.
“Do not apologize for a pure heart, Bella,” I said, brushing her knuckles with my thumb.
Aro nodded. “Così pura.”
[So pure.] “Marcus, it seems Fate was merely delayed—not cruel. You’ve been given someone rare indeed.”
He turned to her once more. “Now, my dear, may I learn what brought you here today? We are to receive the Cullens shortly. May I?”
I tensed, knowing what he meant. Bella looked to me, uncertain.
I gave a small nod. You are safe.
She hesitated for another few seconds, then placed her palm in Aro’s outstretched hand.
He clasped it, eyes closing as he delved. It lasted mere seconds—too short—and then he gasped softly.
“Affascinante. Assolutamente affascinante.”
[Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating.]
I growled low in my throat. Aro met my eyes with a placating smile.
“I see… nothing,” he said, astonished. “She is completely closed to me. Even now, as a human. Remarkable.”
“Farà parte della collezione di nostro fratello, prima o poi,” Caius muttered in Italian.
[She’ll be part of our brother’s collection, sooner or later.]
Bella’s brow furrowed. “Cosa intende con collezione?”
[What does he mean by collection?] she asked in a lightly accented Italian.
Caius blinked. Aro let out a delighted laugh.
“You speak Italian, mia cara?”
[My dear?]
“Un po’.”
[A little.] “My grandmother spoke it when I was little,” she replied, switching back to English.
“Delightful. I imagine it will come in handy when you rejoin us this summer. But—” he turned serious again “—we must speak practically. You will require an escort. We cannot risk your safety.”
I nodded, reluctantly. Bella mirrored me.
“So, Isabella,” Aro continued, his voice curious. “What did you mean when you said you would have been changed?”
She exhaled. “I always wanted to be changed… it was about the timing. I had just moved in with my dad. Disappearing right away would’ve broken him. Graduation seemed right—I’d be 18, legally an adult and expected to move on to university or something.”
“Quando sarebbe?” Caius pressed, unimpressed.
[When would that be?]
“Three or four months. July.”
He sighed, dramatically.
“A few months are nothing to us,” Aro declared. “If you still wish for the change then, it shall be arranged.”
“Bella?” I prompted gently.
She stood tall despite the swirling emotions I could sense from her. “Four months. But I want to go home first. I need to.”
“We will go,” I affirmed.
“Andrai?” Caius scoffed. “Insieme a lei?”
[You’ll go? With her?]
“Yes,” I said, barely repressing my exasperation. “She is my mate. I will not abandon her now. Besides, graduation is a human rite of passage. She deserves that, and I want to be a part of it.”
“Hai dimenticato perché Dora e Sulpicia vivono nella torre?” Caius hissed.
[Have you forgotten why Dora and Sulpicia live in the tower?]
“In una torre?” Bella asked again in Italian. I felt proud of her standing up and reminding my brother that he was not so clever, sticking with Italian in an attempt at excluding her.
Aro let out another delighted laugh.
“Back to the matter at hand—Cullen’s suicidal bid for exposure.”
Bella grew quiet. “He left to protect me. Thought I’d be safe if he was gone. But Alice had a vision… they thought I’d died when I was just being reckless.”
Her cheeks darkened. I made a mental note to ask later what that entailed.
“He called you his mate,” Aro said. “But it is clear he was mistaken.”
“Maybe. But… I was his first love,” she whispered.
There was sadness there, honest and human.
“Thank you for sharing so openly, Isabella,” Aro said, his tone respectful now. “Felix! Porta i Cullen nella sala del trono. Heidi, vai alla sala da ballo con la… consegna.”
[Felix! Bring the Cullens to the throne room. Heidi, go to the ballroom with the… delivery.]
He never stopped looking at my Bella as he talked. My arm slid around her waist, protective. Mine.
Notes:
I hope you enjoy this mid-week treat! Thank you all so much for the incredible support, love, follows, and the kind reviews you've been leaving. They fuel this story and keep me smiling. You can also find me on IG under my author name, I am thinking to share previews / quotes while editing there, probably visuals of how I imagine certain elements of the story too.
What did you think of Bella standing up to Caius? And that kiss? Do you think she's ready to face Edward again—this time with Marcus at her side? Let me know in the comments!
Until next time, miei cari lettori. ️
Chapter Text
Bella's POV
We walked back at a human pace to the throne room, and I took the chance to admire the ancient beauty surrounding us, the cool stone corridors a welcome contrast to the slightly-too-warm evening air.
My fingers were laced with Marcus', and somehow, walking that way felt natural—comforting. I missed his arm around my waist almost immediately, and now that the initial overwhelming haze of the mating bond had eased ever so slightly, my thoughts began to slow. Everything felt like a dream—vivid and achingly believable. And yet, I knew I was awake. At least, I hoped I was. If this illusion were to shatter now, I didn’t think I’d survive it.
This time, we entered through the back, through a door that was intricately carved—five times smaller than the grand gates, but no less imposing in appearance.
Marcus guided us to his throne, to the right of Aro’s. We didn’t sit, instead remaining standing like his brothers. A few guards had returned, fewer than ten, all dressed in dark grey or black cloaks. Many of them stared openly at me. I ignored the attention as best I could, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear and fixing my gaze on the grand doors, expecting Alice and Edward to enter through them.
Still, I couldn't help the sensation that crept along my spine— like being watched by shadows with memories older than stone. It wasn’t just their stares. It was something more. Something I didn’t yet understand.
At last, the tall guard—Felix, I now knew—pushed open the doors and walked in with regal purpose, followed closely by the Cullens. Alice and I locked eyes immediately, and the sad, resigned smile she offered tugged painfully at my heart.
Edward looked strained. Anger clung to him like a second skin, visible in the tight set of his jaw as he glanced upward toward the brothers, no doubt reading their thoughts.
Aro stepped forward. I couldn’t see his expression from where we stood, but his tone practically radiated glee.
"Dearest Alice, Edward, welcome back! I hope your rooms were to your liking?” He didn’t wait for a response. "You are here because one of you plotted—and nearly succeeded—in exposing our kind to the humans of Volterra. Given today's technology, news would have spread beyond our beloved city's walls before we could intervene. We understand grief, Edward, and had already offered you a generous alternative to your suffering. Still, you chose to betray your kind. How do you plead?”
Edward stared at Aro, his face cold. “Guilty. I am ready to pay the price. I only ask that my sister and Bella be spared.”
A faint gasp escaped me. His intentions were clear. He still wanted to die. My throat tightened, bile rising, and my breaths turned shallow.
"Adesso, adesso," Aro said in a tone more suited for calming a child mid-tantrum than addressing a condemned man. [Now, now.]
Patronizing much? I thought. But then again, he was over three thousand years old. Suddenly, the age gap between Edward and me felt laughable. And irrelevant.
"We have discussed your situation,” Caius said, stepping in, voice colder than stone. "And there will be a price.”
I shivered at his tone, and Marcus’ hand began tracing slow, comforting circles against my back again.
"Tuttavia!" Aro raised a finger dramatically. [However!] "There are extenuating circumstances... Isabella, our savior, prevented your foolish act. Therefore, you will be granted a week to reflect. Your sentence is to match the life you wanted to sacrifice: a hundred years: either in a cell, in isolation, or as a willing member of our esteemed Guard.” He gestured toward the assembled vampires who looked at him and Alice with a wide variety of emotions.
I did not know what to think. I did not even know how to comprehend Edward’s sentence. A hundred years seemed forever to me with my human eyes. But as I looked up toward Marcus’ reassuring gaze, I thought I started to appreciate that this was indeed maybe a clemency in this instance.
"Pensa bene, ragazzo," Caius sneered. [Think carefully, boy.] "The dietary requirements of our prisons may not suit your family’s… peculiarities. "Vedremo quanto durerai." [We’ll see how long you last.]
Edward's posture sagged. He looked utterly defeated. I wanted to speak, to argue, but a warning shake of the head from Alice held me in place.
They… Edward wouldn’t drink human blood again, would he? The thought made me ill.
And the alternative? Serving in the Guard? That would mean living in Volterra… seeing me every day… with Marcus.
Edward looked at each of the Kings, his gaze lingering longest on Marcus and me. Then he bowed his head. “Thank you. I will think carefully.”
He turned and walked away, Felix behind him.
I exhaled slowly, only now realizing I’d been holding my breath since Edward looked at us.
Alice remained, standing alone in the cavernous chamber where my life had changed forever just hours ago.
"You are welcome to stay with us while your brother reflects on his decision, dear Alice," Aro said. "You too may join us, should you wish to stay by his side… and Isabella’s.”
“I will think on it, Master Aro,” she replied politely, her use of the title clearly pleasing him.
"Mi domando… cosa vedi con quella mente preziosa?" Aro said, stepping forward in a blur. [I wonder… what do you see in that precious mind of yours?] “Sei pronta, cara?”
[Are you ready, dear?]
She offered her hand, and he took it eagerly.
I held my breath. Again.
Alice’s eyes closed. Her expression shifted rapidly—too quickly for me to name any emotion before it vanished.
“ Breathe, beloved, ” Marcus’ voice murmured by my ear with a soft chuckle, breaking me out of my spiraling thoughts.
“I can’t,” I whispered. “Why is it taking so long?”
“I believe your Alice has one of the most fascinating minds he has ever encountered. He’s usually finished in half the time.”
“Great.” I laughed nervously, trying not to think about the memories she might be sharing. Some conversations I’d rather keep buried…
"Oh! Che meraviglia! Che mente affascinante hai, dolce Alice!" Aro finally exclaimed. [Oh! How marvelous! What a fascinating mind you have, sweet Alice!] "I thank you for showing me its wonders. You will return to us soon, of course.” His smile was full of triumph.
Alice inclined her head respectfully, and Aro laughed, satisfied.
Just like that, the room seemed to exhale. Guards moved in hushed murmurs. Caius and Aro returned to their thrones—but Alice remained rooted in place, her eyes locked on mine.
"Come, dearest," Marcus said gently. "Let us find somewhere quiet so you may speak with your sister."
In a blink, Alice was beside me, wrapping her arms around me so tightly I nearly stumbled. I clung back, the world blurring into the velvet of her shoulder.
"Alice," I whispered, my throat burning. "I missed you."
"Shh. It’s okay now. Everything’s going to be okay." She rocked me gently, a whisper of comfort. "Oh, Bella, sweetheart…"
Without a word, she slipped her arm around my shoulders, keeping me close as we followed Marcus through the quiet corridors of the Volturi palace.
"Alice, I can walk," I murmured half-heartedly.
"I beg to differ." Her smirk was fleeting but real, and the laugh that followed—it was light, wind-chime soft, and for the first time in days, I breathed.
Marcus came to a stop before a pair of intricately carved doors and pushed them open. Inside, firelight flickered over old stone, the scent of moss and woodsmoke wrapping around us like a memory. He crossed the room and opened the shutters. Golden light spilled across the floor, gilding everything it touched.
"Sit," he said quietly, motioning to the cushions near the hearth.
I sank into them, pulling Alice down beside me. Marcus settled behind me, arms wrapping around my waist in quiet reassurance.
Alice stared into the fire for a moment, then turned to me.
"Bella, I didn’t see it. I didn’t see him ."
"You didn’t see this coming—me and Marcus," I said softly.
She shook her head, her voice fragile. "No. And if I had... I think I would’ve changed something. Maybe I shouldn’t have seen it. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to. But it doesn’t matter anymore." She turned to face me fully. "I need you to know—I will never leave you again. Not like before. I’m so sorry."
I reached for her hand, fingers curling tight. "It’s okay," I whispered. You’re here now. That’s what matters.
Her voice turned fierce. "Even if the future goes dark—even if the path makes no sense—I’ll be there. That’s not a vision. It’s a promise."
I nodded slowly. "Okay. Good."
We stayed that way for a moment before Alice spoke again.
"So… are you going back to Forks?"
Marcus responded, his voice calm and assured. "Bella wishes to complete her education. This will give her time to say goodbye to those who must never know."
"And the story?"
"A scholarship to a university in Athens," Marcus said. "But she never arrives. An accident—final, tragic. That is what they will believe."
"It’ll work." Alice’s brow furrowed. "But… you’ll go with her, won’t you?"
"To be apart would be like trying to reject the bond," Marcus said without hesitation.
Alice shuddered. "Excruciating," she whispered.
"I’ll call Carlisle tonight," she said, rising to her feet. "See what he thinks."
She bent and gently squeezed my shoulder. "I want to stay longer, but I think you’re overdue for rest. I’ll come back in the morning—if that’s okay?"
The question was for both of us.
"Go see your brother," Marcus said, soft but commanding. "He’ll need you to help him see reason. And come back soon. My mate needs her sister beside her."
The way Alice’s face lit up at his words—pure, quiet joy—was enough to melt something tight in my chest.
"Good night, Master Marcus. Bella."
And just like that—she was gone.
Marcus' POV
As the doors closed behind Alice, I felt Bella’s body tense.
"Are you alright, beloved?" I asked softly.
"You… you called her my sister," she said, shifting in my lap.
She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear again, and I reached for her hand, pressing a tender kiss against her knuckles. Her heart stuttered slightly at the gesture, and the sound of it made something ancient and possessive stir in me.
"It is what you are to each other," I said. "Just as I call Aro and Caius my brothers. It is not blood that binds us, but something deeper. Alice is bound to you by love, by history, by shared pain. She is your sister in every way that matters."
A soft smile curved her lips, and I felt her relax, drawing comfort from the words.
After a moment, I asked gently, "You mentioned that they left you. Will you tell me what happened?"
She went still, but after a pause, she began to speak. Her back was still pressed to my chest, and her eyes were distant, fixed on the dancing flames as she recounted the pain she’d endured.
I didn’t interrupt. I let the silence stretch between us, let her voice rise and fall like waves over a stormy sea. And inside me, fury brewed.
The boy—that boy—had wounded her in a way that was utterly inexcusable. She had been drifting, barely surviving. He had shattered her.
The century of punishment I had thought to lessen suddenly felt… far too lenient.
In my mind, I imagined a thousand ways to make him suffer—every breath a torment, every moment a reckoning for what he had done. I knew he would hear my thoughts if he looked for them. I hoped he did. Let him tremble.
"This is why he was never your mate," I whispered when her story ended. "He left you when you were most vulnerable. He gave you a family and then tore it away. No true mate would ever survive inflicting that kind of pain on the other half of their soul."
I turned her toward me and gently brushed away the tears that had slipped down her cheeks.
"You will leave your human life behind," I told her. "But you will never be alone. Not now. We will protect your loved ones. Watch over them from afar. Their happiness will be safeguarded—for your peace, and for their own."
She didn’t respond with words. Her exhaustion had caught up to her, and I gathered her into my arms. She nestled into me, safe, warm. A moment later, she whispered:
"Thank you."
We held onto each other, a comfortable silence between us as I felt the tension slowly release in her warm and soft body and then, finally, she slept.
I held her for hours, content to simply exist with her in that perfect, quiet moment. But eventually, I knew I had to go. With great reluctance, I laid her gently on one of the sofas and whispered:
"Dormi, amore mio. Nessuno ti farà del male." [Sleep, my love. No one will hurt you.]
I stood for a moment longer, watching the flickering firelight dance over her peaceful features— a flame that didn’t burn, soft and powerful.
Then I slipped into the corridors, seeking my brothers.
Notes:
Look, I am back again :) Thanks to the Easter holidays 🐣
To everyone reading, following, reviewing, and sharing love—thank you.
Your support, whether it’s a kudos, a comment, or just returning for the next chapter, keeps me smiling and writing. Truly. ❤️✨ Let’s talk: how do you feel about Edward’s sentence—justice or mercy? I’d love to know.
📸 Find me on IG under my author name, ada.mcrose for sneak peeks, visuals of the story’s world, and quote previews while I edit!
Until next time, mes chers lecteurs.
🔥 – Ada
Chapter Text
Marcus' POV
The corridors of Volterra were quiet at this hour, the deep stillness broken only by the distant hum of ancient stone settling and the faintest whispers of voices from rooms far below. I walked with purpose, my thoughts centered around Bella, always Bella—even as I prepared to confront my brothers.
When I reached Aro’s office, I paused only a second before entering. His voice filtered through the thick, supposedly soundproofed doors—though, of course, it was no match for our kind.
"Ascertain that your pet friends understand that if they even sniff their way, it will mean not only their end but their whole tribe's as well, Carlisle," Aro was saying, his tone crisp and commanding.
I raised a curious eyebrow, to which my brother lifted a finger, indicating I should wait.
I walked silently toward him, standing by the fire until the conversation ended.
"I understand, Aro. It will be as you requested," Carlisle’s voice replied evenly.
"This is not a request, Carlisle. We have conceded much because of our affection for you, but this is non-negotiable. If they stray even once, Caius will be the one to answer—and you know how… thorough he is when enforcing justice."
"You have my word. Bella is family to us. And Marcus, now that he is her mate… all the more so. We will protect her with everything we have. You know this."
Aro was quiet for a breath, then nodded. "Very well. Felix will accompany them. With him, you are a guard of seven—a symbol as much as a strength. It should be enough."
"It is more than enough. Thank you, Aro."
"You may speak to your son when he chooses to repent. A week, perhaps. Or longer."
"Understood."
Their conversation concluded with quiet goodbyes, and Aro placed the receiver back in its cradle with a click.
"I did not expect you without your mate so soon."
"She needed rest."
He turned then, arching an amused brow. "Ah yes. Humans." His smile curved, teasing.
"Indeed. She is… more fragile than I’d like, but strong where it counts." I moved further into the room. "I wanted to thank you. For your care in the arrangements."
"You do not need to thank me, brother." Aro’s tone softened, his expression briefly shedding its usual veneer. "She has brought something back to you that we feared long lost. Your presence today—your calm, your light—we haven’t seen that in centuries. I do not know if you realize how profoundly she has changed you already."
"I do," I said quietly, placing a hand over his briefly in gratitude.
He flinched—just barely—as he caught a glimpse of the depth of my thoughts.
The sorrow in his face mirrored my own. "I mourned Didyme for centuries… and I still do. But seeing you now, whole again, is one of the only things that eases the ache."
That admission, from Aro, was more than most would ever receive. It humbled me.
"Did you finalize the preparations?"
Aro nodded. "Seleucia and Tyron will take residence in Seattle, discreetly embedded in the human world. Louis has been recalled from Louisiana—he will remain in Washington for the length of your stay. All three report to you first, and Carlisle second. Felix will accompany you to Forks directly, remaining within the Cullen household to better ensure your and Bella’s safety. You’ll hunt as needed, but away from the territory."
It was all precise, well-considered—as I expected. Aro was many things, but careless? Never.
"Thank you," I said again, and this time, the words felt too small.
"Protect her well. And let her see the real you—the one we knew before time carved away at you."
I offered a genuine smile. "I intend to."
As I turned to leave, Aro called softly after me. "Savour her, brother."
I didn’t need to look back to know the multiple meanings behind the words. I only laughed quietly and vanished into the corridor.
Bella's POV
I woke in the velvet stillness of dawn, cocooned in warmth that didn’t feel like mine. My senses reached out before my mind caught up—the scent of marble and sun-drenched parchment, the arms that held me so carefully, so reverently.
Marcus.
I barely moved, not wanting to disturb him even though I knew he could not be asleep. There was a softness to the way he held me that made me feel like the most precious thing in existence.
And yet…
A thread of guilt tugged at me. Edward. My past.
I had meant every word I said to Alice. I understood why they left. But that didn’t make the ache vanish. Still, the grief now lived in the shadow of something new—something stronger. Love. Real, soul-defining, irrefutable love.
"You’re thinking too loudly," Marcus murmured against my temple.
I turned in his arms to face him. "Sorry."
"Don’t be. I wish to know every thought that crosses your mind—no matter how painful."
I traced my fingers over the lines of his jaw, still unable to believe he was real. "You’re going to hear a lot of nonsense then."
He smiled—really smiled, and my breath caught. "If it's yours, it will never be nonsense."
I pressed my forehead against his. “I’m scared,” I whispered.
“Of what?”
“Everything. Of how fast this has all changed. Of what’s coming. Of leaving Charlie. Of what being with you will mean for… the rest of my life.”
He pulled me tighter. “I will not ask you to rush. We have time, as much as you need. You are mine, but I am yours first. I will follow your pace, Isabella.”
The way he said my name—full, formal, ancient—sent shivers down my spine.
“And… Alice?” I asked. “Do you think she’ll be okay with all of this? With… me being here? With you?”
“I believe she has already accepted it. The bond you two share—it is strong. She will fight for you, even when others do not.”
I nodded slowly. “I want to talk to Edward. When he’s… allowed to talk.”
That earned a faint frown. “If that is what you wish.”
“I just need… closure,” I admitted. “Not because I want him back, but because I want to end it properly. I want to be free.”
“You already are,” Marcus said. “But I will give you every moment you ask for. You deserve to choose your path, Bella.”
I reached for his hand and laced our fingers. “I already chose, Marcus. I just need to say it out loud.”
He brought our joined hands to his lips and kissed the back of mine, eyes glowing faintly in the dawn light. “Then we will return to Forks. Say your farewells. Finish your education. And once you are ready—truly ready—you will walk into forever, and I will walk beside you. But for now, sleep, I can sense your weariness still.”
I nodded and indeed felt myself drifting into sleep once more.
I woke again, this time to the sun shining brightly and still feeling that peculiar mix of exhaustion and peace, like my soul had finally exhaled. The soft crackle of the fireplace filled the silence, accompanied by the faint scent of smoke and something floral—lavender maybe. Not home, I realized, though the warmth wrapping around me felt like a gentle echo of it.
No, I was in Volterra. In his quarters.
My heartbeat fluttered, not from fear, but from the weight of everything that had happened. The rush to Italy. Leaving Jacob. The cryptic note I’d left Charlie, barely enough to explain anything.
Charlie… oh my god, he was going to kill me.
I chuckled under my breath, imagining his face. Grounded until I turned a hundred, easy. But then my stomach twisted painfully, the reality sinking in. Four months. That’s all I had left with him… and Mom. Four human months before my life diverged permanently.
The ache was sharp, brutal. I rubbed my arms, grounding myself.
I swung my legs off the edge of the bed I had somehow ended up in, and padded to the open porte-finestre that led onto the wide balcony. A cool breeze kissed my skin as I stepped outside. Below, Volterra was bursting with life, the city glowing, merging into endless fields and hills beneath a warm, watchful sun.
I let my thoughts wander, clinging to details—the color of the rooftops, the curves of alleyways—to stop myself from spiraling. Charlie and Renée had their lives. They loved me, of course they did, but I'd always been the steady one. The careful one. Now I had to be brave enough not to drag them into this world. A world of marble skin and ancient power.
They couldn't know. They couldn’t follow me here.
A soft footfall behind me made my breath catch. I didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
“Amore mio,” Marcus said softly, stepping beside me. “Non riuscivi a dormire?”
[My love… you couldn’t sleep?]
I chuckled lightly. “I have slept more than normal,” I informed him, leaning into his open side.
“The last day has been... intense,” he said with a wry smile.
“Just a bit,” I laughed quietly. “I ran out on my best friend, flew halfway across the world, faced death, and found my soulmate.”
“Il destino è veloce.” [Fate moves fast.]
I looked at him then, unable to keep the fondness from my face. A wave of self-consciousness suddenly came over me. “Do you have a bathroom?”
His brow furrowed slightly before understanding dawned. “Ah, of course. Scusami, amore. Through that door—towels and soap are there. I will have clothes brought to you.” [Forgive me, my love.]
I opened my mouth to protest but… yeah, I really needed a change. “Actually… that would be amazing. Thank you.”
He touched my cheek with reverent fingers. “You never have to thank me, Isabella. You are mia anima.” [My soul.]
And just like that, he was gone again, soundless as ever.
Get a grip, I scolded myself, cheeks flushed. Shower first, swooning later.
The bathroom was beautiful in a very old-world way—ornate tile, deep marble sink, and shelves stacked with fluffy towels. The shower was bliss, steam chasing away the tension clinging to my body. The soap was lavender and sandalwood, soothing and faintly masculine, and I wondered absently if it was his. Then I felt silly. Of course the soap was his. I was in his quarters.
As promised, fresh clothes were waiting when I emerged. My old ones had vanished—probably incinerated, honestly—and in their place was a perfectly folded outfit: dark jeans that somehow fit like a dream and a white T-shirt that felt like it cost more than my entire wardrobe.
I pulled it on, smoothing the sleeves down. They stopped short of my wrists and I felt uncomfortable for a second as I tried to pull them lower. Fidgeting denied. I wondered if that was purposeful. Never mind.
Still towel-drying my hair, I wandered back out into the main room. Marcus was at a desk, elegant fingers writing something in a language I couldn’t recognize despite a strange sense of familiarity—Latin, maybe? He looked up and smiled, his whole face coming alight when he saw me.
“Vieni qua, beloved,” he said, pulling out the same chair I'd napped on earlier. [Come here, beloved.]
I curled into it gratefully, noticing a white throw draped over the back now. He was trying to make me comfortable—one small, quiet gesture at a time.
“Thanks for the clothes,” I said, eloquently.
He brushed my damp hair behind my ear, fingertips skimming my neck. I shivered. “Mi fa piacere. I want to give you everything.” [It pleases me.]
I swallowed hard, my heart a traitor beneath my ribs. “Marcus… tell me about her?”
His face stilled, ancient sorrow rippling beneath his eyes.
“Didyme,” I whispered, brushing my fingers against his chest. “Please?”
For a long moment, I thought he wouldn’t. But then he drew me into his lap, so close our breaths mingled. And he told me. In low, aching tones, he spoke of the woman he once loved—the one who made his eternity feel like life, only to be torn away.
I cried freely. Not just for her, but for him—for centuries lived in pain and numbness. For the weight he carried, and for the miracle of our bond. That after all this time, the fates hadn’t forgotten him. Or me.
I wasn’t her replacement. He made that clear. I was his future.
When the silence returned, heavy but healing, my stomach chose that moment to growl. Loudly.
Marcus blinked, then smiled. “Hai fame, amore mio?” [Are you hungry, my love?]
I groaned, hiding my face in his shoulder. “Apparently.”
He kissed the blush from my cheek, murmuring, “Deliziosa,” before pulling back with a mischievous glint in his eyes. [Delicious.] “You need food, immediately.”
I barely had time to laugh before he disappeared again, only to reappear less than a minute later. “It’s on its way.”
The knock at the door came soon after. Marcus answered it, and a human man—Andreas—entered with a large cloth bag and a pizza box that made my stomach audibly rejoice. He bowed low to both of us.
“Master. Mistress.”
Mistress. That was… a lot. But I didn’t dwell. The food smelled divine.
I practically inhaled the pasta, moaning a little at the taste, earning a deeply amused look from Marcus. Between bites, I told him about Forks. About school and rainy mornings, about Charlie and the wolves—shifters, as he corrected me, gently but firmly.
I had tensed at him knowing of their existence, but he explained that there was no hiding it—Aro had learned of them in Alice’s mind. I had cringed at the memory he must have witnessed of Jake threatening Alice while I fearlessly—stupidly—stood between them before we ran off to the airport.
When I mentioned James, a flicker of cold fury crossed Marcus’ face, but he remained calm. I told him about my scar, and how the Cullens had saved me. He listened intently, his hand never letting go of mine.
Later, we agreed that inviting Renée to Forks for graduation would be better than traveling down to Florida. I’d miss her, but I couldn’t risk too many eyes watching us too closely.
By the time dessert arrived—tiramisu, of course—I was so full I could barely move. I leaned into Marcus’ side, warmth and weariness battling for dominance.
Sleep won.
This time, it was deep. Restful. Safe.
And when I finally woke again, I surfaced slowly, reluctantly, like rising through warm honey. The world was quiet, and I couldn’t be sure of the time. But I knew I wasn’t alone. I felt her before I saw her—a spark in the air, the flutter of energy that could only belong to one person.
“Alice,” I murmured, eyes still closed.
A delighted giggle answered me. “How do you do that?” she whispered, perched like a wraith at the foot of the couch.
I opened my eyes to find her sitting cross-legged on the chaise near my feet, impossibly elegant in a silky black blouse and jeans that looked like they’d been tailored by a Parisian ghost. Her inky hair was perfectly tousled—casually chaotic in the way only Alice could pull off—and her eyes shimmered like gold-tinted honey.
“You have a presence,” I said, stretching slowly beneath the throw Marcus had draped over me. “Like a static charge before lightning.”
She grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It is,” I said, propping myself up on one elbow. “What time is it?”
She tilted her head, considering. “Technically morning, but not by much. Almost nine.”
“Feels like I could sleep for three more days.”
She scooted closer, eyeing me critically. “Your body has gone through too much. But you do look better. Color’s back. The circles under your eyes are softer.” Her smile turned fond, almost wistful. “He’s taking care of you already.”
I felt warmth spread through me, low and steady. “He really is.”
She didn’t say I told you so, but her smile did.
I sat up fully, dragging the throw with me. My hair was probably a disaster. My T-shirt slightly wrinkled. I felt exposed and yet… safe. Alice’s eyes flicked down, and she arched one perfect brow.
“Cute shirt. Borrowed from the husband?”
I flushed, too embarrassed to protest her choice of word. “Not technically—”
“Oh please.” She waved a hand. “You’re mated now. Everything of his is yours. Including his wardrobe. Including his bed, once you stop being shy about it.”
I choked on nothing. “Alice!”
She just laughed, bright and bubbling. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you some time before I start teasing you in earnest. Maybe.”
There was a pause, tender and quiet. Her eyes softened.
“I missed you,” she said gently.
That cracked something open in me. I blinked hard. “I missed you too.”
It wasn’t just words. Seeing her here—vibrant, radiant, so unmistakably Alice—felt like finding a piece of myself I hadn’t known was missing. Like a bridge back to the girl I’d been, even as I stood on the edge of becoming someone new.
“Everything’s changed,” I whispered.
She reached out, taking my hand. “And yet… not the things that matter.”
I looked down at our joined fingers. Small and cool and sure, hers wrapped around mine. A lifeline.
“I’m scared,” I admitted, voice barely audible.
“I know.” Her voice was velvet-wrapped steel. “But I’ve seen the other side of this, Bella. You won’t be for long. You’re stronger than you think. And he—” she smiled, “—he’s perfect for you.”
I swallowed thickly. “You’ve seen it?”
“I saw you,” she said simply. “In every version of the future that didn’t end in ashes.”
She didn’t have to elaborate. I understood. The Volturi’s judgment. The confrontation with the wolves. Victoria’s threats. The Cullen vote. I had balanced on the edge of a blade for so long—and in every vision that ended in light, Marcus had been there.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “For coming. For staying.”
She rolled her eyes dramatically. “As if I was going to let you face ancient vampire politics and an emotionally reawakened Marcus alone. Besides, someone has to dress you. I always wanted to dress royalty.”
I laughed, the sound surprising me. She grinned like it was a victory.
A soft knock interrupted us. Alice tilted her head, already knowing who it was.
“Speak of the devil,” she said smugly.
The door creaked open a moment later, and Marcus entered like a dream. Dark suit. Calm presence. Eyes only for me. When they landed on Alice, he inclined his head in a courtly greeting.
“Cara,” he said. “You’ve returned.” [Dear one.]
Alice stood gracefully. “I figured she’d need breakfast. And a reality check.”
He glanced at me, concern flickering. “How are you feeling?”
I nodded slowly. “Better. Still overwhelmed. But… better.”
Marcus moved to me, brushing a cool knuckle along my jaw. “Good. You are adjusting faster than I dared hope.”
“You have breakfast?” Alice interjected, and at his faint nod, she clapped her hands. “Perfect. I’ll give you two a minute. Bella, eat. Then shower. I laid out something fabulous.”
I wanted to protest, but nodded instead when I saw the stubborn edge to her expression. She winked, and in a flutter of silk and shadows, she was gone.
I looked up at Marcus, still slightly dazed.
“Is it always going to be like this?” I asked.
He smiled faintly. “If you mean full of surprises and strange visitors… yes. But I promise you, mia cara, the constant will be this: you and I. Together.” [my dear]
I leaned into his touch, my heart steady in a way it hadn’t been in months.
“Then I can do this,” I said. “As long as I have that.”
His lips brushed my temple, reverent and sure.
“You will have everything, Isabella.”
Notes:
Thank you so much for continuing this journey with me—every comment, follow, and little heart you leave behind genuinely means the world. Your love keeps me writing ✨
💬 Let's play a game...
🩸✨ What’s Your Twilight-Inspired Vampire Name? ✨🩸
1. Take a vampy twist on your first name or nickname by adding one suffixe to it: -elle, -ael, -ira, -an, -wyn, -os, -en, -is, -ith, -oré…2. Then match it with your Zodiac Vampire Surname below, inspired by the covens and characters of Twilight: 🌙🦇
♈ Aries – Hale
♉ Taurus – Masen
♊ Gemini – Denali
♋ Cancer – Whitlock
♌ Leo – Volturi
♍ Virgo – Swan
♎ Libra – McCarthy
♏ Scorpio – Cullen
♐ Sagittarius – Amun
♑ Capricorn – Zafrina
♒ Aquarius – Siobhan
♓ Pisces – AlistairI will be Adara Volturi, at your service 🔥👑🩸
Chapter Text
Bella's POV
After another indulgent shower, I stepped out of the bathroom feeling lighter—cleaner, but not quite clear. I’d made quick work of my morning routine, towel-drying my hair until it waved softly at my shoulders. The clothes laid out for me had changed again—this time a pair of deep blue designer jeans and a burgundy blouse in a silky fabric that shimmered faintly in the light.
It reminded me of Marcus's eyes.
Somehow, I had no doubt Alice had chosen this purposefully.
I padded quietly out to the balcony, where she was already sitting under a wide canvas shade, shielding herself from the sun. Even in partial shadow, her skin caught the light in that unnatural way—subtle, but still unmistakably not human. We were far enough from any neighboring buildings that it didn’t matter, but I noticed she still kept carefully to the corner, just in case.
"Where's Marcus?" I asked, settling into the chair beside her.
Alice gave me a side glance, her legs tucked under her like a ballet dancer at rest. "With his brothers. There’s a lot to go over before we leave today so I promised I’d look after you.”
I huffed half-heartedly but nodded, my eyes drifting toward the low table between us, where a small feast had once again materialized—fresh pastries still warm from the oven, a pot of fragrant tea, and a tomato-and-egg casserole that made my stomach growl just looking at it.
“For a castle full of vampires, they really know how to spoil my very human self,” I laughed, reaching eagerly for a plate.
Alice arched a brow, though amusement tugged at her lips. “Didn’t we always cook for you?”
I smiled at her over the steam rising from my cup of tea. “You did. And it was always amazing.” I hesitated, then shrugged, letting the next words go unsaid: I just didn’t expect that from the Volturi.
While I ate, Alice slipped easily into chatter, catching me up on things back in Forks. Carlisle was already setting the groundwork for the family’s return, this time under a new pretense—Esme wanting to be closer to her children while Emmett and Rosalie were “attending” the University of British Columbia. They’d still mostly stay hidden, of course, but the story would hold well enough.
Jasper, Alice explained, had taken a gap year to stay near her while she finished school. He’d resume his classes once she joined him in the fall—and in the meantime, both of them would be seen around town again. It was strange to imagine such a perfectly constructed lie slipping back into the real world like nothing had happened.
“And Marcus?” I asked around a bite of pastry.
“He’ll be posing as Esme’s cousin on her mother’s side. Marcus DeLuca. Visiting from Europe for the spring and summer.”
I blinked. “Creative.”
Alice grinned. “You should see the fake ID.”
“And… Edward?” I asked softly, the question tasting heavier than anything on my plate.
Without missing a beat, Alice replied, “He’s supposedly attending a private prep school in New York. Graduated early, waiting to enter Juilliard.”
I frowned. “Wouldn’t it make more sense for Esme to be near him instead of Emmett and Rose?”
“He’s staying with Esme’s fictional aunt and uncle. Marcus’s ‘parents.’”
I let my head fall back against the chair. “Alice. Seriously. This is a little much.”
“We’ve done more elaborate setups before,” she said, unbothered. “And you know I’ll see it if something’s going to go wrong.” She tapped her temple and gave me a smug smile.
I rolled my eyes and took another sip of coffee.
Then her tone changed.
“Carlisle called your dad.”
I looked up sharply. “What? How did that go?”
Her expression turned gentle. “He wasn’t thrilled.”
I snorted. “Understatement of the year I bet.”
She gave me a knowing smile. “But he respects Carlisle. He told Charlie you were at the house. Esme offered for you to stay a few days. You’d mentioned Harry’s passing and how Charlie would be helping with the funeral arrangements.”
“That’s… believable,” I admitted, surprised.
“He didn’t like the idea at first,” she added, “but he agreed. Mostly because Edward isn’t there.”
My stomach tightened. I looked away, the guilt slithering in like a shadow at my feet.
“Bella…” Alice waited until I met her eyes again. “You need to talk to him.”
The words sat heavy between us.
“He needs to hear from you before we leave. He won’t make the right choice without that.”
I looked down at my hands. “I… I should have done that already. I’m so selfish. Of course I’ll go see him.”
My voice cracked near the end, and tears slipped out before I could stop them. Alice passed me a tissue from the tray and I dabbed at my face, heart twisting.
“He’ll join the Guard, won’t he?” I asked.
“If you talk to him… it’s more likely,” she said carefully.
“And the diet?” My voice trembled. “Will he stay on your diet?”
She hesitated. “Probably.”
“Probably, Alice?” I snapped, my fear bubbling over. “That’s not an answer! You know how that would destroy him. If he kills someone—if he drinks—”
“Bella,” she cut in firmly, reaching for my hand. “Don’t do this. Don’t carry this like it’s your fault. It’s not. None of this is. Not Edward joining the Guard. Not what happened in the throne room. Not his gift, or yours, or even what he chooses next.”
I searched her eyes, wanting to believe her. Needing to.
“Just talk to him,” she said softly. “He’ll listen to you. He always has.”
I wasn’t convinced by that statement, but after a moment, I nodded. I stood, brushing the remaining tears from my cheeks and straightening my blouse. I didn’t feel ready, not really—but I owed him this. I owed both of us the truth before we crossed whatever line lay ahead.
This conversation wasn’t going to be easy.
But it was necessary.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go.”
Edward wasn’t locked away in some dark, damp cell, as I’d feared. Instead, he was in a quiet room on the third floor of a tower at the far end of the castle—about as far as one could be from Marcus’s quarters without leaving the building altogether.
When we entered, he was sitting by the window, his eyes fixed on the golden cityscape below. The late sunlight painted everything in warm hues, casting long shadows across the floor. He didn’t look at us. Didn’t move.
For a second, I wondered why he hadn’t tried to escape through that very window. But the thought barely formed before the answer came: because he would’ve been caught in seconds. He knew that. And more than that… he had no desire to run.
He was still. Too still.
More than anything else, it was that unnatural stillness that rattled me. I was so used to Edward moving—gracefully, thoughtfully, constantly alive in a way that belied his cold skin. His face had always reflected emotions he felt. But now... he could’ve been a statue.
“Edward,” I breathed, my voice cracking under the weight of it all. I stepped forward, kneeling in front of him, trying to meet his gaze.
He didn’t react.
He just stared past me, out the window, into the sun he could never touch.
“Oh, Edward.” The tears came fast. A sob broke loose before I could stop it. That seemed to shake something in him—his eyes flicked down, finally seeing me.
He lifted a hand as if to brush away a tear, but stopped halfway, dropping it back onto his knee.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, tears slipping freely now. “So, so sorry.”
He turned his face away sharply, and for a terrifying moment, I thought he hated me. Shame burned through me, and I started scrubbing at my cheeks, desperate to stop crying.
But then he spoke—soft, hollow.
“How can you still be so selfless, Bella?”
His voice was so low I almost thought I imagined it.
“How are you not screaming at me? How are you not telling me you hate me—for what I did to you? For everything I... Oh, Bella, how can you still be so caring when all I’ve done is lie, and hurt you, and betray everything I claimed to be?”
I froze.
It wasn’t me he hated.
He couldn’t even look at himself.
“When I condemned your soul to damnation anyway?” His voice broke like something inside him shattered.
But instead of heartbreak, what I felt next was fury.
Hot, defiant fury.
I stood, wiping my cheeks roughly, and glared at him.
“Damn it, Edward—shut up. Don’t you dare say that. Don’t you dare tell me that you—or any of the others—don’t have a soul.”
His head turned toward me, startled.
“You have one of the most compassionate souls I’ve ever known,” I said, my voice sharp with conviction. “You may not be human, but I’ve known plenty of humans who are bigger monsters than you could ever be. It’s not what you are, Edward. It’s what you do that defines you.”
I took a breath, steadying my voice.
“Do you really think Carlisle’s damned? Esme? Alice?” I pressed on. “Do you think those hearts, those lives, that love... means nothing because of what you are? No. I won’t believe that. And you shouldn’t either.”
He stared at me, unreadable.
“You’ve fought so hard to be good,” I continued. “To stay good. You told me once that you fought against your nature every day. That means something. You mean something.”
“I didn’t...” he tried to say.
I didn’t let him finish.
“I can’t even imagine what it’s like—having your gift. Hearing so much darkness all the time. But you must’ve heard some good too. You must have felt it.”
Still no answer.
I sighed, the heat of my anger cooling into something softer.
“I don’t blame you, Edward. For coming into my life, I mean. I think... I was always meant to find you. To find your world.”
I moved toward him slowly, kneeling again and taking his cold hands in mine. He didn’t pull away.
“When I met your family, something inside me just... clicked,” I whispered. “I’d never felt like I truly belonged anywhere. But with you—with them—I did. Those months... I’ve never been happier.”
I looked down, voice trembling.
“And maybe that’s why I believed you so easily when you said you didn’t love me. It felt too good to be true.”
“Bella—”
“It still hurts. But yesterday... I understood. I wasn’t meant to be human forever. This world is mine now. You didn’t drag me into it—I was meant to be here.”
He gave me a quiet, bittersweet smile. Still silent.
I met his eyes again, squeezing his hands gently.
“I forgive you, Edward,” I said, and I meant every word. “For leaving. For lying. For everything. You were trying to protect me. And now... I understand that.”
“I never deserved you,” he murmured.
I laughed softly. “Funny. I always thought it was the other way around.”
“Except that it’s true for me,” he said, his voice dipping again.
I searched for words, then asked the one thing I hadn’t yet.
“Will you do something for me?”
“Anything.”
“Stop thinking you’re not good enough. Please. Use your gift to find good, not to run from it. You said Carlisle showed you a different way—follow it. Please.”
“It wasn’t easy for him. There’s still so much he—”
“Who said it had to be easy?” I interrupted, smiling sadly. “You have forever, Edward. That’s a long time to make things right.”
He gave a soft laugh, the first real one in days.
“What?” I asked.
“You never used to scold me like this.”
“Well,” I smirked, “you kind of had it coming.”
“I suppose I did. For what it’s worth... I’m sorry, Bella. Truly. I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I don’t even deserve this conversation.”
“We agreed—no more self-pity, remember?”
He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Then I must apologize for my brief lapse in memory.”
I smiled. “I’ll add it to the list of things you’re forgiven for.”
His face turned serious. “I love you, Bella.”
The words hit me like a wave, familiar and heartbreaking.
“Somehow,” he said, “I will always love you.”
“Edward...” I whispered, eyes pleading with him not to go further.
But he held up a hand.
“No, let me finish. I need to say this.”
I nodded, swallowing thickly.
“I see now... I was wrong to think you were my mate. I wasn’t there when it happened for Carlisle and Esme. Or Emmett and Rosalie. I told myself it was different because you were still human... but I was lying to myself.”
“You were my first love, Bella. You always will be. But I think now... that it wasn’t meant to last forever.”
A soft sob escaped me, and before I realized it, he was kneeling in front of me, gently brushing away my tears.
“You were mine too,” I whispered.
We stayed like that for a long time. In silence. In understanding.
Eventually, he stood, his hand lingering at my cheek one last time.
“Alice says you have to go.”
I turned toward the door, already feeling the pull of time again.
“What will you do now?” I asked, my voice barely steady.
“I’ll do what I must,” he said. “To atone. I’ll be fine, Bella. And I’ll never be far.”
I exhaled shakily. “Take care, Edward.”
“See you soon, Bella.”
“See you.”
The words were simple. But sometimes, simple said everything.
Outside, Alice was waiting for me, her expression soft as she fell into step beside me. We walked in silence through the winding halls of the castle, making our way back toward the other side—toward Marcus. Toward Forks.
Toward home.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt peace settle deep in my bones.
Not because things were perfect.
But because I was no longer carrying the weight of what could have been.
Now, I was ready to carry what was.
Notes:
Thank you so much for walking through this story with me.
This chapter was personal—about letting go, about facing the people who shaped us, and about knowing when to carry love forward... and when to let it rest.💬 I’d love to hear your thoughts on these Goodbyes in the comments. This is our last chapter in Volterra, see you all on Sunday with the arrival to Forks. How do you think Charlie will react to Bella's return with a new love in tow?
As always, your love, reviews, and follows make me want to keep posting.
✨Let’s burn slow, but bright. 🔥
Chapter Text
Bella's POV
The flight back to America had been quiet. I spent it drifting between lighthearted chatter with Alice, catching brief naps, and sitting beside Marcus as he read from a book in a language so foreign I didn’t even recognize the characters at first. There was that odd sense of familiarity, like I should’ve known what it was, but couldn’t place it. Had I seen it in a museum? That was probably the case, as it turned out to be Greek. I had listened, enthralled, as Marcus shared how he’d witnessed the birth of the written language only a few decades after his transformation.
Saying it made me feel inadequate would’ve been a gross understatement.
That sense of awe still lingered as we drove from Port Angeles to Forks. But when I recognized the turnoff to the Cullens’ house, the awe dissolved in a heartbeat, replaced by a tightening anxiety that coiled in my stomach. My reverie shattered as reality returned, sharp and sobering.
Marcus’ hand, warm against mine, tightened.
“Are you well, beloved?” he asked gently, surely having felt the uptick in my heart rate.
“I’m okay. It’s just… weird, coming back here. Knowing it’s not going to be empty anymore.”
He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze as the car slowed, turning off the main road onto the long, familiar drive.
“Everyone is looking forward to seeing you, Bella,” Alice added from the front seat. Her smile was bright, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. I found myself wondering if she’d seen something—something she didn’t want to share.
Or maybe it was just me, doubting they would actually be happy to see me. After all, it was my decision that had led Edward to Volterra. Because of me, he’d been sentenced to a hundred years there. The guilt sat heavy in my chest.
I swallowed hard and resisted the urge to ask Felix to turn the car around.
As the mansion came into view, the front door opened. Five figures emerged, stepping out onto the porch and down the steps. I hadn’t even realized the car had stopped when Alice vanished from beside me in a blur, throwing herself into Jasper’s waiting arms. I couldn’t help but smile at the pure joy on her face, at his soft laugh as he caught her.
My attention was drawn back to Marcus, who was watching me with quiet intensity.
“Shall we?” he asked, gesturing to the gathered Cullens.
I nodded, my nerves slightly eased by Alice’s exuberance.
Felix opened the door for me, and I took his offered hand, steadying myself as I stepped out. Marcus followed close behind, slipping an arm around my waist. We walked toward the porch at a human pace—for my sake. Felix moved slightly ahead, unintentionally blocking my view of the family.
“Bella!” Emmett’s booming voice rang out, making me flinch. He stepped forward—
And was immediately halted by Felix’s hand clamped around his neck.
The tension snapped into the air like a pulled wire. Rosalie stiffened, barely restrained by Jasper and Carlisle, their hands gently gripping her arms.
“Let him go!” I cried, horrified.
Felix turned back to glance at me, then Marcus, and finally returned his gaze to me. He released Emmett, who scowled and brushed imaginary dust from his shoulder like he hadn’t just been manhandled.
Felix inclined his head—not toward Emmett, but toward me. “Apologies, mistress Isabella,” he said respectfully, then stepped back, allowing me an unobstructed view of the family.
Rosalie threw me a withering glare but moved forward to take Emmett’s hand.
“Uh… it’s okay, Felix. Thanks. And, um… Bella is fine.”
“You are welcome, mistress Bella.” A ghost of a smile played at his lips, and I opened my mouth to insist again—but before I could, Esme crossed the distance between us and wrapped me in a warm embrace.
I clung to her, trembling, tears slipping free again. Damn my leaky tear ducts.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, pressing her cheek to the top of my head. Her voice had a hitch in it, and when I pulled back, I could see the emotion in her eyes, even if she couldn’t cry.
“Hi, Esme.” I smiled through my tears, genuinely happy to see her again.
“We’re so happy to have you back, sweetheart.” She pulled me into a second, briefer hug before leading me toward Carlisle, who had been murmuring with Marcus in tones only they could hear.
“Bella,” Carlisle greeted warmly. “It’s good to see you here with us again.”
“It’s good to be back,” I said sincerely.
“Do I not get a hug?” Emmett’s familiar, playful voice broke in behind me. I turned, laughing.
I ignored Rosalie’s glare and stepped into Emmett’s open arms. He scooped me up in a bear hug that said everything he didn’t need to.
“You’re too skinny,” he huffed, pulling back and examining me like a concerned big brother. I shifted self-consciously, crossing my arms over my chest.
“We’ve got dinner ready for you, dear,” Esme cut in kindly, leading the way inside.
As we approached the door, my eyes landed on Jasper. For a moment, I tensed. Images of that night—the hunger in his eyes—flashed across my mind. But I forced myself to smile, not wanting to burden him with guilt. He had suffered enough.
“Bella,” he said with a nod. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too, Jasper.”
Just like that, most of the tension melted away. With Marcus’ hand in mine, I stepped into the Cullen home—a home that still felt like home—and finally, after months of imbalance, something inside me settled.
—
We stayed for almost two hours. I ate while Alice dragged me upstairs for a change of clothes and a shower.
“You’ve been wearing that for nearly 24 hours,” she huffed.
I didn’t even argue—mostly because she was right.
When we left, it was in Carlisle’s car. Felix had stayed behind; his presence, on top of Marcus’, would’ve raised too many questions if Charlie saw us arrive.
Which, of course, he did.
Charlie stood on the porch, leaning against a beam in a way that might’ve looked casual if I hadn’t known him better.
I squeezed Marcus’ hand before stepping out of the car. “Stay here,” I whispered, knowing one look at us together would be all it took to give everything away.
Carlisle joined me and waved. “Good evening, Chief Swan. It’s good to see you again. I was sorry to hear about Mr. Clearwater—you have my deepest condolences.”
Charlie snorted, surprising me. I’d expected anger, maybe indifference. But there was something else in his face—something I couldn’t quite name.
“Why don’t we skip the pleasantries, Doctor Cullen? Or is it Dr. Cold One?”
My stomach dropped. My throat closed. Charlie knows.
My heart galloped in my chest, and I glanced nervously toward the car. Toward Marcus. Toward my mate—my ancient, deadly mate who was one of the three Kings enforcing the secrecy of our supernatural world.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” Carlisle replied, his voice calm, diplomatic.
“I had an interesting few days,” Charlie said, dropping the façade. “Helping grieving friends, supporting Sue, all that. And then, wouldn’t you know it—my daughter’s best friend comes home, tells me about your little blood-sucking spawn showing up and whisking my daughter off on some trip to save her heartbreaker ex. The same boy who destroyed her.”
He took a shaky breath.
“But that’s not why I’m pissed. No. We argued, that boy and I—and then I found myself face to face with the biggest goddamn beast I’ve ever seen. Crazy, isn’t it?”
“Dad…” My voice cracked. He knows. Fucking Jake. Jake had shifted in front of my dad.
“I’m not sure what I thought I was going to say. I was pissed off. Sue was barely holding it together, and when I saw her kids on the porch—with Jake of all people—I just lost it…”
“Charlie,” Carlisle began, “let’s go inside. We can talk this through.”
Charlie scoffed. “Yeah, I don’t think so. You and your little family—stay the hell away from my daughter. Got it?” He stepped off the porch, grabbing my arm and pulling me behind him.
Then Marcus moved.
Before I even registered it, I was in his arms, and a low growl rumbled from his chest. It was a dangerous sound—but oddly, it made me feel safe. I could breathe again.
“What the—who the hell are you? Let her go!”
If Carlisle hadn’t grabbed Charlie’s arm, he would’ve charged.
I stepped in front of Marcus, placing myself between them.
“Dad, calm down.”
“Calm down?! Bella, get in the house. Now.”
“No, Dad. Listen to me—”
“I’m your father! You listen to me! This has gone too far. Home. Now, Isabella!”
Marcus’ hand slid into mine, and Charlie’s face turned a shade of red I’d never seen.
“Mr. Swan,” Marcus began evenly. “I mean your daughter no harm. You seem to know quite a lot about us and if these suspicions are founded, you will come to understand that Bella is… everything to me. I would never let anything hurt her, nor would I ever hurt her myself. I respect your concern—it’s a father’s duty. But I agree with Carlisle. Let’s go inside. Let Bella warm up and rest.”
Charlie stared at him, frozen. Then, without a word, he turned and walked into the house, leaving the door open behind him.
I swallowed hard. My legs felt heavy as Marcus gently nudged me forward.
Charlie knows.
Marcus' POV
Only centuries of experience in denying my instincts were keeping me as calm as I currently was, holding Bella close to me still. She was anchoring me, giving me a reason to behave as humanely as I was still able to. I could see the strong bond she shared with her father, and I looked forward to the discussion we were about to have.
Charlie Swan's house was small. The corner where my desk was in my quarters was bigger than what appeared to be the sitting area, and I wondered briefly if this was the norm nowadays. Bella's scent was strong in the house, despite her father's tainting it in a more resinous note, and I felt immediately at ease in the quiet room.
Charlie was still standing, looking tense near a reclined chair that appeared to have the shape of his body embedded into it. Given its central position, I assumed without much hesitancy that it was his. Bella went to sit on one of the two matching sofas, and I stood by her side while Carlisle mirrored her position on the other one. He looked perfect in his pretence of humanity, but I had decided that this would clearly be unnecessary as my mate's father already knew too much.
I took a soft cover that had seen better days from the back of the sofa and wrapped it around Bella’s shoulders, asking her quietly if she was fine. She nodded before turning to her father.
"What happened, Dad?"
The man had a purple tint to his face from the barely restrained anger he was now trying to control. I would give him points for that. He was clearly in shock.
He exhaled sharply, jaw clenched. “I don’t even know what I thought I was going to say. I was pissed off. Sue was barely holding it together, and when I saw her kids on the porch—with Jake of all people—I just lost it. I walked over there, started asking where the hell they’d been, why they couldn’t show up for their own dad’s funeral. Seth tried to say something, but Sue cut in—told them both to go inside. She looked scared, and not just from the grief.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes unfocused like he was reliving it.
“Jake said he’d stay, said he wanted to explain. But he didn’t explain. Not really. Just mumbled something about Alice Cullen showing up. About Bella running off with her. About…” he glanced at Bella, the pain and confusion flickering across his face, “...how she’d rejected him. How he tried to stop her. But she still left.”
Bella flinched, and I felt her hurt radiate off her. I kept my hand gently over hers.
“I asked him why he let her go. Why he couldn’t do one damn thing right!” Charlie’s voice rose with the memory. “Why he didn’t come to the funeral. Why he thought ghosting everyone was the right move. I told him he wasn’t a kid anymore, and he didn’t get to just disappear when things got hard.”
His expression tightened.
“He just stood there, breathing hard, fists clenched. I could tell he was shaking—no, trembling. He told me to stop pushing. That I didn’t understand. That there were things I couldn’t understand. And I—I just wouldn’t let up. I told him maybe he couldn’t come to the funeral because he didn’t have the spine for it. That maybe he wasn’t the man I thought he was.”
Charlie went silent for a second. His next words were quieter, but full of residual regret and shock.
“That’s when it happened. He—he shouted at me. Said I didn’t know anything, and then it was like something snapped. Right in front of me, he just… exploded. It was Jake, I knew that, but in a way I can’t even begin to wrap my head around. Massive. Angry. The biggest f’ing wolf I’d ever seen.”
Bella gasped, one hand covering her mouth.
“The look in his eyes—it was still him. Still furious. But it was so wrong. And then he bolted. Just ran into the treesl. Sue came out when she heard the noise, and she dragged me inside. Didn’t say much. Just told me, ‘Now you know.’”
He let out a heavy breath, his energy sagging all at once, like the retelling had drained him.
He continued in short fragments, filling in a few of the details — Billy’s calm silence, Sue’s quiet urgency, Leah’s blank stare. I listened attentively, noting how Charlie attempted to mask how rattled he truly was behind gruffness and stoicism.
All while listening, I was contemplating the possible scenarios to retell the tale to my brothers. I couldn't shake the feeling that Caius might be overly critical and potentially disruptive. Yet, considering the intricate link between Charlie Swan and the tribe, it dawned on me that I might circumvent the need to involve Caius directly. The intricacies of the situation could be obscured by highlighting Charlie's ties to the tribe, presenting him as a key figure with a vested interest in concealing their world. It seemed plausible that the association with the shape-shifters could suffice in securing our secret without necessitating Caius' involvement. It was a risk, yet one that might offer a solution to shield my mate and maintain the secrecy of our kind.
"Bella," Charlie said, his voice cracking slightly, "Billy said cold ones… vampires or… whatever… he said they could hypnotise you or something like that. They can make you believe anything and—"
"Dad, stop. Stop it, please," my Bella interrupted his ranting. "I… it was not, it was never like this. With Edward, I mean. We were… oh, Dad, it was our first love, for both of us. It wasn't perfect but it wasn't some kind of manipulation, Dad. I did love him."
The passion in my mate's voice would have hurt, had we not talked about it the day before. She wanted her father to understand, desperately so.
"He was just… He wasn't the one for me. I… Dad, you remember Sam and Leah, right? You remember when it ended?” She asked, confusing me with her change of topic. I could see the confusion on her father’s face as well, but he seemed to allow the derivation.
“Sam broke up with her just after meeting with Emily, I don’t see how this has anything to do with—”
“Sam and Leah, Charlie, they were a perfect couple, anyone on the rez could tell you,” Bella interrupted him. Her father nodded, confused still, yet letting her continue. “They were making plans for the future, real plans, and then one day, it suddenly stopped. Sam disappeared for days and came back engaged to Emily.”
“Bella…” My mate’s father now looked suspicious, and I had worked out the reason behind my beloved’s change of tale myself. “What the heck is this about?” I braced myself for another explosion of temper. Not that anyone but Carlisle might have noticed. I was willing to tolerate a lot for my mate’s sake, especially as I saw the deep bond between her and her father, but would intervene should he lose his senses and prevent him from hurting her emotionally at least.
“Emily and Sam, Dad—they are what the wolves call imprinted. Soul mates. Sam was inexorably drawn to Emily, his heart resonating with her presence, an echo of a deep bond forged by something beyond our understanding. He couldn’t ignore it, and she couldn’t either…”
The raw emotion on Bella’s face made me want to hold her close and capture her beautiful lips, that she kept biting in a tantalising fashion. I desired her closeness more than anything I had ever felt. I knew how crucial that instant was to my mate, however, and I kept perfectly still, continuing to absorb every detail of the scene unfolding before me.
“Leah and Sam, they were in love. It was the kind of love that is born from being young, and it would have been a beautiful story… but the discovery of one's true mate, Dad, is a revelation of cosmic proportions. Emily represented the missing piece of Sam's spiritual puzzle—the other half of his being, the embodiment of his soul's essence. It’s…”
Bella’s gaze had drifted to mine as she spoke. She was not telling the story of a wolf and his mate anymore—not only. She was drawing a picture of our bond, our connection, and I could read in her eyes all that she hadn’t said aloud, all that I could feel as well as her. I moved closer, taking her hand in a chaste gesture of affection and comfort alike.
“Edward was to me what Leah was to Sam, Charlie. I did love him, in a naive and innocent way, because I didn’t know anything else yet… because I hadn’t found the one that is the other half of my soul.” Her voice was barely a whisper then, but even a human could have heard a pin drop in the preternatural silence that dominated the tiny living area.
The silence was only relative to my own ears, of course, and I could perceive the fastening of Charlie Swan’s heartbeats and breathing as he took in what his daughter was saying, as he understood the implication and saw us together.
“Bella, this is… are you saying that…” the man shook his head, aiming to maybe get rid of the thoughts that must now be flying across his mind. “‘Scuse me,” he said suddenly before walking out the front door onto the porch.
“Dad,” Bella called, the pain in her voice like a dagger to my still heart. She moved to follow, but I held her back, bidding her to give him a moment. She sighed in defeat before leaning into my embrace, as I aimed to communicate my devotion and love to her through my wordless comfort.
Carlisle walked out, going to offer my mate’s confused father some outlet for his emotions, as well as further explanations. I thanked him in a whisper before refocusing on my Bella.
Notes:
️ A/N
Thank you so much for walking with Bella through this homecoming. This chapter was so full of heart to write, and your continued love, comments, and support truly mean the world to me.
🔮 Question for you, Flame-readers:
What do you think Charlie will do next… and how far do you think Marcus would go to protect Bella from anyone—even her father?
Also, are we in love with Marcus yet? I know I am...Until next time (likely next Sunday, I have a very hectic teaching-assessing-reporting-parents'-evening type of week ahead, wish me luck!),
– Ada
Chapter Text
Marcus's POV
Bella lingered in my arms for a few moments more, her breathing shallow but steadying. I felt the faint tremble in her shoulders, the battle between exhaustion and resilience. She was made stronger than she looked—my mate, fragile in form but forged in quiet strength.
She pulled back slowly, her eyes shining but not overflowing. “I just need a minute,” she whispered.
I nodded and released her hand, though every instinct urged me to keep her close.
She stood and made her way to the small kitchen that branched off from the sitting room. The space was cramped and worn—everything bearing the mark of years of modest use—but Bella moved through it with muscle memory, her fingertips brushing the cabinets as she opened one, then another, in search of tea. I watched her fill the kettle with practiced hands and place it on the stovetop. Her movements were slow, deliberate. Rituals of comfort.
I remained where I was, silent, a sentinel.
Outside, Carlisle had reached Charlie. They stood just beyond the porch, the human’s breath forming faint clouds in the crisp air. To human ears, the hush would be impenetrable. But not to mine.
“I know this is a lot to take in,” Carlisle began, his tone a masterclass in empathy.
Charlie scoffed faintly. “That’s the understatement of the year.”
Carlisle didn’t flinch. “You’re reacting the way any father would. You’re trying to protect her. I understand that. But I promise you—Bella hasn’t been manipulated. She hasn’t been coerced. She’s been given truths… hard ones, certainly. But she’s had the freedom to choose. She always has.”
There was a pause. Charlie’s heart pounded harder for a moment.
“She ran off in the middle of the night with Alice and then just… came back. And now she’s with him.” His voice broke slightly, a mix of frustration, fear, and helplessness. “And I’m supposed to just sit here and act like that’s normal? Like any of this is normal?”
Carlisle’s voice remained calm. “It’s not normal, Charlie. Not in the way you mean. But it’s real. The world’s stranger than we like to admit, even to ourselves. But there’s order in it. Rules. Bella is safer now than she ever was. Marcus will give his life before letting harm come to her.”
Another pause. “And if I don’t want her part of this? What then?”
“She’s not a child. You can try to forbid her, but you’ll lose her that way,” Carlisle said gently. “Or… you can remain close. Know she’s protected. Know she’s loved. Let her come to you without shame.”
Charlie exhaled heavily, a rasp of frustration and grief all tangled up.
“I don’t like it,” he muttered. “I hate it.”
“I know,” Carlisle replied simply. “But you love her.”
There was nothing more after that. Just silence, and two men standing on the edge.
Inside, the kettle began to whistle. Bella turned it off, poured the water over a teabag in a chipped mug with a faded cartoon fish on the side. She was staring down at the swirling amber liquid, lost in thought.
I crossed the room silently and leaned against the doorway, not crowding her, but near enough that she could feel me there.
She didn’t look at me, just asked quietly, “He hates all of this, doesn’t he?”
“He’s terrified,” I replied. “But no, not all of it. Not you. Not your choices. He’s simply… afraid of losing his little girl.”
Bella finally looked up, her eyes red but dry. “He already lost her. I’m not her anymore.”
“You’re more,” I said softly. “You’ve grown. You’ve seen truth and chosen to keep walking toward it. That takes courage most mortals never find.”
She gave me a ghost of a smile and sipped her tea.
“What did Carlisle say to him?”
I hesitated, not out of secrecy, but care. “That you weren’t coerced. That you chose this path freely. That I would die before letting any harm come to you.”
She let out a soft, aching sound—half a sigh, half something else. “That sounds like Carlisle.”
“He also told him that trying to forbid you would drive you away.” I tilted my head slightly. “He advised him to stay close. To let you come without shame.”
Bella blinked rapidly. Her hand tightened on the mug. “I want that. I want to still have him, even if it’s… like this.”
“You may still have him,” I said. “He hasn’t walked away.”
She nodded slowly and took another sip, the warmth of the tea seeming to anchor her.
“I’m sorry he saw what he did. Jake losing control like that… he didn’t mean to scare anyone.”
“You are not responsible for his emotions, cara mia,” I gently said. “Nor for the truths others weren’t ready to see. All we can do now is let it settle, and move forward. Together.”
Her gaze met mine—tired, but resolute. “Together.”
I stepped forward then, carefully, and placed a hand over hers, guiding the mug gently to the counter. For a long moment, I simply held her, the steam curling between us, silent and steady.
Then, sensing the shift in air pressure, the faint scrape of boots outside—I knew Charlie was coming back in.
I brushed a kiss to Bella’s temple. “I’ll give you space.”
She turned her face toward me, surprised. “You don’t have to—”
“I know,” I said gently. “But this is his moment, not mine. I’ll be close.”
And with a last glance, I slipped silently into the shadows of the house, gone before the door creaked open again.
Bella’s POV
The tea had gone lukewarm in my mug by the time I heard the soft groan of the screen door creaking open. Charlie stepped back inside, his boots making slow, heavy thuds across the old floorboards. He didn’t look at me right away, just scrubbed a hand down his face like he was trying to wipe away everything he'd seen.
I stayed where I was, both hands wrapped around my cup, still breathing in the comfort of chamomile and the faint, ever-present scent of Marcus nearby.
“I needed some air,” Charlie muttered finally.
“I know,” I said quietly.
He hovered for a second, then made his way into the living room. I followed without thinking, drawn by a need I couldn’t quite name. He dropped heavily into his armchair—his chair—and rubbed the back of his neck.
“You really meant all that?” he asked, voice gruff. “About that… wolf stuff? About Marcus being your… soulmate or whatever?”
I hesitated, then nodded. “I know it’s a lot. I know it sounds impossible. But it’s real.”
He let out a low huff. “Yeah. That’s the part I’m struggling with, Bells. All of this—the wolves, the bloodsuckers, this guy showing up outta nowhere and suddenly he’s everything.”
“It wasn’t …,” I started gently, looking for my words. “For me… it felt like something I didn’t even know I was missing. Until it was just… there. And it made sense.”
Charlie’s expression flickered—something between wary concern and a kind of reluctant awe. “You’re not the same, Bella.”
“It’s only been a few days,” I reminded him, managing a faint smile.
“Feels longer,” he muttered. “And yeah, maybe. But something’s shifted in you. And… I, well, I think it looks like a good something.”
I didn’t answer right away. I stared into my mug like the tea leaves might tell me what the right words were.
Charlie leaned forward slightly. “You’re not gonna… you’re not planning to change into one of them right away. Right?”
The question hung in the air like smoke.
I weighed my words, not wanting to lie, but also not wanting to scare him. “There’s time. Marcus and I… we’re figuring things out, step by step. He’s not rushing me into anything. I promise.”
Charlie let out a long breath and leaned back in his chair. “Good. ’Cause I need a little time to catch up.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said. Yet.
He gave a slow nod, like he was still turning that over in his head. “It’s just… a few days ago, you were here, still fighting to rebuild what that kid broke in you. And now it’s like the world cracked open and everything’s different.”
“It cracked open for me too,” I admitted. “But… I’m still me, Dad.”
He looked at me for a long moment. “I can see that. And I can see you’re happy. That this guy—Marcus—he treats you like you’re made of both glass and gold.”
That brought a flush to my cheeks. “He does.”
“Well… I guess there are worse things than seeing your kid with someone who looks at her like that,” Charlie muttered, half to himself.
I ducked my head to hide the stupid smile trying to climb onto my face.
“Don’t expect me to start hugging him or anything,” he added quickly. “Still not thrilled about any of this.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, voice dry.
He gave a small chuckle, shaking his head. “Alright. Go finish that tea. And tell Marcus I’ve got my eye on him.”
I grinned as I stood. “He already knows.”
I glanced down at the half-finished tea still in my hands. It had gone cold, but I held it anyway as I drifted toward the stairs, the weight on my chest just a little lighter.
Notes:
Thank you again for reading and walking with Bella and Marcus through this quiet moment. I’ve loved writing this softer interlude — and I am very much aware it is a filler chapter. The next one is big, already over 4000 words and I am still editing. I will hopefully post it tomorrow ✨
Your comments, saves, and love mean the world — and they truly keep me writing.
QOTD:
What moment of this chapter resonated with you most — Charlie’s struggle, Bella’s growth, or Marcus’ quiet watchfulness?Let me know ❤️
—Ada
Chapter Text
Bella's POV
We’d been back in Forks for a week, and the quiet rhythm of the town was already starting to feel like a memory I could only half inhabit. School was just around the corner, a looming obligation that once might’ve felt monumental—graduation, final exams, college applications. But now? Now it felt like the faint echo of another life.
A life that wasn’t quite mine anymore.
Still, some part of me clung to the idea of finishing it. For Charlie. For Renée. For the girl I used to be before it all, before the Cullens, before Italy, before Marcus.
It was strange how something so simple—high school—could now feel like a bridge between two worlds. Maybe I needed that. One last walk through the halls of normalcy before everything changed.
Charlie and I had been navigating our new reality with an uneasy truce. The conversations since our return had been hard, raw in places, sometimes edged with silence. But there was also honesty in them—real, aching attempts to understand one another in a world that no longer followed natural rules.
He was trying. That’s what mattered.
Sue, Billy, and even Sam had been around often, their presence like a grounding wire. They answered Charlie’s questions in carefully chosen words, most of which painted the vampire world in a less-than-flattering light. I couldn’t blame them.
Despite it all, Charlie had extended an olive branch. I was back under his roof again, a quiet agreement that didn’t need to be spoken aloud. He knew Marcus was a part of my life now—essential, inescapable—but for now, our time together was reserved to the quiet times when my father was at work. Esme always packed food for me to bring home to Charlie. The rest of the week had passed in a blur of unspoken tension, and yet... an odd kind of peace.
But I felt it—more and more—the pull between two selves. The human girl with her boots muddied from Forks rain, her textbooks still stacked by the nightstand. And the girl who would someday soon walk beside a king who had watched empires rise and fall.
One was familiar. The other inevitable.
My afternoons at the Cullen house had settled into a quiet rhythm that felt oddly sacred. While the rest of the world carried on in oblivion—school, afternoons spent reading, the mundane—my hours were spent wrapped in whispers of a world most would never believe existed.
Marcus had become my teacher, my storyteller, my anchor to the vastness of time itself. One evening, as the clouds rolled low over the treetops and the air hung damp with the scent of moss, Marcus led me into Carlisle’s expansive study. The old leather-bound books lining the shelves seemed to breathe history. I ran my fingers along the spines as I passed—Latin, Greek, ancient languages I couldn’t name.
"Did you know," Marcus began, his voice a soft hum behind me, "that the ancient Egyptians believed in immortality long before any of us truly understood it?"
I turned to him. He was leaning against the desk, arms crossed, a faint glimmer in his crimson eyes. That look he gave me—the one like I was both a mystery and an answered prayer—never failed to make my heart stutter.
"Go on," I prompted, perching on the arm of a nearby chair.
He stepped toward me, his movements fluid and soundless. "They did not fear death, not in the way modern humans do. To them, death was a passage. The gods they worshipped—Osiris, Anubis—they were inspired, in part, by us. By what we are. Vampires once walked alongside priests in their temples. They called us blessed. Or cursed. Depending on the day."
It was impossible not to lean in, drawn by his voice alone. His words were soft, but they carried the weight of centuries.
"What about you?" I asked, barely above a whisper. "Were you there?"
His gaze drifted toward the window, eyes far away. “No. Not Egypt. I was... elsewhere. But I heard stories from those who were. I remember when their empire began to fall. The silence that followed the desert winds after the last of the pharaohs was buried—it was like watching a candle gutter in the dark.”
There was something mournful in his tone. Something I couldn’t quite name.
"Does it ever get... heavy?" I asked. "Carrying it all? Every rise and fall?"
He looked at me then, really looked—his eyes deep with memories I’d never fully comprehend. “It used to. For a long time, it crushed me. But now…” His hand lifted, brushing a lock of hair from my face with the gentlest touch. “Now I can carry it with purpose. Because I carry it with you.”
The words hit deeper than I expected. I swallowed hard, unsure if the chill that ran through me was from the truth he carried or the slow realization that I was already stepping out of my old life without even meaning to.
Another time, in the quiet of his room, Marcus told me about Rome. Not the one from textbooks, but his Rome—the scent of citrus and crushed marble, the thunder of hooves in the forum, the heat of ambition and blood. He painted it not as a myth, but as a memory.
“Emperors came to us for counsel. Others came begging for eternal life. Few understood the cost.”
I watched the way his expression tightened just slightly, the flicker of something dark passing behind his eyes.
“You helped shape it all,” I said, voice soft.
“I watched it,” he corrected. “And I watched it crumble too. That’s what time teaches you. All things end. Except us.”
I didn’t respond right away. Because somewhere in the depths of his words was the faintest thread of warning.
Marcus seemed to sense it. He reached for my hand, fingers cool and steady. “But not everything that ends is a loss. Sometimes… it becomes something else. Something new.”
I nodded, blinking back the heaviness of centuries I hadn’t lived, but somehow felt all the same. His thumb brushed over my knuckles in silent understanding.
“I should get a drink,” I said gently, offering him a small smile.
“Of course,” he replied, voice warm and knowing. “I’ll be here when you return.”
I slipped out of the study, heart full and buzzing, and padded barefoot into the kitchen. The space was polished and strangely pristine, but Esme had insisted they keep it stocked for me and so she could cook for my dad too. I poured a glass of water from the chilled carafe Alice had labeled Bella's hydration or death! and smiled despite myself.
That’s when I heard it—Emmett’s laughter. Booming, unfiltered, impossibly loud. It rang through the house like thunder caught in a bottle.
I set my glass down and drifted toward the sound, sweater tugged tight around my shoulders. The back door was open, the breeze sharp with evergreen and distant rain. And beyond it, the yard was alive with chaos. I spotted Emmet at the edge of the clearing, facing off against Felix, who looked every bit the Roman statue he might’ve once been.
Both of them were shirtless—which felt absurd in the forty-degree chill—but clearly neither of them cared. Emmett was all broad shoulders and ridiculous muscle definition, built like a linebacker sculpted out of granite. Felix, by contrast, was leaner but no less lethal-looking, every movement precise and coiled with control. They stood beside a pile of uprooted tree trunks like kids at recess… if recess was run by mythological gods in a lumberyard.
I eased down onto a moss-covered log at the tree line, not bothering to pretend I wasn’t paying attention.
“I’m telling you, you don’t stand a chance,” Emmett said with that signature grin, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet like a boxer about to enter the ring. “You might be all serious and silent, but I’ve got technique, bro.”
Felix rolled his eyes—barely, subtly—but it was enough to make me smirk. That, and the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got volume,” he deadpanned.
That made Emmett snort. “Watch and learn, rookie.”
He hoisted one of the trunks onto his shoulder like it was nothing and took three long strides before launching it into the air. It spiraled like a javelin and landed with a satisfying crack somewhere deep in the woods.
“Top that,” he said, brushing imaginary dust off his hands.
Felix tilted his head. “You measure skill by destruction?”
“No,” Emmett replied. “I measure it by distance. And style.”
Felix said nothing, just turned and picked up the next trunk. His throw was almost lazy—graceful in a way Emmett’s had not been. The tree cut through the air in a clean arc and landed at least fifteen feet farther than Emmett’s.
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing out loud.
“Okay, okay!” Emmett called, hands raised in mock surrender. “Fine. You’ve got freak strength. Must be that Volturi protein powder.”
Felix didn’t answer, but his rare chuckle echoed in the stillness. The sound caught me off guard—deep, genuine, and…kind. Like a smile you weren’t expecting from someone you assumed didn’t know how.
That was the thing about Felix. He was always looming in the background like a silent guardian—especially when Marcus and I were together—but in moments like these, I saw something else. Loyalty. Humor. A reluctant comfort blooming in the presence of the Cullen chaos.
I must have shifted or made a noise because suddenly Emmett’s eyes locked onto me.
“Hey, B!” he called out, clearly pleased with the audience. “Tell me you saw that! I totally had him.”
I raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Nice try, Emmett. But I think Felix might’ve edged you out this time.”
Emmett gasped dramatically and clutched at his chest like he’d been shot. “You too, Bella?”
Felix smirked and gave me a small, respectful nod. “I appreciate fairness, Mistress Bella.”
I rolled my eyes at the title. “You know you don’t have to call me that.”
“It would be… unwise,” he said, but the corners of his mouth twitched, as if he knew exactly how ridiculous he sounded.
I stayed out there a while longer, half-listening to them argue over trajectory and angles like it was a physics competition, and not centuries-old vampires tossing trees for fun.
But underneath the humor, something settled inside me.
These were moments I hadn’t expected. Not just stories of ancient empires and lost gods, but laughter. Connection. Growth. Marcus and I had found something sacred in each other, yes—but what surprised me more was how easily this strange, immortal family had opened up and let me in.
Even Felix. Even now.
The next day felt quieter by contrast.
On Sunday, it was mid-morning when I arrived at the Cullens’ house, the thick clouds casting soft shadows through the high windows. A light rain whispered against the roof, barely more than mist. Marcus was away with Felix on a short hunting trip, and the silence he left behind felt larger than I expected.
Without meaning to, I found myself drifting through the house until I reached the sunroom—then the study—then, eventually, the kitchen.
I hadn’t planned to bring it up. I hadn’t even planned to feel it so sharply. But the guilt was sitting in my chest like a weight, growing heavier with every quiet moment.
Carlisle was in his study when I found him, seated in that high-backed leather chair I’d always associated with his quiet wisdom. A book lay open on his lap, though he wasn’t reading it. He looked up as I entered, a soft smile lifting his features.
“Bella,” he greeted gently. “Come in.”
I stepped closer but didn’t sit. “Is Esme here?”
“She’s in the garden,” he said. “Do you want me to call her?”
“No. I… I just needed to talk to someone.”
Carlisle set the book aside, giving me his full attention in that steady, reassuring way only he could.
“It’s about Edward,” I said, before I could lose my nerve. “I know I shouldn’t bring it up, but—I just—”
“You should,” Carlisle interrupted, his voice firm but kind. “You should bring it up. It’s not something we expect you to forget.”
The breath I’d been holding eased out. “I keep thinking about how different it could’ve been. If I’d… handled things differently, if I hadn’t gone to Volterra, or if I’d spoken up sooner—”
“You did everything you could,” he said, without hesitation. “And more than that—you made choices based on love. So did Edward.”
I looked down at my hands, fingers twisting. “A hundred years, though. It still feels like… a punishment. For all of us.”
Carlisle nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. “It is. But not in the way you think. The Volturi see time differently, Bella. And Marcus, more than anyone, would have advocated for balance over vengeance. I truly believe Edward’s sentence—though harsh by your standards—was meant to preserve that balance. Not just for Marcus. For you.”
I felt tears prick at the corner of my eyes. “He joined the Guard. That wasn’t something I ever imagined for him.”
“It wasn’t something he imagined, either,” came a new voice from the doorway.
Esme stood there, her soft presence bringing with it the scent of earth and rain. She came to me without hesitation, taking my hands in hers.
“I miss him every day,” she said, her smile tinged with sadness. “But I’ve also never heard him sound more grounded than when he told us of that decision. He did it to stay close to us. To you. It was his way of… making peace with everything that happened.”
I blinked back tears. “I still feel responsible.”
“You’re allowed to,” Esme said, gently brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Responsibility comes with love. But blame? That’s something you have to let go.”
Carlisle stood then, stepping forward, his gaze warm but direct. “Bella, we’re a family. That doesn’t stop when things go wrong. We support each other. We mourn together. And we heal together, too.”
I exhaled shakily, a weight beginning to lift.
Esme linked her arm with mine. “Come,” she said softly. “Walk with me. I’ll show you what I’ve been working on in the garden. Spring is coming.”
The symbolism wasn’t lost on me. In a world where seasons didn’t quite matter anymore, the idea of spring still felt real—still meant something.
And in that moment, walking between Carlisle’s steady presence and Esme’s endless grace, I allowed myself to hope.
Later, the light faded to silver, and the house folded into a hush.
The sun never quite broke through the clouds that day, but by late afternoon, a dreamy mist curled around the trees like breath on glass. I found myself drawn to Esme’s music room, curling up on the wide window seat with a blanket over my legs and my thoughts adrift.
The ache in my chest wasn’t sharp—it was softer now, quieter—but it lingered. Like something unfinished.
Naturally, the silence didn’t last. It never did with Alice.
She arrived like a breath of wind and the rustle of silk, barefoot and bright-eyed, trailing the scent of lilac and knowing things she shouldn’t yet know.
“You’re brooding,” she said, sliding in beside me without ceremony. She tucked her knees beneath her like a cat, her cashmere sweater falling artfully off one shoulder. “Which is never a good sign unless you’re doing it in couture.”
I smiled faintly. “I don’t own couture.”
She bumped her shoulder into mine. “You will. I’ll make sure of it. But in the meantime…” Her tone softened, the playful sparkle in her eyes dimming into something more perceptive. “Want to talk about it?”
I hesitated. “There’s nothing new to say. I’m just… still catching up to everything. All the changes. It’s like my brain’s lagging behind.”
Alice reached out and laced her fingers through mine. “It’s okay not to have caught up yet. You didn’t get handed a new life—you got dropped in the deep end of an immortal opera.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “More like a gothic soap opera.”
She giggled. “True. But you’re handling it better than most would. And Marcus—he’s come back to life now. I can see that. He’s not hollow anymore.”
That made my heart twist, sharp and warm all at once. “He’s… everything. And still, I feel like I’m just one misstep away from breaking something.”
“You’re not,” she said with quiet certainty. “You won’t. You’re not fragile, Bella. Not in the ways that matter.”
I turned my head and gave her a long look. “How do you always know the exact thing I need to hear?”
“I cheat,” she said, tapping her temple. “But I also know you. I’ve seen this—you growing into yourself. And I want to be here for every step.”
I leaned against her, grateful for the easy affection. “Thanks, Alice.”
She kissed my temple. “Anytime, Bella. Now, I have to go track down Jasper. He’s been sulking in the woods all afternoon pretending not to hunt.”
She slipped out of the room as quickly as she’d arrived, leaving the air humming with the soft aftertaste of her presence. I stayed where I was, curled in the quiet.
Minutes passed—or maybe hours. Time had started to bend in strange ways lately. I rose from the window seat and stepped outside into Esme’s garden.
The air was crisp and damp, smelling of moss and earth. The bare branches of rose bushes reached toward the sky like skeletal fingers, waiting for warmth. Waiting for spring.
I walked the gravel path slowly, my fingers brushing the low stone wall that bordered the flower beds. I could still feel the ghost of Alice’s hand in mine, her words echoing.
You’re not fragile. Not in the ways that matter.
I wasn’t so sure.
My life had been stitched together with sudden decisions and sharp turns, and every thread felt delicate, like it might unravel if I pulled too hard. But maybe… maybe I wasn’t meant to keep it all tight and perfect.
Maybe it was okay to let the seams show sometimes.
The wind whispered through the evergreens, and I closed my eyes, letting myself feel the quiet. I was different now. I wasn’t just Bella Swan. I was Marcus’s mate. A thread in a legacy far older than I’d ever imagined.
And yet, in this moment of solitude, I felt—still—undeniably me.
A girl walking through the damp quiet of a garden in bloom.
Waiting.
Breathing.
Becoming.
The garden was cloaked in twilight by the time Marcus found me.
I sensed him before I saw him—the shift in the air, the faint pull in my chest that hummed to life whenever he was near. He moved like a shadow, silent and composed, stepping through the garden gate with an elegance that didn’t belong to this world.
“Mia Bella,” he said softly, his voice a gentle reverence. As if my name was a hymn he only dared sing in moments like these.
I turned to face him, already smiling, already undone by the way his eyes found mine as though I were the center of every map he'd ever known. “I was hoping you’d come.”
“I always come to you,” he said, stepping close enough for me to breathe him in. The scent of stone and spice and something older than time.
He offered his hand, and I took it, the contact like fire and silk. Without a word, he pulled me closer, and I went willingly, resting my cheek against the soft linen of his shirt, just above his silent heart.
For a long moment, we just stood there.
The world didn’t exist outside that garden. There was only the night sky beginning to deepen above us, and the ever-present hush of the forest beyond, and the quiet cadence of our breaths. Mine mortal. His not. And yet somehow, still synced.
“Is it silly that I missed this?” I whispered. “Just you. Just us. You were only gone a day.”
“I missed you too.” His hand skimmed up my back, fingertips trailing a line of sparks along my spine. “These still moments… they feel like rare jewels. And I find myself hoarding them.”
His voice was velvet. Heavy with something unsaid.
My pulse fluttered under my skin like wings.
I tilted my head back to look at him. “Do you still feel it? That… pull?” The question spilled out in a whisper I hadn’t meant to give voice to. “Even when we’re apart for just a few hours, I feel like I can’t breathe right.”
His gaze darkened—not with danger, but with desire honed by centuries of restraint. He lifted a hand to cradle my cheek, brushing his thumb along the apple of it with an aching sort of reverence.
“I feel it like a heartbeat,” he said. “Like gravity itself is tethered to you.”
My breath caught.
He leaned in, not to kiss me, not yet, but just to rest his forehead against mine. The nearness was electric. His cool breath mingled with mine, and I felt the tremble of emotion in him, mirrored in me.
“How is it possible,” I asked, voice barely audible, “that I’ve known you such a short time, and yet it feels like I’ve always belonged here?”
He smiled, something deep and secret and unguarded. “Because time is irrelevant to what we are. You are my mate, Bella. My beginning and my end. In every version of this life, it would always be you.”
I closed my eyes, overwhelmed. I wanted to touch every moment we had ahead of us. To sink into the infinity that stretched beyond this garden and claim it, not with grand gestures, but with every shared glance, every whispered word, every heartbeat that still belonged to me.
When our lips met, it was not the fire of need that ignited first—it was the ache of recognition. That sacred kind of kiss that says: I see you. I choose you. Always.
But oh, the desire was there, threaded beneath it like the deepest current in a quiet sea.
He kissed me like a man who had waited lifetimes. His hands never roamed past the safety of my waist and back, but they pressed with intent, holding me like I was precious and breakable, even though we both knew I was far more than that now.
And I— I kissed him like a girl who had only just discovered what forever tasted like.
When we pulled apart, my fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, clinging, unwilling to lose even an inch of space between us.
His voice was rougher when he spoke again. “You have undone me, mia cara. With your light. With your love.”
The final rays of sunlight stretched lazily across Esme’s garden, painting the leaves in gold and amethyst as the evening settled into a hush. I was nestled against Marcus’s side, our fingers interlaced as naturally as breathing. The soft rustle of the wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it the fading warmth of the day and the scent of my mate—earthy, ancient, and utterly intoxicating.
“You seem content, mia Bella,” Marcus murmured, his voice a velvet caress against the fading quiet.
“I am, amore,” I whispered, my words soft, but heavy with truth. “This week has been… peaceful. In its own way.”
His arm tightened around me, the way it always did when he was trying to hold me closer, despite already having me right there. “Every day with you feels like a gift, mia cara. Even in this borrowed calm.”
The emotion in his crimson gaze was overwhelming—so much adoration, so much restraint. My breath hitched as I leaned forward, pulled by an invisible thread, and our lips met in a kiss that was tender and possessive all at once.
His fingers slid up my back once more, trailing heat in their wake, and I found myself in his lap, straddling him without really remembering how I got there. The feel of his cool, marble body against mine made my heart race, but not from fear—never fear. It was something else entirely. Something raw and bright and vast.
His lips traveled to the curve of my neck, pressing reverent kisses that made my skin erupt in goosebumps. I moaned softly, fingers fisting in his shirt, every nerve in my body attuned to him. I could feel him—all of him—and the want that pulsed between us was enough to steal the breath from my lungs.
“Marcus,” I whispered, my voice cracking with need.
His hands stilled, one cupping my cheek, the other pressed lightly against my lower back. He rested his forehead against mine, his breath uneven.
“Pazienza, amore mio,” he whispered. [Patience, my love]. “I want you, more than anything… but I will not rush this. Not with you.”
His words, spoken with such aching reverence, unraveled me more than any touch could have. I buried my face in his shoulder, overwhelmed by love, desire, and gratitude all at once.
We stayed like that—locked in each other’s arms, sharing breath, tracing skin, savoring every stolen second. It was more than a kiss. More than a touch. It was a promise. A declaration of forever in a language made only for the two of us.
And when the stars blinked into the sky above, and the night deepened around us, we were still there—entwined and breathless, but whole. Waiting. Trusting. Knowing that when the time did come, it would be everything.
—
Notes:
🔥 Author’s Note:
See? I didn’t leave you hanging too long after that last short chapter! In book format, this is 35 pages long ;) It may have felt quiet—maybe even like a breather—but beneath the surface, everything is shifting. Bella is anchoring herself in a new reality, and Marcus is learning the shape of patience after millennia of silence.
💬 Which moment resonated most with you?
Carlisle and Bella’s quiet honesty? Alice’s return? Or the vow whispered in Esme’s garden? Let me know your thoughts—just a line or a few emojis, it truly means the world. As a thank you, I might even post a mid-week bonus from Marcus's POV for you ✨
For the curious: a preview of the MPOV is also now up on Instagram @ada.mcrose 🖋️
Until next chapter, flame-readers—
✨ Ada
Chapter Text
Bella's POV
The kitchen was stiflingly quiet on Monday morning, filled with the faint scent of burnt toast and yesterday’s rain still clinging to the window panes. My knife sliced through the bread with slow precision, the scrape of metal on ceramic echoing far louder than it should have.
My body still held echoes of the night before—phantom touches, unspoken words, the way my breath had caught and changed forever. Even now, a flush prickled under my skin at the memory, like warmth trying to seep through my veins.
Across the table, Charlie sat buried in his usual paper, but the stiffness in his shoulders betrayed him. He hadn’t turned a page in five minutes.
“Any plans for today, Dad?” I asked, aiming for nonchalance, even as my voice felt too thin. All I wanted was a thread of normal conversation to hold onto, something solid.
He folded the newspaper with a sigh, eyes flickering over me like he wasn’t sure what to look for. “Not much. Might catch a game later. I’ve got to stop by the station this afternoon—some hikers went missing again last night.”
My fingers stilled on the toast. A chill moved through me, quick and sharp. “Again?”
He nodded, frowning. “Yeah. Second time this month.”
“I see,” I said softly, though my mind instantly jumped to darker corners. I forced myself to refocus. “Okay. I’ve got a few assignments due soon. Maybe I’ll work on those.”
Charlie rubbed at his jaw, the silence stretching between us, weighted by things neither of us knew how to say. “Bells, I wanted to… about the other night—”
“It’s okay, Dad,” I cut in gently, trying to spare him. “I know. It’s a lot.”
He leaned back in his chair, sighing again. “Werewolves and vampires, Bella. It’s hard to wrap my head around all this.”
“I understand.” I gave him a small, sympathetic smile. “It was overwhelming for me too. At first.”
His gaze darted around the room—anything but meeting my eyes. “Sue’s been asking about you. She’s concerned.”
Something in me softened. “That’s sweet of her. I’ll call her soon. Maybe I’ll invite her over for dinner?”
Charlie nodded slowly, grateful, though still clearly unsettled. “She’s… supportive. It’s weird, you know. All of this.”
“I know, Dad.” My voice dropped a little. “But you’re handling it better than you think.”
A silence settled again—thicker this time, full of things unsaid. I could feel the distance yawning between us, a quiet crack that had widened with the truths we now shared.
I stood, gathering my plate. “I better get going. I’ll see you later, okay?”
Charlie gave a small, resigned nod, a flicker of sadness crossing his face. “Yeah, Bells. See you later.”
As I stepped out of the room, I lingered for a second in the doorway, watching him stare blankly at the folded newspaper. There had once been a time when we could sit in this kitchen and not say a word, and it wouldn’t feel like anything was missing.
Now every silence between us felt like something broken. I packed up quickly and grabbed my bag—time to go back to school.
I braced myself and before I knew it, Marcus was leaving me at Forks High, the respite of his peaceful company too short-lived to be satisfying. I breathed in his calming, earthly scent one last time as we kissed softly and it was time for me to go back to what normal used to mean.
The high school corridors felt oddly familiar yet distant, like stepping back into a dream I wasn’t sure I’d really lived. Fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead, and the scent of floor polish and teenage perfume filled the air. Locker doors slammed, sneakers squeaked against tile, and voices rose and fell in their usual rhythmic gossip—but it all felt like white noise.
As I moved through the hallway, it was as if I were watching it from a pane of glass—present, but not in it. My life had shifted too far away from this place, from this version of normal, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever fully belong here again.
Marcus had dropped me off early at my request. I needed space, or at least the illusion of it. The last thing I wanted was to walk into school wrapped in his presence, drawing attention like a lightning rod. As much as I craved being near him, I needed to blend today. Or at least try.
Classes passed in a blur—textbooks, lectures, the scratch of pens, the buzz of tired students trying to focus with graduation on the horizon. The routine was almost comforting in its monotony, a fragile echo of the person I’d been before everything changed.
By the time the lunch bell rang, I felt like I’d run a marathon underwater.
At the cafeteria, I slid into my usual seat beside Jessica and Angela, the two of them already deep in conversation. Their voices were bright, animated—completely untouched by supernatural wars or immortal truths. It was like stepping into a pocket of a past life.
Jessica was practically vibrating with energy. “So, prom,” she said, drawing out the word like it held magic. “Can you believe it’s our last one? I’m thinking champagne pink, or maybe gold—what do you think, Angela?”
Angela smiled, brushing her hair behind one ear. “Gold suits your skin tone more.”
I half-listened, nodding along. Their words felt like bubbles—pretty, hollow, floating somewhere above my head.
"So, Bella," Jessica turned her full attention on me, eyes gleaming, "have you thought about prom?"
I blinked, caught off-guard. “Uh, not really,” I said, trying to sound apologetic. “I’ve been caught up with… stuff.”
“Come on, Bella.” Jessica pouted. “It’s our last prom. Don’t you want it to be, like, memorable?”
Angela gave me a gentler smile. “You’ve been super quiet today. Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, forcing a small smile. “Just some family stuff.” Then, more sincerely, “I’m good, really, Ang.”
They returned to their excited chatter about dresses and limos… My gaze slid to the side where a couple of younger students were holding hands, smiling sweetly as they chatted away and my mind drifted away again—pulled toward memory.
Marcus. His eyes on mine, the way his hand had settled against my back, his fingers brushing my skin like I was made of something precious. The look in his eyes when he whispered my name. Mia Bella.
A tremor rippled through me, slow and electric. I shifted in my seat, heat rising into my cheeks.
I bit down on my lower lip, hard, forcing my mind back to the cafeteria. Back to the noise and the light and the chatter that I couldn’t quite join in on.
The bell rang far too soon, jarring me from the haze. Jessica leaned in with a grin. “You’ll come around. I can see it already—you’re totally going to have a prom dress moment.”
I gave a vague smile. “Sure, Jess. See you guys in class.”
By fourth period, I was beginning to regret everything—mainly, the idea that coming back to school would somehow bring a sense of normalcy. Sitting at a scratched-up black lab table, I stared blankly at the periodic table poster while Mr. Banner droned on about covalent bonds.
“Partner up!” he called, his enthusiasm far outpacing ours. “Lab today is molecular bonding structures!”
I barely registered the words before the screech of metal on linoleum made me wince. A chair scraped eagerly across the floor beside me.
“Hey, Bella,” said a familiar voice, too hopeful.
I turned—too slowly—to find Tyler Crowley settling into the seat next to mine, clutching the lab packet like it might somehow score him bonus points. His hair was a little longer than I remembered, his grin a little too eager.
“Tyler. Hey.”
His eyes lit up, clearly taking my lack of enthusiasm as a challenge. “Can you believe this is our last semester? Crazy, right?”
“Yeah. Time flies.” My voice was bland, neutral. I could already feel where this was going.
He angled toward me, lowering his voice like he thought we were conspiring. “So… you, uh, thought about prom yet?”
There it was. I stilled over the plastic model of a water molecule, trying to play dumb. “Not really.”
“Because I was thinking,” he pressed on, “we didn’t get much of a chance to talk after—well, after everything last year. And now with graduation and all, it’s kind of like… last call, you know?”
Last call. That phrase hit weirdly, like the end of something final. Which I guess, in some ways, it was.
“Tyler,” I said gently, eyes still on the atom pieces between us, “I appreciate it, really. But I’m—” I hesitated, not sure how much to say. “There’s someone. And it’s… serious.”
His expression faltered for a second, but he recovered fast, a strange hopeful look on his face. I wondered what went through his head. “Right. Of course. I just thought—no harm in asking, right?”
“She’s very much taken,” Alice’s voice chirped behind us, sweet and sharp like a silver knife. She dropped into the empty chair on my other side without warning, plucking a red bead from the box and examining it critically. “And planning on matching colors, too. Isn’t that romantic?”
Tyler looked caught between confusion and disappointment. “Oh. Right. Yeah, of course.”
Alice gave him a pitying look. “But Ben Cheney is still free, I think. You two would be adorable.”
Tyler’s mouth opened. Closed. Then opened again. “Wait, what?”
Tyler looked between us, clearly catching more than was being said. He grabbed his lab sheet. “I’ll, uh, go check the glue sticks.”
“Good luck,” Alice called after him, and he practically jogged toward the supply counter.
I stared at her, part annoyed, part grateful. “You really didn’t have to rescue me like that.”
She smirked. “Please. That was me being nice.”
I gave her a look.
She leaned closer, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Marcus is going to combust when he hears someone tried to ask you out again. I can practically see him checking Forks High enrollment policies.”
I snorted, trying not to smile. “Well, maybe don’t tell him.”
Alice winked. “I make no promises.”
“I’ll light the match,” I muttered, half-laughing as we exited the classroom.
By the time the final bell rang, the flickering fluorescent lights were giving me a headache.
I walked slowly through the hallway. Why did I come back to school again?
Oh right—normalcy. Routine. A tether to the human world I was slowly slipping away from.
But the moment I stepped outside and spotted him—leaning against his car, effortlessly still in the swirl of movement around him—I remembered the real reason.
Not for the classes. Not for the memories. But for the contrast.
Because only after drowning in the noise of this world could I fully appreciate the silence and safety I found in his presence.
The moment our eyes met, everything fell back into place. The weight of the day slipped off my shoulders.
"Hey," I breathed, letting out a smile I hadn’t realized I’d been holding back all day.
He straightened and walked toward me. One hand reached to take my backpack, the other brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
"Ciao, mia bella."
"You're a sight for sore eyes," I murmured. “Today was… a lot.”
His eyes searched mine. "You held yourself well, even if the air around you trembled."
“You could tell?” I sighed.
"Sempre."
As we reached the car, I became aware of the gawkers—but Marcus was unfazed. He opened the door for me.
Inside, the sudden quiet felt sacred. The moment our hands touched, the air shimmered faintly—just a flicker, like gold light on smoke. It vanished before I could be sure it was there. But something inside me stirred anyway as if answering a call I hadn’t yet heard.
We drove in silence, but it wasn’t empty.
"I don’t think I belong there anymore," I said at last.
"You’ve outgrown that world, amore mio,” he said. “But if returning reminds you of who you are now… perhaps it serves a purpose.”
I leaned my head against the window.
"I just… wanted to feel normal again."
"This is where you belong," he said softly, lifting our joined hands to kiss my knuckles. "With me. In the life you chose."
The road blurred beneath us, but I felt steady again.
And outside, as the trees blurred past, I noticed them—bare branches beginning to bloom. Even in the misty grey of early spring, new shoots pushed through the soil—flashes of green and flame-gold beneath frost-laced leaves.
Notes:
A/N:
This story has reached over 100 followers, I am so grateful for your interest and reading ❤️Your love and comments genuinely make me smile and keep me writing 💛As an author, currently writing my own debut novel, I am especially grateful for those who take the time to send feedback in comments or PM so don’t hesitate to be blunt if you feel it needed, I am here to learn 🔥
Come find me on Instagram @ada.mcrose for visual edits, quotes, and sneak peeks ✨
3 chapter left in this part of the Story before things take a turn for the worst… or the best? I will let you decide!
Chapter 10: Her Freedom is my Law
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Bella’s POV
The days began to blur together, each one spent learning more about the intricate and endless world of vampires. That afternoon, I sat cross-legged on the Cullens’ expansive couch, Jasper’s calming presence making the space feel oddly peaceful. His ability to settle emotions was hypnotic when he relaxed and let his natural presence shine through.
“It’s all about control, Bella,” he said in that slow, honeyed Southern drawl. “I feel everything around me all the time. I’ve learned how to channel it and how to make it work for me.”
“It’s kind of like tuning a radio.” Alice, perched on the armrest beside me, chimed in. “I think your shield works the same way. You’ll learn to filter what you allow in and how to control it.”
Marcus smiled tenderly when looking at me, which I swore was making me melt a little inside each time. He calmly added; “Your shield will strengthen with time and practice, mia Bella. It’s a core part of who you are.”
I nodded, eager to explore not-so-fragile human abilities. “So... how do I start? What should I focus on first?”
Jasper’s golden eyes lit with mischief and I shifted expectantly. “You are still human, so we start small. We’ll go one emotion at a time. Feel it fully… then picture it bouncing off a barrier. Imagine a bubble around you or a force field if you will. Color it, shape it. Whatever helps you hold that line.”
Alice’s grin turned playful. “You’ve got an instinct for this. You have been using your shield passively since before we met you.” She seemed more vulnerable as she added. “Just like I was as a human too.”
Jasper squeezed her hand briefly and the loving smile they shared made me smile.
“Honestly,” Alice continued. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you end up teaching him a trick or two.” She giggled and leapt away just as Jasper lunged at her with a mock growl. I laughed as he chased her out of the room, warmth flooding me as I leaned into Marcus’s arms.
In the days that followed, I threw myself into Jasper’s exercises. He sent me emotions at random; joy, frustration, anxiety… and I tried to track and isolate them. It was overwhelming, but even as a human, I could tell they weren’t natural. The emotions Jasper projected had an artificial edge to them, like a perfume that was just a little too strong.
Jasper had looked at me with something like respect, I thought, when I shared my metaphor.
“That’s rare, Bella, especially for someone not turned yet.”
His compliment made me feel prouder than I liked to admit and gave me renewed motivation to keep learning.
One evening, Alice tugged me into Jasper’s study, a space filled with books, relics, and things too old to have names. “You need a break,” she said with a wink. “Something stimulating but not emotional whiplash for once.” She laughed at her own joke before Marcus joined us a moment later.
We shared a tender kiss before he guided me to the couch where I melted against him. Alice placed a warm cup of cocoa in my hands and placed a neatly folded and very soft-looking cover by my side. I sipped on the drink gratefully, once again marveling at the vampires' strange ability to craft the most delicious human foods.
“I would like to go deeper into Volturi history tonight. Explore our origins and discuss the laws we uphold.” His tone softened as he pulled away slightly to take out several items from a velvet-lined case that I hadn’t paid attention to until that time. “Aro and Caius sent these from Volterra to assist me.”
He began with an ancient scroll that he unrolled reverently, the parchment crackling faintly in the still air.
“This scroll predates most known vampire records,” he said. “It holds the very first edicts, from when we were still unstructured and learning to coexist. It marks the beginnings of the supernatural order.”
I set my cup down gently and leaned in, hovering close but careful not to touch, conscious of how precious a relic this was. The language was alien, woven into a fluid script I couldn’t understand. And yet… something in me was drawn to it.
“They were not just rules,” Marcus continued, his voice low. “They were vows. Each line is bound with blood and purpose. The first law forbade us from taking children. Not just humans… but our own. Any vampire who turned a child doomed them and themselves to destruction.”
I gasped, my heart breaking at the grief behind such story.
“Another forbade open feeding or any act that threatened the secrecy of our existence. This was also, and still is, punishable by death. This law alone has saved us more than once from exposure and possible chaos.”
I nodded slowly, a shiver of dread going up my spine as I imagined a world where vampires roamed freely. The words in this parchment may have been ancient but their weight was very real.
Marcus’s fingers traced the next line, hovering just a fraction of an inch over the relic. “This one was the foundation of what became our Guard. A decree that those of strength and loyalty should be trained not merely to fight, but to protect the peace. To defend the balance, even from ourselves.”
“Who wrote them?” I asked, barely above a whisper, entranced by the piece of history that sat just inches away.
He hesitated. “They were dictated by a vampire named Augustus. He was older than any of us now living, a scholar and a true visionary. His name has faded through time, but his mark lingers in us.”
I stared down at the script, heart thudding. The more I looked at it, the more I swore I could feel the power laced into each stroke. It was legacy.
“How is it still intact?” I asked, frowning as I considered how old it must actually be to have predated the Volturi by so much. “After all this time?”
“Preserved in flame-forged ink and alchemized parchment,” Marcus murmured. “Infused with our immortal blood, or venom I should say.”
He met my gaze. “Each of us offered a few drop of venom in the beginning. We were bound not just by our belief, but by our very essence. This scroll is a part of me, and a part of all who swore the law since then.”
I felt goosebumps rise on my skin. “It’s kind of… alive, isn’t it?” I asked, mesmerized, and unsure whether the feeling of awe that ran through me was maybe more that just that.
“In a way, yes,” he agreed. He paused, then softly added: “And now, it belongs to you, too.”
I looked up sharply. “To me?”
He nodded. “You will not just join our world. You will help shape it forward. And when you stand by my side in Volterra, this will not just be part of your history, it will be your inheritance.”
For the first time since stepping into this world of immortal tales, I didn’t just feel like an outsider learning ancient truths, I truly, irrevocably, felt like something I was meant to be a part of. And that scared me more than I would ever admit.
I smiled tentatively at my mate, trying to communicate how precious his words were to me, how grateful I was that he was not making me feel small in this world of his. He smiled back, almost a teasing smirk that made me chuckle - breaking the tension slightly.
Next came a heavy book, its leather cover dark with age and cracked, the spine held together by meticulous preservation rather than time’s mercy. Marcus turned the pages slowly, reverently, his touch so light it was barely a whisper of motion.
“These accounts are pivotal to the Volturi history,” he said, voice lowered in deference. “They mark the moment Aro, Caius, and I bound ourselves in purpose, to hold the Law set by Augustus. From that point, we were no longer just a triumvirate of powerful men, we became the architects of a world that could flourish in the shadows.”
He stopped on a page where the ink was deeper, bolder, the handwriting more precise. Three signatures at the bottom, each in a different hand, had been reinforced with a shimmering silver stroke.
“They were vows, mot to rule, but to uphold. We chose stability over supremacy, structure over instinct and sign it in blood.”
“Blood?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
He chuckled silently. “Well, venom, of course.”
He turned the next page, revealing a full illustration inked with brutal grace: a field of bodies under a bruised sky, and three figures in black standing at the center of chaos. I leaned in.
It was eerie, how clearly I could identify them, even rendered in stark lines and muted colors. Aro, one hand raised in command. Caius, sword drawn, expression furious. And Marcus… still, solemn, standing between two covens with arms spread like a bridge.
“This was one of our greatest tests,” he said quietly. “An alliance of covens who sought to expose us almost a millennium and a half ago. They were ambitious, brilliant, and devastating in their thirst to rule openly. They saw themselves as gods among mortals, called themselves as such too and demanded worship and sacrifices. But they had no vision for consequences.”
He stared at the image for a moment longer before closing the book halfway.
“Thousands died,” he added. “Not all guilty, mostly innocents, but chaos does not discriminate.”
His tone was weary in a way that resonated painfully in me. I watched as his hand lingered on the page, realising that even now, centuries later, the weight of those deaths pressed into him.
“I think I understand why you did it,” I said softly.
His eyes flicked to mine. “Tell me?”
I nodded. “Because power without rules is bound to corrupt, and peace isn’t something that just happens. It has to be built and rebuilt, again and again. We see through all of history… at least I see it, I think.” I shrugged, feeling like my words were not enough to express my thoughts.
Silence followed while Marcus looked at the words across the page some more before he flipped further ahead. The parchment was different here, looking… slightly darker maybe. He turned it toward me and tapped a new passage, near the top of a page that glimmered faintly with more of the silver shine in the ink.
“This is something almost no one outside Volterra has ever seen.” My breath felt heavier, faster and more shallow. I felt breathless from the weight of the night’s revelations so far and I did not want it to stop. I wanted to learn everything.
The chapter’s title was written in Latin, but beneath it, in delicate script, was a single Italian phrase I could mostly understand: “The Agreement of Shadows and Moon?” I questioned hesitantly.
Marcus nodded. “A Treaty, but agreement is right a translation.”
My eyes widened as I skimmed the first few lines. “Werewolves?” I guessed.
Marcus inclined his head. “Not shifters like your Quileute protectors, something older. True wolves, turned like us from a bite or a particularly viscous scratch. Savage, yes… but once, they bent toward diplomacy.”
“You formed an alliance?” I breathed.
“For a generation,” he confirmed. “There was a need… something hunted both sides, something neither side could defeat alone.”
He didn’t name it, but I felt the chill of it. Something ancient, buried… perhaps dead, perhaps not. “Did it work?” I asked, leaning even closer to the page as if I could somehow understand the ancient words better by becoming physically closer to them.
“For a time, long enough to preserve both species… long enough to prove it was possible.” He watched me closely, and I realized he was studying not just my reaction to the history, but to what it meant.
“You see, Bella,” Marcus said, “the laws were never just about punishment. They were about restraint and balance. The moment we abandon diplomacy, we become the monsters they already believe us to be.”
My heart beat louder in my ears as I looked back down at the pages, each one alive with warning. This wasn’t fantasy. It wasn’t simple mythology or history. It was something more.
“I need to see that library in Volterra,” I said, wonder and a desire for forbidden knowledge battling in my soul.
Marcus’s laugh was soft, and the look he gave me reverent. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my temple, resting his head against mine as he inhaled, his lips so close to where my blood rushed in the hollow of my neck.
“I believe,” he said, lips curving as he kissed my treacherous pulse point, “you’ll want to live in it.”
I moaned softly as he retreated, another kind of desire raging through me, making heat burst through me. I watched as he delicately reached for one of the last artifacts laid out, a ceremonial dagger, its hilt decorated with silver vines and small, delicate stones that shone like embers. Marcus picked it up with both hands, careful in his movement as if it could still hurt him.
“This blade was never used to kill,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It was meant for rituals. In the early days, blood and venom were currency. It was given, not taken. This dagger drew it as a sign of trust, a symbol that the bond being forged was sacred and unbreakable. It marked oaths that bound enemies into allies.”
He turned it gently, letting the carvings catch the firelight. The blade shimmered, aged but somehow immaculate.
“Who used it?” I asked, leaning closer, captivated by the way the fire made it look even more momentous.
“My brother, Aro, at first. Then Caius, and eventually… me.” His thumb traced the engraving near the base. “This is the sigil of peace. We have not used it since the last treaty with the werewolves failed.”
“Would you use it again?” I asked before I could stop myself.
He looked up at me. Not just at my face, but it felt like he could see straight into my soul. My heart was almost painful in my chest now.
“I would,” he said. “But only to seal something I would never dare break.”
There was something behind the words, something unspoken that curled low in my stomach and left a tremor in my fingers. I didn’t know how to breathe anymore because behind his words, I could feel the reverence and promise in his soul.
His eyes didn’t leave mine. Finally, my body remembered how to draw breath and brought me back to reality, ending the moment. I drew my eyes down as he placed the blade down carefully, his fingers lingering on the sigil a brief instant before hereached for a smaller item, nestled in crimson velvet. It was a silver pendant no larger than a coin, a stylized flame at its heart with fine script etched around the edge. The chain, made of the same aged silver, was coiled like silk beside it in Marcus’s large hand.
“This belonged to Didyme,” he whispered so low I almost didn’t hear it. I went still as he continued. “She wore it every day,” he said, running one finger along the outer edge of the charm. “Even in the Tower. Even when no one saw her but me.”
He cradled it as if it might dissolve. “After she was gone, Aro returned it to me. Without a word. He knew what it meant. This is the last piece of her I have.”
I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. The pain in his voice wasn’t raw anymore but worn, weighted by centuries of grief that had been shaped so profoundly into his soul, it had become part of his being.
Gently, I reached out and touched the pendant where it lay between his hands.
“I know I’m not her…” I started softly.
“No,” he replied, eyes locked to mine. “You’re not.”
Then, slowly, he placed the chain in my palm. The metal was cool but warmed quickly in my grasp. His fingers lingered over mine longer than they needed to, like his hand couldn’t quite bear to part from the contact.
“You don’t have to wear it,” he said, his voice a whisper now. “But I wanted you to know it’s yours. If you want it.”
I blinked, stunned. “But this was hers…”
“It is a symbol,” he interrupted gently before I could formulate a protest. “Of memory, yes. But also of… what came after; of healing and of what I never thought I’d find again.”
He looked at me then in a way that made me forget where I was. All I knew was who I was with and just how precious and unique he was, how blessed I was to be meant to stand beside him in eternity. Emotion surged in my throat. I slid the pendant over my head, the chain settling against my skin like it always belonged there. “Thank you,” I whispered.
His fingers reached out instinctively, brushing the charm where it now rested at the hollow of my throat. The touch was reverent, but the moment it passed over my pulse, something shifted.
His eyes locked onto mine.
And my breath hitched.
Neither of us moved for a long heartbeat.
Then his hand lifted, slowly, tentatively, and cupped my jaw, his thumb brushing just beneath my cheekbone. His touch wasn’t cold anymore. Not to me. Right now, it felt like fire.
“I shouldn’t,” he whispered, his forehead dipping toward mine. “You’re still human.”
“I know,” I breathed, leaning closer. “But I’m still yours.”
That cracked something in him.
He kissed me, slow and shattering, like he was afraid to break me but could no longer stand not touching me. His other hand slid to my back, anchoring me, pressing me gently into him.
I melted against him, fingers twisting in the fabric at his chest, clinging as if he would disappear and I wanted to be part of him, a part that was as much him as the rest of his unbelievably beautiful self. And he let me.
He deepened the kiss, not in hunger, but in devotion. His mouth moved with aching control, his hands trembling faintly as they cupped my waist, then trailed slowly down to settle at the curve of my hips.
When we parted, barely, our foreheads touched. My lips tingled. My whole body hummed with awareness. Wanting.
“I’ve waited thousands of years,” he whispered against my mouth, voice raw. “And still I will wait a thousand more if that’s what you need.”
I closed my eyes, one hand still pressed to his chest, the pendant between us like a vow.
“Not that long,” I whispered back, looking deep into the depths of his crimson eyes.
His eyes darkened. “You undo me, Bella,” he said. “And I am not used to being undone.”
Bonus - Extended scene - Marcus’s POV
The pendant lay in her palm. So small. So unbearably significant. I hadn’t touched it in centuries, yet the moment I retrieved it from its place in the velvet box, time bent. Folded. Returned me to stone corridors and candlelight. To the shimmer of laughter now long vanished.
“This,” I told her softly, “belonged to Didyme.”
Her breath caught, a sound of sympathy, but she said nothing. She didn’t fill the space with words. She understood silence. Revered it. That alone nearly broke me.
“She wore it every day,” I said, watching my fingers trace the outer curve of the silver. “Even when confined to the Tower. Even when no one saw her but me.”
And how she shone even then. Her light, fragile, but fierce, had pierced the veil of that place. She had made it bearable.
“After she was gone, Aro returned it to me. Without a word. He knew what it meant. This is the last piece of her I have.”
I didn’t look at Bella then. I couldn’t. The grief wasn’t raw anymore. It had calcified, and layered itself into the framework of who I was. But holding this token again, with her beside me, it stirred like smoke over coals.
I placed the chain in her open hand. My fingers lingered longer than they should have, longer than I meant them to.
“You don’t have to wear it,” I said. My voice was quieter now. “But I want you to have it. If you want it. It’s a symbol. Of memory… yes. But also of healing. And of what I never believed I would find again.”
Finally, I lifted my gaze to hers.
And what I saw undone me: not pity, not uncertainty, just clarity. Just my Isabella. Steady, present and beautiful in the infinite possibilities she brought back in my unending existence.
She slid the pendant over her head. I should have felt pain, should have felt guilt. But I only felt reverence. The charm settled at the base of her throat, resting above her pulse like a seal and when my fingers rose, drawn to it, to her, I barely breathed as I brushed it.
The moment I felt the heat of her skin, the soft flutter of her heartbeat under the pad of my thumb… everything in me stilled. No. Everything in me answered.
She wasn’t Didyme, she was her own woman and yet this woman was rewriting every piece of who I had been.
Her gaze didn’t waver. “I’m not her,” she said again, barely a whisper.
“No,” I murmured, “you’re not.”
She was something new. Something mine.
I reached up, my hand cupping her jaw. Her skin was warm against the marble of my fingers, but I cherished the difference.
“I shouldn’t,” I whispered. “You’re still human.”
“I know,” she said, leaning into me. “But I’m still yours.”
That shattered the remnants of restraint I’d spent millennia refining.
I kissed her, slow, reverent, breaking and rebuilding with every press of my lips to hers. She melted against me instantly, as if our bodies already knew what our minds still feared to speak aloud.
My other hand slid to her back, anchoring her as she climbed into my lap with sure, unhesitating motion. Her thighs bracketed mine, her warmth seeping through every barrier between us.
Her breath trembled across my skin as I kissed along her jaw, then lower, down the soft column of her throat. I lingered where the pendant lay, Didyme’s once, yes. But now claimed by the woman who had become my future.
And still, I pulled back.
“Bella,” I breathed. “I have waited thousands of years. And I will wait a thousand more if that is what you need.”
She shook her head, eyes glassy, determined. “Not that long.”
“You undo me, Bella,” I breathed. “And I am not used to being undone.”
Her fingers curled into my shirt, her lips brushing my jaw with aching gentleness. “Just promise me. No Towers. No locked doors.”
I slid a hand to the nape of her neck, holding her there, not possessively, but with a vow. “You will never be hidden away. You will rule at my side, or not at all. Your will is my law, Isabella. Your freedom, is, my law.”
She gasped softly, her forehead resting against mine, and I felt her tremble with restrained want. My own restraint cracked with it.
“I want you,” she whispered, desperate and sure. “Even like this. Even now.”
I kissed her again, and this time it was deeper, more desperate. My hands slid beneath the hem of her sweater, finding bare skin and worshipping it. I mapped the curve of her ribs, the small of her back, the warmth of her spine. I buried myself in the scent of her, the taste of her breath, the sounds she gave me freely.
But still, I would not take. I could not. Her body was still breakable. Her future still forming, so I kissed her harder, held her tighter. I poured my devotion into every breath, every murmur of her name.
And when at last she sagged into me, pulse wild and lips swollen, I pressed a final kiss to her temple and whispered against her hair:
“You are already mine. And when the time comes… I will show you what eternity truly means.”
She didn’t answer, she didn’t need to. Her heartbeat told me everything.
Notes:
Thank you so much for reading this chapter, I’m as alway, grateful for the growing support, your messages, follows, and especially your comments. They truly keep this story alive. As a thank you, I am posted this edit early and I added the MPOV at the end 🔥Please let me know your thoughts ❤️
What do you think of Didyme’s pendant… would you wear it? Would you hesitate? Refuse?
Did you enjoy this Bella-Marcus moment?
A picture of what Didyme’s necklace could look like is on my Instagram.
Two chapters left in this Arc! The peace is about to be shaken…
Until next time, flame-bearers,
✨ Ada
Chapter 11: To Burn or to Wait
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Bella’s POV
It was one of those rare, warmer evenings in Forks, the kind that smelled faintly of spring rain and sun-warmed pine trees. Sue Clearwater stepped into our house with a smile, and I felt a quiet relief settle in my chest. I’d invited her for dinner to say thank you for helping Charlie make sense of the impossible over the past few weeks.
The meal started in a friendly manner with Sue complimenting the rosemary chicken I’d made, and we drifted into a kind of easy conversation that made me remember my rare childhood family dinners. We swapped stories about favorite dishes, kitchen mishaps, and comfort foods. Charlie even added a few comments, humming in agreement when Sue praised my cooking. When Sue caught sight of the apple pie cooling behind Charlie, her eyes lit up.
“Oh, that looks like my mom’s,” she said, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “Apple and cinnamon. It was her signature dessert. She always said pie could fix just about anything.”
I smiled, delighted. “Would you share the recipe with me sometime?”
Sue’s face lit up. “Of course! It’s really simple, just good ingredients and the right patience. And a few Clearwater secrets, of course.” She winked, and I could already imagine the scent of butter and cinnamon filling the kitchen.
That good mood was shattered a moment later when the doorbell rang, sharp and urgent, followed by an insistent and loud knock. My breath caught, sending my body into alert. I wasn’t expecting anyone else.
“I got it!” I said, racing out of the kitchen before Charlie could react. I really wanted tonight to go well.
Sadly, it wasn’t meant to be.
When I opened the door, Jacob stood on the threshold, flanked by Leah and Seth. All three of them looked like they’d come storming straight from a fight, clothes rumpled, faces thunderous.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, a hint of unease creeping in as their expressions soured further.
“We're here to see their mom,” Jacob replied sharply, pointing at Seth and Leah, casting a disapproving look at me. “Where is she?” The animosity in his tone made me tense.
“Jacob, I invited Sue for dinner,” I explained, hoping to defuse the tension. “She's our guest.”
Leah’s eyes blazed with intensity, and only Seth’s hand on her shoulder stopped her from moving closer to me. “This is exactly what we were talking about. You might enjoy playing house with leeches, but leave our mom out of it, do you hear me?”
“Leah!” came a reproachful voice behind me. I sighed inwardly, knowing our peaceful evening was indeed over. “Bella invited me for dinner; you do no need to be so rude,” Sue said. Her discomfort was evident as she observed her children’s confrontational stance.
Charlie stood nearby, concern etched on his face. He vividly remembered the incident when Jacob had transformed into his wolf form right in front of him to prove the existence of the supernatural. That memory still weighed heavily on him, making the current situation even more tense.
I tried to remain calm despite my rising frustration. “Please, guys. Sue was only… ”
“Look, Bella,” Seth said, a mix of frustration and hurt etched on his face. “Our mom shouldn’t be out here with all the bloodsuckers running around, it’s just better that way.”
I felt the tension rise further, Leah’s jaw was clenched, showing her barely restrained anger. I looked apologetically at Seth, who seemed to be the least confrontational of the lot. I struggled to find words to ease their anger, my own emotions threatening to surface.
“I don’t…”
“I'd better get going,” Sue interrupted, grabbing her coat and purse from the rack near the door. “Thank you for the lovely dinner, Bella.” She stopped to give my hand a quick squeeze. I couldn’t help but return her sad but warm smile as she left. Sue had a good heart, and it was hard not to feel comforted in her presence.
The door closed behind them, leaving a heavy silence. I looked at Charlie and couldn’t bear the hurt and discomfort on his face. I headed for the kitchen, hoping to distract myself with cleaning.
Walking in, however, I was assaulted by the smell of the apple pie, and a lump formed in my throat. Making a snap decision, I cut half of it and placed it in a Tupperware, then a plastic bag, and headed for the door, putting on the deep denim blue jacket that Alice had insisted I needed this season.
“I’ll be back later,” I told Charlie, voice clipped.
“Bella, where are you... ?”
But I was already out the door, rushing down the stairs to my truck.
As I slowly navigated the familiar roads toward the reservation, my mind raced with conflicting emotions. The heated argument with Jacob, Leah, and Seth weighed heavily on me, eclipsing the earlier warmth of dinner with Sue. Still, I was determined to make things right, or at least make a gesture that showed I cared.
This shouldn’t be how things are, I thought, clutching the wheel tighter as I turned onto the road leading to the Clearwaters' home. Sue had become an anchor in these past few weeks. Her presence had helped keep Charlie grounded, and she had never once treated me like a monster for the world I had chosen to inhabit. She didn’t deserve to be caught in the crossfire of this supernatural tug-of-war.
Jacob was on the porch when I pulled up, pacing as if he was ready to burst. His arms were crossed, his face taut with emotion.
I parked and stepped out, the pie cradled protectively in my arms.
“Bella,” he said in a low voice, gruff, tired, guarded.
I didn’t let him speak further. “This is for Sue,” I said simply, lifting the container slightly. “She didn’t get to taste it.”
Jake’s expression shifted, something flickered in his eyes. Shame, maybe, or regret. He glanced at the house, then back at me.
“She’s resting,” he muttered. “Leah’s with her.”
I nodded slowly. “Then just… give it to her later. Please.”
He reached for it, taking it gently. Our fingers brushed for a second. It felt oddly symbolic, an echo of something we’d lost, and could never quite find again.
“I didn’t mean for things to go like that,” Jacob said, voice rough.
“But you let them,” I replied. “You could’ve stopped it, Jake. But you stood there and let them treat Sue like she was making some kind of betrayal when all she did was show kindness.”
Jake opened his mouth, but I held up a hand.
“I get that you’re worried. That you think we’re living on different sides of this war. But Sue? She’s not in the war. She’s just trying to help keep Charlie sane. She doesn’t deserve to be dragged into whatever lines you’ve made up.”
He sighed, shifting his weight. “It’s not just that. We’ve been tracking a scent, something’s been circling the outskirts of Forks. Not Cullens. Something… thirsty. And pissed. That’s why we showed up.”
I frowned. “Why didn’t you just say that?”
“I was trying to,” he said, voice sharp again. “But then I saw you, laughing with her like this was normal, and I lost it. I didn’t want to watch my friends’ mom become another casualty of whatever’s coming.”
I stepped back slightly, processing. “What kind of scent?”
He hesitated, then muttered, “Not one I recognize. But it’s been near your place, near the Cullen house, and even near the reservation.”
I swallowed. “Did you tell Carlisle?”
“Not yet. I will.” He glanced down at the pie. “Tell Charlie… we didn’t mean to scare him.”
“I’ll tell him,” I said softly.
We stood there for a long second.
Then Jacob finally said, “Tell Marcus… I still don’t trust him.”
I smirked faintly. “He knows.”
Another long pause. This one… almost peaceful.
“I’ll get the pie to her,” he added, more gently this time.
“Thanks,” I said, turning toward my truck.
As I drove away, a strange knot twisted in my stomach. Something thirsty. Something pissed.
And it was circling all of us.
After leaving the pie with Jake, I returned home to find Marcus waiting at the edge of the forest, a shadowy sentinel in the deepening dusk. His silhouette, framed by the fading light, tinged gold through ivy-covered branches, radiated strength and calm. My heart settled at the sight of him and I smiled.
“Marcus,” I called softly as I approached, grateful once more that I got to call this glorious being my mate.
He turned toward me, eyes glowing with affection. My heart skipped a beat. “Bella,” he murmured, voice smooth as velvet.
As I finally reached him, his arms enveloped me, and the weight of the evening’s tension began to lower away. His embrace was grounding, his presence the missing piece I hadn’t realized I needed.
“Are you alright?” he asked, brushing his fingers lightly against my cheek, reading my unrest in a glance.
I leaned into his touch. “Jacob… it turned into a mess,” I admitted, frustration still simmering beneath the surface as I retold the events of that evening.
His thumb traced a comforting line along my jaw. “You handled it well, Bella. But you must be cautious around the wolves. Their tempers run hot, and their instincts are not easily reasoned with.”
“I know, I know” I murmured, tired now. “But Sue didn’t deserve that. And neither did Charlie.”
Marcus’s gaze softened, a flicker of pride and worry mingling in his expression. “I admire your compassion, even when others don’t make it easy.”
For a moment, we stood in calming silence, the only sounds coming from the forest behind us. The pull between us was magnetic, the bond we shared now pulsing more tangibly than ever and I craved for more.
“I’m grateful you’re here,” I whispered, voice barely more than breath.
He smiled, warm and wistful and kissed me tenderly and passionately. “Always, tesoro mio.” [my treasure]
Then his expression shifted, his tone becoming more serious. “There’s something you need to know. The wolves were right to be on edge. We’ve confirmed the presence of at least three unfamiliar vampires near Forks. Their intentions are still unclear, but I don’t like the feel of it.”
Alarm prickled at the base of my spine. “Are they dangerous?”
His brow creased faintly. “Possibly. For now, their movements are erratic and scattered, but proximity alone poses a risk, especially while you remain human. I’ve requested two of our most capable nomadic Guards to begin tracking their paths. Quietly. They’ll observe, report, and only intervene if necessary.”
“Thank you,” I said softly. “I’ll be careful.” This time, I was the one who raised onto my tiptoes to initiate in a lingering kiss.
“You are my heart, Isabella. I will not leave your safety to chance.”
I exhaled, my fingers tightening around his. “I’ll watch my back. And I trust you.”
“You should return now,” he said gently. “Your father is worried.”
I nodded reluctantly. Marcus pressed a parting kiss to my forehead, then slipped back into the woods, disappearing in the shadows.
Back inside, Charlie was sitting a little too straight in his armchair, the TV on but the volume muted. He looked up as I entered. He looked like he’d been deep in thought and didn’t say anything as he looked at me, looking at a loss.
“I talked with Jake,” I said, needing to say something, even if said conversation had been far from productive.
Charlie raised an eyebrow. “How’d that go?”
I gave a half-shrug. “About as well as you'd expect.”
He huffed a faint laugh and shook his head. “For what it’s worth, kid, I had a good evening, thanks.”
I smiled at that. “Sue is really great. I’m glad she’s around. You… seem a little lighter when she is.”
Charlie gave a small nod. “She’s been a good friend. We’ve helped each other.” His voice dropped a little. “It’s been hard on her, losing Harry. But this, tonight, it helped.”
“I’m glad.” I hesitated. “I didn’t mean for it to go sideways.”
“You can’t control how other people react,” he said, tapping the armrest. “All you can do is try to do the right thing. You did.”
“Thanks, Dad. Goodnight.”
“’Night, Bells.”
Upstairs, I curled up on my bed, my room dimly lit by the amber glow of my nightstand lamp. Normally, it would feel comforting. But tonight, my skin itched with unease. The knowledge of strange vampires lurking in the woods made it impossible to settle. I stared out the window, trying to find clarity in the stars.
What could I do, truly? A human girl in a supernatural war zone.
Really, it came to limited choices.
Option one: Do nothing. Stay human. Trust the wolves and the vampires to handle whatever threat was out there.
But the thought of Marcus facing danger without me twisted something painful in my chest. Could I sit back and watch him fight alone? What if something happened to him while I waited on the sidelines?
Another thought nagged at me with this scenario too. What if something happened to me while Marcus fought to keep me safe and human? Letting him loose his mate so soon after finding me would be worth that any death sentence.
I took a shaky breath, clutching a pillow to my chest. The mere thought of losing each other made my lungs tighten and my eyes sting painfully.
Option two: Accelerate the transformation. Give up the last threads of normalcy. Fake my death, break my mother’s heart, and disappear.
My throat constricted. Renee. Graduation. Prom. Goodbyes.
It would be like pressing a fast-forward button on my life. No clean endings. No closure.
But there was a third option. A compromise, to give it a little more time. To let the scouts work and let Carlisle and Sam coordinate. Watch and wait, but prepare.
Begin saying goodbyes without calling them that. Build up the strength I’d need - mentally and emotionally - if it came to that.
I reached for my phone. My hands were trembling as I dialed. I just needed one call. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to everyone. But I needed to hear her voice.
The line rang twice.
“Hello?” Her voice, light and bright and utterly her, slipped through the speaker. It made my throat close.
“Hi, Mom,” I said, injecting as much cheer into my voice as I could. “It’s me.”
“Bella! Oh, honey, it’s so good to hear from you!”
She launched into her usual flood of warmth—stories about Phil’s latest obsession with backyard golf, the weather, a dream she had about pelicans stealing her sunglasses. I let it wash over me like a tide I never wanted to come out of.
We talked about graduation. About colleges I might still apply to, just in case. About a summer road trip she thought we should take.
Nothing urgent. Nothing sad. Just a mother and daughter catching up.
And yet, every word sat heavier in my chest. Each laugh we shared felt too perfect. “Hey,” she said near the end, her voice softening, “you sound… a little far away. Everything okay, sweetie?”
I blinked hard. Swallowed the lump in my throat.
“Yeah,” I lied gently. “Just a lot on my mind. Finals coming up. You know how it is.”
She didn’t press. She never had.
“Well, you’ll get through it like you always do,” she said. “You’re stronger than you think, Bella. You always have been.”
That nearly undid me. I took a deep silent breath to steady myself.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
I held the phone to my ear even after the call ended, as if the warmth of her voice could linger there just a little longer. When I finally set it down, I sat in silence. My heart ached, but my path felt clearer.
I would give it two weeks. If there was no resolution, I would ask to be changed.
But I wouldn’t be powerless in the meantime.
Starting tomorrow, I would train harder. Learn more. Push myself to shield Marcus. I would find my place in this world, because I was tired of watching from the sidelines.
—
11.5 Interlude
The Nomadic Guards
The forest air was thick with damp moss and the copper tang of blood. Tyron crouched low, pressing two fingers to the muddy earth. The indentation was faint but unmistakable, boot tracks too deep and erratic to be vampire-made.
"A hiker," he murmured, lifting his eyes to Seleucia as she joined him. "Solo. Male. Early thirties, if the stride tells us anything."
Seleucia’s lip curled faintly. "Poor soul. Still warm, too." Her voice was sharp as the edge of a blade, and her silver-blonde hair shimmered faintly in the low light.
They moved soundlessly toward the scent of spilled blood and the unmistakable static that lingered in the air after a newborn feeding. Reaching a rocky outcrop overlooking a clearing, they stopped in the shadow of towering evergreens.
Below them, the scene unfolded like a twisted play. A group of five newborns, still inelegant in their movements, their skin faintly flushed from recent transformation, were gathered in a loose semicircle around the lifeless body of a man. Their prey’s face was frozen in terror, half-concealed by underbrush, neck and limbs torn raggedly open in several places.
But it wasn’t the feeding frenzy that made Seleucia tense.
It was the woman who stood behind them. They had crossed paths in the past.
Victoria.
Her wild red hair was wind-tousled, and her clothes elegant but travel-worn. Her expression, however, was serene, maternal even, as she stepped forward, her arms partially extended like a shepherd guiding her flock.
"That’s it, my darlings," she cooed, her voice a velvet lullaby that somehow carried clearly through the trees. "You’ve done well. You’re learning. Every step, every bite, this is survival. This is strength."
The smallest of the newborns, a girl who looked barely older than sixteen, looked up with crimson eyes still wet with shock. "I, I didn’t mean to tear him so quickly. He… he screamed."
Victoria knelt in front of her, brushing a curl away from the girl's face with a gentle touch. "You ended his pain. You spared him the slow death the world would have given him. You saved him, sweetling."
Tyron’s eyes narrowed. He had seen this tactic before, centuries ago. Manipulative leaders cloaking brutality in false divinity. Victoria wasn’t just building a coven. She was building loyalty, identity.
Worship.
Seleucia shifted, her jaw tight. "She’s indoctrinating them."
Tyron nodded grimly. "And well. These aren’t mindless predators. They’re children looking for a mother. And she’s giving them purpose."
Below, Victoria stood, her voice gentle but commanding.
"Each of you was lost before I found you. Forgotten. Used. Discarded. But now you have a family. I will never abandon you, never lie to you. The Cullens would kill you because they fear you. But I see your potential. I see your power."
One of the larger females, broad-shouldered with a faint venom scar along her temple, stepped forward. "Will we be strong enough to protect you? From them?"
Victoria smiled, radiant and terrifying. "You already are. And together, we will show the Cullens that they are no longer in charge of these lands."
A cheer rose among the newborns, reverent and resolute. Victoria's crimson eyes lifted for just a moment, scanning the tree line as though she sensed the watching shadows, but made no move to investigate.
Seleucia and Tyron silently melted back into the forest.
Once they were a mile away, Seleucia broke the quiet.
"She’s more dangerous than we thought."
Tyron’s voice was a low growl. "She’s not building an army. She’s building a cult."
Seleucia’s expression hardened. "Then we need to act before the children become zealots."
Tyron didn’t blink. “Then we do what we did in Petrograd.”
Seleucia inhaled sharply. The name hit like a drop of ice down the spine. She hadn’t heard it in decades—and even now, no one knew exactly what had happened. Three covens had disappeared in a single night. No witnesses. No bodies. Just a stretch of bloodless silence across eastern Russia, and one survivor too broken to speak.
She looked at him again. Tyron’s expression hadn’t changed. But the air around him seemed colder.
“They’re children,” she said, almost to herself.
“And that,” he replied, voice flat, “is what makes her dangerous.”
Notes:
✨ Thank you so much for the incredible response to the story so far. I feel grateful for your messages, insights, and love for these characters. You’re superstars!
To clarify something a few of you have asked about: when I said there were only two chapters left, I meant in this first arc (Part 1 of 4). Don’t worry, there’s still so much more to come. Growth. Heartbreak. Slow-burn tension. Destiny. We have a long road ahead, and I’m glad you’re here for it ❤️
Next chapter (12) will close out Act I, and there may be a slightly longer pause before Chapter 13, as I revise and lock in the threads of Arc II. I want it to feel consistent and worth the wait…
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💬 Curious me wants to know…
Where in the world are you reading from? I’d love to know how far this little world we’re building has reached 🌍Until next time, flame-bearers,
✨ Ada
Chapter 12: The Making of Her
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Bella’s POV
It had been three days since I first called Renée, three days since I’d heard her voice and realized, really realized, that I didn’t know if I ever would again.
I’d called her again yesterday. I couldn’t help it. I’d meant for the first call to be the last, but something about the finality of it had gnawed at me all night. So I dialed her number once more, pretending it was just a casual check-in. She was surprised, naturally, Renée had never been the clingy sort, and two calls in one week from me was enough to raise her suspicions.
“You’re calling again? Not that I’m complaining, honey,” she said with a warm laugh, “but is everything okay?”
I swallowed back the knot in my throat. “Yeah, I just… missed your voice,” I said truthfully, if not entirely transparently.
That seemed to appease her. She fell into cheerful chatter, updating me on Phil’s minor league schedule, her latest photography hobby, and the funny lizard that kept sunning itself on the porch.
And then, of course, she asked about Marcus.
“So, this Marcus guy,” she said, her voice teasing, “are you ever going to let your old mom meet him? Or is he too good-looking for me to see?”
I laughed, too quickly, and it came out more like a breath. “You’ll meet him,” I said, the words catching against the back of my throat.
Except it was a promise I knew I couldn’t keep. Not if things kept moving the way they were. Not if I was going to do what I thought I had to.
The truth was, with every moment that passed, I felt myself moving further and further away from the world she belonged to. The world of warm sun, silly nicknames, and awkward family visits. I wanted her to meet Marcus, so badly it hurt, but I also knew what lay ahead for me, and how unlikely that meeting really was.
“I should let you go,” I said abruptly, a little too soon, afraid my voice would break. “You probably need to head out, right?”
“Oh,” she sounded surprised. “Well, yeah, I guess. You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m great, Mom,” I lied with a smile. “Just... busy. Final projects, prom nonsense. You know how it is.”
“You’ll call again soon?”
“Of course,” I whispered, already knowing I wouldn’t.
After I hung up, I sat there with the phone still in my hand, staring blankly at the wall as the weight of what I hadn’t said pressed against my chest.
I didn’t cry. I felt strangely beyond tears. Instead, I curled my legs beneath me on the bed and pulled a blanket tight around my shoulders, clinging to the fragile threads of the life I was preparing to leave behind. I wondered what voice I’d have in the future, whether the new me would still sound like this when I said “I love you” to the people I cared about.
The next day, with Alice’s gentle coaxing, I pulled myself together and headed to Angela’s to work on our English project. Despite the usual dreary Forks weather chilling me to the bone, Angela’s house felt like stepping into another world; warm, inviting, lived-in. Her living room was bathed in golden light that flickered off mismatched candles, each one a different shape, color, and scent. The walls were lined with eclectic paintings and personal touches that made the space feel like it belonged to someone who noticed beauty in quiet things.
Soft cushions and throw blankets were scattered across welcoming furniture, and the coffee table in front of us was a mess of open notebooks, dog-eared paperbacks, pens without caps, and half-drunk sodas; the battlefield of four seniors pretending to care about one last group project before graduation.
Alice, perched on the edge of Angela’s pale blue armchair like a forest sprite in her element, was flipping through Dracula with an exaggerated sigh.
"Stoker really didn’t know what he was doing with the wardrobe,” she quipped, tossing her pixie-like grin at me. “Long black cloak, Bela Lugosi vibes, and no fashion sense? Tragic.”
I snorted into my notes. “You’re just mad you’d never let a vampire get away with that much velvet.”
Jessica laughed loudly from where she lay sprawled across the rug, her pen tapping against her teeth. “Seriously though, Bella. You’ve been weirdly quiet. You used to love this book.”
“I think the vampire part hits differently now,” I said, trying for a laugh. It came out a little dry, but Jessica thankfully didn’t notice. Angela did. Her eyes flicked toward me, sharp, but gentle. I gave her a tiny smile and turned the page.
Alice, however, went still.
At first, I didn’t notice. It was subtle, just a breath caught too long, a blink that didn’t come. But then I looked again, and her golden eyes were glazed over, locked somewhere past the wall.
Uh-oh.
I moved fast, shifting in my seat and leaning toward Jessica. “Hey, Jess, have you been to that new café on Pine? Someone told me their pastries are a religious experience.”
Jessica’s head snapped up, her eyes sparkling, successfully distracted. “Are you serious? I live for pastries.”
Angela, catching on to my distraction tactic, even though she could not know why, smoothly picked up the thread. “I heard their cinnamon rolls are bigger than your face.” This girl was a godsend.
They were both fully engaged now, mission accomplished. Meanwhile, I reached out, lightly placing a hand on Alice’s wrist. Her fingers were trembling.
She blinked hard, and for a second, I saw something flicker behind her eyes. Something terrible.
“We should go,” I said quickly, standing. “Alice wasn’t feeling great and she’s looking pale. Could be a stomach bug.”
Alice forced a weak smile. “Maybe too much garlic,” she joked, her voice thin.
“Rain check on the group study?” Jessica pouted, clearly disappointed. “I was hoping this would turn into an accidental sleepover.”
“I’ll bring cinnamon rolls next time,” I promised, grabbing Alice’s coat for her.
Angela walked us to the door, concern shadowing her features. “Take care of her, okay?”
“I will,” I murmured and smiled gratefully.
As soon as we stepped off the porch and rounded the corner, the mask fell from Alice’s face. Her expression crumpled, her hands curling into fists.
“Get in the car,” she whispered. “We need to go. Now.”
The urgency in her voice sent ice down my spine. I didn’t ask questions, I just got in, and she peeled away from the curb before my seatbelt clicked into place.
“What did you see?” I asked, barely recognizing my own voice.
She didn’t answer right away. Her knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and I could see the tremor in her jaw.
“Alice, please.”
She glanced sideways at me, her eyes darker than usual. “It was Volterra.”
My stomach dropped.
“I saw chaos. A fight. Edward with red eyes. Caius in one of the lower halls. And you, ” Her voice broke for the first time since I’d known her. “Bella, I saw you dead. I think... I think he killed you. But it is all so… mixed up together, I can’t tell what is what or how this all connects together.”
The words didn’t register at first. It was too surreal, too sharp-edged to process.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
“The vision is so fragmented,” Alice continued quickly, her voice racing now. “It’s like something splintered the timeline. I couldn’t see the decision that led to it, just the fallout. I think.”
We were pulling into the Cullen driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires as the sun dipped lower behind the trees.
Before I could touch the door handle, Marcus was already there, appearing out of the trees like a shadow materialized. His presence, as always, settled me as nerves made me lose my footing.
He caught me instantly. “Bella,” he murmured, wrapping me in his arms before looking at Alice. “What happened?”
“Volterra,” I said. “Something’s gone wrong. With Edward. With Caius. Alice saw... she saw, She saw me die,” I said, finally finding the strength to say it aloud.
Marcus lifted me into his arms before I could protest, his cool presence flooding my senses like a balm. I clung to him as if letting go might tip me into the vision Alice had just described. I didn’t want to walk, I didn’t even want to think. At that moment, I wanted to be surrounded, shielded, protected.
Inside the Cullen house, the mood changed instantly. It was as if the very air recognized something was wrong.
Carlisle was already moving toward us, eyes narrowing the moment he caught sight of Alice’s stricken expression. Esme appeared a breath later, her hand flying to her chest as if she’d already guessed what was coming.
“Edward,” Alice said before she’d even fully stepped into the room. Her voice was tight, trembling, and unlike anything I’d heard from her before.
The rest of the family appeared within seconds, Emmett, Jasper, Rosalie, even Felix, stepping into the living room from wherever they had been in the house. The easy peace that had reigned over the home was gone in an instant.
Marcus settled onto the long couch, keeping me on his lap, arms still wrapped tightly around me as if the motion alone could ward off the future. His cheek brushed against my temple, and I felt him inhale slowly.
“Speak,” he said, his voice calm, but so still it sounded like the eye of a storm. I could feel the threat of him growing below. The strength of my immortal mate, who had lived through time and wars more time than my human mind could truly comprehend.
Alice stood in the center of the room, unusually pale even by vampire standards. “It was fragmented,” she began, clearly struggling to find the words. “I saw Volterra, flashes, like a cracked mirror. Something has happened or will happen. Edward had red eyes, and Caius, Caius was… standing over Bella’s body.”
The silence that followed could have cracked glass.
Jasper took an instinctive step forward, tension radiating off him. “Could it have been symbolic?” he asked, though his voice was grim. “Or a false lead?”
Alice shook her head. “It felt too real. There was chaos, rage, and some kind of decision, but I couldn’t see it. That’s what makes this worse. There’s a blank spot in the lead-up, like someone made a choice that blocks me out.”
Marcus’s arms tightened protectively around me. I turned my face into his chest, trying to breathe past the images now imprinted in my mind. Dead. I saw you dead, she had said. The weight of that sentence clung to me like ice on skin, too cold yet burning all at once.
“Could it be something in Volterra?” Carlisle asked gently. “An internal struggle, perhaps? The Guard has shifted recently, there have been growing tensions, especially since Marcus left, however temporarily.”
“Aro would never allow something that endangered Bella,” Marcus murmured, his eyes flickering from me to Carlisle. “Unless… he didn’t know.”
“It’s not just Volterra,” Alice added, her voice sharper now. “I saw another thread… local. Something's wrong here too, Forks, or close to it. There are bodies. Disappearances. And... I saw red eyes here as well. It’s like something is pressing in from both sides.”
“A coordinated threat?” Jasper asked, his mind already calculating. “Or distraction?”
“It felt… entangled,” Alice whispered, turning to me. “Whatever happens in Volterra is somehow tied to what’s starting here. If we don’t act, we lose control of both.”
Felix frowned from where he stood near the window. “Tyron and Seleucia, we haven’t had an update in two days.”
Marcus’s expression turned grim. “That’s too long. Get in touch. Now.”
Felix noted and disappeared in a blur.
I turned to Alice, suddenly breathless. “The vision, it always ends with me dying. Every path, right?”
Alice didn’t answer right away.
But that was answer enough.
“It always ends the same,” she admitted. “Unless something shifts dramatically. Unless you do something that changes the board.”
My heart felt like it was trying to escape my chest. I curled tighter against Marcus, overwhelmed by the implications. “But I’m not ready. Not yet. I wanted more time.”
“You may not have it,” Alice said gently. “I’m sorry, Bella.”
Marcus bent to kiss the crown of my head. His voice rumbled low in my ear. “I will not lose you. Not to fate. Not to visions.”
The room was quiet again, the weight of choice hanging like a suspended blade over us all.
Carlisle finally spoke, his voice even but heavy with unspoken emotion. “We have two fronts, Volterra, and the threat here. But this cannot be a rushed decision. We plan. We act with precision, not panic.”
“I agree,” Jasper said. “And if Alice’s visions are shifting this much already, that means there’s still hope.”
Alice looked at me again, softer this time. “If you make the choice, Bella, everything will shift. You don’t have to die. You can take control of the board.”
My throat closed. I didn’t have the words yet, but in that moment, I knew. The world had changed. I had changed and the time was coming.
We didn’t talk much after that. There wasn’t much left to say. Plans would be made and then put into motion. But I needed space, just a breath, just a moment to feel what I was losing before I stepped into what I was becoming.
By the time I got home, the sun had dipped completely behind the trees. The house greeted me not with silence, but with stillness. A kind of hush that felt reverent.
Not quiet like when Charlie was at work, or like when I snuck in late after a long visit to the Cullens. No, this silence was deeper, like it knew something was ending.
I moved through my room like I was walking underwater, fingertips grazing the objects that had defined my life before everything changed… All of it felt like it belonged to someone else. Some other Bella Swan who lived in a world of textbooks and coffee-stained notes and vague dreams of college.
I was still her. But I wasn’t.
The drawer beside my bed creaked open, revealing the letter I had written, one copy for Renee, and one for Charlie, each sealed and labeled in my handwriting. Not quite the same, not full explanations, not really. Just enough to make it believable. Enough to close a door that would never reopen.
I would disappear, and the world would go on, and maybe, after enough time passed, I’d be remembered without pain or fear. Just... love.
I heard the creak of the porch steps and turned before the knock. I knew his footsteps now, how even they were, how the world seemed to still around them. I opened the door before Marcus could lift his hand to knock.
“Are you sure?” he asked softly, silhouetted against the night.
I nodded.
He stepped inside, and I reached for his hand immediately, twining my fingers through his. My mate. My future. My anchor in a sea of uncertainty.
We stood in my room for a long moment, neither of us speaking, surrounded by relics of a girl who had run into the supernatural world with nothing but stubbornness and a heartbeat.
“Carlisle is ready,” Marcus said finally. “He will be waiting for us tomorrow night.”
I nodded again, barely trusting my voice. “I want you to do it,” I whispered.
“You could not keep me from it,” he replied, with that quiet certainty I’d come to need as much as breath.
We sat together on the edge of my bed, just sat. No passionate kiss, no final plea to change my mind. Just his fingers wrapped around mine, and the soft rhythm of the world falling away outside.
“Do you fear it?” he asked after a time.
“Yes,” I admitted. “But not the pain. Not the change.”
“Then what?”
“Losing myself,” I said, voice barely a whisper. “Not remembering. Not... being me anymore.”
He took my face gently in his hands, his thumb brushing beneath my eye.
“You are more than a heartbeat, Bella. Your soul, your strength, it is eternal. You will not lose yourself. If anything, you will become more. Ti sei sempre intrecciata al mio destino.” [You have always been entwined with my fate.]
I leaned into his touch, closing my eyes. “Will you still love me?” I asked, and hated the fragile note in my voice.
He smiled, heartbreakingly tender. “Ti amo già da sempre, e per sempre,” he said. (I have loved you always, and for always I will.)
A tear slipped down my cheek, and he kissed it away.
We stayed like that until the sky began to lighten.
The human Bella Swan had loved fiercely, bled freely, cried and hoped and doubted.
But tonight, she would sleep for the last time.
And tomorrow... she would rise.
Notes:
This marks the final chapter of Act I: The Kindling in Queen of Flame. From here, Bella’s transformation begins. Act II will take us into vampirism, vengeance, and a collision course with Victoria’s newborn followers. From this point forward, chapters will include:
⚠️ Trigger warnings for:
- Supernatural violence
- Supporting character death (which broke my heart into pieces writing it, so you’ve been warned)
- Sensuality (not explicit but warm enough)
💬 If you’ve read this far; thank you. I’m truly grateful for every comment, every message, and every bit of love for this story.
Tell me: how did The Kindling make you feel: in just 3 words? 🔥💔👑🌙
Coming June 2025: 🔥 Act II: What the Fire Took - “To become, she must first burn.”
Chapter 13: Rise of a Queen
Notes:
Author's Note - Welcome to Act II: What the Fire Took 🔥
A special thank you to my reviewers, especially the incredible ones who've reviewed this fic from the beginning and kept me inspired even on the hardest writing days:
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As well as:
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You are everything when it comes to motivation and I'm so lucky to have you in the Queen of Flame circle 🔥
️Please be sure to check the story warnings before moving forward!
This arc includes supernatural violence, emotional intensity, character loss, and sensuality. Your comfort matters so please let me know if I missed out any warnings!
Until next time,
Ada
Chapter Text
Act II
What the Fire Took
Prologue
It hurts. God, it hurts so fucking much. Worse than anything I've ever known. Not sharp and quick, not merciful. This pain is slow, dragged out like something cruel just for the sake of it and by now, I know this is what it is. There is no purpose, no reason behind their madness. I don't know how long it's been. Hours? Days? I think I've lost track of time.
I used to imagine death would be quiet, gentle, even. I thought it would be something that happened in the space a breath. But this isn't it. This is ripping, shredding every part that was me.
That crazy red-headed bitch doesn't let me die. Not yet, she says. She wants it to last and so I'm still here. Shaking, burning, broken… and somehow, somehow, I keep wanting to live. Even now. Even like this. For the people I love. For the people who might never know.
But I can feel it now. The end is coming. I do not have much holding my body together and my soul is… tearing.
They say the soul can get stuck, that it can shatter from too much trauma. Trauma can fracture something in you, keep you from crossing over into your next life. And maybe that's what's happening to me.
Because this doesn't feel like letting go. It feels like getting lost.
I don't think I'm going to survive. And I don't think there's anyone coming… not on time for me to come back.
But maybe something of me will stay, maybe something will remember and be strong enough to come back.
If there's a path... I hope whatever I become still finds it.
Chapter 13: Rise of a Queen
Bella's POV
The evening air clung to me like as I stood on the porch of my father's home, the boards beneath my feet were creaking softly with every shift of my weight. Charlie stood in front of me, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, his weathered face cast in the golden wash of the porch light. He hadn't said anything in a while. Just stared at me like he was trying to imprint the image into his memory.
"I half thought you'd change your mind," he finally said, voice rough, barely audible over the rustle of wind in the trees.
I shook my head, unable to trust my voice just yet. I was still holding myself together with threadbare strings of resolve. My throat burned from the effort.
"Are you sure about this, Bells?" His voice cracked on my name.
It broke something in me.
I looked up at him, into those stormy eyes that had watched me through some of the most defining moments of my life. Those same eyes that had blinked away disbelief when he learned that monsters were real, and his daughter was choosing to become one.
"It's not only what I want," I said honestly, the words rough with the weight of goodbyes. "But it's what also needs to happen. For me. For everyone else."
Charlie's jaw clenched. I could see the way his fingers twitched in his pockets like they wanted to reach for something, me, maybe. Or a past version of me he still didn't want to let go of.
"We'll see each other again," I offered, a fragile smile blooming on my lips. "Once I have control. Once it's safe, I will do everything I can to see you soon."
He let out a slow, shaky breath. "Will things ever be normal again?"
I hesitated, then shook my head. "No," I whispered. "But maybe something better than normal. Eventually."
He was quiet for a long time. The silence stretched, painfully.
Then he stepped forward and pulled me into a hug so tight I could barely breathe, but I didn't care. I melted into it. My fingers curled into the back of his jacket, and I let myself feel every second of it. This warmth. This safety. This father I'd loved more fiercely than I ever managed to say aloud.
"Take care of yourself, kiddo," he murmured against my hair. "And… tell that mate of yours I'll come after him if anything happens to you."
I laughed softly, even as tears slid down my cheeks. "He knows."
Charlie pulled back, eyes shining, though he blinked the wetness away stubbornly. "Your mom's going to lose her damn mind when she finds out."
"She won't," I said, my voice tight. "You know that… that's the point. She'll think I'm gone. And she'll move on. That's the only way to keep her safe."
Charlie swore under his breath, then turned away like he couldn't stand to see the goodbye on my face a moment longer. "You always did grow up too fast."
I didn't reply. I couldn't. My throat had sealed shut, and if I tried to say anything else, I'd shatter.
From the trees beyond the yard, I could feel the weight of the Quileute wolves watching. Guardians of their land, of their people.. and now, reluctantly, of me. Sam stood with the others at the tree line, expression unreadable. We'd had our conversation earlier that day. They wouldn't stop me. But they would be watching.
"I have to go," I whispered.
Charlie didn't turn back around. But I heard him say, "Then go, Bells. Just, don't forget who you are, kiddo."
As I walked toward the waiting car at the end of the driveway, Marcus stepped out of the shadows, his hand outstretched toward me. I took it, and his fingers curled tightly around mine in reassurance. I didn't look back, but I felt that chapter of my life closing with every step I took away from the porch.
From the warmth. From my human life.
From my dad.
The drive back to the Cullen house was steeped in silence, not the awkward kind, but something heavier and reverent. I sat curled against Marcus in the backseat of the sleek black car, wrapped in his cool embrace, my forehead resting against his chest. His fingers gently threaded through my hair in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. He didn't speak, and I was grateful for that. Words felt too small for what swirled inside me.
Outside, the trees blurred past in streaks of evergreen and shadow, the sky painted in that bruised purple of twilight. The same time of day I'd always loved best; the hour between worlds.
I wasn't afraid of death. Not exactly. But I mourned the things I wouldn't get to say. The parts of me that wouldn't follow me into the fire.
Would I still laugh the same way? Would I still feel joy when Marcus touched me, or cry when I thought of Renée's smile? Would I still be me when it was all over?
My fingers curled into Marcus's shirt. He didn't flinch. He just tightened his arm around me, his lips brushing my hair.
"I can feel your sorrow, beloved," he murmured against my scalp. "Let yourself feel it. We will carry it together."
I nodded wordlessly, a single tear slipping down my cheek. I didn't wipe it away. I wanted to remember the feel of that too.
Felix was in the driver's seat, silent as always, his expression unreadable in the mirror. A sentinel more than a chauffeur. He wouldn't offer comfort, but his presence was a form of it nonetheless in its familiarity.
The Cullen house eventually came into view. Its glass windows glowed warm in the fading light, like a beacon calling me home… or warning me away.
My stomach flipped, nausea and anticipation battling for dominance.
Marcus shifted beside me as the car came to a stop. He turned toward me, and for the first time since the drive began, I met his gaze. His eyes were soft, deep pools of burgundy, anchoring me to this moment.
"You are not dying, Bella," he said gently. "You are transforming, coming into life again. And when you wake to your new eternity, you will be more yourself than you have ever been."
My throat clenched, but I managed to nod, the weight of his belief steadying something in me.
He opened the door and stepped out first, then turned to offer me his hand. I took it without hesitation, letting him lead me up the familiar porch steps of the Cullen house.
Esme met me in the foyer with a soft, slightly hesitant smile. Carlisle stood behind her, his face composed but his eyes alight with solemnity. The others lingered further back, their presence respectful, quiet. This wasn't a moment for noise or celebration.
"Everything is ready upstairs," Carlisle said gently, motioning toward the hallway. He smiled encouragingly as he noticed my unease.
I looked around, taking in each face, Emmett's warm grin, Jasper's thoughtful expression, Alice's wide sparkly smile… They were my family, and now would me it forever.
This wasn't the end of something.
It was a new beginning.
Marcus touched the small of my back as we made our way upstairs, guiding me gently toward my room. The lights were dimmed and the bed had been remade with soft linens. Lavender I noted, and smiled who in my new family had picked them in my favorite color for me. Beside it stood medical equipment, a lot of morphine, and machines that I had never really learned the names of despite spending more than my share of time in hospitals.
I sat on the edge of the bed, fingers tightening in the fabric of my shirt. Alice had chosen it for me, royal red, soft as silk, understated but beautiful.
The last thing I would wear as a human.
I glanced down at my hands, taking note of my human imperfections: scars, bitten nails, small scars across my knuckles. I knew they wouldn't be there after, as my body would change, sharpen and perfect to reflect the ethereal beauty of all vampires. But I didn't want to forget this version of me, the flawed one, the one who loved her parents, made dumb mistakes and fell in love with someone far too ancient for her soul to fully comprehend.
"Ready, mia Bella?" Marcus asked, kneeling before me. He ran his hands gently on the side of my face, pushing a strand behind my ear.
"No," I said honestly. "But also, yes."
Our eyes said the things that didn't need words between us; I love you. You are my life. I am here for you. Always.
A tender moment later, the hum of voices reached my ears as I sat on the bedwith Marcus by my side, my strength in a storm that did not want to relent. The door creaked open, and one by one, the Cullens entered, quiet and respectful, like family visiting a relative at the hospital. But there were no sadness, only comfort and love.
Emmett, of course, was first.
"Well, well," he said, his grin wide and just a little mischievous. "Look who's about to become one of us. You ready to be faster, stronger, cooler... and way more sparkly?"
I couldn't help the small laugh that escaped me. "You forgot hungrier."
He winked. "Don't worry. You'll have the best hunting coach in the Pacific Northwest."
"Is that you?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Emmett placed a dramatic hand over his chest. "Please. Like Jasper could ever top me in raw instinct."
From the doorway, Jasper drawled, "Instinct? Is that what we're calling recklessness these days?"
I laughed along with the rest of them, their bickering felt so familiar, so normal and it grounded me in a way I needed.
"You'll have both of us," Jasper added, more gently this time. "I'll make sure no one gets near you. And I'll help with the thirst. I promise."
There was something in his eyes, something earnest and implicit. He knew better than anyone what a newborn felt like. He had felt it all several hundred times as an empath in Maria's armies; the hunger, the haze, the ache… he new every shades of these better than any living vampire.
I nodded, swallowing the tightness rising in my throat and smiled a little shakily. "Thank you, Jasper."
Then Esme was there, and the air around me softened like a warm blanket. She reached for my hands and cradled them gently in her own.
"You're so brave, sweetheart," she whispered. Her smile trembled at the edges, and her golden eyes shimmered as if she could cry. "I want you to remember that we are with you, I am with you, every step of the way."
She leaned down and kissed my forehead, her lips cool but comforting. I closed my eyes and breathed her in, memorizing the gentle scent of gardenias and old books that clung to her like a second skin.
"I love you, Esme," I whispered, and I meant it with everything in me.
Then came Alice, practically bouncing on her toes as she swept in beside me.
"You are going to be stunning," she said, her voice light but threaded with something deeper. She squeezed my hands. "And strong. So much stronger than you know."
I gave her a wry look. "You sure about that?"
"I saw it," she said simply. "You're going to be terrifying and absolutely glowing."
That made me laugh. "Glowing, huh?"
"Mm-hm." She tapped her temple. "Saw that too."
Behind her, Felix stood half in the doorway, arms folded, his smirk just a little too pleased.
"Enjoy these goodbyes, little queen," he said dryly. "Because after this, no one will be able to handle you without begging for mercy."
Emmett burst out laughing, and Alice rolled her eyes. "Don't let him scare you. He's just bitter he can't wear royal red like you."
I smiled, grateful for their humour, but aching all at once. This was it; my last moment like this. What came after was unknown. But I trusted them. We had a plan.
Carlisle was the last to enter, his steps so soft they barely made a sound.
"All is ready," he said gently, though his words were directed more toward Marcus than me. There was something in his voice, something measured, an unmistakable respect.
I watched him carefully. Carlisle, who used to carry the calm authority of a patriarch, now held himself with a quiet reverence. Not diminished, but akin to a general acknowledging his sovereign. Though Marcus remained seated, it was clear who commanded the room.
Marcus turned his head slightly, offering a single nod in return before his eyes returned to me, his fingers curling more tightly around mine.
Finally, Carlisle turned to me and rested a hand on my shoulder, his touch warm and steady. "You're doing something incredibly brave, Bella," he said, voice low and kind. "And I believe you'll come through it with your heart still whole, still you."
"I hope so," I whispered. "I want to remember. I want to be… me."
His smile was gentle, fatherly in a way Carlisle had mastered through decades of care. "You will. That part of you, who you are inside, it is strong. It is a privilege to know you, Bella."
"Thanks, Carlisle," I nodded, trying to hold onto that belief as I lay back.
Carlisle moved to the IV, his hands practiced, but his expression never clinical. "It'll take a few minutes to start working. I don't think it will erase everything, but it is meant to help your body ease into the change. Try to breathe through it, as much as you can. Listen to Marcus, Hold onto the memories you want to keep."
One by one, the others began to filter out, offering soft goodbyes, each one heavy with meaning. Alice's smile shimmered with unshed tears, Jasper gave a quiet nod, Emmett winked like he was trying to make me laugh, even Rose gave me a comforting smile. Esme's touch lingered on my shoulder with all the tenderness of a mother. Carlisle was the last to meet my gaze; steady, reassuring, the eye of calm in the whirlwind of emotions surrounding me.
Then the door clicked shut behind them, and I was alone with Marcus.
The silence hummed with anticipation, as though the walls themselves were holding their breath.
Marcus now stood beside the bed, his form bathed in the low amber light of the bedside lamp. The shadows gathered along the sharp planes of his face, but his eyes, those impossibly ancient, burgundy eyes, were soft as they found mine.
He was everything to me. And I was about to become something new… for him, yes, but also because I had chosen it. Because it felt more right than ever.
"Bella," he said quietly, lowering himself onto the edge of the mattress. His voice didn't tremble, it never did, but there was something beneath it now. A gravity. "This isn't just a beginning. It's a passage. And I won't lie to you, it will hurt… but it will be a drop in the ocean of your eternity."
I nodded, breath shallow.
He reached for my hand, drawing it gently into his lap, tracing the shape of my fingers like he was committing them to memory. "You should have had more time," he said, his voice a low thread. "But you chose this, you chose to turn early. Not just to survive, but to protect me. To stand beside me while the world shifts around us."
His eyes held mine, steady and oh so intense. "You gave up more than anyone knows. And I will never forget that."
I couldn't answer. My throat was too tight. But when his other hand came to rest on my thigh, just above the blanket, grounding me, a shiver ran through me… and that was not from fear.
"You're not leaving yourself behind, Bella," he murmured. "You're not erasing anything. What you are… who you are… it will only grow stronger."
He leaned closer, his breath grazing my cheek, the space between us suddenly too charged, too quiet. "Your parents will be protected. All that you hold dear will be remembered. No harm will ever come to you while I still exist to stop it. That, I swear."
My lips parted, but still no sound came. His hand slid to my waist, firm but reverent, and he pulled me slightly closer to him. His gaze dropped to my mouth, lingered, then rose again to meet my eyes. He didn't kiss me, but the tension between us was a held breath, a spark waiting to catch.
"I will be with you in this," he whispered, his forehead lowering until it touched mine. "In every heartbeat that fades. In every flame that rises in its place."
Then, his mouth found the curve of my jaw, soft, slow, a reverent tracing that sent my heart racing. His lips skimmed lower, pausing at the base of my throat. I felt him inhale there, deeply, like the scent of me was something sacred.
"I am yours," he said, barely above a whisper. "And now, you will be mine, for eternity."
His lips brushed the place where my pulse thudded wildly.
And then, he bit.
There was a second, only a second, of warmth, like fire blooming on my skin. Then the agony tore through me.
I arched from the sheer intensity of it; the blinding storm of sensations that took over every nerve and rewired it. It wasn't just pain, it was everything and everywhere at once. My body didn't know what to feel, only that it was happening.
His hands held me steady. One at my waist, the other cradling the back of my head, as though I might break apart if he let go. And maybe I would have.
I didn't scream, I couldn't.
I felt the strength in his arms as he pulled away, reluctantly, reverently, his lips stained crimson with the evidence of our union. He looked at me then with something like awe, or sorrow, or both.
"I am sorry, Bella," he murmured. "You should never have had to suffer like this. But you are brave, so brave. Even now, I feel it in you."
I wanted to tell him I didn't regret it, not one bit. That the fire didn't matter because he was here. That I wasn't afraid. But my body no longer belonged to words.
Marcus stroked my hair back from my damp forehead. "I will stay with you. I will not leave your side, not for a moment."
The burning spread, down my arms, through my spine, into my fingertips. I wanted to move, to writhe, to scream. But I was locked inside myself, my body a crucible, my blood magma that had no escape and would surely destroy all life it found on its path.
So I did the only thing I could. I held on.
I clung to Marcus's voice, to the whisper of my name on his lips, to the memory of his eyes and the love etched into every line of his face. I pulled his image into my pain and made it my anchor. Not fire. Him.
Marcus's POV
I had rarely turned a soul before.
Over my long existence, I had watched others do it often; it had often been brutal, careless, sometimes necessary. But this… this was different.
Bella lay before me, her mortal skin already beginning to pale beneath the bite. I could see the flush of venom creeping under the surface like frost etching across glass. It shimmered in her veins, beautiful and terrifying.
And yet she made no sound.
The others had wailed, screamed, utterly broken.
But my Bella… she simply endured. Her face twisted in pain, yes, but her eyes remained calm behind the veil of agony, locked on me even now. As if to say: I'm here. Don't look away.
I could not have looked away if I tried.
"Carlisle?" I said, without shifting my gaze.
He reentered, drawn by instinct and the weight of his oath to oversee her safety.
He approached, checking the monitors. "She's stable. Her vitals are strong. It appears the morphine is slowing the full rush of venom, but not stopping it."
"She hasn't screamed," I said quietly. "Not once."
Carlisle looked at her with gentle astonishment. "No. And I think she won't. The initial rush has passed and she is holding on. By now, she must be centering herself in memory, in love. It's extraordinary."
I swallowed venom that still came to my mouth from the rush of tasting her blood. "She is extraordinary."
And she was mine.
Then Jasper appeared in the doorway, his posture still, respectful, aware of the instinct raging in me to protect my mate while at her most vulnerable.
"I can feel her pain," he said quietly, eyes cast somewhere slightly toward the side of the room. "But also something else, resolve. Strength. She's not afraid."
A pause.
"Not anymore."
Something in me felt suddenly tight.
Not anymore, I echoed inwardly.
Her stillness, so absolute, should have unnerved me. But I saw the truth behind it, felt it, even now through the faint bond beginning to hum anew, changed, beneath my skin. She was not silent because she was weak. She was silent because she was enduring. Not submitting to the pain, but mastering it.
And in that silence, in that crucible of fire and venom, I felt it.
The first stirrings of her power. Waiting to rise.
She would not emerge from this as she was. She would become what she was always meant to be.
My queen, forged in fire and faith.
I bowed my head, pressing my forehead lightly to her temple, letting her feel me close.
Bella's POV
I gasped, or I would have if I needed air. The sensation of movement rushed in, sharp and immediate. My eyes blinked open, and I was overwhelmed, not by chaos, but by precision. The light filtering through the curtains wasn't just golden, it fractured into a thousand prismatic beams against the floating specks of dust in the air. I could see them dancing. Each particle a perfect story of motion and stillness.
I could hear the brush of a tree branch against the glass window, the far-off murmur of Esme's quiet hum below, and a single drop of water slipping down the kitchen faucet. I felt the grain of the sheets beneath me like a pattern carved into my skin, every thread distinct. It was like I'd been blind, deaf, and numb all my life without realizing it.
I didn't feel disoriented. No, that would suggest a lack of understanding. Instead, I felt... prepared. As if a second consciousness had unfurled within me, stepping forward now that the human shell was gone. The sharpness wasn't overwhelming, instead I welcomed it.
Then came the memories, human memories, like dandelion seeds drifting in, but the ones I had held onto as I was remade. I didn't see them so much as feel them.
Charlie's hand, gripping mine outside the house. The roughness of his palm, the smell of his flannel shirt. "You sure about this, Bells?" he had asked. I'd lied, not to him, but to the part of myself that had still been afraid.
Renee's laughter, bright and careless on the phone, covering a goodbye she must have sensed was final. She'd said my name too many times in that call, like she was trying to memorize it.
Alice's arms around me. Esme brushing my hair back. Carlisle whispering steady instructions. Emmett's laugh. Jasper's distant concern. Marcus's voice, the only voice that reached me fully through the flames.
And then: the bond.
I sat up. It took no effort, just a ripple of movement. My body obeyed like it had always been waiting for this.
Every instinct surged forward, eyes sweeping the room, mind cataloguing every presence and threat, even as I crouched low, ready, predatory. But nothing felt hostile. There were people around me, but no danger. I recognized them all; my family.
And then I saw him.
Marcus. He hadn't moved, hadn't spoken. But his eyes, eyes the color of garnet in sunlight were locked to mine, and everything else fell away.
I inhaled without meaning to. The scent of him, familiar and impossibly perfect, filled me like oxygen to a drowning girl. My world recalibrated itself in that moment. Every strand of who I had been, Bella Swan, daughter, friend, mortal, twisted into something new, and all of it bent toward him.
He was my anchor. My gravity. My home.
"Marcus…" I said his name, and even the sound of my voice startled me. It was richer, smoother, like silk over marble. A voice made for something, someone, undying and exquisite. Mine.
His lips parted at the sound, a flicker of emotion passing through his face so fast that I would've missed it were I still human.
And I wasn't.
My name belonged in his mouth, and his in mine. My new body, my new mind, recognized this truth instinctively: I had not just been changed, I had been claimed. Not by him only, but by Fate, by the bond that had started beyond even Volterra and now pulsed through every cell of my reborn self.
He stepped forward then, slowly, as if approaching a wild creature, and I didn't blame him. I could feel the hunger rising, a simmering energy beneath my skin that wasn't thirst alone, it was need, raw and unnamed. But it didn't scare me.
I reached out before I realized I had moved. My hand found his, surprisingly warm and soft now, and always grounding. I felt a wave of something ancient and peaceful pass between us.
"Mia Bella," he said softly, and for the first time in my new existence, I smiled. I was alive. Changed, yes, but not lost, not with him here.
His touch didn't burn. I had braced myself for it for my new skin to feel unnatural next to his, for the mating bond to flare too strong, too fast, too much… But when Marcus's hand touched my cheek, it wasn't fire. It was gravity. It was home, and it was oh-so-right.
My body eased into the feel of him like it remembered something I hadn't yet learned. His palm was cool and grounding, and as he swept a strand of hair behind my ear, I felt my lips part in a quiet gasp.
"You're safe," he said, and I didn't know if it was meant to reassure me, or himself. But it worked. His voice reached into places inside me I hadn't known were broken, and something softened.
"I feel…" I paused. I wasn't sure how to finish that sentence.
"Odd?" he offered gently. "Overwhelmed?"
"No. I feel clear." The word rang in the air like a bell.
And I did. My body was a machine perfectly attuned, while my thoughts were layered but not scattered. I could feel the soft caress of the air against my skin, and hear the sound of his motionless breath. I could sense the weight of his gaze, as tangible as silk in its softness and perfection. But beneath all that, or above it, I could discern his emotions. The invisible pull of our bond sang through my senses like a steady hum and I felt how tightly he held himself in check. His awe, his reverence, and something else, someone else.
My head snapped toward the doorway before my mind even finished the thought. Jasper.
He had barely shifted, but I felt it, a foreign pressure like velvet chains tightening around my chest. And just like that, my calm wasn't mine anymore.
I stiffened, a growl low in my throat before I realized it. The sensation hit like cold oil on warm skin, wrong. My mind and my emotions weren't free. Someone was in them.
The realization cracked through me like lightning.
I rose without a conscious thought. One second I was sitting with Marcus's hand in mine, the next I was crouched between him and the door, defensive, wild and trembling with outrage.
"Jasper," Marcus said behind me, calm but firm. "Retreat. Now."
But Jasper had already frozen, his hands raised in surrender.
"I wasn't trying to influence her," he said quickly, though I could feel a flicker of guilt behind his restraint. "I just… I felt a swell of distress and tried to ease it. I thought… "
"You thought wrong," I snapped, or I tried to. My voice came out sharp, perfectly enunciated, but calm in a way that only made the fury behind it more terrifying. I wasn't shouting. I didn't need to. The room itself seemed to vibrate with the pressure of my resistance.
Then something shifted in me, it was raw, instinctive, and I pushed back.
Not with my hands, but with something deeper. Something new. It was like flexing a muscle I hadn't known existed. My will unfurled, sharp and wild, and the air between me and Jasper rippled like heat.
He stumbled.
It was subtle, barely a hitch in his stance, but I saw it in the brief widening of his eyes and the way his shoulders pulled back.
"She blocked me out," he murmured, awe clear. "No… not just out. She pushed me out."
Marcus was at my side in an instant. His presence didn't crowd, it anchored me.
"Mia cara," he murmured, steady and warm. "You're safe. He won't touch your mind again."
I didn't move. My gaze was still on Jasper, tracking every flicker of his body, every shift in his emotional pull, but none of it entered me now. It danced around the edge of something that had risen between us. Like wind against a wall of glass.
A shield.
Mine.
I inhaled, shaky and shallow. Marcus matched it, deliberately slow, coaxing me back from the edge without a single command.
"Breathe with me," he said again, softer now. "Feel your center. You're not in danger, you're in control."
I closed my eyes, forcing myself to match his rhythm. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. My limbs ached from the tension I hadn't realized I was holding. Slowly, I eased back from the crouch, spine lengthening, hands unclenching.
Then I felt him.
Not his power. Him.
Marcus, close enough that the world blurred around the edges. His thumb swept a slow arc along the inside of my wrist, grounding and intimate. My fingers found his instinctively, twining with quiet urgency.
He leaned in, his forehead brushing mine, breath ghosting over my cheek.
"You are more than I imagined," he whispered. "More than any of us dared to imagine."
His tone exuded reverence. And want… not for my power, but for me.
"This," he murmured, "is only the beginning, mia regina nascente."
My rising Queen.
Chapter 14: Hunger
Notes:
Author's Note
❤️ The spicy scenes are clearly marked with:
— O Start of Scene O — and — O End of Scene O —
Feel free to read around them if that's your preference, you won't miss any core plot as I made sure to echo any emotional beats in later scenes.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Bella's POV
The forest breathed around us. I didn't just hear it; I felt it. Each shaky leaf, the light brushing of paws on bark, the whisper of the air curling through moss and branches. Everything shimmered in stark clarity like the world had been waiting to show me its true face all along.
And I ran. Without stumbling, just power, grace and pure speed… It was freedom. A laugh broke out of me, so raw and delighted, it startled even me as it echoed through the trees.
"Bella!"
I stopped so fast that the moss kicked up around my feet as I pivoted toward the sound. Marcus moved toward me through the trees, all carefully crafted grace and coiled power, his long coat fluttering behind him like he'd stepped from another century. I guess he had, technically. But right now, there was a light in his eyes I hadn't seen before.
Not reverence, hunger.
That look hit me like a spark to dry leaves. I felt heat bloom in my body. Impossible for heat to actually rise in me, I knew, but it nonetheless felt real, like my cells were rewiring around the ache to be close to him. And I knew that that hunger wasn't just mine.
But that's when I heard it; a soft rustle, a heartbeat, or rather a dozen. The sound was fluttering just beyond the hill. My head snapped toward it, instincts flaring like floodlights. The fire in my throat surged anew, and suddenly, I didn't care about anything but that.
Marcus stepped closer. "Come. They're close."
We moved together, two predators with one single purpose. My bare feet were silent as we slipped through the trees, my new body vibrating with purpose. He slowed by a clearing washed in sunlight, where the forest seemed to hush around a pool of life.
"Deer," Marcus murmured, tilting his head. "Can you hear their hearts?"
I could. The rhythm was maddening. It was fast and uncertain, undoubtedly sensing a danger approaching; delicious.
A part of me, some leftover sliver of the girl who flinched at blood, hesitated. But thirst drowned her out and underneath it all was a strange sense of rightness, of being exactly what I was meant to be.
"They smell… disappointing," Marcus said with a faint smirk. "But I'll manage. For you."
I grinned at his teasing. "What a gentleman," I fake-complimented him.
And then, I moved. I didn't think, I didn't plan. One moment the deer stood grazing, the next, my body collided with it in a blur of instinct. The impact was precise and effortless. It was just like I'd been doing this forever.
My teeth sank into warm flesh, and thick blood, full of life, rushed across my tongue. It filled me, dulled the burn, and left behind something I hadn't expected: satisfaction. A hum of power curled low in my belly as I pulled back slowly, licking the taste from my lips, stunned at how… good it felt.
How good I felt.
I turned, and Marcus was watching me. He had fed too, but I barely noticed the faint blood on his lips. His eyes—oh god, his eyes—were locked on mine, and I felt something snap tight in the air between us.
It wasn't thirst.
I launched toward him without thinking, a blur of need and energy, slamming into him like a wave hitting rock. Our lips met, his hands tangling in my hair as I kissed him like I might never need to breathe again. He kissed me back, fierce and open, his hands fisting in my hair like he could barely hold himself still.
The kiss turned molten fast. There was no hesitation, no gentleness, just raw need tangled in centuries-old restraint. His mouth crushed mine, his hands anchoring me like I might slip away if he let go.
I didn't want softness, I wanted this. The thrill of my body pressed to his. The way his control frayed the longer our mouths tangled. I could feel it in the way his hands trembled just barely. I felt everything now.
And he felt everything about me.
.
— O Start of scene O —
.
I gasped when my hips hit the bark of a tree, the shock of sensation; rough wood against my back, cool silk of his shirt beneath my palms, the sharp edge of his thigh between mine… came crashing into me like lightning.
Marcus growled, low and rough against my lips. There was no threat to the sound, only need.
"You taste so…" he whispered, voice unsteady, "alive."
My fingers clawed at the buttons of his coat, greedy, aching to touch skin, to learn him.
"Take me," I breathed, barely recognizing my own voice. It was deeper now, melodic yet firm. "I want you to."
His eyes darkened, with lust, yes, but also something more reverent underneath. His lips returned to mine, slower this time, drawing the tension out like a bowstring.
"Not like this," he murmured between kisses. "Not up against a tree like a fevered boy."
I laughed, short and breathless. "You are a fevered boy."
His teeth grazed my bottom lip, and I gasped at the sensation.
"You don't know what you're inviting, mia regina," he said, the words more air than sound.
"Then show me."
His expression faltered, a crack in the godlike calm. "You will burn for me," he said in a promise that reflected in his eyes. "I've held back since the moment I met you. Even now, especially now."
"Stop holding back," I whispered, wrapping my legs around his waist. "You won't break me."
I could feel the moment his restraint gave way. His hips surged forward, grinding against mine with a force that made me cry out, and he devoured the sound with another kiss.
Every motion was fire under my skin. His hands roamed now, no longer cautious, but hungry. They slid up under my shirt, mapping the new curves of my body like it was sacred ground.
I rolled my hips against his, desperate for more, and the answering groan that tore from his throat made something tighten inside me, it was hot and sharp and aching.
"Bella," he rasped, voice ragged. "If we don't stop now…"
I kissed him again, harder. "Don't."
He lifted me in a blur, his grip strong but reverent, and I wrapped myself around him. I didn't need direction; my body knew. I could feel our connection, our mates' bond, pulsing like a drum beneath my skin, not just heat and hunger, but something bigger and wilder that demanded recognition.
He laid me down in the soft moss of a clearing, the sunlight spilling through the trees dappling my bare legs, catching the red in my eyes like firelight. He hovered above me, staring as if he might never get another chance.
"You are… ruinous," he said, like a prayer.
I reached for him, yanking his coat open and tugging his shirt over his head, breath catching when I finally saw him; pale and carved, every inch lean power and centuries-old beauty.
"And you are mine."
He growled again at that, and this time, there was definitely no more hesitation.
His mouth found my neck again, slower now, tongue tracing the mark where he had bitten me days ago, our bond's first blood-soaked promise. I arched beneath him, gasping as his teeth scraped lightly across my skin.
"Marcus…" My voice broke, overwhelmed, and undone. "I need more."
His hands were everywhere; reverent, adoring. The way he touched me made my skin sing. He was learning me, every brush of his fingers feeling like a vow and every kiss like an offering.
"You are divine," he murmured, lips skating along my collarbone. "You were made for this, made for me."
I moaned when his mouth dipped lower, trailing down the line between my breasts. His fingers curled under my shirt and lifted it slowly, teasing me, playing me. When it left my body, and his gaze raked over the exposed skin, I felt more seen than naked. His lips parted slightly in marvel. And then he lowered himself. His mouth worshipped a path down my torso in slow, open-mouthed kisses over my ribs, down to my stomach. His tongue dipped into my navel and I gasped, hips bucking slightly, shocked at the sharpness of sensation. I had never felt so alive. I'd never felt so mine.
But I was his, too. In every possible way.
His hand slid beneath the waistband of my jeans, pausing—asking.
"Yes, please" I breathed.
He finished undressing me, and when I lay there before him, bare, burning, and trembling with hunger that wasn't just bloodlust… Marcus knelt between my legs like he was at an altar.
Then his mouth was on me.
I choked on a cry, head falling back into the moss as his tongue swept slowly over me. Gentle, exploratory, then firmer, deeper.
He devoured me like he had waited centuries for the taste, and I remembered sharply that he had. His hands held my thighs, spreading me open with a firmness that felt both commanding and careful. I clutched at the moss, at him, at the air, because nothing felt solid except his mouth and the fire unraveling inside me.
"Marcus, oh…God…"
He hummed against me at that, lips curving in a smirk that was far too ancient and far too smug. The vibration shattered something loose inside me and I nearly sobbed with how good it felt. My legs trembled as my whole body coiled, and when the release came, it wasn't a peak, it was an eruption.
I came with a sharp, gasping cry, clinging to his shoulders, my shield flaring outward in a golden wave of instinct. He felt it, I knew he did, because he groaned against my skin like it branded him, but he didn't stop right away. He kept tasting me through it, riding every aftershock, letting me come down slowly from the stars. When he finally pulled away, his lips were wet with me, his eyes utterly undone.
"You," I whispered. "That was…"
But I couldn't finish the sentence. My body was still singing.
.
— O End of scene O —
.
He kissed my forehead, then my nose, then the corner of my lips. "You are glorious, Bella."
"You're… really good at that," I managed, a breathless laugh escaping me.
He laughed, in a low, pleased sound that I felt in my bones. "It has been a very long time. And never… never like this."
His forehead pressed to mine.
"We have eternity," I vowed.
Marcus's POV
The forest still clung to us, its shadows, its scents, its memory. Bella's scent was different now; wilder, warmer—not just blood on her breath, but power in her pulse.
She ran ahead of me at first, her laughter breaking through the still air like sunlight on water. Every movement she made now was poetry in motion to my eyes: fluid, instinctive, untamed. I watched her, not with pride, that word was far too small, but with reverence. As though some ancient part of me had waited centuries to witness this one perfect creature in her fullness. She was mine. Not because I had claimed her, but because the universe had written her into my very being.
When she slowed and turned toward me, her crimson eyes found mine with such raw honesty it halted the breath I no longer drew.
The flush of her human blood still running in her cheeks, the soft curve of her lips, the way desire hadn't yet faded from her skin... It nearly undid me. I saw in her not just passion, but certainty. Hunger, yes, but also trust.
A dangerous combination. A beautiful one.
Finally, we came out of the woods. The house welcomed us in silence, dusk filtering through the windows. The others had not yet returned; as I had hoped, they had given us this night.
Bella looked over her shoulder and caught me watching her. Her grin tilted up at the edges, mischievous and knowing.
"You're staring," she said softly.
"Yes," I murmured, closing the distance between us. "I'm memorizing."
She laughed, head tipped back slightly, the sound bright and untamed. "You've had centuries to memorize things. This can't possibly compare."
"No," I said, stepping behind her now, close enough to touch but not yet daring to touch as I knew there would be no holding back once I did. "Because I have never loved something… someone… in such a way that it changed me in return."
She stilled. "You feel changed?"
I reached out, finally, brushing a single strand of hair from the nape of her neck as I lowered my head to breathe her in, so close, yet still not enough. "I feel alive."
She turned to face me fully. I felt once more as her shield pulsed gently at the edge of my senses. I wasn't pushing pushing me out, it was welcoming me in its embrace.
"I want you," she said. "But not just that. I want… this. All of it. The bond, the power, the way you look at me like I'm the center of your universe. I want it to be real."
"It is real, and tonight," I said, voice low but certain, each word a vow laid at her feet, "I will make you feel it in every breath, every touch, every heartbeat we no longer need. You will feel that you are not just loved, you are chosen. And I will not stop until every doubt you've ever held dissolves beneath the way I see you."
She looked at me, too many emotions waring in her eyes to express into words, and instead, her hand found mine. She led me up the stairs, past the familiar corridor, and into her room, the room that had once belonged to the human girl she'd been, and now opened like a temple for the woman she was becoming.
The door clicked shut, and the rest of the world fell away.
She turned, and kissed me. It was hungry, eager, her hands tangling in my shirt before I could speak again. I kissed her back, devoured her with aching patience because she was fire and promise and mine.
We moved together slowly at first, peeling away the layers of fabric like ritual, not urgency. Her skin gleamed faintly in the low light, every inch a discovery, every gasp from her lips a blessing.
I laid her down on the bed, reverent as a man kneeling before a goddess.
And she let me.
.
— O Start of scene O —
.
I kissed her slowly, reverently, tasting the curve of her throat and she arched into me, a quiet gasp catching at the edge of her breathless body, her fingers ripping into the sheets like she was grounding herself to this moment.
Her shield fluttered again, not as a wall but as an invitation, brushing against me in pulses that matched the rhythm of her rising pleasure. I could feel her desire shimmering through it like heat off stone. Her need, new and vast and unshackled, pressed against mine, and I met it with everything I was.
"More," she whispered, voice cracked open with wanting. Crimson eyes wide, lips parted, a goddess in the making who hadn't yet realized she already ruled me.
I trailed my mouth down her body, pausing to worship the swell of her breast with my lips, my hands, until her hips lifting to meet me.
"Yes, mia regina," I said against her skin, voice hoarse with reverence. "Everything. Always."
And then I entered her in one slow, careful motion, with the kind of devotion only centuries could teach. She gasped, her legs winding around me as if to anchor. Her body welcomed me as if it had always been waiting. The fit was perfect, aching and exquisite. But it wasn't just flesh, not even just soul. It was our bond.
Her shield curled around us like a cocoon, protecting us even as she let me in fully. It hummed with sensation and shared power, our gifts tangled and pulsing between us.
"Marcus," she whispered, voice breaking like light across water. "I feel you. All of you."
"You are mine," I said, but it wasn't a claim, it was awe. "And I am yours. Entirely."
When we finally came apart together, it wasn't a collapse or a frenzy. It was the slow, endless unraveling of a new beginning forged in reverence and sacred pleasure.
"Please," she whispered. "Let me feel it. Let me own this too."
I cupped her face with both hands, pulling her close, foreheads pressed and scents mingling.
"I am already yours," I said. "But tonight, take me."
Her kiss was no longer shy as she guided me into her. It was hungry.
She pulled me down with both hands threaded in the remnants of my shirt, lips crashing against mine. Her thighs bracketed my hips, drawing me closer, not asking but taking. And gods did I allow her to.
I could feel her need, sharpened by newborn intensity. Her mouth trailed along my jaw, then lower, her lips and teeth grazing the skin over my throat like she might mark me next. I gasped, and her shield pulsed softly in answer, instinctively wrapping us in its embrace.
"Bella…" I rasped, but my words caught as she dragged her fingers down my chest "What are you doing, cara mia?"
She looked up at me, flushed with desire, eyes glowing like garnets beneath candlelight. "I'm feeding a different kind of hunger," she said, her voice low and fierce. "I want to feel you burn, Marcus. I want to be the fire this time."
And so, I surrendered.
Her hands mapped my chest, not reverently as I had done to her, but possessively. She was learning me now, by touch and scent and sound. When her mouth returned to my skin, lower this time, worshipping her way across the hard lines of my stomach, I nearly came undone.
Never, not once, not in all my endless years, had I been touched like this.
Claimed like this.
She pushed me onto my back, her shield still curled around us like silk woven of thunder and light, and climbed over me, straddling my hips. Her touch was greedy, exploratory, glorious.
I groaned her name, my hands rising to her waist, thumbs stroking along the line of her ribs. But I didn't guide her. I couldn't. She was the one leading now.
"I want to remember this," she whispered, her voice shaking with want. "Your body under mine. Your hands trembling because of me."
"You could ask me for anything," I breathed, "and I would give you the world."
"I don't want the world," she said, lowering herself against me. "I want you."
Then she claimed my lips again, harder this time, teeth grazing, hips shifting just enough to make me groan in her ear. Her fingers dug into my shoulders, unbending nails cracking my flesh.
She moved against me again, slower this time, and the ache between us grew unbearable. And when she finally reached for me in her peak, eyes burning, hand steady, shield coiled around us like living light… we came together. In that moment, caught between the heat of her skin and the hum of her shield, I saw everything differently.
Through Bella's shield, my gift didn't just extend, it altered. The threads I'd sensed for millenia, the quiet whispers of connection, loyalty, grief… now flared like starlight made palpable. But they weren't mine anymore. They moved with her, shaped by her presence. She didn't just invite me in; she reflected me back in ways I had never imagined. I felt the thread that bound us thrum with a resonance that made my breath catch in awe, a thousand lifetimes condensed into a single heartbeat.
It was as though I had always looked at the world through frost-glass… and now, with her wrapped around me, I saw it in color for the first time. I was sharp, alive and infinite.
I knew then, with absolute clarity, that she was not merely my bonded. She was my mirror, my catalyst. Bella was the fire that burned away centuries of stillness and left behind something entirely new.
.
— O End of scene O —
.
Later, she lay draped across my chest, head nestled beneath my jaw, fingers drawing idle circles against my skin like she was grounding herself in the moment. Her body, though it didn't need breath or warmth, hummed gently in time with mine.
I held her in the stillness that followed not just our joining, but a transformation. What passed between us had not been simple pleasure, nor merely the claiming of mates. It was sacred; an unmaking and a remaking.
She said nothing for almost an hour, and neither did I. Words would have only diluted the weight of what had passed between us. I listened instead, to the silence she shared with me. The quiet hum of her shield, still pulsing comfortingly around us. A shield that didn't just protect but reflected.
During the act, I had felt it: my gift reaching farther, clearer than ever. The threads that had once existed in shadow and suggestion now burned like veins of starlight through my senses. Bella had let me in, yes, but more than that, she had mirrored my sight, shown me myself in ways I hadn't imagined possible.
She shifted, raising her crimson eyes to meet mine. Still soft, still glowing faintly with power that hadn't yet settled. "I can't stop feeling it," she said, voice low, as if afraid to break the spell. "It's like the this… the shield, the bond, the new me… like it hasn't stopped growing."
"It hasn't," I answered. "Bella, in all my centuries, I have never felt what I did with you."
She smiled faintly, her expression full of disbelief and conviction at once. "You've lived through an eternity."
"I have survived eternity," I murmured, brushing her hair back with slow fingers, "but until you, I didn't belong in it."
She was silent for a moment, her eyes distant as if searching within. Then said quietly: "When I let go of the power that seems to be vibrating through me… when I opened to you… I didn't just want more of you, I wanted to see as you do. And I did, oh Marcus, I did. I saw the bonds, I think… I… I pulled them in with me. Does it make sense?" She scrunched her eyebrows together, mirroring the hesitation in her words.
"You didn't just see them," I said, caressing her cheeks tenderly. "You amplified them, mia anima. You made me feel them through your lens. You gave me more than access, Bella, you gave me clarity."
She sat up slightly, the sheet slipping lower across her back, skin once more catching the faint gold of daylight and refracting it in breathcatching beauty. "My shield," she said, almost to herself, "it's not just a block. It… filters? Enhances? When I let you in, it felt like… like it reshaped everything."
I reached out, tracing the soft curve of her shoulder. Her skin was cool, but charged, like embers under ice. "You've created something new. Not just a merging of our gifts, but a force of its own, of our own."
She looked down at her hand, flexing her fingers slowly. I could feel the quiet awe still moving through her body, as if she too couldn't fully comprehend the shape of what we'd become.
"I saw all of you," she whispered, "and it didn't overwhelm me. It felt like it was always supposed to be this way."
"It was," I said. "It always was."
We stayed there in the hush, two immortal beings on the edge of something vast. Whatever had happened in this room, it hadn't just deepened the bond. It had made it evolved and forged it into something neither of us could have predicted.
She nestled against me again, and I held her tighter, kissed the crown of her head. Her presence, her scent, her light… it filled every shadow I'd once carried inside me. And as she relaxed into my arms, I thought of the empires I'd watched rise and fall, the centuries of stillness and silence, and how none of it meant anything until her.
She was a queen born in fire, and a heart that had chosen me.
I didn't need to say it aloud, she already knew. But I still whispered it, for her, for myself, for the gods who might still be listening: "You are everything."
And in the quiet that followed, I let myself believe for the first time in more years than one could count, that eternity might finally be just enough with her by my side.
Notes:
✨ Question for you:
What's your favorite Marcus or Bella quote from this chapter? I know I have more than a few I keep rereading…
Also, apologies for the slight delay in posting. June is a bit chaotic, and I really don't want to rush the editing.
As always, thank you so much for your continued support. Whether it's in-depth thoughts or just a little love, your comments mean the world right now. I'll take all the encouragement I can get to survive the next few weeks!
Love 🔥
Ada xx
Chapter 15: Allies in the Mist
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Bella's POV
The sun filtered softly through the tall windows of the Cullen living room, casting golden light across the polished wood floor in shifting, dotted patterns. Esme had filled the space with little touches of beauty that spoke of habit and longing: freshly cut flowers from her garden nestled in glass vases, their fragrance delicate and grounding; candles, unnecessary but comforting, glowing softly on the mantel; and a fire crackling in the hearth, not for warmth, but to make the room feel alive.
I stood barefoot in the center, toes pressed to the cool floorboards, and for a moment, I could swear I felt everything, from the subtle shift of the air, the creak of old wood adjusting to temperature, to even the slow turn of petals in their vases. The world was vibrant in a way I hadn’t known as human, and though I no longer breathed in the way I once had, I was more alive now than I had ever felt.
“Careful, Bells,” Emmett said with a grin from his perch on the back of the couch, arms folded over his chest. “You keep standing there all radiant and mysterious, and we’re gonna have to start calling you ‘Your Highness.’”
“Emmett,” Esme chided gently, though her smile gave her away.
“Oh, I don’t mind,” I replied sweetly, turning toward him with a mock-innocent expression. “But you will call me that with a proper bow.”
That earned a loud bark of laughter from Emmett and a low chuckle from Jasper. Alice clapped her hands, delighted, where she sat cross-legged on the arm of Jasper’s chair like a pixie in designer denim.
“Well,” Emmett said, still grinning, “‘long as I don’t have to curtsy.”
“You will if you want to keep your limbs,” came a voice from behind me, low and smooth in a way that held threat without raising tone.
I turned just as Felix entered the room. He was dressed in the same storm-dark grey that marked him as one of the highest amongst the Volturi Guard, with a faint thread of crimson shimmering at his collar. He moved with deliberate ease, and when he reached me, he dropped smoothly to one knee. The gesture should have felt theatrical, but something in it rang true, as though he meant every inch of the deference he offered.
“Regina nostra,” he said quietly. Our queen. “I am yours to command.”
I felt the others go still around us. My own body stilled too. Not from fear, but from the weight of it. The words, his posture, the simple act of acknowledging me as something more than girl, or newborn, or even mate to a King… it startled me. Not because I didn’t understand, but because it felt real and instinctively, it felt right.
Marcus appeared at my side without sound, his presence as steadying as his hand brushing mine. His touch grounded me, and when I looked up into his face, his expression held no mockery, only quiet certainty.
“Accept it, mia Bella,” he murmured. “You’ve earned more than respect. You are becoming who you were always meant to be.”
I swallowed, then placed my hand gently on Felix’s shoulder. “Thank you,” I said, my voice steadier than I expected. “You honor me.”
Felix rose with a faint, satisfied smile, something rare and fleeting on his usually impassive face. “It is simply the truth.”
Emmett let out a low whistle. “I’ll say it again; Your Highness.”
Rosalie’s voice floated in from the hall, dry and amused. “Maybe don’t provoke the ancient guard and the fledgling queen in the same breath, Emmett.”
“Oh come on, Rosie,” he grinned. “You’re just mad she got a crown before you.”
“Not mad,” Rosalie replied, stepping into view with arms crossed loosely. “Just enjoying the view.”
The room shifted again, the reverent hush dissolving back into playfulness. I found myself relaxing into it, shoulders loose, smile lingering. Marcus’s arm slid around my waist, and the bond between us pulsed with contentment.
“Shall we?” he asked, his eyes catching mine with meaning.
“Training?” I guessed, and he nodded once.
The clearing behind the house had changed since the last time I’d seen it. Felix and Emmett, in what had become an ongoing contest, had cleared away most of the larger obstacles with an enthusiasm that left the perimeter littered with splintered tree trunks and gouged soil. The air smelled of moss, bark, and earth. It was a raw and wild blend.
Marcus walked beside me in silence, his presence calm but charged. I could feel his anticipation, not in his expression, but in the subtle pull, a kind of hum in the space between us.
“Today we focus on instinct,” he said once we reached the center. “Not control or thought. Just response.”
Jasper stepped into view from the opposite side of the clearing, rolling his shoulders like he was loosening a tightly wound thread. “I’ll assist,” he said, nodding toward me. “Don’t worry, Bella. I’ll go easy.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Define easy.”
His grin was quick, familiar. “I won’t make you cry.”
From the sidelines, Alice’s laugh rang out like wind chimes. “He’s lying.”
Felix, who stood with arms folded just beyond the training ring, gave a low chuckle. “I’ll intervene if necessary.”
“If necessary,” Emmett echoed under his breath, not bothering to hide his amusement.
Marcus turned to face me, the weight of his gaze steadying. “Let your instincts move first, the shield will follow. Don’t force it, don’t overthink it. Feel.”
I nodded, grounding myself with the smallest breath, an old reflex that lingered, even if I no longer needed air.
Jasper moved before I was ready, though maybe that was the point. I felt the wave of emotional pressure he sent toward me, not hostile, but aggressive enough to set my senses sparking. It hit like a sudden shift in weather. It was sharp, destabilizing and primal.
My shield didn’t just react, it expanded. It surged outward like a living thing, no longer just a bubble or barrier, but something finer, more precise. I felt it wrap around Jasper’s influence, analyzing it, folding it, and then pulsing outward in return.
He stumbled back a step, blinking. “I… what was that?”
I narrowed my focus, chasing the lingering threads left in the wake of the shield’s movement. They shimmered faintly, in glowing filaments that connected not just people, but emotions, decisions, and intentions. Marcus had once described the invisible lines that tied one soul to another. These felt like that, but also more.
I reached inward, drawing on that awareness, and focused on Marcus. The connection between us flared as I wrapped my shield around it deliberately. Something clicked, as though two mirrors had been set to face each other with light folding in on itself in an endless echo. His gift surged into mine, in resonance.
The ground beneath my feet trembled faintly.
Jasper stood still, mouth slightly open, as if recalibrating. “That wasn’t just defense,” he said slowly. “That was… something else.”
Felix unfolded his arms, his attention fully fixed on me now. Even Alice tilted her head, eyes gleaming. “That,” she said, her voice light but purposeful, “was our future weapon.”
But before any of us could speak again, a distant sound cut through the quiet. It was a sharp and unfamiliar howl, carried on the wind from beyond the trees.
The mood shifted in an instant. Emmett’s grin faded. Felix straightened. My body turned toward the sound on instinct, even as my thoughts raced ahead of me.
“Wolves,” Jasper said, already on alert. “And not the friendly kind.”
The wolves didn’t come that day or at night. The howl had faded into silence, leaving a ripple of tension in its wake, but no further sign. Felix and Emmett stayed on watch while the rest of us returned to the house, uneasy but composed.
Now, the fire had burned low in the hearth. Its light cast long shadows across the room, flickering gently against the bookshelves and floorboards. The others spoke in low tones around me. Carlisle and Alice were discussing cover stories for my tragic death, Esme noting funeral arrangements in a little leatherbound book.
I sat on the couch, motionless, my hands folded loosely in my lap, eyes unfocused. Around me, every sound rang too clearly: the soft scrape of paper, the hum of electric current in the walls, the slow curl of flame. The world had gone still, but inside me, something thrashed quietly.
My new life hadn’t begun in peace. I hadn’t expected it to. I had chosen death deliberately. I had chosen the fire, the ache of farewells, and the poison sweetness of venom because I wanted to protect, to fight. But the death part lingers, and it hurts.
Now I sat there while they were planning my funeral.
My “passing” was meant to be painless for the human world. A chest infection, they’d said. One that escalated quickly. There would be a short obituary, a closed casket, and a few sanitized lies for comfort. But the people who loved me, apart from Charlie, wouldn’t know the truth. There would be no more goodbyes.
Five days ago, I had called my mother for the last time. I had known it would be the last, though I couldn’t say it. I’d told her I loved her. She had told me stories that circled around nothing like she was trying to keep me there with her voice a little longer, as if some part of her already knew.
Mothers always do.
Even now, I could still remember the warm smell of sunscreen and coconut lotion, her signature scent, the one she wore even when it rained. Her presence was everywhere and nowhere, like a phantom limb I couldn’t stop reaching for.
My chest ached, knowing I would never hear her hum through the kitchen again, feel her hand on my forehead, or feel her arms around my shoulders. And she would never know what I had become.
It was grief, and it was mine to carry.
A quiet presence stirred beside me. I hadn’t noticed Jasper approach until the air shifted slightly, I felt calmer now, like a breeze moving in to clear a crowded room.
“May I help?” he asked softly, his tone so gentle it barely disturbed the silence. He didn’t cross into my space, waiting instead for the smallest signal.
I nodded once.
He sat carefully, leaving just enough space between us, and exhaled in a way that was meant to ground us both. “I’ll start small,” he promised. “Just enough to take the edge off.”
I felt it rise softly, a wash of calm that soothed me. It felt like stepping into warm water and letting it ease aches one hadn’t realized existed. The pain didn’t vanish, but it loosened. The sorrow remained, but it quieted.
I closed my eyes, breathing slowly, as Marcus had taught me to. Breath was a rhythm, a choice, a thread that could steady the mind when the soul had nowhere to rest.
And somewhere in that quiet space, I felt something else, just at the edge of awareness. A flicker… not a threat, not quite, it was more like a shadow brushing past the window of my mind.
My eyes opened.
Jasper noticed immediately. “You feel that?”
I nodded. “Something’s out there. I don’t know what, but it’s… watching.”
He turned toward the window, frowning. “It’s faint, but you’re right. Something’s wrong.”
And before he could speak again, I felt the thread that bound me to Marcus draw tense. He was already coming.
By the time Marcus reached me, the room had settled into a deeper quiet, though it was no longer peaceful. It was expectant.
He crossed the room swiftly, eyes intense yet gentle as they found mine. "You're sensing more," he said softly, understanding rather than questioning. "Your gift grows each time you trust yourself, mia Bella."
I rose without needing to think, drawn by that tether between us. When his hand found mine, the hum of our bond steadied something in me that had begun to splinter under the weight of my memories.
“I can’t always tell if it’s real,” I confessed softly, leaning into him. “Or just fear.”
He brushed his thumb lightly across the back of my hand, reassuring me without dismissing my worry. "It's real. Your shield is changing. Trust your instincts, they’ll guide you true."
I let him draw me in closer, resting my head briefly against his chest, absorbing the strength in his voice. Jasper, still nearby, watched with quiet attention.
“She’ll make it through,” Jasper said, rising to give us space. “But whatever’s out there, Bella’s not wrong to sense it.”
Marcus nodded once in agreement, his voice quiet yet firm. “We will face it when it comes. Together.”
“I haven’t seen anything,” I murmured, not turning as I heard Jasper’s steps approach again. “Maybe it’s just nerves. Or maybe it’s something else. I keep sensing more than feelings now. Not just emotion, but… intention. It’s like the world has layers I didn’t notice before.”
“You’re spiraling,” Jasper said gently, not unkindly. “I can feel it.”
I gave a small, humorless smile. “That obvious?”
“Only to someone tuned like I am.”
He didn’t sit until I nodded, and even then, he kept a respectful distance. “May I?”
I nodded again, slower this time. “Yes.”
His gift moved toward me, easing across the space between us. I welcomed it cautiously, and to my surprise, my shield stirred. It didn’t block him, but it didn’t yield fully either. Instead, it reached toward the influence like a question, curling around it the way hands test the edges of fabric.
Then something shifted.
I felt the energy wrap, then turn… and echo.
Jasper inhaled sharply beside me. “You just… reflected that. More than mirrored. It came back at me, stronger.”
Startled, I turned toward him. “I didn’t try to. I didn’t mean to.”
“No,” he said slowly. “That’s what’s strange. It didn’t feel like defense. It felt like a choice, your shield… it’s learning. It’s not just reacting anymore, it’s responding.”
The idea settled in my mind; my shield wasn’t static. It was evolving with me. Learning not just what to repel, but what to hold, what to reflect, and perhaps, what to carry forward.
“It’s becoming part of your will,” Jasper said, leaning back slightly.
I turned that thought over in my head, and as I did, a subtle thrill moved through me. My gift wasn’t random. It wasn’t just protection. It was more, just like I now was. A sense of pride and power washed through me at the thought.
“What else can I send through it?” I wondered aloud, not really expecting an answer, and before Jasper or Marcus could think to respond, we froze.
“They’re here,” I said quietly.
Jasper moved quickly, alerting the rest of the family. I felt the house shift around me and from outside, faint but distinct, came the sound of paws on soft soil.
“Jacob,” I said, and felt the old pain stir beneath the new.
We stepped outside as one, the Cullens fanning into a loose formation behind me while Marcus remained at my side in the centre. The mist had thickened during the night, curling low over the yard like smoke that had forgotten its source. Pale sunlight strained through the haze, making everything feel muted, suspended.
From the trees, they came.
The first wolf was russet, large and unmistakable. Jacob. His eyes locked onto mine before the others emerged; a pale gray, and then a mottled black, flanking him like shadows drawn in fur. I felt their presence before they crossed the clearing, a pressure in the earth beneath my feet, a shift in the air itself. Even in this form, the wolves were not subtle.
They didn’t need to be.
Jacob shifted just beyond the edge of the trees, his transition smooth and practiced. He stepped into the open barefoot, shirtless, every line of his body tense. His gaze scanned the group, barely pausing on anyone else before fixing on me.
“Can’t say I’m a fan of the new look, Bells.”
I didn’t flinch. I didn’t give him the satisfaction of blinking. Still, I noted the use of my old nickname, like a thread to my old self that my friend wanted to hold onto.
“Can’t say I care, Jake.”
The silence that followed was tense as a pulled bowstring. I felt Jasper’s influence stretch outward, layering calm, but even that wasn’t enough to smooth the rawness in the air.
One of the wolves growled low behind Jacob. In response, Marcus’s growl answered. It was quieter, deeper, and far more dangerous.
“Enough,” Carlisle said, stepping forward with open hands. “We had an agreement. Bella would be given time. Why are you here now?”
Jacob’s jaw worked. “Because people are going missing: hikers, campers, a ranger last week. So let’s not pretend newborns have a friendly reputation.”
His implication cut clean and cold.
I felt the growl rise in my throat before I could think to stop it. Marcus’s hand touched my back, grounding me and cautioning me.
“Peace, mia Bella,” he murmured. “He is not your enemy… yet.”
Jacob’s attention flicked briefly to Marcus, his expression hardening. “I didn’t come here for a lecture. I came to see if the bloodbath’s already started.”
“No one here has harmed anyone,” Carlisle said evenly. “Least of all Bella.”
“And yet,” Jacob said, voice sharp, “people are dying.”
Felix moved then, slow and deliberate, his presence suddenly as vast as a thundercloud. “Perhaps,” he said smoothly, “the danger isn’t within this family. Perhaps someone else is hunting.”
I didn’t hesitate. “Victoria.”
Her name cracked the quiet open like a whip.
Jacob’s expression shifted. “She’s been seen.”
“Where?” Marcus asked, each syllable carved from ice.
“Near Charlie’s place. Watching. We picked up her trail three nights ago.”
My body went still, but the cold inside me rose like a tide. She had been near Charlie. My voice, when it came, was stripped of softness.
“I want her dead.”
Carlisle’s voice was low. “She may be seeking vengeance. We destroyed her mate.”
Marcus turned slowly. His stillness was no longer peaceful, it was predatory.
“You destroyed a mated vampire,” he said softly. “And you didn’t consider her vengeance?”
The quiet accusation landed heavily. A mate wasn't simply a partner or even just a lover. Now I understood that in a way I couldn't have before. It was a bond woven deeper than heart or mind, more vital than breath itself. If someone had taken Marcus from me, I would have moved heaven and earth to destroy them, too.
Emmett, for once, said nothing. Even Rosalie, usually unflinching, dropped her gaze.
“We didn’t realize,” Carlisle admitted quietly. “Not at the time.”
“Clearly,” Marcus said, but offered nothing else.
Behind Jacob, the gray wolf, Leah, I suspected, shifted her weight with barely contained contempt. But Jacob didn’t move, his eyes, though guarded, never left mine.
“You’re in the middle of it again,” he said. “Just like last time. Only now, you’re one of them.”
I didn’t deny it. “I chose this.”
“And now what?” he asked, jaw clenched. “You want a treaty? An alliance?”
“If we want to survive,” Marcus said, stepping forward with the authority of centuries, “yes.”
Jacob hesitated, then glanced toward the forest. The other wolves stayed still, watching. Waiting.
“She’s not alone,” Felix said. “Victoria is building something. We’ve seen signs. If she comes for Bella, she won’t come quietly.”
Jacob’s mouth twisted. “You really think she’d come straight at you?”
“No,” I said. “I think she’ll make me watch first.”
Silence fell again, heavier now.
Jacob studied me, the rawness in his expression sharper than any accusation. “You’re really not her anymore.”
“No,” I said simply. “I’m more.”
He swallowed. I saw the conflict in his posture, and then, finally, reluctantly an acknowledgment. “Then I guess we figure it out together,” he said. “Or we burn alone.”
The mist hadn’t lifted when we returned inside, but the air had shifted. Carlisle stood at the head of the room, his calm stretched taut beneath the urgency in his voice. Marcus stood beside me, Felix close to us. Behind, the Cullens fell into place and I noted how I was now at the centre of our formation. Across the room, Jacob stood near the hearth, arms folded, posture rigid. Leah and Seth lingered by the back doors like shadows.
“Here’s what we know,” Carlisle began. “In the past ten days, there have been multiple disappearances. Hikers. Campers. One ranger. The bodies, when found, are mutilated. Mauled beyond recognition.”
“They’re feeding,” Marcus said flatly.
Jacob narrowed his eyes. “We’ve tracked Victoria’s scent on the east cliff. She’s fast, she’s smart, and she’s not alone. She keeps avoiding us.”
“It’s more than that,” Felix said. His tone carried weight. “We’ve confirmed it.”
All attention shifted to him.
“Tyron and Seleucia returned last night from the Cascades. They intercepted a newborn. She was really young, too young. She was erratic and half-feral. She spoke of Victoria as if she were a savior before they ended her.”
“A savior?” Jacob echoed, incredulous.
Felix nodded. “She promised them power, offers a new family and love. She believed Victoria rescued her from an abusive home and gave her a purpose.”
“She’s not just building an army,” Marcus said. “She’s building a cult.”
“She’s creating fanatics,” Jasper muttered. “They won’t hesitate or fear exposure, and they won’t stop.”
I sat motionless, though my shield stirred beneath my skin, restless, reactive. I felt Marcus’s hand on mine.
“This is my fault,” I said quietly. “She’s coming for me.”
“No,” Marcus said with finality. “She’s doing this because of who she’s become. And we will stop her.”
Alice’s voice cut through next. “I still can’t see her clearly. She’s shielding her decisions. I think she is avoiding me.” She huffed frustratingly.
“What is she waiting for?” Emmett asked, annoyance creeping in.
“For me,” I said again, more certain now. “She wants to finish what she started.”
Jacob spoke then, voice low. “She’s been near Charlie’s twice. Seth and I caught her scent. Too close, but we can never get her.”
My shield flared. Not outward, but inward—like a heartbeat thudding inside a chest that no longer beat. I didn’t speak, but Marcus caught it.
Carlisle stepped forward, redirecting attention to himself. “We need coverage. Intel. Strategy.”
“I’ll scout,” Alice said immediately. “East and southeast cliffs.”
“I’ll flank her,” Jasper added.
“We’ve got the perimeter,” Jacob said. “Seth and I, Embry’s on standby for now.”
Leah didn’t speak, but she nodded once, sharp and exact.
Marcus stepped into the center of the room. “We train together. Wolves and vampires. No lone patrols. No assumptions. We are at war, and we will not face it divided.”
No one argued.
—
Notes:
Author's Note
Surviving the chaos of June still, thank you so much for your reading & commenting! Let me know what you thought of today’s chapter and if you have any predictions for what’s building…Love 🔥
Ada xx
Chapter 16: Tangled Threads
Chapter Text
16: Tangled Threads
Bella's POV
Later that day, with Marcus and Felix off hunting “up north,” I found myself in the comfortable armchair in my room, surrounded by quiet. The soft golden light from the lamp glowed warmly, unnecessary to my new eyes, but still comforting in an echo of the life I’d left behind. Across from me, Alice sat at the edge of my bed, twirling a lock of her dark hair between her fingers, her expression clouded by something more than usual thought.
"You seem preoccupied," I said, studying her carefully.
She sighed, her golden eyes distant. “It’s the visions,” she admitted, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “They’re... messy. So many shifting decisions, so many threads being pulled. And now…” She trailed off, her mouth tightening into a worried line. “It’s more than just the usual fog.”
“Victoria?” I asked quietly.
Alice nodded. “It’s like… noise. Static. And it’s growing louder. The more players she adds to her game, the more newborns she creates, the more blind spots appear. She’s muddying the future, Bella, and I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep ahead of her.”
That cold knot of unease tightened in my chest. Victoria’s building something. We’d known that. But Alice’s gifts faltering because of it made the danger feel more immediate.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" I asked, placing a hand gently on her knee.
She gave me a tired smile. “Just having you here is enough. It anchors me.”
I smiled back, even though my mind was racing. “You said once that you see people better when you know them. Could the confusion be because you’re not close to these newborns?”
Alice nodded. “Yes, and no. It’s more than that. The wolves already cloud things, and now… there’s something else. Something almost designed to disrupt vision. Like a ripple of static running through time.”
I shivered. “Like a shield?”
She blinked. “Maybe. But not like yours, yours is clean, pure, defined. This feels messy. Tangled.”
Her words struck a chord. I had felt my own power evolve so quickly. It had responded more sharply, extended beyond me, wrapped around Marcus, pulsed back at Jasper. If Victoria was fostering powers, twisting them…
“I wish I could help you see,” I murmured. “But lately, I feel like I’m barely keeping up with the changes in myself.”
Alice gave a quiet laugh, warm and weary. “You’re doing better than most immortals do in their first weeks. We both are.” Then her smile faded. “But Bella… there’s something else.”
I waited.
“The vision of Edward, Volterra in flames, his red eyes, ” She swallowed hard. “It’s gone.”
My chest tightened. “Gone?”
“Not erased. Out of reach.” Her gaze turned toward the window, where trees swayed in the wind like silent sentinels. “It’s like it was moved behind a curtain. And I can’t find the thread to pull it back.”
I stared at her, heartless but still heartbroken. Edward… flames. That nightmare had haunted her, I knew. And now, not seeing it didn’t mean it wasn’t happening. It meant something was hiding it.
I reached for her hand. “Do you think he’s in danger?”
Alice bit her lip. “I don’t know. But I can’t shake the feeling that something is very wrong. I feel like… like we’re not going to see him again until it’s already too late.”
That ache in her voice pulled at something deep in me. “You’ve done so much, Alice. You don’t have to carry all of this.”
“I do,” she whispered. “He’s my brother. And I made a promise to stay by your side too.”
“And you’ve kept it,” I said. “I’ll never forget that.”
She gave me a look of pure affection. “Once we deal with Victoria, I want to find him. I need to.”
“Then we’ll go together.”
Silence settled for a moment between us, heavy but companionable. She leaned back on the bed, and I stayed in my chair, our fingers still intertwined.
“I’m glad the vision of us together is still true,” she said softly.
Me too, I thought. But the word still hung heavily between us. I wanted to believe we had time, but deep down, I wasn’t sure how much we had left.
—
Marcus's POV
The forest-lined road twisted ahead as Felix and I made our way north to Seattle. The quiet hum of the engine gave me space for thought, but no peace.
Even now, I marveled at how much had shifted since Bella entered my world. Not simply as a mate, though that bond pulsed through me like a new heartbeat, but as a catalyst. She had stirred a dormant purpose within me, shattered the numbness of centuries, with nothing more than her presence. In protecting her, I felt alive again. And I intended to remain so, for her.
Beside me, Felix remained characteristically stoic, his size filling the space like a silent wall of protection. But I knew his mind was sharp behind those impassive features. He, like me, understood that we no longer hunted threats only to Volturi law. We hunted for her.
The three Volturi guards assigned to our protection waited in a dark alley between industrial warehouses, an area abandoned by humans, reclaimed by shadows. Seleucia and Tyron stood side by side with their usual harmony. Louis, slightly behind them, watched the approaching car with narrowed eyes. As I stepped out, all three bowed their heads briefly, deference rippling in the air.
“Seleucia. Tyron. Louis,” I greeted, nodding once. “Thank you for your swift arrival.”
“Master Marcus,” Tyron replied, stepping forward. “We came as soon as your summons reached us.”
Their loyalty was genuine. The threads that bound them to me, respect, tradition, and something deeper, had only strengthened since I had claimed my mate and reclaimed my role with renewed fire.
“We’re facing a potential crisis,” I began without preamble. “The vampire you have been tracking, Victoria, seems to be targeting my mate.”
Seleucia’s face tightened, her red eyes sharpening like twin blades. “Then she will not survive,” she said simply.
I continued, outlining what we’d learned from the Cullens and the wolves, her stalking of Forks, the signs of a newborn coven, and the evidence of organized attacks cloaked in chaos.
When I finished, Louis looked troubled. “I believe I know who she is,” he said carefully. “I’ve heard that name before.”
I turned to him. “Speak.”
He nodded. “In 1571, I was with an elite team assigned to the London outbreak. Jane, Alec, Demetri, Dante, and Elizabeth were with me. The coven we destroyed then was led by a vampire named Hilda, a mentor to your brother’s favourite, Heidi.”
I blinked. “Hilda. The one who turned traumatized human girls into enforcers.”
Louis inclined his head. “Exactly. She believed pain made them sharper. One of her most volatile creations was Victoria. She was evasive, erratic. Demetri tracked her briefly but was reassigned before the kill was made. She vanished... until now, if I am correct.”
A chill crept down my spine. “So she’s not just acting on vengeance. She was forged in it.”
Felix let out a low breath. “That explains the structure. The way she’s using trauma to control her newborns. A cult, not a coven.”
“Precisely,” Louis added. “If she’s learned from Hilda’s failures… we may be facing something far more dangerous than we thought.”
I nodded slowly. “Then we must outmaneuver her before she strikes again.”
Turning toward Felix, I gave my orders. “Coordinate with Tyron and Seleucia. Divide the Olympic territory. Keep your Volturi insignia visible at all times. We are not operating from the shadows, let them know we are here.”
Felix nodded. “Should we summon Demetri?”
“No,” I replied sharply. “Not yet. If Alice’s visions hold true, the web in Volterra is already tangled. I don’t want Aro’s attention pulled here until we’re ready.”
If Aro caught wind of Victoria’s old ties, he would act. But I wanted time. Time to secure our defenses, to train Bella, and to shape the battlefield to our advantage.
“We are twelve here,” I continued. “With the Cullens, and the wolves on the reservation, that makes over twenty warriors. More than enough. Victoria will realize too late that she declared war on an empire.”
A beat of silence. Then Seleucia stepped forward. “Permission to begin scouting immediately?”
“Go,” I said. “But keep your distance if you find her. I want intelligence. We strike as one.”
Tyron’s lips curved into a faint grin. “Understood. We’ll track her like smoke.”
Before parting, I met each of their gazes. “Your loyalty will not be forgotten.”
They bowed once more, and I felt the invisible threads of loyalty and purpose tighten between us.
Chapter 17: Threads of pain
Chapter Text
Bella's POV
The forest was quiet, too quiet; there was no birdsong, no rustling underbrush. It was just me, Marcus, and the breathless hush of anticipation.
I stood at the edge of a clearing, arms crossed tightly across my chest, the familiar hum of my shield thrumming just beneath the surface of my awareness. I could feel it now, like a skin within my skin, ready to stretch or shudder at my command.
“You’re thinking too much,” Marcus said gently, stepping toward me with the grace of immortality. His coat shifted with the wind, revealing the smooth black of his training tunic beneath. He looked devastating, of course, but right now, his eyes held only patience.
“Thinking is kind of my thing,” I muttered. “Especially when someone’s about to poke around in my soul.”
That made him smile.
“I won’t touch anything without your leave, Mia Bella. But you must open the door for me. I cannot see through your shield unless you choose to let me in.”
I took a breath, habitual now, even though I didn’t need to. “Alright. How do I… open it?”
“Extend it,” he said, reaching out his hand. “Invite me in, but do not withdraw it. Let your power continue to envelop us both. You must learn to function with it active, not retracted.”
I nodded and reached toward him, not physically, but with my mind. My shield obeyed, sliding forward like liquid light, reaching for him.
The moment it touched Marcus, the world shivered. There was no other way to describe it.
He inhaled sharply, his crimson eyes flickering with something between awe and disbelief. “Incredible,” he whispered. “I can feel them. All of them.”
I swallowed. “The bonds?” I asked reverently, still amazed at my burgeoning abilities.
He nodded slowly. “Your power doesn’t just block my gift… and I assume from my observations, other gifts. It… harmonizes with them. You’re not shielding me from the bonds. You’re letting me walk through them.”
He reached past me, fingers outstretched toward a shadowy impression in the air. Though there was nothing physical there, I could sense it too, it felt like an echo of something intangible.
“Whose is that?” I asked.
“Emmett’s,” he said. “His bond to Rosalie. Strong, loud in a way, but also… brittle in places.”
I blinked. “You’ve never said that about bonds before.”
He turned toward me slowly. “I’ve never seen them like this before, Bella. You’re… amplifying my perception.”
A chill ran through me with the possibilities.
I let the shield flex, shifting its shape slightly. “Can you try altering one? Something small. Not a break, just a… nudge.”
He hesitated. “On you?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Try Felix. He can take it.”
Marcus’s mouth twitched. “Very well.”
He stepped back, closing his eyes. I held my breath, and then I felt it: a ripple through my shield, like a wave passing between two points.
Moments later, from somewhere near the edge of the clearing, Felix’s voice rang out.
“What the hell? Why do I suddenly feel… sentimental about Emmet?”
I burst out laughing. So did Marcus.
“It worked,” I said, breathless.
Marcus stepped close again, his expression now edged with something else, wonder. “Bella… this changes everything. If we train together, you’ll be able to carry me into battle. You’ll shield me, extend my reach. I will no longer be a passive observer. And no one will see it coming.”
My mouth went dry. “That sounds terrifying.”
He nodded. “For our enemies, yes.”
We stood in silence for a moment, the gravity of what we’d just uncovered sinking in.
“Again?” I asked softly.
His answering smile could have broken kingdoms.
“Again.”
oOoOo
A while later, the crisp, moss-laced air of the Olympic forest curled around us as we moved deeper beneath its towering evergreens. My every step was sure, silent. Gone were the days of stumbling over my own feet, now my body obeyed with a precision that still thrilled me. The wind shifted through the canopy, and with it came a symphony of scents, ferns, distant deer, damp bark, even the faintest whiff of Rosalie’s rose-infused shampoo.
“Try not to look so smug about your perfect footing, Bella,” Emmett teased ahead of me, grinning as he easily flipped over a fallen tree trunk. “Some of us worked for that.”
“Oh please,” Rosalie rolled her eyes as she floated past him. “The only thing you work on is your already eternally perfect biceps.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Emmett shot back with a wink, flexing deliberately as I giggled behind them. Emmett lifted his chin. “Smells like bear,” he said, already crouching. “You want first pick, baby vamp?”
I smirked. “I’ll watch how it’s done first.”
With a grin that split his face, Emmett took off in a blur. Rosalie followed him with practiced grace, the two of them fanning out in a loose V-formation as they approached the clearing where the bear lumbered unaware.
I watched in awe as they moved, no words, only instinct. Emmett’s crash of power, Rosalie’s razor elegance. In a flash, the bear was down, and both Cullens fed with sharp, efficient control. It wasn’t gruesome; it was almost ritualistic.
They pulled away in unison, sharing a bloodied smile before Rosalie tossed her hair and wiped the corner of Emmett’s mouth with the back of her hand. I glanced at Marcus, who raised an eyebrow in amusement. Intimacy takes many forms, he seemed to say.
“You ready?” Rosalie asked as I stepped forward.
“I think so,” I replied, inhaling, and there it was. Another heartbeat. A cougar this time, padding low beneath the underbrush.
Marcus walked with me this time, silent. He didn’t hover, but he was near. I tracked the creature, its scent sharp and musky. Then, I moved. Fast. I pounced, sinking my teeth just right, the blood hot and wild against my lips.
When it was done, I stood slowly, not shaking, not stained. I turned back to the others and found Marcus watching me with something fierce and proud in his gaze.
“Well done,” he said simply.
“You didn’t even get blood on you,” Emmett grumbled, shaking his head. “Show-off.”
Rosalie elbowed him. “She’s not you. She has style.”
I couldn’t help it, I laughed. For the first time since my transformation, I truly felt myself. Changed, yes. But still me, and just… more.
Then, all at once, the forest changed. A subtle shift in scent. Something raw… not animal, not totally vampire either. Marcus was beside me in a flash, his expression tightening.
“Something’s here,” he said.
I had barely taken two steps when the scent slammed into me like a wall. Not just blood, but fresh, feral, and threaded with a wrongness that made the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
Marcus froze beside me. “Newborn,” he said quietly, every syllable edged in steel.
Rosalie and Emmett stiffened, instincts instantly kicking in.
“Not hunting, though,” Marcus continued, sniffing the air. “At least not successfully. She’s fed, but there’s fear.”
Rosalie’s face darkened. “We should end this quickly. She could expose us.”
“No,” I said, surprising myself. “Let’s see her first.”
Marcus turned toward me, brows lifting slightly, but not in disapproval. He was giving me space to lead.
We followed the trail with predator ease, fanning out into a staggered line. My senses honed in on the erratic crash of movement ahead, branches breaking, then a sudden stillness.
I caught sight of her before the others did.
She was crouched behind a downed cedar log, her body tense, ready to jump. Her clothes were ragged, her eyes wide and panicked, bright crimson against a pale, dirt-smudged face. Long, matted brown hair clung to her cheeks, and she looked no older than I had been when I’d first met Edward.
She bared her teeth and growled, but I could feel it; it was a bluff, she was terrified.
Marcus’s presence was suddenly at my side. “Her bonds…” he murmured, head tilting slightly. “They’re… distorted. She’s attached to someone, but the link is twisted. Sick. Like a leash made of devotion.”
Rosalie stepped forward, fists clenched. “She might be part of Victoria’s coven.”
“I’m not, ” the girl spat, her voice hoarse. “I don’t even know a Victoria!”
Marcus hummed low. “She may not. But the one who turned her must. She faintly smells like her.”
“Wait,” I said again, raising a hand. “Let me talk to her.”
Emmett looked like he wanted to object, but Marcus’s subtle nod held him back.
I crouched down slowly, keeping my tone soft. “What’s your name?”
She blinked at me, confused. “You’re not going to kill me?”
“Not unless you give us a reason,” I replied gently. “Name?”
“…Tracey.”
I nodded, offering her a calm smile. “Hi Tracey, I’m Bella. This is my mate, Marcus. And that’s Emmett and Rosalie. You’re safe, for now.”
Rosalie scoffed softly, but didn’t move.
“I know you’ve been through something,” I continued. “And we need answers. So we’re going to bring you somewhere safe and talk. If you cooperate, you’ll be treated well. Can you handle that?”
She looked around, eyes darting. “I… guess.”
Before she could think better of it, Emmett moved, swift but careful. He gripped her wrists in a gentle, steel-like hold. She flinched, but didn’t resist.
“I’ve got her,” he said, glancing to Marcus.
Marcus stepped closer, his gaze fixed on her with silent intensity.
“Her bond…” he murmured again, to us now. “It’s anchored by trauma. Shaped by manipulation. She believes she was rescued from something, worships her creator as a savior. She’s been indoctrinated,” Marcus added grimly. “Whoever turned her made her believe she owed them everything.”
Rosalie’s lip curled. “Classic cult tactic. Just in blood and fangs.”
“She’s not the only one,” I said, my voice tight. “If we are right, this confirms what Seleucia and Tyron reported. Victoria’s building an army. A cult.”
Marcus nodded once. “And using trauma as her tool.”
The revelation sat heavy between us as we turned back toward the house.
As we emerged through the treeline, Esme was already waiting on the porch. She took one look at Tracey, mud-streaked, trembling, eyes darting, and her expression tightened, though she said nothing.
“She’s coming with us,” I explained simply.
Esme nodded and moved to open the door.
Then my phone rang. I answered, trying to keep my voice muted, as the sick human I was supposed to be. “Hi?”
“Bella,” Phil said, the worry crackling behind his usual warmth. “Sorry to call so late. I didn’t want to ruin the surprise, but… your mom… She left for Forks this morning and she should’ve landed already, but I haven’t heard from her. Her phone’s dead.”
The bottom dropped out of my world.
I locked eyes with Marcus, and he knew.
“She’s gone,” I whispered. “Renée’s missing.”
Chapter 18: Fireflies
Chapter Text
Bella's POV
The Cullen house was quiet again, but not calm. It hadn’t been calm in a long time.
I sat on the couch, my legs curled beneath me as Esme moved gracefully around the kitchen behind me, cooking for the wolves. The soft hum of her motions, the gentle clink of dishes, it might’ve been comforting once. But now, it only made the silence in my head louder.
Across the room, Marcus stood by the window, gazing out into the trees. His profile was etched in shadow, still and watchful. I could feel him more than I could see him, his presence a steady tether grounding me in a world that was spinning too fast.
Tracey had been taken to a locked room downstairs, watched closely by Felix. I had asked to be left alone for a while, and though no one left entirely, they gave me space. Esme had taken my hand for a moment, kissed my forehead, then returned to her quiet vigil of care. Rosalie had vanished, probably to destroy something with Emmett.
Jasper had gone with Jake to look for information about my mom earlier that afternoon, but he’d returned just before sunset. He hadn’t said much since, just watched, quiet and guarded.
I knew I couldn’t go with them, but the wait was torture.
Then my phone rang. The sound shattered the quiet like a shot. Esme appeared at my side instantly, holding the phone out. “It’s Phil again.”
My fingers trembled as I took it. Marcus turned his head, just slightly, watching me with sharp focus but saying nothing. I swallowed down the dread climbing up my throat.
I answered with a breathy, “Hey, Phil…”
“Bella,” his voice came fast, shaky. “Sorry to keep calling, I just… have you heard anything from your mom?”
“No. She… Did you find anything out?”
“She never showed at the rental,” he said, his voice tightening. “I thought maybe she went straight to Charlie’s place. But I’ve called everywhere. I even called half the hospitals on the way, just in case.”
My throat closed. “When did she land?”
“About six hours ago,” he said. “I confirmed it with the airport but… nothing. Her phone’s off.”
Marcus crossed the room in a blink, placing a hand on my back. His touch grounded me, stopping the spiral before it became panic. I turned slightly, nodding once to let him know I was okay, at least for the next few seconds.
“She probably took a ride with someone and stopped somewhere on the way, Phil. You know how she is, always taking the scenic route, probably no cell signal. She’s done it before.”
“I know,” he said, but his voice cracked. “I know, I just… I don’t have a good feeling, Bella. I’ll keep calling around. But if she calls you first, please let me know, okay?”
“I will,” I promised. “Thanks for checking in. I’m sure she’s okay.”
I hung up and lowered the phone slowly, as if it weighed a thousand pounds. I stared at it for a moment before Esme gently took it from my fingers.
“She didn’t arrive,” I said softly, not even realizing at first that I was speaking. “No one’s heard from her.”
A slow, sharp breath from behind me told me Marcus had already guessed. “And you think it’s Victoria,” he said quietly, his voice like ice beneath silk.
“I don’t know what to think,” I whispered. But I did. Deep down, in that place where instinct lived, my mother was in danger. Or worse.
“We’ll find her,” Esme said firmly, placing a now-warm hand over mine. “You’re not alone in this.”
Carlisle appeared then, having heard the last part. His expression tightened as he entered the room. “We’ll contact the police and explain that Renée never arrived. I’ll speak to Charlie directly so we’re all consistent.”
“You’ll say she was coming to see me,” I murmured, my voice hollow.
Carlisle nodded solemnly. “Yes. We’ll maintain the story. You were ill. She was worried. It makes sense.”
I forced myself to breathe, just like Marcus had taught me. “Okay. That gives us… a few hours before anyone starts asking more questions. Before a search begins.”
“And in those hours,” Marcus said, voice low and lethal now, “we continue our search.”
The finality in his tone sent a chill down my spine, and strangely, brought a flicker of comfort.
Because if this was Victoria, as we all feared but would not yet say aloud, she hadn’t yet realized what I was capable of when I was angry.
And I wasn’t just angry. I was furious. And something inside me, my shield, my soul, was already choosing its target.
I stood up suddenly, having used all the calm I could conjure for now, and went to the room where the newborn was kept.
Tracey sat in the corner, knees drawn to her chest, her eyes darting around the space like a wild thing that didn’t know yet if it was caged or being hunted. Her clothes were stained with mud and blood, her hands shifting just slightly, though she tried to keep them still in her lap.
Felix stood behind her like a monolith, arms crossed, unmoving. Marcus walked beside me, his hand brushing the small of my back. One touch, no words, and still, my storm quieted.
I wasn’t going to fall apart again.
“I want to speak to her alone,” I said, my voice low but firm.
Felix turned, frowning slightly. “Are you certain, Mistress?”
The title still felt foreign in his mouth, but something in the way he said it now, carefully, respectfully, grounded me.
“Yes,” I nodded. “But stay outside. If I need you…”
“You’ll just say the word.” He inclined his head and stepped out, silent as a shadow. Only Marcus remained.
“Please,” I murmured. “I need to be alone.”
He looked at me assessingly, worry in his eyes. He did not fear for my safety, I knew it, but rather for what he knew I wanted to do, and what it might do to me in return.
“I understand,” he replied, brushing a kiss against my temple. “I’ll be right outside.”
When the door clicked shut, Tracey flinched.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” I said gently, sitting across from her. “But I need to know the truth, and I need it now.”
She swallowed hard. “You’re her. I recognise you now, but… you’re different but you’re her.”
My brow furrowed. “I’m who?”
Her lips trembled. “The one who killed them. The reason for their death… James. Laurent. Mother’s mate and her… her brother. They were her family.”
“No,” I said firmly, feeling uncomfortable as she called Victoria “Mother”. The two names she had shared confirming my initial suspicions. “James wanted to kill me. He almost did. Laurent tried too. They weren’t innocents, Tracey.”
“But they were hers,” she whispered. “And she saved us. All of us.”
The ache in her voice was real. Belief. Not just loyalty. I leaned forward slightly.
“Saved you from what?”
Tracey blinked. Her voice cracked as she said, “Everything. The streets. Abuse. Fear. She only takes girls who need saving. She gives us the strength to stand up and be the ones to be feared.”
A chill crept down my spine.
“She calls us her fireflies. Says we were born in darkness but meant to burn bright. She taught us how to feed, how to hide. And how to remember who hurt us, hurt our true family.”
My hands tightened in my lap. Victoria hadn’t just created a newborn army.
She’d created a cult.
“And you were sent here to do what?” I prompted.
Tracey hesitated. Then reached into her coat and slowly pulled out a small padded envelope, her eyes never leaving mine.
“The others were supposed to come with me. But they said I was the soft one. They told me to deliver this and wait. That Victoria would know what to do next.”
I took the envelope with careful fingers. The scent hit me first. Metallic. Heavy. My throat seized.
I opened it.
Blood-soaked velvet.
A necklace. Silver.
My mother’s necklace.
Something inside me shattered.
I stood before I knew I had moved, the air rippling around me with the force of my fury. Tracey backed into the wall with a yelp, fear and instinct radiating from her like heat. I heard someone calling my name from behind the door, but it was Marcus’s presence that truly reached me: just that, his closeness. The soul-deep tether of our bond anchored me when my control began to slip.
I turned my gaze to Tracey, breathing raggedly even though I didn’t need breath at all.
“She has my mother,” I said, voice like smoke on a storm. “She used her to send a message. To me.”
“I didn’t know,” Tracey whispered. “I swear, I didn’t know.” I looked as she cowered against the wall, as if making herself appear smaller could protect her from my rage.
Part of me wanted to believe her. Another part didn’t care.
The door burst open, Felix stumbled half a step into the room, one arm raised like he’d been shoved back by an unseen force. Marcus stepped in after him, followed closely by Carlisle. They both took in the sight, Tracey against the wall, me vibrating with fury.
Marcus spoke first, his tone a quiet command. “Bella.”
“I’m fine,” I said, even though my hands were still clenched and my vision burned red.
Carlisle came forward, concern flickering in his eyes. “She’s just the messenger, Bella. Let us question her properly now. She’s given us enough to move forward.”
I hesitated.
Then stepped back.
“You’re not getting away,” I said to Tracey, my voice cold now. “You’re staying under lock and guard until we end this. And if anything’s happened to my mother, if there’s even one drop of her blood on Victoria’s hands… ”
Marcus placed his hand gently on my arm, stopping me from finishing the sentence. I didn’t need to anyway. I would burn Victoria’s entire world to the ground, and the girl across from me saw it in my eyes.
Marcus’s POV
I stepped forward, my voice calm, but firm. “Tracey. In our world, the greatest law is secrecy. Exposure risks annihilation, for you, and for others like you.” Her eyes widened at the weight of the word. “Victoria has broken that law,” I said, letting every word hang heavy. “And now, the human she hunted is not human anymore. She is my mate. My queen. And she will not forgive.”
Tracey flinched. I could see the shift in her, something crumbling.
“Your actions, though perhaps ignorant, are still criminal. You’ve left bodies. Drawn attention. You followed someone who lied to you, and it will cost you everything unless you change your path.”
Jasper spoke, gently but clearly. “You’ve been used, Tracey. But this is your chance to step away. To change.”
Rosalie stepped forward, and the room went still again. Her voice was soft, but no less commanding.
“I want to try. Let me guide her. If she fails, I’ll end it. But if there’s a chance she can be more, if she’s like Bella, or like me, we owe her that.”
Emmett joined her immediately. “I’ll stand beside her. If she puts anyone at risk, I won’t hesitate.”
Carlisle nodded. “We trust our children. But Tracey must understand, there are no second chances.”
Alice looked to me, then to Marcus. “I see her with them. In the future. Her eyes are golden.”
A small nod from me. Then, louder: “Very well. She will stay under Rosalie and Emmett’s guardianship for now. Her life is in their hands.”
Tracey’s breath hitched. Rosalie helped her to her feet.
I glanced at Bella, who watched this all with unreadable intensity. Her face was calm, but I could feel her heart breaking inside.
I guided my mate back upstairs, the soft crackle of the fire in the Cullen living room almost obscenely peaceful considering what had just unfolded.
Bella sat down, curling on the leather couch, a blanket around her shoulders that Esme had gently placed there, more for comfort than anything. Her hands were folded in her lap, clenched together in a grip tight enough to splinter bone, if she still had any to break.
I stood across the room with Carlisle, watching her, but not just her. Watching the tension in the air, the subtle tremors of fury buried under grief, the heaviness clinging to her like a shadow.
“She’s holding it together better than anyone should have to,” Carlisle said quietly, handing me a glass of blood, he still did that, even knowing we rarely drank as he did. It was polite. Human.
“She’s burning inside,” I murmured. “And trying not to ignite us all.”
He nodded. “I see it too.”
My gaze drifted to the table where the blood-soaked necklace still rested, tucked inside a clear containment bag. Carlisle had already confirmed it was human blood, fresh enough to match Renée’s disappearance.
“She may still be alive,” he said, as if trying to speak the possibility into truth.
“She may,” I echoed, though my voice lacked conviction.
Behind us, Jasper stood sentry near the hallway. He had come back as Bella was losing control of her power. He had tried to soothe her, but Bella’s power had flared in her grief, sending him flying with the barest flick of her shield. Since then, he’d kept his distance. Not out of fear, but out of respect.
“She’s starting to manipulate it instinctively,” Jasper said, crossing his arms. “She doesn’t just block anymore. She reflects, deflects… even amplifies.”
Carlisle looked thoughtful. “This is fascinating. Marcus’s gift allows him to see and analyze bonds, and hers is meant to be the ultimate protection… it is simply… wondrous.”
I nodded. “It’s the second time it’s reacted to someone else’s power. First yours,” I looked at Jasper, “and now to Tracey’s threat, emotional as it was.”
“It’s a kind of feedback loop,” Jasper said slowly, his eyes narrowing. “Her shield has always been responsive. But now, it’s becoming reactive, like a living net.”
I filed that thought away, already considering how we might use that against Victoria, and others.
I turned to look at Bella again. Her eyes were unfocused, not vacant, but lost in a sea of memories, possibilities. She hadn’t spoken since I brought her outside after the outburst.
I moved to her side.
She didn’t flinch, but she didn’t look at me either.
“We’re going to get her back,” I said quietly, settling beside her. “Or we will avenge her. I swear it.”
Bella looked at me then. And in her gaze, there wasn’t panic anymore. There was grief, yes. But deeper still, resolve.
“I want to hunt her down,” she said.
“Soon,” I promised. “But first, you rest.”
“I don’t need to rest.”
“No,” I agreed. “But your mind does. You just used your power on instinct alone, and it nearly crushed Jasper. What happens when you learn to direct it?”
A pause.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
“That’s what I want to find out.”
A slow, dangerous pride bloomed in my chest. She didn’t just want vengeance. She wanted mastery. That was far rarer, and far more dangerous.
Chapter 19: Becoming
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Becoming
Bella's POV
The early morning mist clung to the trees like a shroud, the soft light of dawn casting everything in hues of silver and steel. The clearing outside the Cullen house had been chosen for privacy, deep enough into the forest to be concealed, but flat and wide enough to fight without restraint.
I stood at the center of it now, barefoot in the dew-wet grass, watching as Marcus approached me with that slow, graceful stride that still made something flutter inside my chest despite my rising anxiety.
“This isn’t about perfection,” he said gently, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “It’s about familiarity. Learn how it feels, how you feel.”
I nodded, swallowing hard. I’d agreed to this. I wanted this. I needed to be strong enough to face whatever Victoria had planned. But despite the still-burning ache over my mother, and the fury simmering just below my skin, fear whispered at the edges of my thoughts.
“Start with me,” Marcus said.
“Because I won’t accidentally kill you?” I joked weakly.
He smiled. “Because I’m the one person you can’t accidentally hurt.”
His words made the bond between us echo like a plucked string, reverberating in my chest. I took a breath and opened the shield, like loosening my grip on something I’d always held tight. I let it slip outward, trying to wrap around him like a second skin.
The snap of connection was immediate.
Marcus’s power flared, visible only to him, but I saw the shift in his expression, the way his gaze went distant, almost reverent. A subtle dilation in his pupils. The faintest tilt of his head, as if tasting the air.
“It’s clearer inside your shield,” he said softly, voice touched with awe. “Like seeing each bond burn with its own light.”
There was something in the way he said it, low, almost reverent, that made my pulse stutter.
“What do you see?” I asked, my voice quieter than I meant it to be.
“Loyalty. Love. Worry. Determination.” His eyes moved slowly, tracking invisible threads in the air. “It’s all around you. But near Jasper and Alice… it warps. The wolves, I think. Their presence tangles it, raw instinct threading through reason.”
I exhaled and pulled the shield back like a tide, feeling the stretch and recoil of it in my mind. A ripple ran down my spine, electric. “I don’t know how to keep it steady,” I admitted. “It moves with how I feel.”
“You will,” Marcus said simply. “It’s akin to how a muscle would grow stronger. The more you stretch it, the stronger it grows.”
He stepped closer, and the room changed.
The temperature didn’t shift, but I felt it, how the air seemed to still around him. He smelled like dusk and old parchment, stone warmed by sun and something darker underneath. The kind of scent that made you lean in without realizing.
“Close your eyes,” he said gently.
I hesitated. Then obeyed.
“Now,” he continued, his voice a thread of silk through the dark behind my lids, “reach for the bond between us. Not with sight. With feeling.”
I let my breath slow. My lips parted slightly, and I realized I was holding tension in my stomach, my chest. I let it go.
“Where do you feel it?” he asked.
There, between us, like a thread drawn tight between my ribs and the sound of his voice. It wasn’t pulling, exactly. But it was there, humming softly like a harp string touched once and left to vibrate. My fingers twitched in my lap, craving contact without knowing where to reach.
“It’s… steady,” I whispered. “Like gravity, but softer.”
“Good,” Marcus said, his voice closer now. I could feel the heat of him, the space between our bodies narrowing. “Now follow it. Let it wind through you. Let it show you what it knows.”
I did. I let it move through me, saturating, quiet, unhurried. It curled through my chest, laced through my spine, and settled low in my abdomen. And somewhere within it, I felt him. Not just his presence, but the texture of him, his grief, yes, but layered with wonder. And beneath that… reverence. Hunger. The ache of someone who had lived thousands of years in absence.
When I opened my eyes again, the world looked the same, but I didn’t feel the same.
The moment shimmered between us. His eyes found mine, darker than before.
“You felt it,” he said, not a question.
I nodded, swallowing against the dryness in my throat. “I did.”
He studied me with quiet patience, but there was tension in the set of his jaw like he was holding something back.
“Do you want to understand how to read them?” he asked. “The bonds?”
“Yes,” I said, the word catching in my throat. I wasn’t sure if I meant his lesson or the way he was looking at me. Maybe both.
“There are signs,” he said. “Each bond has a signature. The number of threads, how many emotions it holds, tells you how layered the connection is. Love alone is strong, but when it threads with trust, memory, grief… it becomes unbreakable.”
“So more threads mean stronger?” I asked.
He shook his head slightly. “Not always. Some are thick, yes, but loose. Sluggish. You’ll see that in obligation, or fear-driven loyalty. But the bonds that burn bright, those are tight, fastened at the core. And pure bonds, ones forged without manipulation, have a steadiness to them. Their color doesn’t flicker.”
He took a step closer. I could feel the hem of his coat brush my shin. The heat that bloomed in my chest wasn’t fear.
“And the others?” I asked, though I barely recognized my voice.
He looked past me, his gaze momentarily distant. “Tainted ones shift constantly. The colors muddy, jealousy bleeding into affection, control masked as care. You’ll feel them in your shield too. They leave a residue.”
A tremor ran through me, not from cold. My shield prickled faintly beneath my skin, like it too was listening. My breath came faster now, just a little.
“Intensity isn’t always good, Bella. Some of the strongest bonds I’ve seen were the most dangerous. It’s not about how bright they are. It’s about how true.”
He reached toward me, not touching, just gesturing to the space between us, and still I felt it, like his fingers grazed the edge of my skin.
“This,” he said, voice nearly a whisper, “is something different. Not just strong. Not just steady.”
“What, then?” I asked.
His eyes dropped to my lips for the briefest second before meeting mine again. And when he smiled, it was the kind of smile that felt like a vow unspoken.
“Fated,” he said. “The threads don’t weave. They fuse.”
Just then, Emmett appeared, bounding into the clearing with enough enthusiasm to make the ground tremble. “So, you two done gazing soulfully into each other’s eyes, or can I try to kick her ass now?”
“You can try,” I deadpanned.
Emmett grinned. “That’s the spirit!”
Rosalie followed more gracefully, her arms crossed, a faint smirk on her face. Jasper and Alice arrived last, the former tense, the latter unreadable.
“Alright,” Jasper said, clapping his hands once. “Training exercise one. Bella, your goal is not to win, it’s to understand. Emmett, try not to break her, yeah?”
Emmett cracked his knuckles. “No promises.”
I braced as he lunged. Fast, ridiculously fast, but not as fast as Marcus. I dodged left on instinct and felt something in me flare. Emmett was nearly on me when a burst of invisible force exploded between us, launching him back several feet.
He landed with a loud thud, and blinked. “Whoa! Okay, that was… awesome.”
“I didn’t mean to do that,” I gasped.
Jasper was watching me closely now. “That wasn’t your shield, it was my gift. You reflected it. Again.”
I blinked. “I what?”
“You didn’t block it. You didn’t just throw it back, either. You amplified it.” Jasper stepped closer, slow and calm. “It’s emotional energy, if you’re unstable, it reacts violently, but it’s not reliable. You can’t control it yet.”
Alice chimed in, curious now. “That could be dangerous if you reflect something like Demetri’s tracking or Chelsea’s loyalty manipulation.”
Marcus’s hand rested lightly on the small of my back. “Which is why we’ll continue until it’s no longer unpredictable.”
I nodded again, taking a bracing breath. “Who’s next?”
Jasper stepped forward, lifting his hand slightly. “I’m going to try again. Less power. Just focus on what you feel. Not what you think you should do.”
He reached toward me, and this time I felt it. Like a ripple in the air brushing against my skin. My instincts shouted, Protect, and the shield surged outward again, brittle and wild. It collided with Jasper’s gift like static.
He stumbled back two steps, eyes wide.
“Hell,” he muttered. “Okay. That hurt a little.”
“I’m sorry!” I rushed forward, only for Marcus’s hand to catch mine.
“Don’t apologize for being powerful,” he said. “Just learn to wield it.”
I looked at him, and then at the rest of them. My family. If not by blood, then by destiny.
I nodded.
“Again.”
Notes:
Please share your thoughts 🔥
Chapter 20: The Hunt
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Bella's POV
I stood near the hearth, staring into the flames as if they could offer me the answers I so desperately needed. The weight of what was to come pressed against my skin like a second, tighter one. I didn’t pace, though every nerve in my body urged me to move. I didn’t fidget. I was a vampire now, and we were stillness made flesh when we chose to be. But I could feel every emotion ricocheting in the room, as though my new senses were trying to read everyone at once.
They all waited for me to speak. Me.
"Thank you all for being here," I said, finally turning to face the room. My voice didn’t tremble, though it rang slightly sharper than usual. "This is now a Volturi mission, yes, but it’s also personal. And I won’t pretend otherwise."
Jacob, standing with his arms folded beside two of his packmates, snorted. “You think we didn’t get that when the howlers came?”
I tensed, but before I could respond, Marcus stepped forward, his calm, commanding presence instantly quieting the room. He didn’t raise his voice, but his words carried like steel.
“You will show respect, shapeshifter,” he said evenly. “Not only because she is my mate, but because she speaks truth.”
Jacob looked like he might argue, but a warning rumble from Felix, now leaning with casual menace against the far wall, shut him down.
Marcus looked at me, nodding once with a quiet pride that steadied my heart. “Continue, mia regina.”
That simple title settled something inside me. Not as a power play, ot as ego, but as grounding truth.
“We’re going after Victoria, you all know that,” I said. “But we’re also going after her coven, and if there’s a chance my mother is still alive, we’re not letting it pass. Seleucia and Tyron’s intel gives us an edge…” I felt eyes flicker toward me, pity from some, doubt from others. I let it pass. "...and Tracey gave us a lead. We’re not charging blind. Carlisle, Alice, Jasper, Marcus… everyone’s helping to guide this. But when we go in, we do so as one. There is no Volturi, no Cullen, no wolf. We must stand as one united front."
Emmett clapped a hand on his fist with a resounding thump. “Hell yes.”
Rosalie gave him a look, but nodded her agreement. “Let’s make it clean.”
Beside me, Marcus stepped forward once more, this time addressing the room with the regal poise that only millennia could teach.
“Victoria has relied on chaos and on scattering her enemies through fear. That ends now,” Marcus said. “We move in formation. We do not chase, we lure. Jasper will lead the entry while Seleucia and Tyron sweep the perimeter. Bella and I will remain in central position for now, unless circumstances dictate otherwise.”
He cast me a glance. I nodded.
“And the wolves?” Carlisle asked.
“I will not ask them to act as Volturi,” Marcus said, his tone unreadable. “But I ask that they run as hunters. Their senses will aid us, and should Victoria flee, they are our fastest pursuit.”
Jacob gave a short nod. “We’ll keep up.”
“Then we move,” Marcus finished, and the room felt like it exhaled all at once.
The night was cold, the kind of crisp, late-winter air that once would have made me shiver. Now, it made my skin feel more aware, the whole forest felt more alive, like it was holding its breath with me.
We moved swiftly, almost silently. A constellation of deadly stars drawn together from across the supernatural world.
I walked beside Marcus, his stride measured, as though centuries of battle had taught him not to waste motion, even now. The wind tugged at his dark cloak, and the sound of it flaring behind him reminded me of wings, or banners carried into war.
“Are you calm, Mia Bella?” he asked quietly, without looking away from the path ahead.
“No,” I admitted. “But I’m not out of control.”
He gave a pleased hum. “Good. There is no shame in fury, only in being ruled by it.”
Behind us, Jasper trailed in the shadows, eyes scanning every movement of the forest. Beside him, Alice walked lightly, occasionally murmuring updates based on flickering glimpses of a future that refused to stay still.
I was aware of the wolves, too. I could hear Jacob’s paws digging into the frozen soil, feel the tension radiating from him like heat. I didn’t need to be empathic to know he was wrestling between staying for me and wanting to run from everything I’d become.
“Do you think she’s really there?” I asked softly, glancing at Marcus.
“She will not have strayed far,” he said. “She wants you to come. Her game is power and pain and she believes this is how she wins.”
“But she won’t,” I said.
His gaze found mine, steady and warm. “No, she won’t.”
We stopped when Louis darted out from the tree line ahead. He bowed briefly before speaking.
“Abandoned warehouse. South edge of the industrial belt. It reeks of old blood and fast feeding. I caught Mistress Isabella’s mother’s scent. Faint, but recent enough to hope.”
I felt the world narrow around that word, hope, like it had teeth.
Marcus stepped closer. “We go in as planned. Select teams. Staggered entry. Bella…”
I turned toward him. His gaze held mine.
“...you must not rush,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Not if we are to save her.”
And despite the storm building inside me, I nodded.
“I won’t lose her,” I whispered.
“And I will not lose you,” he returned.
We moved in, silent and deadly.
The stench hit me first, like copper and rotting wood soaked in old rain. It was thick, clinging to the walls and concrete like mold. I stopped just past the threshold, blinking against the darkness, even though I could see perfectly.
Jasper led the way with Carlisle close behind. The rest of us fanned out, silently entering the space that had once been some kind of warehouse, now turned into a slaughterhouse.
I’d thought I was prepared. I wasn’t.
Bodies. Six of them. Left discarded like forgotten dolls, their expressions frozen in various states of confusion and fear. Some looked peaceful, almost asleep. Others… others had not been given such mercy.
My knees locked. My hands clenched at my sides, nails biting through the skin of my palms.
“She made them suffer,” I whispered, the words burning like ice in my throat.
Beside me, Marcus did not speak. But his stillness became sharper. Tighter. His eyes scanned every shadow, taking in every detail not with horror, but strategy.
Jasper crouched near one of the victims, his jaw tight. “These are recent. Hours, maybe.”
“No Renee,” Carlisle confirmed softly, his face lined with sorrow. “She’s not here.”
I nodded numbly, the hope I hadn’t dared admit I held beginning to crumble inside my chest.
I turned to Tracey, who stood awkwardly near the wall, her arms wrapped around herself like she wanted to vanish into the concrete. Her eyes flicked toward the bodies and then away again, her face pale, even for a vampire.
“You saw this,” I said. It wasn’t a question.
Tracey flinched. She didn’t speak.
“Tracey.” My voice came out sharper than I intended, brittle and jagged with grief. “Tell me what you know.”
She looked around the room, at the guards, the Cullens, the wolves, then back at me. Her gaze snagged on Marcus, and something in his expression must have warned her to speak plainly, because she drew in a breath and started.
“I wasn’t with them when they… when they brought the woman, your mother” she said. “I swear. They didn’t tell me much. They left me with the message… said I had to ‘earn my place.’ But I heard them talking before they left.”
“What did they say?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm.
Tracey looked like she wanted to bolt, but she pressed on. “One of them, the tall one with the buzzed hair, she was laughing. Said they couldn’t wait to see ‘Mother’ dispense her justice.”
“Justice,” I echoed. The word felt poisonous on my tongue.
Tracey nodded jerkily. “Another one, she didn’t like it. Said it felt wrong. That the woman was harmless. But the others laughed. Said she mattered to the betrayer. That she would ‘scream nicely.’” Tracey swallowed hard. “I didn’t know what they meant. Not until now.”
I felt it then.
That moment. That crack inside me.
My body moved before I realized what it was doing, turning, bracing, releasing a guttural snarl that vibrated through the entire warehouse. A shield of cold energy snapped outward around me with such force that several crates and scaffolding exploded in a burst of rust and debris. The wolves growled in response. Emmett shouted something.
Jasper tried to reach for me, tried, but my power lashed out like a whip, knocking him back against the wall with a solid crack. His eyes widened, not in pain, but surprise.
“Bella!” Marcus’s voice was the only sound that pierced the storm.
He didn’t shout. He didn’t move toward me.
He simply stood in my line of vision, gaze steady. Open.
“It is alright,” he said. “You are feeling too much. You are not alone.”
His voice cut through the bloodthirst and anguish, anchoring me to the floor. To him. I swayed where I stood, the sharp scent of metal and dust burning my throat.
Rosalie approached carefully from behind Tracey, laying a hand on the girl’s shoulder. Tracey was trembling. “She’s telling the truth,” Rosalie said gently. “She didn’t know. Not all of it.”
I nodded once, tightly, though my chest still heaved with dry, unspent breath.
Marcus stepped toward me then, just one step, his expression carefully neutral. “We need to continue,” he said, but there was a softness there. A question, hidden beneath the command.
I took a breath. My shield pulled back with visible effort, like dragging stone across steel.
“I’m ready,” I said, even though I wasn’t.
He reached for my hand. I let him take it. I needed his strength.
Marcus's POV
I knelt in the shallow gravel at the edge of the embankment, fingers brushing along the faint indentations in the earth, newborn tracks, still warm with body heat. My gaze flicked ahead to the sloped concrete corridor winding toward the main structure.
“She’s here,” I murmured.
The group had gathered behind me, Cullen, Volturi, Quileute. A mismatched pack of allies. My mate stood close, just behind my left shoulder, still and silent. Her aura crackled faintly with energy, restrained but volatile, a storm wrapped in silk.
“We move at my signal,” I said, rising fluidly to my full height. “Seleucia, you and Tyron flank north. Use the rail shadows for cover. Jasper, take Emmett and one wolf, Seth, is it?, eastward through the drainage tunnels. Quiet approach, then surround.”
“Understood,” Jasper said, already calculating.
“Rosalie and Tracey remain here with the second wolf,” I added. “Watch the perimeter and intercept escape attempts.”
Tracey flinched at the order, but Rosalie placed a firm hand on her shoulder and gave her a look that said you’re still proving yourself.
I turned toward Bella then, my voice softening only for her. “You’re with me, amore. We’ll enter through the central corridor. They will not expect it.”
She nodded once, her jaw tight. Beneath the brittle composure, I could feel her grief echoing down the bond between us. But there was something else now, resolve. Rage cooled into purpose.
Notes:
AN: August is my birthday month, can I ask for a review to celebrate? 🎉🔥
Last chapter in Act II coming very very soon
Chapter 21: The Cost of Victory
Notes:
AN: Thank you for all the reviews and birthday wishes on the previous chapter 🫶
I invite you to review the potential trigger warnings on chapter one, as this is a key chapter and was one of the most difficult to write.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Marcus PoV
Carlisle approached as the others split off, his expression weary but composed. “We’re trusting your lead, Marcus.”
I nodded once. “I won’t ask any of you to do what I would not do myself.” Then, more quietly, “Stay close to Bella.”
Carlisle offered a faint smile, and melted into the shadows with the rest of his group.
We moved.
The building loomed ahead like a dying beast, its rusted steel skin groaning under the weight of silence. We entered from the center, stepping over cracked glass and old rainwater. Inside, it reeked of blood, ash, and old rage. The tension grew tighter with every step, until,
“Marcus.” Bella’s whisper.
I followed her gaze.
Three feminine figures crouched near the rusted catwalk above. Newborns. Feral. Their crimson eyes flared when they saw Bella, and something almost… reverent crossed their features.
“She’s real,” one of the females hissed.
“Kill her,” said the male, low and eager. “Mother said… ”
But they never finished.
The ambush shattered like glass.
Jasper burst through from the left side, slamming the male against the wall before he could leap. Emmett followed, tackling one of the females into a collapsing scaffold. Seth snarled and launched into the last, distracting her long enough for Tyron to descend from the upper level in a blur and snap her spine in two.
It took twelve seconds.
Twelve seconds, and it was done.
Ash floated in the air, glowing faintly like snowflakes caught in a dying sunbeam.
Carlisle moved forward, eyes on the crumbled remains. “These weren’t the leaders. Just the guards.”
“I know,” I said. “She’s not far.”
A heartwrecking scream reached us then, and I felt Bella’s pain before I saw it, the bond between us pulling tight like a cord wrapped around a screaming heart.
I placed my hand lightly on her shoulder, grounding her. “Come.”
Bella's POV
We ran.
Smoke curled low through the trees, not from wildfire, but something worse. Something unnatural.
And then we saw it.
An open clearing just beyond the treeline. The grass burned down to blackened soil. At the center stood Victoria.
Alone.
She was barefoot, her copper hair tangled around her like a feral halo. Her eyes burned bright crimson, but they didn’t flicker with fear. No.
She was smiling.
Behind her, a crude structure built from timber and rusted metal stood like an altar, charred, smoldering. And beside it, half-collapsed and barely breathing, was…
“Mom.” The word ripped from my throat, raw and strangled.
She was alive.
Barely.
Chained to the base of the structure, bloodied, her skin scorched from the heat that had licked too close. Her eyes met mine, dazed, but still hers. Still Renée.
My snarl broke through the air like a gunshot.
“Ah,” Victoria said, her voice as cold and sweet as poison. “I was wondering if you’d get here in time. I almost started without you.”
Marcus’s hand flew to my waist, holding me back by a breath.
“She’s still breathing,” he said low, quiet. “We can get her. You can get her.”
I barely heard him.
All I could see was Renée. My mother. The woman who had sung me to sleep, whose laughter had once made the world feel whole. And now… now she was bait. A symbol. An offering.
Victoria tilted her head. “Did you like my message?” she asked, a mockery of warmth in her tone. “It took me so long to find just the right keepsake.”
The necklace. The blood. The horror clawed up my throat. Had I been able, I would have thrown up. The feeling shooting through me was close enough for me to crave that relief.
Behind me, I could hear Jasper and Emmett flanking outward, positioning for attack. The wolves hung back, teeth bared, and Marcus… Marcus hadn’t moved.
I realized, then, why.
Victoria wanted me to come first. To step forward.
To act alone.
I took a single step.
“You did this,” I whispered.
“I saved her,” Victoria said, gesturing toward Renée as though presenting a gift. “They would have killed her. Humans always do. That’s what they do to their daughters. Their wives. Their children. I simply made her matter again. I made her the key.”
The snarl that tore from my throat wasn’t mine alone. I felt it ripple through Marcus too, our bond feeding each other’s fury.
“She’s not a key,” I hissed. “She’s mine.”
“Isn’t that the point?” Victoria crooned. “You took mine. My James. You lured him in with your soft voice and sad eyes. And he followed, like all men do for sweet little things like you. An you killed him.”
Marcus stepped forward, finally, his voice like thunder rolling low over distant mountains.
“James was a predator who chose a prey he had no right to claim. He died for it. Victoria, you’ve committed crimes against our kind and against the natural law. You corrupted the young, and shed innocent blood to satisfy your delusion of vengeance.”
Victoria smiled wider, her face alight with something unholy.
“Spare me the Volturi verdicts,” she spat. “You’re just another corpse in a crown. And she, ” She pointed to me. “She’s just a little girl pretending to be something she is not, in that skin or her human one, it doesn’t change a thing..”
It happened before I could breathe.
She launched forward, too fast for human eyes. But I was no longer human.
I met her mid-leap.
We collided in a shriek of claws and fists and fury, spinning through the air, slamming into the charred ground. She twisted beneath me, flipping us violently, but I held her, burning, shaking, screaming, as our bodies tore through the fire-blackened soil.
The world exploded into instinct and motion.
Every strike she landed pushed me back. Every breath I took, I drew power from the fire she had lit in me. You don’t get to take her. You don’t get to win.
She snarled, eyes wild, as she drove a jagged piece of steel toward my chest. I caught it midair, twisted it from her grasp, and hurled it into the tree line.
“Still just a girl,” she gasped.
“No,” I said, my voice like stone. “I’m your reckoning.”
And I shoved my shield outward, not just to block, but to attack. It collided with her body like a tidal wave, sending her sprawling backwards across the clearing with an impact that cracked the soil beneath her.
She staggered to her feet, her face cracked from the impact, her laugh cracking under its own weight.
“You’re stronger than I thought,” she spat.
I looked toward Renée, still breathing. Then back at Victoria.
“You’re done.”
Marcus appeared beside me like smoke. “Shall I finish it?”
I shook my head, stepping forward.
“No,” I said. “I will.”
Marcus's POV
I nodded in acknowledgment and turned back to my mate’s mother.
"Emmett, to the structure. Now."
My voice did not rise, but every vampire in the clearing obeyed the gravity behind it. The flames licking at the half-collapsed altar cast grotesque shadows over the woman bound there. Her body was limp, her breath shallow, barely perceptible to even my kind.
Jasper was already moving, his gaze flicking from threat to threat, calculating battle lines that were still being drawn. Seleucia and Tyron were gone in a blink, disappearing into the tree line to flank the remaining newborns that scattered in the chaos of Victoria’s diversion. The wolves surged leftward, tearing into the woods with a sound like thunder.
Victoria hadn't just baited us. She’d set the board. But she had miscalculated.
Bella's POV
From the corner of my eyes, I saw Emmett rip through the chains holding my mother as if they were twine. Jasper was beside him, shielding their retreat with the smooth menace of a veteran. I caught the way his hand hovered at my mother’s pulse point, gauging the flickering rhythm of her life.
She was still breathing.
But only barely.
My legs twitched to move to her, but Marcus caught my wrist, lightly. Not yet, his eyes said. Finish this.
Behind us, the clearing erupted. Smoke, screams, splintered wood. One by one, Victoria’s newborns fell, undone by a force they had never truly understood.
Felix snapped the neck of a wild-eyed newborn trying to lunge for Alice. Rosalie and Tyron cornered another and reduced him to ash. The wolves, Leah and Jacob among them, descended upon the last two with grim efficiency, their howls rising against the night.
But Victoria didn’t flinch. She only watched.
And smiled.
“Did you enjoy the show?” she purred. Her red eyes glimmered with madness. “You have your little war, Queenling. But you forgot something.”
I stepped forward. “What’s that?”
“You’ll always be human where it matters.”
She rushed towards me.
I was ready.
We met with a shriek of torn metal and fury, the ground buckling beneath our force. I wasn’t thinking, I wasn’t holding back, I was rage. She tore at my shoulders, and I drove my knee into her ribs. I felt the crack. She laughed.
“You fight like him,” she hissed. “I killed better than you before you even opened your pretty little eyes.”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.
I felt the shift as Marcus moved behind me, not intervening, supporting. His presence was a solid wall of power at my back. Our bond pulsed between us. The shield I carried flared, pushed, and pulsed forward like a second heartbeat.
Victoria staggered, just an inch. But it was enough.
“Bella,” Marcus said calmly, “now.”
I drove my elbow under her jaw and threw her backward. She hit the tree with a sound like thunder, bark exploding outward. I blurred forward, not controlled, not gentle. I was a queen who had been hunted for the last time.
Victoria’s scream echoed across the clearing as I tackled her into the dirt. Her limbs flailed, striking like whips, but I didn’t stop. Not this time.
“You hurt my mother,” I snarled, my voice not my own. “You came for my family.”
She opened her mouth to laugh, so I silenced her.
My hands gripped either side of her skull. And then I tore, showing her body into a nearby blaze with my feet. Her head followed a fraction of a second later. Just long enough for understanding to grip her.
Ash bloomed like dark snow.
Her body crumbled in front of me, her fire extinguished with a final gasp.
She didn’t even scream as pushed her body into the fire where her cult of newborns was already meeting their final end.
Silence rang through the clearing.
And then,
“Bella!”
Carlisle’s voice, sharp. Urgent.
I turned.
My mother was on the ground. Her head rested in Esme’s lap. Her chest was rising, barely.
I ran.
I dropped to my knees beside her, not caring about the blood, the smoke, the way her eyes fluttered as if she were already chasing some distant light.
“Mom,” I choked, gathering her gently into my arms. Her body was so light it felt wrong, as if the fire had already stolen most of her away. The scent of her hit me then, not the warm, familiar trace of the woman who had hugged me, but something warped, scorched, the sweetness turned bitter by pain and smoke.
Her skin was burned in patches so deep the bone shone faintly beneath, her hair matted with ash and blood, her face almost unrecognisable except for the faint curve of her mouth. Still… she smiled. Her lips cracked, the sound almost louder than her voice. “B-Bella…”
“I’m here. I’m right here.” My voice broke as I cradled her closer, ignoring the ruined skin, the fragile bones that shifted too easily under my hands. “You’re okay. You’re okay now.”
Her eyes fluttered open just a fraction, clouded with pain but still holding that same light she’d always turned on me, as if I was her whole world. “You look… beautiful…”
“Don’t talk. You need to rest. You’re safe. I’ve got you.” My throat burned, worse than thirst. This wasn’t hunger… it was grief clawing sharply through my chest.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, each word trembling like it might shatter. “I was coming… to see you…”
Her breath hitched, ribs struggling against the weight of the damage done to her. Her fingers twitched weakly against my arm, barely there, but deliberate.
“I know. I know, Mom. I love you. Please stay. Just stay a little longer…”
Marcus knelt beside me, his hand covering mine, his strength trying to hold the pieces of me together.
Renée’s lips parted again, but no sound came out. Her gaze lingered on my face one last time, and I realised she was looking past the ruin of her own body, seeing only that I was alive, whole, strong. That was the permission she needed.
The breath left her body with one final exhale, and her hand fell still in mine.
Weightless.
I stared.
I tried to catch a breath.
Pain like no other tore through me.
I closed my eyes.
Then screamed.
Notes:
This is the end of Act II: What the Fire Took
Act III coming very soon: Emberborn
Let me know your thoughts and predictions for Act III x
Love xAda
Chapter 22: Act III: Prologue
Notes:
Act III – Emberborn
Kindled by love, burnt by loss.
Grief built her throne.
Flame made her queen.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Prologue: The Library of Silence
Unknown POV
The stone corridors reverberated with memory. It was as if history breathed around its occupants.
They pressed cold against the soles of his boots, each step reverberating through ancient walls worn smooth by time and power. The air here never changed, too still to be clean, too dry to be comforting. It carried the scent of old parchment and dust-laced decay. Of knowledge hoarded and secrets buried.
The figure moved with quiet purpose, the weight of pretense heavy on his shoulders. Here, his every move was watched, even when it wasn’t. Every smile given to him had teeth beneath it.
He found himself once again in the library, his only reprieve.
He moved between them, fingers ghosting over leather bindings, their spines cracked and golden-lettered. Truth lived here, if one knew how to read it.
But this time, he wasn’t alone. He could feel a presence just ahead. He felt curious as instincts that should have been telling him to turn around and escape were now calling him forward.
The stranger appeared as he walk to the end of a tall shelf. She stood in the light of the stained-glass window, her profile bathed in red and gold. A stillness surrounded her that wasn’t fear; it was something older. Weariness carved in the bone.
“You’re early,” she said without turning.
He said softly, “I didn’t know anyone else used this room at this time.”
“Few do,” she replied. “Not anymore.”
He approached cautiously, the way one approached something fragile that might also be sharp. When their eyes met, something ancient stirred. Recognition, though they'd never met before this moment.
“I think I was meant to find you,” he murmured. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud.
She didn't flinch. “You were.”
Silence stretched. But not the cold kind this place specialized in. This one felt... suspended. Like a breath just before impact.
Later, days or weeks–time blurred here–she told him a secret. The kind that fractured foundations.
“She didn’t die by accident,” she said one night in the library’s innermost alcove. “He ordered it. To keep him bound, to maintain control.”
The words hit like a stone dropped into deep water, no splash, but ripples that reached everywhere.
He couldn’t stop worrying after that. Not that he ever truly felt at peace. But the quiet had never been so loud.
Others knew something stirred in the shadows. Or suspected.
Some were ready to act.
And some… were still deciding whether they had anything left to believe in.
When he left the library that night, he didn't look back.
But the vow had already formed on his tongue.
This ends. Soon.
Notes:
Birthday present from me to you, fantastic readers 🔥
🔍 Thoughts & Theories?
Love,
Ada XX
Chapter 23: Not so Alone
Chapter Text
Bella's POV
She didn’t move.
Her hand, the one I had been clutching so tightly, had gone cold. Not vampire-cold, not the chill I’d grown used to in myself and those around me. This was different.
This was death.
I stared at her face, her lips parted ever so slightly as though about to say something she never got to. The fine lines around her eyes seemed more pronounced now, etched by time and worry, and love.
She had died in my arms. And I had not saved her. There hadn’t even been time to consider.
“No…” The word barely formed in my throat. I couldn’t hear myself say it. I wasn’t even sure I had. I shook her gently. “Mom?”
No breath. No flicker. No heartbeat. I knew it. I could feel it. I could not comprehend it.
“Mom.” The word cracked out of me now, sharp, broken. “Please,” I begged. “Please, Mom, Mom, Please.”
I clutched her tighter, rocking her body gently. My lips pressed against her forehead, willing warmth into her skin, trying to reverse what had already left her. “You promised,” I whispered, desperate, “you promised we’d always find our way back…”
The sob burst out of me, dry and hollow.
I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t scream the way I needed to. My body betrayed me with silence, my undead stillness turning every ounce of grief into a pressure that built and built and built,
I shattered.
The sound came not from my throat, but from everywhere. It ripped through the clearing, sending birds scattering and snow drifting from the trees. The world cracked around me.
The air shuddered.
And then, explosion.
My shield burst outward in a violent, invisible wave. I felt it shove against every soul nearby, Esme, Jasper, Emmett, even Carlisle staggering back as it surged across the clearing like a shockwave.
Only one remained close.
Marcus.
He didn’t move. My shield didn’t touch him. Or maybe… it invited him.
I didn’t care. I couldn’t think.
I curled over Renée’s still form and sobbed with a body that didn’t cry. The agony poured from me in dry, racking gasps that burned more than the thirst ever had. My arms clutched her tighter. I rocked us both back and forth like we were still in Phoenix and she was still soothing me after nightmares.
But this was the nightmare.
“She was mine!” I wailed, the words tearing from me like glass. “She was mine and she was good and she didn’t deserve this!”
A low growl vibrated in my chest, thick with rage and despair. My shield flared again, repulsing anyone who dared approach. Jasper tried once, sensing my agony. He got close enough to kneel before the wave slammed him back ten paces. Even Alice stayed distant, her arms wrapped around herself, eyes shimmering.
“She didn’t deserve this!” I howled again, clawing at the dirt, my voice lost in the guttural scream that followed.
Only Marcus moved closer. Quiet. Present.
He knelt slowly beside me, his hand never quite touching until I broke.
I collapsed into him, shattering like glass against the stone of his presence. The world narrowed to the strength of his arms around me, the softness of his voice against my hair, the ache of a bond stretched to its limits and still holding.
“She was all I had before all this,” I whispered, words trembling against him. “She was… she loved me. Without rules or power or expectations. Just… because I was me.”
Marcus said nothing. His grip only tightened.
Around us, the wolves stood silent at the tree line.
Human now. Watching.
I lifted my head briefly, long enough to see Jacob. His arms were crossed, but his eyes weren’t angry anymore. Behind him, Leah’s expression was unreadable, but not cruel. Embry and Seth looked stricken.
They’d seen it. They’d heard everything.
I couldn’t tell if they pitied me. I didn’t care.
Let them see.
Let them all see.
I was still Bella.
And this grief, this agony, was human. It was mine.
Carlisle approached only when I nodded. When I uncurled from around my mother and whispered, “I can’t carry her.”
He lifted her carefully, reverently. He knew what it meant for me to let her go.
“I will take care of everything,” he promised gently.
I could only nod again. I was numb, empty. Burned out from the inside.
Marcus wrapped his cloak around my shoulders. The scent of smoke and ashes clung to everything now, Renée’s necklace still damp with blood, tucked into my palm where I had refused to let it go.
I stood. Slowly. My body did not shake, but my soul did.
The clearing smelled of blood, ash, and sorrow.
Victoria was gone.
But my mother was too.
And a piece of me had died with her.
oOoOo
We ran in silence.
The kind of silence that fills your lungs like smoke; thick and suffocating.
The trees blurred past us in streaks of black and green. I felt every twig snap beneath our feet, every shifting gust of wind against my skin. But none of it touched me.
My hand was in Marcus's, his grasp firm and grounding, but I wasn’t really there. I was a shape moving through the forest. A ghost pretending to be a girl who still had a mother.
Somewhere behind us, the others followed. The wolves too, though at a distance. I could feel their presence like a pulse echoing just outside my range.
We were near Forks when I stopped running abruptly.
Marcus came to a halt beside me without hesitation, his head turning toward me even before my breath hitched. His fingers didn’t loosen from mine, but I saw his other hand lift instinctively to steady me… to shield me, to hold me.
I couldn’t move forward.
The trees stood still ahead of us, the familiar moss-draped giants that marked the edge of my town. Of home. And I realized I didn’t know what that word meant anymore.
Forks was waiting. Charlie was waiting. Phil was waiting.
My mouth went dry. “I… I can’t.”
Marcus turned toward me fully now. “Bella.”
“I can’t go back there. Not like this. Not with this news, ”
My voice cracked.
He waited.
“She’s gone, Marcus. And I have to tell them. Tell them what? That she died in the woods on her way to surprise her daughter? That she vanished into smoke and I… ”
I choked on it. Swallowed the truth down like poison.
“I don’t even know what story we’re supposed to tell Phil. He’s still calling. He thinks she’s just late. He doesn't know he’s already lost her.”
Marcus’s jaw tightened, his thumb brushing across the inside of my palm in quiet patterns. “We will find the words, amore. I will help you.”
I looked away. “What if Charlie blames me?”
He didn’t answer right away.
It was the question I didn’t want answered.
My breath caught. “He should. If I hadn’t come back, if I hadn’t chosen this, she’d still be alive. She’d still be smiling, talking of nothings, and fighting with me over airline tickets, and I… I… ”
My voice gave out.
Marcus stepped forward and drew me into him, gently but without hesitation. “Bella,” he murmured, his voice low and certain. “You chose love. You chose truth. The enemy is not your choice, it is those who used your love as a weapon against you.”
I shook my head. “But the price… ”
“I know,” he whispered. “And I would give anything to have changed it. But I will not let you bury your heart in guilt, mia Regina.”
I closed my eyes, forehead pressed to his chest, the ache inside me hollowing deeper.
“She’ll be a headline, won’t she?” I said numbly. “Another hiker, another missing woman. No answers. Just… gone.”
“No,” Marcus said. “She will be remembered by those who loved her. And she will be honored by the justice you brought for her.”
I didn’t answer.
Because even if Victoria was dead… I didn’t feel victorious.
I felt… lost. Unmade. Half a person walking back into a world that no longer fit.
Finally, I took a breath. Or pretended to. I didn’t need it anymore. But somehow, the motion helped.
“Okay,” I whispered. “Let’s go.”
Marcus took my hand again, and this time, when we ran, I didn’t let go.
oOoOo
The house hadn’t changed.
The siding still peeled near the back porch. The curtain in the kitchen window still fluttered where I’d cut the hem too short last spring. My key still fit.
But everything had changed.
Marcus stepped in beside me, silently scanning the space like he could sense the emotional residue layered into the walls. I moved like a sleepwalker through the kitchen and up the stairs, following memory rather than sight.
My door was still slightly ajar.
I pushed it open.
The room was a snapshot. My life, frozen. The bed still made from the last morning I’d been there as a human. The sweater I’d tossed on the desk chair. The fading photos pinned to the wall.
My breath hitched, not because I needed air, but because the idea of breath was all I had to hold on to.
I stepped inside. The floor creaked beneath me.
The scent of old shampoo and laundry clung to the air, faint and familiar and devastating. I crossed to the dresser and stared at the framed photo of me and my mom from two Christmases ago. We were grinning like idiots, wearing mismatched flannel and mugs of cocoa. Alive.
“I don’t belong here anymore,” I whispered.
Marcus stood behind me, his presence calm and quiet. “You do,” he said. “But not in the same way.”
I turned, and his eyes found mine, deep and ancient and steady.
“You are the bridge now, Bella. Between what you were… and what you’ve become.”
I nodded, barely. The words didn’t soothe, but they stayed with me.
Then, headlights. The faint crunch of gravel. A police cruiser turned into the drive. My body went still.
“He’s home.”
Marcus stepped forward and gently took my hand. “I am with you.”
We waited in the living room.
The couch I used to curl up on with a book still sagged in the same spot. The coat rack still leaned a little left. I was tracking everything and nothing, hyperaware, yet dissociated.
The front door opened.
Charlie stepped in with a heavy sigh and a duffel over his shoulder. His uniform was rumpled, his eyes shadowed with fatigue.
“Bella?” His voice was already wary, sensing something off.
When he saw me, he froze.
Marcus stood beside me, calm, respectful, unmoving. The picture of composed strength.
“Hi, Dad,” I said, and I hated the way my voice sounded. Not wrong… but not the one he’d known.
Charlie dropped his bag. Taking me in for the first time since my transformation. “You’re here. You’re… ” He blinked, suddenly more alert. “Is it done? Did you find her?”
I couldn’t speak. The words clung to my throat like ash.
Carlisle stepped in from the hallway then, having returned ahead of us to prepare the house. His voice was gentle. “Charlie… can we sit?”
Charlie’s eyes darted to Marcus, then back to me. “You’re scaring me.”
“Please,” I managed, motioning to the couch.
He sat heavily. I sat across from him. Marcus stood behind me like a sentinel, the warmth of his hand, slightly tight over my shoulder, an anchor in this sea of grief.
Carlisle knelt beside the armrest, folding his hands. “Charlie, Bella is safe. But Renée… she died, Charlie, I am very sorry.”
Charlie stilled.
“What do you mean?”
“There was… a group,” Carlisle said carefully. “Dangerous people. They were hunting Bella. Renée was caught in their trap.”
“She died, Charlie,” I said, my voice cracking under the weight of truth. “She died because they wanted to hurt me. And they thought… they thought using her would break me.”
I expected yelling.
What I didn’t expect was silence.
Charlie’s face didn’t move. His mouth tightened, but no sound came.
Then, he stood abruptly. Crossed to the fireplace. Braced himself on the mantel.
“You were supposed to be able to protect her.”
The words landed like bullets. Not shouted. Worse.
“I know,” I whispered. My voice was barely air.
He didn’t turn.
“You knew how dangerous this was. You knew what this world meant. And you stayed. You chose to become... you became one of them. And now your mother is dead.”
I flinched like I’d been struck. It was true. And not. And too much.
Charlie’s shoulders heaved. “She was my wife,” he said hoarsely. “She was your mom. And now she’s just… gone. I don’t even get to see her body. I don’t even know what they did to her.”
“You don’t want to know,” I choked out, and I meant it. “You can’t know.”
That made him turn. “That’s not your call!”
“I held her, Dad!” My voice broke wide open, the words jagged. “I held her while she died. I heard her heart stop. I watched the light leave her eyes.”
Charlie froze, horror and realization hitting him.
Carlisle, still seated quietly near the side, raised his hand in a subtle motion. “Charlie.” His voice was calm, impossibly calm. “You’re in shock. You have every right to your anger. But you need to understand, Bella didn’t choose for this to happen.”
“She chose to be one of you,” Charlie snapped. “And that choice…”
“...saved lives,” Marcus cut in, not unkindly, but I felt the edge of warning in his voice. “More than you know. And it almost saved Renée.”
“I failed her,” I whispered. “And I’ll live forever knowing that.”
That, that, was what undid him. Charlie’s breath caught. The fight left him all at once. Like it had been propping him up and just gave out.
He moved toward me slowly. One step. Then another. And then he was on his knees in front of me.
He looked older. Tired. Human.
“I didn’t mean that,” he said, brokenly. “I didn’t mean, God, Bells, I didn’t mean it like that.”
I shook my head, eyes stinging with dry tears. “But you’re right.”
“I’m not.” He gripped my arms like he could anchor both of us. “You didn’t kill her. They did. And if I had to trade places, if it meant losing Renée to keep you alive, if I had to give my own life to keep you alive, then I’d do it again. I’d do it a hundred times.”
I looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the guilt blooming behind his eyes.
“You’re all I’ve got left…” he whispered. “And I already thought I lost you once. I can’t, ” His voice caught. “I can’t lose you again. Even like this.”
My shield stayed softly around me.
No panic. No flare.
I let my dad hold me.
I let the truth settle between us like a wound and a bridge all at once.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “For still being my dad.”
Charlie didn’t speak.
He didn’t have to.
We stayed like that for a long time. Two broken people clinging to the pieces that still fit.
oOoOo
The motel on the edge of town looked just like every other one I’d ever driven past and never thought about. Beige walls. A flickering neon vacancy sign. A reception desk with one bored night manager and a coffee pot that hadn’t been cleaned since the Clinton administration.
But tonight, it held a man whose heart was about to break.
Carlisle stood at the door of Room 9. I could hear voices behind it. Low. Exhausted.
“Are you sure?” I whispered.
He turned to me, his eyes soft. “He’s already been told. My contact at the station gave him the story we agreed on. All that’s left now is closure.”
I nodded. My throat burned with words I’d never be allowed to say.
Carlisle stepped inside, and I went back out, staying hidden in the shadows, just far enough to hear and see through the barely veiled window.
Phil sat on the edge of the bed, still in the clothes he’d flown in with. His eyes were rimmed red. He stared at the folded hands in his lap like they might fall apart if he looked away.
Carlisle knelt down beside him.
“The funeral will be held on Friday,” he said softly. “We’ve arranged for both Bella and Renée to be buried together. The family plot. It’s what Renée would have wanted.”
Phil nodded mutely.
“She was supposed to surprise her,” he murmured, almost to himself. “That was the whole point. One last visit before… before everything changed. But then… Bella getting sicker, the hospital stays... She said she felt something was wrong.”
Carlisle put a hand on his shoulder. “She wasn’t wrong.”
Phil’s voice cracked. “But I didn’t stop her. I should have come with her.”
Carlisle didn’t say you couldn’t have known. That would have been a lie. Phil crumpled, his face hidden in his hands.
I turned away. I didn’t want to hear him cry. I didn’t want to know what my existence had done to another person.
Later That Night, back at my father’s home, I sat in my old room again, curled up on the window seat. The house was too quiet, but not like before. It just felt… empty.
A photo rested on my lap; the one of me and Mom at the beach in Jacksonville. Sand in our hair. Laughing like idiots.
Marcus sat near the door, giving me space. He hadn’t spoken in over an hour, just sat with me. Present. Anchored.
Downstairs, I heard Charlie speaking softly with Sue Clearwater. She’d come to help. I didn’t go down.
The day of the funeral came too fast and not fast enough at the same time. I wanted closure and was terrified of what came after.
I didn’t walk with them. I couldn’t. For most of them, this was my funeral too.
So, I stood on the edge of the forest as the town gathered at the cemetery, all dressed in black, which Renée would have hated. There were people from the reservation. Renée’s old friends from school. Forks High teachers who’d taught me. My classmates.
Phil.
Charlie.
They buried us side by side. Renée’s name carved with love, mine added with careful lies.
Marcus stood behind me, silent as the grave. Solemn.
I couldn’t step closer.
The sky was overcast, of course it was. It was the kind of gray that seemed too soft to be threatening but heavy enough to make everything feel… hushed. The clouds hovered low, pressing in, as if the world itself wanted to keep its voice down.
I stood just beyond the treeline, the hem of Marcus’s coat brushing against mine where he stood beside me, neither of us moving.
A white canopy stretched above a cluster of black-clothed mourners. Two closed caskets. Two headstones waiting nearby.
One for her.
One for me.
A ripple of breathless ache moved through me.
Esme stood near the front, holding Sue Clearwater’s hand. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight twist, but soft strands had escaped around her face. She looked like a woman trying to hold herself together. Sue leaned into her, and I felt the invisible thread between us all tighten. I reached to Marcus’s aura instinctively. Feeling for the soft comfort of familiarity his gift echoed through mine. I embraced it and the threads came to life. He closed his hand tight around mine, understanding and marvelling in this still new vision. The bonds were so pure in that moment, more unshed tears fought to fall, making my eyes feel to dry, almost painful in my still unfamiliar body.
Charlie hadn’t arrived yet. I didn’t know if I wanted him to.
I could see the seat meant for him. First row. Between Phil and one of the town’s deputies.
There were flowers in his hand when he finally appeared, white lilies, Renee’s favorite. He looked ten years older than he had the night before. Maybe more.
The second he sat down, he bowed his head.
No one spoke for a long time.
A reverend from town eventually stepped up to the podium, his voice kind but distant, like he was reading from a page rather than eulogizing two lives. Gone too soon. Tragic loss. Cherished by their families.
I flinched every time he said my name.
The lies scraped like gravel against the inside of my skin. Complications from sepsis. A tragic coincidence that mother and daughter should pass so close together.
Phil sat beside the gravestone bearing my name, his head in his hands, a tissue clutched tightly in one fist. I watched his shoulders tremble as Charlie finally reached over and rested a hand on his back.
My breath hitched. They were comforting each other… for me. For her. For everything we’d left behind.
I couldn’t look away from the second casket.
Renée’s.
My mother’s.
The casket was closed. Carlisle had done everything he could. She looked peaceful. I had held her, and I had whispered stories to her until Carlisle said it was time. Until they took her away and left my arms empty again.
Her gravestone read:
Renée Dwyer – 1969–2006
Mother, free spirit, fierce heart.
I had written it.
The reverend was still speaking, but I wasn’t listening anymore. The voices were blurred, like they’d dipped underwater. Only one sound reached me clearly, the soft crunch of underbrush just behind and to the left.
Marcus turned slightly but did not interfere.
I didn’t need to look to know who it was.
The scent of pine and heat and something wild and… wet.
Jake.
A quiet shift of weight told me there was someone else with him; Leah, was standing still beside him, arms crossed but not defensive. More like she was simply, watching, waiting.
I didn’t speak. I couldn’t.
But when I turned slightly, just enough to meet Jacob’s gaze through the shadows, his expression softened.
There was no anger, no blame.
Just a strange, strained look like he didn’t know what to say either. His hands were in the pockets of a black jacket. I wondered if he realized how much that meant to me for him to be standing here, for choosing to come.
Leah nodded once in acknowledgment. Her face was unreadable, but her stance relaxed. She wasn’t here for a fight.
Neither of them was.
I blinked once. A slow, deliberate motion. A silent thank you.
Jake looked down, then turned his face back toward the crowd, watching Charlie the way I did.
The way I always would.
I didn’t cry.
Couldn’t.
But something shifted inside me in that moment. A silent crack of acknowledgment. A grief shared and seen.
She was gone.
But I was still here.
Still Bella.
And for the first time since seeing the blood on my mother’s necklace, I didn’t feel quite so alone.
Notes:
This was even harder to write, if possible. Let me know your thoughts 💔
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