-Edward-
I saw them before I could move—hooded figures closing in, flowing like shadows over the grass. The Volturi. They surrounded Bella first, then me. I tried to get to her, to push through the circle, but I couldn’t see her. Their bodies formed a wall of cloaks and red eyes. I called her name, but no sound came out.
Then they came for me.
I didn’t resist. I couldn’t—not when I didn’t know what they were doing to her.
I felt my limbs torn away. Arms. Legs. Head. It should have hurt, but it didn’t. Not compared to the terror that she was suffering the same fate.
I remained conscious as my body was reduced to fragments, laid out like kindling. Then the heat came. Flames devoured me, curling around what remained. My body disintegrated, but I didn’t care.
Because the last thing I saw before the fire consumed me completely was Bella—screaming, writhing beneath the Volturi’s teeth.
And then—
I gasped as my eyes snapped open.
Fluorescent lights. Rows of plastic chairs. The sharp tang of floor polish. The vision dissipated and the real world returned.
I was in an airport.
My stopover.
My phone vibrated. I didn’t need to check the screen. I answered immediately.
“Alice.”
“You can breathe—for now,” she said. “We’ve got some time.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re coming,” she said quickly. “But they haven’t decided when yet. Their decisions keep shifting—I can’t lock in a path.”
My jaw tightened. “They’re hiding it on purpose. Aro knows your ability. He could be burying the real decision beneath throwaway ones.”
“Exactly. It’s too erratic. They’re keeping us blind.”
“How much time do we have?”
“You’ll be back in Forks in about six hours, right? That should be soon enough—assuming nothing changes.”
“Assuming.” I glanced out the window. Rain streaked the glass, mirroring the rising panic I was trying to suppress. “Has Bella come back yet?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t checked. I’ve been at the house, cleaning it up. I’ve also been on the phone with the family—they wanted to know if they should return.”
“And?”
“I told them I’d talk to you first.”
I sighed. “That should be Carlisle’s decision, not mine.”
“They’re trying to avoid whiplash,” she said gently. “They don’t want to get settled only for you to disappear again.”
My stomach turned.
“That’s fair,” I muttered. “Even if it hurts to hear.”
Alice continued, her voice harder now. “It’s not just about us. Think about her. What if she does take you back, and then the next time things get hard, you vanish again?”
“That won’t happen,” I growled.
“You say that,” she replied. “But none of us can forget how broken you were. Including her. You hurt her, Edward. Deeply.”
“I know.” The admission came out like ash. “You don’t have to remind me. I live with it every second.”
There was a long silence.
“What should I tell the others?” she asked finally. “Stay in Denali?”
“Yes. For now.”
We hung up.
I leaned back in the hard plastic chair and dragged a hand through my hair. My clothes were filthy. My skin itched with grime. I hadn’t fed properly in days—weeks, maybe. Time had lost meaning somewhere between Washington and Argentina.
People walked past me, giving me wide berths. I could smell their blood, warm and close, but I didn’t care. I could starve, disintegrate, fall apart—but I had to make it to her.
I had to see her face again.
What would I find?
What if she didn’t want me? What if she had moved on? Found someone else?
The thought made me sick with rage and sorrow. It wasn’t rational. I had no right to expect anything from her. I had abandoned her. Lied to her face. Let her believe she wasn’t enough.
She would be justified in slamming the door in mine.
But I had to try. I had to know.
I thought about the vision. The fire. The cloaks. Bella’s blood.
I had told myself I left to protect her. That by removing myself, I was giving her safety.
But she was in more danger now than ever.
And I wasn’t going to let her die for my mistake.
Not without a fight.
The airport was overcrowded.
I hadn’t expected it to be so packed—especially this late at night. Travelers slouched over their phones, children screamed at vending machines, security announcements droned overhead. It was a cacophony of human noise. I sat motionless, trying not to breathe too deeply. The scent of blood was everywhere.
I hadn’t hunted since Argentina, and even that had been a minimal effort—a single deer, barely enough to keep my muscles functioning. My throat burned like acid. But the thirst didn’t matter.
I couldn’t feel anything but dread.
And hope.
I’m coming, Bella.
Flight after flight was called, and the crowd began to thin. When mine was finally announced, I rose, ignoring the stares. I looked like a drifter—rumpled, pale, too still. I didn’t care.
As I approached the gate, I passed a cluster of laughing teenagers. One of them turned toward me, then froze mid-laugh, his expression faltering.
I gave him the briefest smile—just enough edge to send him moving.
Good.
I boarded quietly, settling into the solitude of first class. I sank into the leather seat and stared out the window, my thoughts restless.
I had six hours to imagine what her face would look like when she saw me.
Hope was dangerous.
But it was all I had left.
The hum of the engines dulled everything.
Inside the cabin, the world was quiet, muted by altitude and artificial calm.
But inside me, it was chaos.
I sat motionless in the first-class seat, staring out the window at the dark landscape far below. Cities blinked like scattered embers, disappearing under clouds and distance. The longer I sat, the heavier my thoughts became.
Bella.
She was somewhere beneath this sky. Still breathing, I hoped. Still mine, I prayed.
I didn’t deserve her—not after the way I had shattered her world and left her alone in the wreckage. But even now, even with the uncertainty of her forgiveness or her safety, I could feel something I hadn’t let myself feel in months:
Hope.
Tenuous. Reckless. But there.
I remembered the way her fingers had curled into my shirt when she slept. The way she whispered my name like it was both a question and a promise. I remembered her laughter, unguarded and bright.
And I remembered her face in the forest, twisted in pain as I told her the lie that broke her.
I had replayed that moment over and over. If I could take back just those words—if I had told her the truth instead, if I had stayed—maybe she wouldn’t have spiraled. Maybe none of this would have happened.
But then again, maybe she would’ve died at my side instead.
I closed my eyes and tried to imagine her as she was now.
Had she healed?
Had she changed?
Would she still look at me like I was hers?
Would she even look at me at all?
The turbulence hit—minor, but jarring. My hands curled around the armrests. I’d faced death more times than I could count, but this… this unknown terrified me.
Because if I lost her again, it would be the end of me.
The wheels hit the tarmac with a low, rattling thud. The plane taxied to a stop in the cold drizzle, and I stepped out into the gray hush of Forks.
The scent hit me first.
Pine. Moss. Rain. Earth.
And beneath it, faint but distinct—her. Faded now, old, but still threaded into the bones of this place. Like she’d never left.
I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I saw her.
Alice.
She leaned against a sleek black sedan just outside the terminal, arms folded, looking as if she hadn’t moved in hours—but I knew better. She straightened the second I stepped into view.
“I could feel you brooding before you even stepped off the plane,” she said. “You haven’t changed.”
I tried to smile. It didn’t land.
“You didn’t have to come all the way out here.”
She shrugged. “Yes, I did. You’re a disaster.”
I sighed and slid into the passenger seat.
As soon as the doors shut, she pulled away from the curb and into the misty night. The sound of the tires on the wet road filled the silence for several miles.
Then:
“You look like hell,” she said gently, not looking over.
“I feel worse.”
“Do you want the update now or later?”
“Now.”
She sighed. “Charlie still won’t speak to me. I tried again yesterday. He told me to stay away. Said I wasn’t welcome.”
I winced. “What did he say about me?”
She hesitated. “You don’t want to know.”
“I deserve to know.”
Alice exhaled slowly. “He said… he said if you step near her again, he’ll call the cops. He said you broke her, Edward. That he had to watch her fall apart. That no apology would undo what you did.”
Every word was deserved. Still, they felt like claws scraping through my ribcage.
“I don’t blame him.”
“You shouldn’t,” she said.
We were quiet again.
The headlights cut through the mist as we curved around the edge of town, heading toward the old house.
Alice glanced at me. “Are you going to see her tonight?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know what I’ll find. I need time.”
“She’s different,” Alice said. “Not better. Not worse. Just… numbed. Like a shadow of herself. But there are moments, when she laughs with Jacob or lets her guard down, and I see her flicker again.”
The name burned in my ears.
Jacob.
I didn’t let it show.
“And the Volturi?” I asked.
Her face tightened. “Still coming. It’s unclear when—they keep changing course. I think they’re trying to throw me off.”
“They know exactly what they’re doing,” I said bitterly. “Aro always plays the long game.”
“If they find her human… it won’t end well, Edward.”
“I know.”
“We’re running out of time.”
“I know.” My tone was clipped, hard.
Alice was quiet for a beat before she said, “Have you decided yet? About turning her?”
I didn’t answer.
That was answer enough.
1.7562 Billion Miles 