-Edward-
The wind cut past me, carrying her scent. I inhaled sharply—instinctively—and let it flood my senses. My lip curled. A low snarl rumbled in my chest as I surrendered to the hunt. She had helped James. That was enough. Whatever her motive, she’d made herself part of the threat. And I couldn’t take chances.
I told myself this was tactical. Just another step in the mission. But the lie was thin. When instinct took the wheel, my mind drifted. It always drifted to her.
Bella.
Even now, with my body flying forward, chasing vengeance, I saw her. I would always see her. If I lived a thousand years, every one would belong to her. But I wouldn’t. As soon as I heard she was gone—truly gone—I’d follow. I’d go to the Volturi and end it. There was no world I could live in that didn’t have her in it.
The pain hadn’t caught up to me yet. Instinct numbed it. But when it returned, I would let it ravage me. I deserved it. I’d walked away. I had made her believe I didn’t love her. I’d lied so thoroughly that she hadn’t questioned it. That cut deeper than any of her words ever could. Still, it had to be done. It was the only way to keep her safe.
But even knowing that didn’t bring peace.
I thought about that day. The forest. The look in her eyes. I remembered the moment her expression shifted—not just hurt, but shattered. For one second, I almost broke. I had to clamp my face into stone to stop myself from falling to my knees.
She believed me so easily.
Part of me had wanted her to fight. To scream, to hit me, to demand the truth. If she had, I would’ve folded instantly. I would’ve stayed.
I let the memory cut me open.
I thought leaving was courage, but now I knew better. It wasn’t noble. It was cowardice wrapped in obsession. I’d wanted her from the beginning—first for her blood, then for her body, then for everything. And I’d taken it. I’d told myself I was strong enough to stay without hurting her. But I was wrong. My presence alone was danger. And even after all that, even after walking away, I was still chasing ghosts.
Two futures haunted me: Bella pale and cold, dead in my arms… or Bella pale and cold, undead at Alice’s side. Crimson eyes. Marble skin. Neither was acceptable.
No. She deserved more. A life. A soul. I would burn in hell before I let her become what I am.
Suddenly, her scent vanished. I skidded to a stop. Gone. Just like that.
I reached out with my mind, scanning the emptiness. Nothing. I’d lost her again. Not just the scent—her thoughts too. The trail ended in silence. My phone buzzed. Alice.
Of course.
“Alice,” I said.
“You need to come home.” Her voice was gentle but firm. “Esme is spiraling. She misses you.”
My jaw clenched. “Denali is not home.”
“Edward—”
“Can you see Victoria?” I cut her off.
A pause. A sigh. “No. She’s disappeared from my vision.”
I hung up. Whether Alice was withholding or genuinely blind, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t going back. Every mile north pulled me toward Forks. Toward her. And if I let myself turn back… I wouldn’t survive the temptation.
I’d made a promise: I would disappear. And I would keep it. She would live her life, grow old, forget me. That was the only ending I could give her that had any hope in it.
But I still wanted to believe I might see her again—somewhere. If Carlisle was right, and we had souls, maybe death would reunite us. I clung to that thought like a lifeline.
The world around me blurred until I noticed where I was: south Texas, near San Antonio. The sky was beginning to lighten.
I needed cover.
I found an abandoned barn after what felt like hours. Half-rotted and leaning, but it would shield me until dark. I locked the doors and collapsed, letting the pain devour me.
It didn’t come gently.
Dry sobs wracked my body. I saw her again—her smile in the meadow, her hand brushing my skin. The warmth. The light in her eyes when she looked at me like I was something worth loving. I curled in on myself as if I could protect the last pieces of her that I still carried.
And then I saw her face in the forest.
Betrayal. Hurt. That final moment before I walked away.
It haunted me.
I thought of my family—Esme’s cries, Alice’s plea to say goodbye, Carlisle’s disappointment. I couldn’t let them say goodbye. I couldn’t let her cling to a memory. So I told them we’d all leave. Take every trace of ourselves and vanish. Give her a clean break.
Then I lied to her. Coldly. Convincingly. I took her gifts, her photos, everything that tied her to me, and I buried it beneath the floorboard of her room like a coward hiding his sins.
The guilt was unbearable.
The phone buzzed again. Alice.
I hit ignore.
Night had fallen. The barn was still and dark. I stood, checked the time—10:56 p.m., January 16th—and started walking. South. Always south.
I had the means to fly, but I chose the ground. I needed to feel the miles. Every step a punishment. Every hour a reminder of what I’d done.
Maybe I’d walk until the land ran out. Then swim. The ends of the earth sounded good. Somewhere I could disappear completely.
I didn’t deserve to run fast anymore. I didn’t deserve relief. But I did run. Not for the thrill. Not for the wind. But because if I stopped… I’d turn around.
And if I turned around, I would never leave her again.
I didn’t stop.
The miles blurred together—fields, highways, desolate towns, all smudged gray in my peripheral vision. I passed through them like a ghost. Never seen. Never felt. The world was colorless without her. Sounds were hollow. Even blood, thick and pulsing in the bodies I avoided, barely stirred a reaction in me. Hunger clawed at me, but I ignored it. Pain was clarity. Pain reminded me I still existed.
Every few days, I hunted, if only to keep the thirst from driving me to madness. I never enjoyed it. Not anymore. I took only what I had to, from animals that wouldn’t be missed, and even that felt like theft.
She would hate this version of me. Gaunt. Unshaven. Broken. A shadow stretched thin.
Some nights, I thought I heard her voice. Just a whisper, tucked in the wind or rising with the rustle of leaves. I’d stop and stare into the dark, listening—hoping—knowing it was impossible. Still, I lingered.
I laid low where I could. Half-submerged caves, burnt-out barns, once a flooded cellar where I sat for two days in waist-deep water. I didn’t feel the cold. I barely felt anything anymore. It was safer that way.
My clothes were ruined. Stiff with blood, dirt, salt. I looked like a corpse someone had dragged through every sin a man could commit.
I didn’t speak aloud. Didn’t hear music. Didn’t let myself remember her laugh. But she was there, always. Behind every blink. Inside every pause between thought and breath. Her face, her scent, the sound of her heartbeat—I had to drown it every hour, and it always came back.
I knew how this would end. I’d keep moving south until the continent ran out beneath me. I’d keep trying to outrun my own mind until I couldn’t. Maybe then I’d find a reason to die that didn’t include waiting on her death. Maybe I’d just let the hunger win.
I didn’t deserve mercy. I didn’t deserve anything.
One night, somewhere near the Guatemalan border, I collapsed. Not from pain—vampires didn’t collapse—but from the weight of it. The silence was so thick it felt like pressure against my skull. No thoughts to anchor me. No voices to distract. I had no destination anymore. Only motion.
I lay under the stars, motionless. My eyes burned from memories I couldn’t shake. Her warmth. Her fingers in my hair. The curve of her mouth when she smiled just for me.
My chest convulsed, but no breath came. I didn’t cry. I couldn’t. But I felt the dry sobs rip through me again. Useless. Empty. Soundless. Like everything else I’d become.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered to the night. My voice cracked like old stone. “I’m so sorry, Bella.”
I dug my hands into the dirt. I wanted it to crush me. Bury me. Silence everything. But it didn’t. It just stayed there—dry, loose, silent.
I stayed that way until the sky lightened.
And then I moved again.
Because moving was the only thing I had left.
1.7562 Billion Miles 