Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1 - Back Before the Storm

There are two kinds of silence in Forks.

The comfortable kind—the one that settles in your chest like a blanket.
And the other kind—the one that makes you wonder if the entire town collectively forgot how to breathe.

That morning, it was definitely the second one.

I'd been living with Charlie for two years now, ever since my dad—his older brother, Robert—passed away. But really, Charlie had been a second parent my whole life. He lived five houses down from us, and between his bad cooking and my dad's worse cooking, I spent half my childhood eating grilled cheese in his kitchen.

Bella and I grew up together that way, too. Summer cousins. Backyard adventurers. Forks' unofficial duo of troublemakers—until she stopped coming.

Now it was just me and Charlie. And the silence.

"Lena?" Charlie called from the hallway, voice scratchy with sleep.

"In the kitchen!" I yelled, fighting with my hair in front of the toaster's reflection. Today wasn't one of my creativemornings—I'd rolled out of bed, saw my braid ideas on Pinterest, sighed dramatically, and ended up with a high ponytail and eyeliner sharp enough to kill.

Charlie wandered in, blinking like the lights were too bright.

He looked at the toast on the counter. "You made breakfast?"

"I made toast," I corrected. "Let's not oversell it."

He picked up a slice, inspected it like it might bite him first, then shrugged and took a bite.

"You look... ready for school," he said.

I raised an eyebrow. "Was that a compliment?"

He pointed vaguely at my outfit. "You know. The... hair. Makeup. Everything."

Translation: You look like someone who does things on purpose.
Charlie still didn't fully understand that some girls actually enjoy getting ready in the morning.

"I'm meeting Jake later," I said, grabbing my bag. "He wants to check the engine again."

Charlie groaned like an old man who'd just heard a ghost story.
"That car is too fast."

"That car is perfectly safe," I lied. "Jake upgraded it. It's practically purring."

"It's a death trap on wheels."

"It's a personality."

He gave me the dad-glare, which I'd become immune to years ago.

My car—a black, slightly beat-up masterpiece Jake and I built out of scrap junk and hope—waited in the driveway. Charlie hated it. Which honestly made me love it more.

When I stepped outside, the cold Forks air slapped me awake. Fog curled between the trees, and the road glistened from last night's rain. Classic Forks aesthetic: depressing but make it sexy.

I unlocked my car, tossed my bag inside, and sat behind the wheel. The engine roared to life the way Jake liked it—loud enough to annoy the neighbors, not loud enough to call the cops.

Charlie opened the door behind me.

"Tell Jake I said hi," he yelled over the engine. "And be careful!"

"I'm always careful!"

A lie so bold even I cringed.

I backed out of the driveway, the familiar route toward La Push unfolding in front of me—tall pines, endless gray sky, the quiet hum of a town that never really changed.

Jake lived in the same house he always had with Billy. I'd known them practically my whole life. Billy called me "another stray Charlie adopted," and honestly, it wasn't wrong.

When I pulled up, Jake was already outside, grease on his hands, grinning at me like I was the punchline to a joke only he understood.

"Took you long enough," he said, wiping his hands on a rag.

"Sorry," I shot back. "Unlike you, I actually attempt to look human in the mornings."

"Yeah, well," he said, leaning against the hood, "your engine sounds weird again."

"My engine," I repeated, "sounds like freedom."

"It sounds like it's begging for mercy."

I rolled my eyes. "Just fix it, Black."

Jake laughed and popped the hood.
Same routine as always.
Same morning.
Same quiet life.

Before everything changed.
Before Bella came back.
Before the world stopped being normal.

Not that I had any way of knowing that then.

At that moment, it was just me, Jake, a half-broken car, and the soft rumble of the Pacific in the distance.

Just another morning in Forks.

Chapter Text

If there was one universal truth in life, it was this:
If Jacob Black popped your hood open, three things would happen.

He'd criticize your engine.

He'd pretend he wasn't enjoying himself.

Embry and Quil would appear out of nowhere like raccoons smelling free snacks.

I was sitting on the porch railing while Jake worked on my car, boots kicking lazily against the wood, when I heard the overly dramatic gasp of someone who truly believed he was God's gift to the world.

"Is that Lena Swan gracing us with her presence?"

I didn't even have to look to know the voice.

"Quil, don't flirt with me," I said. "It's embarrassing for both of us."

Embry howled with laughter as he came up behind him. "She got you, bro."

Quil clutched his chest. "You wound me, Swan. Right here. Fatal."

I rolled my eyes. "If only."

Embry plopped down next to me on the railing. "So what's Jake fixing this time? The engine? The transmission? Your personality?"

I shoved him lightly with my shoulder. "Bold words coming from someone who once tried to microwave a metal fork."

"That was one time—"

"And the fire department came."

"That was—"

"And you cried."

Embry threw his hands up. "Okay, I didn't cry. My eyes were reacting to the smoke."

"Sure, baby," I patted his cheek. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

Jake glanced over his shoulder, shaking his head but smiling.
"Can you three shut up? I'm trying to work."

"You mean you're trying to prove you're smarter than an engine," I said.

"I am smarter than an engine."

"Your GPA disagrees."

Quil cackled. Embry leaned into my shoulder like we were sharing some deep emotional moment.

"Lena, I missed you," he said dramatically.

"You saw me three days ago."

"Three days too long."

I flicked his forehead. "Get a grip."

The three of them were idiots. My idiots. Loud, annoying, chaotic—but mine. They'd been there for me every day since my dad died, filling every silence and every hard moment with something stupid enough to make me laugh.

Jake closed the hood with a metallic thud. "Alright. Try it."

I climbed into the driver's seat and turned the key.
The engine purred. Strong. Smooth.

"Holy shit," I said. "It sounds—"

"Like I know what I'm doing?" Jake grinned.

"I was gonna say 'less like a dying lawnmower,' but sure."

Quil hopped into the passenger seat uninvited. "Let's take it for a spin!"

"No," Jake said.

"Yes," I said.

"I'm coming too," Embry added, climbing into the back.

Jake groaned. "I hate all of you."

I leaned across Quil and opened the passenger door. "Get in, Black. It's not fun if you're not here to complain."

He slipped in, muttering something about regretting every life choice that led him here.

We drove toward the cliffs, windows down, wind whipping through the car, music blasting. It felt like being seventeen was actually allowed to feel—young, stupid, loud.

"Hey, Lena," Quil called over the music. "You ready for Bella 2.0 tomorrow?"

I smirked. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Embry tapped my shoulder. "She still weird?"

"She's not weird," I said. "She's just... Bella."

Jake nodded. "Yeah. Quiet. Thoughtful. Breaks a lot of bones."

"Jake!" I nearly choked laughing. "Oh my god."

"What? She does!"

"She fell once!" I protested.

"That you know of," Jake said.

Quil leaned forward between the seats. "So what's the plan? You gonna help her adapt? Give her the Swan Tour? Teach her how not to die in gym class?"

I snorted. "I'll be nice. She's my cousin. And I actually like her."

Embry smirked. "She gonna steal Charlie's attention from you?"

I shrugged. "Maybe. But honestly? If someone else takes over his emotional babysitting, I won't complain."

Jake laughed. "He loves having you around. Even if he pretends you're a handful."

"I am a handful."

"We know," Quil said.

"You don't have to remind us," Embry added.

"You literally cause half the trouble in this group," Jake finished.

I put a hand over my heart. "I'm honored."

We rolled to a stop near the cliffs, the sun sinking behind the ocean in a blur of gold and gray. None of us got out. We just sat there, breathing in the salt and the cold and the comfort of being exactly where we were supposed to be.

"Bella's coming back," Jake said quietly, chin resting on the window frame. "Feels weird, huh?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "It does."

"Think things will change?"

I let the question hang in the air.

"Probably," I said. "But we'll deal with it."

Embry poked my shoulder. "We'll still annoy you."

Quil nodded. "Every day."

Jake looked at me with that soft smile he tried to hide. "We're not going anywhere, Lena."

I smiled back.

"Good," I said. "Because you're all I've got."

The boys went quiet, just for a second.

Then Quil ruined it.
"Okay enough feelings, who wants snacks?"

And just like that, the world felt simple again.

At least for one more day.

Chapter Text

Airports always smell like stress, coffee, and broken dreams.

Which was fitting, because Charlie had been gripping the steering wheel like he was driving toward a court sentence and not toward picking up his daughter.

"You nervous?" I asked, watching the trees blur past the window.

Charlie cleared his throat. "No."

"You're gripping the wheel like it owes you money."

"That's just... traffic."

"There's no traffic. It's Forks."

He muttered something unintelligible, which in Charlie language meant yes, I'm nervous, please stop talking before I melt into a puddle of dad-anxiety.

We pulled up at the airport, and I spotted her immediately.

Bella.

Same long dark hair. Same posture that screamed I don't want attention.
Same brown eyes that looked like they'd seen too much and not enough all at once.

She was standing by her luggage, hugging her jacket like she expected the sky to fall.

When she noticed us, her face cracked into a small, hesitant smile.

"Bella!" I waved, walking toward her.

She blinked in surprise before pulling me into a somewhat awkward but warm hug.
"Lena... wow. You're taller."

"I was always tall. You were short."

She actually laughed—a soft, breathy sound.
"I missed you."

"I missed you too, Bells."

Charlie approached, trying to look calm and failing.

"Hey, kid," he said, opening his arms.

Bella hugged him tight. Not dramatic. Not loud. Just genuine.

I stepped back and let them have their moment.

When they pulled apart, Charlie grabbed one of her bags.
"How was the flight?"

"Long," Bella muttered.

"And Phoenix?"

"Dry."

"And Renee?"

"She's... Renee."

Which said everything.

I helped load her bags into the cruiser, and Bella slid into the backseat beside me. She watched the window like she was studying a foreign planet.

"It's so... green," she said.

I snorted. "Yeah. Forks likes to show off."

We exchanged a small smile.

Home.
That's what Charlie called the house.
And in a weird way, what it had become for both of us.

When we pulled into the driveway, Bella stared at it with that nostalgic-but-conflicted expression people get when they revisit old memories.

"It hasn't changed," she whispered.

"Nope," I said, hopping out. "Still smells like coffee and fishing gear."

Charlie shot me a look. "I clean."

"Sure you do, Chief."

Inside, Bella paused just beyond the doorway, breathing in the house like it held the ghosts of her childhood.

"You remember where everything is?" I asked.

She nodded faintly.

"Still want the room upstairs?"

Bella shrugged. "Yeah... if that's okay."

"Of course," Charlie said. "Lena's room is across the hall."

I added, "So if you need anything, you can knock on my door. Or throw something at it."

Bella gave a tiny smile.
"Thanks."

We hauled her bags upstairs. I opened the door to her old room—still blue, still simple, still very Bella.

"I tried to clean it," Charlie said, awkward. "Didn't touch your stuff."

Bella looked around, quiet but soft. "It's... good. Thank you."

Charlie nodded, then cleared his throat. "Billy and Jake should be here soon."

"Jake?" Bella repeated, surprised. "He still lives here?"

"Where else would he go?" I said. "He's a pain in the ass"

Bella rolled her eyes with that same energy she used to have when we were kids.

We heard the rumble of the familiar red truck before the knock on the door.

"Speak of the devil," I muttered.

Charlie opened it, and there they were—Billy smiling that warm smile, and Jacob grinning like a golden retriever seeing his favorite human.

"Bella!" Jake's whole face lit up.

"Jake!" Bella said, genuinely happy.

They hugged, and I couldn't help but smirk.
"You better not forget me," I said.

Jake threw an arm around my shoulders. "How could I forget my favorite pain in the ass?"

Billy handed Charlie some papers while Jake gestured dramatically toward the driveway.

"We brought a present!"

Bella stepped outside—and there it was.
A red Chevy truck.

Bella gasped. "No way."

Jake grinned proudly. "It's yours."

"It's... perfect." Bella ran a hand across the hood, awe filling her voice.

"Runs good," Jake said. "And it's got a great engine."

I lifted a brow. "So you give Bella the reliable car and give me the scrapyard rocket?"

Jake smirked. "You asked for the rocket."

I couldn't argue with that.

Bella turned back to Jake. "Thank you. Really."

Jake blushed a little.
"Anytime."

Billy waved from the door. "Alright, son, time to go."

They left, and Bella watched the truck like she'd found a piece of herself she didn't know was missing.

After unloading her stuff, we finally retreated upstairs.
Our rooms faced each other across the small hallway—like two mirrors reflecting different versions of the same childhood.

Bella sat on her bed, hands tucked under her legs.

"So," she said awkwardly.
"You look... different."

"Older?" I suggested.

"Taller," she said. "And your hair is longer."

I shrugged. "Yours is the same."

"Is that bad?"

"No," I said. "It's very you."

She smiled shyly at that.

We talked about Phoenix. About Charlie. About my car. About her truck.
She told me she didn't miss the heat. I told her she'd regret saying that in approximately 48 hours.

The night stretched comfortably—quiet, warm, familiar in a way that made my chest hurt a little.

Bella yawned first.

"You should sleep," I said.

"Yeah... first day back tomorrow."

"Monday is the real battlefield."

She rolled her eyes. "Right."

I stood in the hallway, doorway to my room open.
"Goodnight, Bells."

She hesitated.
"Goodnight... Lena. And... thank you. For being here."

I smiled softly.

"Where else would I be?"

She closed her door, and I stepped into my own room.

Forks was quiet.
Bella was back.
School started tomorrow.
Life felt normal.

Chapter Text

Bella was already awake when I stepped into the hallway, standing in front of the mirror with an expression that said she wanted to disappear into her hoodie. Meanwhile, I was pulling my hair into a sleek bun and adjusting the sleeves of my hoodie under my black jacket.

"You look nice," Bella said, voice quiet but sincere.

I smiled. "Thanks. You do too. Very... Bella."

She snorted softly. "Meaning 'barely functioning human'?"

"No," I laughed. "Meaning cozy and cute."

She gave me a shy little smile, and honestly, it made my morning.

We grabbed our bags and headed downstairs. Charlie was pretending not to be sentimental as he sipped his coffee, but he kept glancing at Bella like she might vanish.

"You girls ready for the big day?" he asked.

Bella groaned. I shrugged. "Ready as we'll ever be."

Bella stuck close to me as we walked toward the office. People stared, whispered, elbowed each other. Forks wasn't subtle.

"You okay?" I murmured.

She nodded, but her shoulders were tense. I nudged her gently with my elbow—not enough to push her, just enough to say You're not alone.

Ms. Cope handed us schedules and welcome packets with overly enthusiastic smiles. When we walked back outside, Bella let out a long breath like she'd been holding it since Phoenix.

"One down," I said. "Only... eighty? A hundred? More?"

She actually laughed.

I had already warned Bella that cafeteria food was a gamble I wasn't willing to take today, so I grabbed an apple while she nervously slid into a seat with Jessica, Mike, and the usual group.

They asked her questions, she answered with that soft politeness she always had, and I jumped in when she seemed overwhelmed. Not to speak for her—just to give her breathing room.

It was going fine until Jessica's eyes drifted toward the entrance in dramatic slow motion.

"Oh my God," she whispered. "There they are."

I followed her line of sight and saw them—the Cullen siblings.

They moved like they were choreographed. Almost too graceful. Too put-together. Too... something.

I couldn't pin it down.

Rosalie glowed like she'd been carved from marble.
Emmett towered over everyone with a grin that was way too charming.
Alice looked like a walking pixie-stick of excitement.
Jasper seemed uncomfortable in his own skin.
And Edward... well, he looked like someone who'd listened to too much classical music and enjoyed staring at walls.

Bella watched them with a kind of curiosity I recognized—quiet people watching quieter people.

Jessica started rambling about who was dating who, and I listened just enough to keep up, but my eyes stayed on the Cullens. Something about them didn't match the rest of the school. They weren't unapproachable. Just... hard to read.

Edward glanced in our direction.

Bella froze.
Edward did too.
His expression twisted—surprise? discomfort? something worse?—and then he turned away sharply.

Okay, I thought. Weird.

But it wasn't my business, so I bit into my apple and kept an eye on Bella, who looked like she wanted to sink through the floor.

Unfortunately for Bella, the only open seat was next to Edward Cullen.
I whispered, "You got this," before heading to my spot two rows behind them.

Bella sat down slowly. Edward leaned away like the chair had suddenly sprouted fangs. He stayed tense the entire lesson, jaw tight, fingers gripping the edge of the desk like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Bella kept trying to act normal. Edward looked like he wanted to jump out the window.

As soon as the bell rang, he stood up so fast the chair scraped loudly. Then he left. No goodbye. No glance back. Just gone.

I blinked.

Rude.

Bella looked... hurt. Confused. Embarrassed.

I felt irritation simmer in my chest.
Not anger for me—for her.

"Hey," I said gently as we packed up. "That wasn't about you."

She swallowed. "It felt like it was."

I touched her arm lightly. "People act strange for a million reasons. Don't take it personally."

She nodded, but the doubt stayed in her eyes.

Bella and I walked back to my car. She was quiet—not in her peaceful Bella way, but in her overthinking every secondway.

"I'm okay," she said before I even asked.

"I know," I replied softly. "But if you ever want to talk... I'm right across the hall."

She gave me that small, grateful smile again.

When we got home, she went to her room to unpack a bit more. I stayed in the doorway for a moment, watching her sort through old memories and new beginnings.

It wasn't a dramatic day.
It wasn't a perfect day.

But it was Bella's first day back.
Our first day back together.

Chapter Text

Bella and I arrived at school separately the next day—her in the roaring red truck, me in the car Jake had resurrected from the dead.

She parked beside me, gave me a tiny smile, and I looped my arm with hers as we headed toward the cafeteria.

Bella wasn't used to Forks High yet.
And Forks High noticed her.

Angela waved us over with her usual warmth. Mike practically sprinted. Jessica talked so fast I wasn't sure she breathed. Everything was normal—

—and then they arrived.

Lauren Mallory and her little shadow, Kayla Jensen, the unofficial CEO and CFO of Petty Inc.

They approached like they owned the place, eyes glittering with the type of judgment only teenage girls with too much free time can produce.

Lauren gave Bella a once-over.

"Ohhhh," she said sweetly. "Didn't expect Phoenix fashion to be so... plain."

Kayla smirked. "Maybe she left it on the plane."

Bella immediately shrank, shoulders folding in.

I stepped forward, calm but firm.
"Lauren, if you want a personality, I'm sure the lost and found has one."

She blinked, thrown off. "Excuse me?"

"And Kayla," I added, smiling pleasantly, "please don't copy her insults. It's embarrassing. Try originality next time."

Jessica choked on a laugh.
Mike whispered, "Damn."
Angela looked horrified in a supportive way.

Lauren tossed her hair with a scoff. "Whatever."

They stormed off in synchronized bitchiness.

Bella exhaled shakily.
"You didn't have to—"

"I know," I said softly. "But I wanted to."

She nodded, eyes warm.

It wasn't about being superior.
It was about not letting her face the world alone.

Bella headed home, and I drove to La Push, needing to decompress with Jake—the only human who could listen to me rant about teenage drama like it was breaking news.

Billy's truck wasn't there, so I perched on the wooden fence, scrolling through my phone.

The quiet around me was peaceful.

Until it wasn't.

I felt someone watching me before I heard the footsteps.

A tall guy stepped out from the tree line—broad shoulders, strong jaw, warm brown skin, dark eyes that flicked over me like they were collecting data.

Paul Lahote.

I'd seen him around La Push years ago, back when he and Jake were inseparable. Then he suddenly disappeared from Jake's orbit, and Jake wouldn't stop calling Sam's group "a creepy cult." Typical Jacob dramatics.

Still... the distance between them had hurt him.

Paul stopped in front of me, hands tucked into the pockets of his shorts, expression unreadable.

"You're waiting for Jacob," he said. Not a question. A statement.

"Yeah," I replied.

"Figures. He's late."

"You know when he's back?"

"No."

Pause.

Wow.
Social butterfly, this one.

He looked at me again—really looked.
"Didn't think you'd be... you."

I blinked. "I hope that's not an insult."

"It's not." His mouth curved just slightly. "It's surprising. In a good way."

I crossed my arms. "Do you always talk in riddles?"

"Only when someone's interesting."

A small jolt went through my chest.
Annoying.

"What do you want, Paul?"

"I came to say hi."

"You walked all the way from the trees to say hi?"

"Yep."

"Uh-huh."

His gaze flicked briefly toward the road—then back to me.

"You're Lena Swan," he said, voice lower.

"That's me."

"I saw you around town a while ago."

A while ago?
He said it like he remembered the exact hour.

"But you didn't come say hi then," I said lightly.

His jaw flexed.
"Couldn't."

Couldn't?
Weird choice of word.
Whatever.

"So you wait until I'm alone to pop out of the woods like a cryptid?" I teased.

He smirked. "If I were a cryptid, you'd be lucky."

"Oh please."

"You don't even know."

He took one slow step closer, posture relaxed but presence sharp, like he took up more space than his body allowed.

And it was... a lot.

"What's your deal?" I asked, more breathlessly than I intended.

"You'll figure it out," he murmured.

Before I could answer, he straightened—like he'd heard something I didn't.

He stiffened.
Brows tightening.

"Jake's coming," he said.

"How do you know—?"

But he was already stepping back.

"I'll see you around, Lena."

Then he walked away fast, disappearing around the corner just as Jake jogged into view from the opposite direction.

"Hey!" Jake called. "Sorry I took so long—Billy needed me to—"

He stopped, scanning the area.

"Was someone here?" he asked, suspicious.

I hesitated.
"Paul."

Jake's expression shifted from surprise to something bitter.
"Oh."

He kicked at the dirt. "Yeah. He doesn't talk to me anymore."

I softened.
"You miss him?"

Jake shrugged, but the hurt was obvious.
"Sam pulled him in. Pulled all of them in. They don't tell me shit. One day we're friends, next day they're all a bunch of—you know what? Whatever."

"Jake..."

"No, it's fine." He forced a smile. "Tell me about school. Distract me."

So I did.

We went inside, talking about Bella, Lauren's pettiness, Mike's awkward flirting attempts, Jessica's energy, and everything in between.

But even as Jake joked around and the house filled with familiarity again, part of my mind drifted back to Paul.

To the way he looked at me.
To the strange warmth in his eyes.
To the quiet confidence in his voice.
To the spark under my ribs when he said my name.

A soft, buzzing tingle lingered long after he left.

I told myself it was nothing.

But deep down, I knew it wasn't.

Chapter Text

Bella and I didn't share first period, but we walked to the parking lot together like we'd been doing it for years. She got into her truck; I got into my car.

She smiled a little through the open window.
"See you in English?"

"Yep. And don't let Jessica talk you into sitting with her cult again."

Bella snorted. "I think they sacrificed a freshman yesterday."

"Wouldn't surprise me."

We drove off in different directions, her truck roaring and my car humming smoothly thanks to Jake's mechanical magic.

By midweek, the gossip about the Cullens had calmed down. They were back—quiet, graceful, a little too perfect—but back.

I noticed Edward in the hallway before Bella did.

He stopped mid-step when he saw her, gripping a locker like he needed it to stay upright. Bella blinked at him, confused.

He didn't approach.
Didn't speak.
Just stared for a heartbeat too long.

Bella's face flushed pink.
He hesitated—then walked away fast.

"Wow," Angela whispered beside me. "He's... intense."

I hummed. "Yeah. Doesn't blink much either."

Bella looked down, chewing her lip. "Do you think he hates me?"

"Hate is a strong word," I said. "He probably just... has allergies."

Angela giggled.
Bella did not.

"Bella," I said more softly, "if he had a problem with you, he'd say something. I promise."

She nodded, still unconvinced.

We moved on.

Bella wanted to look at the reading list, so we went to the small library. I skimmed the shelves for anything worth my brain cells.

Jessica found us there.

And unfortunately... so did Lauren and Kayla.

Lauren leaned against a shelf, arms crossed. "Oh look. The new girl and her bodyguard."

Kayla tsked. "Cute. They match."

Bella stiffened. I straightened.

"Lauren," I said calmly, "this is a library. Try whispering your insecurities."

Angela snorted so hard she had to pretend it was a cough.

Lauren's jaw clenched. "You think you're clever?"

"No," I said pleasantly. "I know I am."

Kayla gave Bella a once-over. "Maybe she should stick to Phoenix. She doesn't fit here."

"Phoenix is lucky to have her," I shot back. "And Forks doesn't have to be blessed by your approval."

Bella touched my sleeve—not pulling me back, just grounding herself.
I exhaled slowly and let Lauren walk off with her little shadow.

Angela whispered, "That was... impressive."

Bella whispered, "Thank you."

I bumped her arm gently. "Hey. I've got you."

Bella followed me to my car, the afternoon clouds hanging low overhead.

"Lena," she said quietly, "can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Did it look like Edward... smelled something bad when he saw me earlier?"

I blinked.
Very specific.

"Weird analogy," I said. "But no. He looked more... startled. Like he wasn't expecting you."

Bella's shoulders sagged. "I don't get it."

"You don't have to," I said honestly. "People are confusing. Pretty people? Even more."

Bella laughed under her breath. "You're not wrong."

She climbed into her truck, visibly thoughtful.

I lingered for a moment before starting my own car.

Something was moving beneath the surface of this week—quietly, slowly—but I couldn't name it. Yet.

Bella and I stopped by a little convenience store just outside Forks on our way home. She needed notebooks; I needed snacks. And maybe a break from teenagers.

Bella compared notebooks like she was defusing a bomb.

"I want blue," she said, "but not too blue."

"Bella, it's a notebook. Not a soulmate."

"Well—"

"Don't finish that sentence."

She giggled, and we headed back to the car.

"I'll follow you home," I told her, and she nodded, starting her truck.

I drove behind her through the long, winding road toward the reservation turnoff.

And then...

I saw him.

Standing at the side of the road, leaning against a tree like he owned the entire forest.

Paul Lahote.

Arms crossed.
Jaw set.
Eyes locked directly on my car.

Bella drove right past him without noticing.
I slowed down.

Paul pushed off the tree as I rolled closer.

Was he waiting for me?

It sure looked like it.

I pulled over because—of course I did, apparently—and lowered my window.

"Are you... okay?" I asked, arching a brow.

"Fine," he said. "Just thought I might see you today."

Heat crept up my neck. "Do you always appear dramatically on the side of the road?"

"Only for certain people."

My stomach flipped.
Nope.
Not dealing with that.

"So..." I said, clearing my throat, "is Jake around?"

"He's busy," Paul said, jaw tightening. "Sam needed him."

That changed Jake's mood lately—Sam pulling everyone away.

"You don't talk to Jake anymore, huh?" I said, gently but directly.

He looked away for the first time. "It's complicated."

"You could uncomplicate it," I said softly.

His eyes met mine again—sharp, burning, too aware.

"I'm not allowed," he said before catching himself. "I mean—I can't. Not now."

Not allowed?
Weird phrasing.

"You okay?" I asked again.

He stared at me like the question meant more than I thought.

Then he exhaled, slow.
"I shouldn't be here," he muttered.

"You said that last time."

"And it was true last time too."

He took a single step back from my window.

"But I couldn't stay away today," he admitted—quiet, raw, almost pained.

My pulse jumped violently.

I had no idea what to say.

Before I could try, he backed away another step.

"Drive safe, Lena."

Then he disappeared into the trees—quicker than someone that tall should be able to move.

I sat there gripping the steering wheel, heart racing way too fast for someone who had only exchanged twenty sentences with a guy.

A soft electric tingle rolled through my skin.

Not fear.
Not exactly excitement either.

Something in between.
Something I didn't have a name for yet.

Chapter Text

Jake wouldn't stop texting me.

Jake: Party tonight at La Push. Bonfire. Food. Music. Come.
Jake: And bring Bella.
Jake: Please. She needs friends who aren't cafeteria weirdos.
Jake: Seriously Lena answer me before I fake a family emergency and show up at your house.

I stared at my phone, then at Bella, queuing up some music on my laptop while we pretended to do homework.

"Jake wants us at a bonfire tonight," I said.

Bella looked up, wary. "Bonfire as in... a lot of people?"

"Yes."

"In public?"

"Also yes."

"In the cold?"

I sighed. "Bella, it's on the beach. There's food. And fire. And Jake will cry if you say no."

She hesitated. I softened my tone.

"You don't have to talk to everyone," I said. "Just hang out, eat something, let Jake show off. I'll be with you the whole time."

Her shoulders relaxed a little.
"Okay," she said quietly. "We'll go."

I texted Jake back.

Me: We're in. Don't embarrass me.
Jake: No promises.

I wasn't one of those people who got ready for hours, but I liked feeling put together. It helped with... everything.

I changed into wide-leg black jeans, a gray hoodie, and my black cropped jacket. Sneakers, silver hoops, hair pulled into a sleek bun.

Bella watched me from her bed, lacing up her old sneakers.

"You look cool," she said.

"You look comfortable," I replied. "Which is vital for surviving social events."

She rolled her eyes but smiled.

"You sure I won't be... in the way?" she asked, voice softer.

"Bella," I said, zipping my jacket, "Jake begged for you to come. You're basically the guest of honor."

She blushed at that and grabbed her jacket.

We told Charlie where we were going (he pretended not to be thrilled about us driving at night but didn't stop us), then took our cars—her truck, my car—following the familiar road toward La Push.

The beach was already lit up when we arrived.

Huge bonfire in the center.
Tables lined with food.
People laughing, music playing from a portable speaker someone had set up.

It felt... alive.

Jake spotted us immediately and jogged over, hair a little messy and grin too wide.

"You came!" he said, like he hadn't spammed my phone all afternoon.

"Of course," Bella said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Would've been here sooner," I added, "but Bella needed a full psychological evaluation first."

Bella elbowed me lightly. "Lena."

Jake laughed. "Come on, I saved you seats."

He led us closer to the fire, where Embry and Quil were arguing about something that sounded like the plot of a really bad action movie.

"Lena! Swan!" Quil called. "Bella! Hey!"

Embry added, "You picked a good night. The food's actually edible."

"High praise," I said.

We sat on driftwood logs, the heat of the flames chasing away the chill. Bella relaxed gradually, shoulders dropping, listening more than talking but clearly trying.

Jake hovered near her just enough to be obvious. I caught his look once—soft, almost shy—and bit back a smile.

Oh, he's gone.

I felt him before I saw him.

A strange awareness. A prickle along the back of my neck.

When I glanced up, there he was—across the fire, talking with a group of older guys. Laughing at something Jared said, shoulder bumping Sam's like they'd done this a thousand times.

Paul looked... at home here.
Confident.
Grounded.
Too good at pretending I didn't exist.

I tried not to stare.

He noticed anyway.

Our eyes met across the fire.
The noise around me dimmed for a second.
His gaze swept down my outfit, lingering, then climbed back to my face.

Something sparked behind his eyes, hot and sharp.

I swallowed and looked away first, annoyed with myself.

"Lena." Bella nudged me. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I said. "Smoke got in my eye."

Obviously.

A few minutes later, a girl latched herself onto Paul's arm like she'd been grown there.

Pretty, long dark hair, perfect eyeliner, tight jacket. I'd seen her around the reservation a couple of times but never up close. Tonight, she was all over him—laughing too loudly, leaning too close, brushing imaginary lint off his shirt.

"That's Kaylee," Quil muttered under his breath, following my line of sight. "She's been after Paul for, like, ever."

"She his girlfriend?" I asked, aiming for casual.

Quil snorted. "He doesn't do girlfriends. She just refuses to read the signs."

I didn't reply. Didn't need to.

But my stomach did something weird when she tugged at his hoodie, and he let her—for a second.

I turned my attention deliberately back to the fire.
He could do whatever he wanted.
Not my problem.

"Hey," Jake said, suddenly too loud, "want something to eat? The hot dogs are actually good tonight."

"Sure," I said, forcing a smile. "Bella?"

She nodded, and we walked toward the food table, Jake rambling about which aunt's potato salad could kill you.

I was mid-eye roll when I heard it.

"Lena."

I turned.

Paul stood a few steps away, hands in his pockets, Kaylee nowhere in sight—like she'd dissolved into the shadows.

Up close, under the firelight, he looked less polished and more... real. A little tired. A lot intense.

"Hi," I said, staying where I was.

Jake stiffened beside me. His expression shuttered in an instant.

"Well," he said, "I'm gonna go help Embry not burn the beach down."

He left before I could stop him.

I sighed. "Subtle."

Paul watched him go, jaw flexing once, then looked back at me.

"You look good," he said simply.

Heat climbed up my neck. "You say that to all the girls you meet on roadsides and beaches?"

His mouth twitched. "Just one."

I hated that my heart reacted to that.

"Thought you were avoiding me," I said, picking up a paper plate because I needed something to do with my hands.

"Not on purpose," he replied.

"Really? Because it felt pretty on purpose."

He exhaled slowly, looking away for a second like he was choosing his words carefully.

"Some things are... complicated," he said.

"And your shadow?" I asked before I could stop myself.

Something dark flashed across his face—annoyance, not at me.

"She's not my anything," he said. "She just doesn't listen."

"Maybe you're sending mixed signals," I suggested lightly.

He stepped closer, close enough that I could see the different shades of brown in his eyes.

"I'm not sending anything to her," he said. "Trust me."

The way he said it made my chest tighten.

I looked away first, pretending to inspect the food on the table. "So, do you come to these things a lot?"

"Bonfires?" He shrugged. "Yeah. It's a pack thing."

"A what?"

"Group," he corrected quickly. "I meant group."

Weird...

He shifted, suddenly looking... unsure. It didn't fit him.

"You like it here?" he asked.

"La Push?"

He nodded.

"Yeah," I said honestly. "It feels... real. Messy. Loud. Alive."

He watched me like my answer mattered.

"That's good," he murmured.

A voice cut through the noise.
"Paul! Come help with the wood!"

Sam, waving from the pile of logs.

Paul's shoulders tensed. He didn't look away from me.

"I'll be back," he said quietly.

"You don't have to—"

"I will," he insisted.

And then he went, muscles coiled tight, irritation rolling off him like heat.

I found Bella sitting with Jake again, closer to the shore now. The firelight painted their faces golden.

"How's it going?" I asked, dropping down beside them.

Jake grinned. "I was just telling Bella the legends."

"Ah yes," I said, "the famous 'don't make fun of the stories or my dad will disown me' speech."

Bella smiled. "They're actually... interesting."

Jake's gaze softened. "Told you."

We stayed there a while—talking, listening to the crackle of the fire, watching kids run around and older folks laugh. Bella gradually relaxed, leaning back on her hands, hair blowing slightly in the breeze.

"You glad I dragged you here?" I asked quietly.

She glanced at me. "Yeah. I am."

I nudged her shoulder. "Good."

On my way back toward the food table for something sweet, I spotted Kaylee cutting a path straight toward me.

Of course.

She stopped just a little too close.

"So," she said, voice sugary, "you're the Swan girl everyone's talking about."

"One of them," I answered. "There are two of us. We're like a limited edition pack."

She didn't laugh.

"You should know," she continued, twirling a strand of hair, "Paul has... history. He gets bored easily."

Jealousy. Clear as glass.

I raised a brow. "Thanks for the warning, but Paul and I are just talking."

"For now," she said. "Just don't expect anything."

"I don't," I replied. And that was true. I didn't even know what this was.

She gave me one last tight smile and walked off, immediately gravitating toward Paul, who had just put another log on the fire.

He looked annoyed when she grabbed his arm.
Then his eyes slid past her and found me.

Our gazes locked.
The corner of his mouth lifted, barely.

Kaylee's practiced smile suddenly looked smaller.

I turned away before I could decide what that meant.

The bonfire burned low as people started packing up. Kids were carried half-asleep to cars. The older guys joked and argued about who would clean up.

Bella yawned and stood, brushing sand from her jeans.

"Ready to go?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said. "Long day."

Jake walked us to the cars, dragging out his goodbye with Bella just enough to be obvious. When he hugged me, he whispered:

"Thanks for bringing her. And you know... existing."

"You're welcome," I smiled. "Try not to set anything on fire after we leave."

"No promises."

As I turned toward my car, I felt it again—that pull.

Paul stood a few meters away, hands in his pockets, watching me with that same serious intensity.

He didn't say anything.

Neither did I.

We just... looked at each other for a moment.

Then I lifted a hand in a small wave.

He nodded once in return.

When I got into my car and closed the door, my hands were trembling just a bit on the steering wheel.

The drive back to Forks was quiet. Bella's truck rumbled ahead of me, a steady guide.

Under my ribs, the familiar tickling grew stronger—like the echo of the fire still burning somewhere inside me.

I told myself it was just the night.
The music.
The warmth.
The attention.

But deep down, I knew it was him.

And whatever this was, it was only getting started.

Chapter Text

P.E

Coach Wilson decided that today was the "perfect time" for a 400-meter time trial, something none of us asked for.

"Lena! You're up with the second group!"

I groaned internally but nodded.

Mike cracked his knuckles like he was entering the Olympics.
Eric and Connor were already arguing about who had the "better stride."

Bella sat in the bleachers with Angela, watching with her notebook in her lap.

"Did you know Lena runs?" I heard her ask.

Angela smiled. "She looks like she's good at it."

I hid a grin.

We lined up.
The whistle blew.
And everything inside me clicked into place.

Ground.
Breath.
Speed.

My body remembered—how to push forward, how to angle my arms, how to use my muscles properly. I passed the boys one by one, my steps light and controlled until I crossed the finish line far ahead.

"What—" Connor gasped.
"Dude, she's a machine," Eric whispered.
Mike bent over his knees, dying.

Coach looked at me like I'd grown wings.

"You ever think about track again, Swan? You've got talent."

I shrugged, breath steady. "Maybe."

Bella gave me a two-thumbs-up, half impressed, half embarrassed for her cousin.

It was nice.
Normal.
Human.

But normal never lasted long around here.

Bella arrived late again.

She sat across from me with pink cheeks and an expression that said something happened.

Jessica swooped in immediately.

"SO? Did you talk to him again?"

Bella looked down at her food. "Edward. He... just asked how my day was going."

Angela smiled. Jessica squealed. Mike frowned into his sandwich.

I watched Bella.

When the Cullens stood up to leave, Bella's eyes followed them unconsciously.

She didn't notice me noticing.

I looked away, giving her space she didn't know she was taking.

When classes ended, a faint pressure bloomed behind my temple.

Not painful—just there. Persistent.

I rubbed my forehead lightly.
Probably dehydration. Or stress.

Running would fix it.

It always did.

I chose the woods this time.

The trees muffled the world; the ground softened each step.
I ran until my breath fell into rhythm, until my thoughts quieted.

I slowed near a clearing, leaning forward to catch my breath—

And froze.

That feeling.

Electric.
Warm.
Familiar.

Like someone's presence brushing the back of my neck.

I straightened.

Paul stood at the far end of the clearing, half in shadow, half lit by the pale afternoon sun.
His expression unreadable.
His chest rising and falling like he'd been running too—but not for sport.

"And what are you doing out here?" I asked, panting lightly.

He didn't answer immediately. His jaw twitched once, like he was fighting with himself.

"I was... walking."

Walking.
Right.

"Shouldn't you be doing that somewhere else?" I teased.

His eyes sharpened. "Why? My being here bother you?"

"No," I said honestly. "Just surprised you're in the woods at the exact same time as me."

He stepped closer.

Too close.

His presence hit like a wave—heat rolling off him in a way that wasn't normal.
A warmth that sank beneath my skin, settling somewhere deep in my stomach.

"You shouldn't run alone," he said.

"Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"Because it's dangerous."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting."

The air between us thickened.
His breathing was heavier than it should have been, like something inside him was pulling in two different directions.

He scanned my face—my flushed cheeks, my hair loose from my bun, the sweat on my collarbone.

His gaze darkened.

And then—

The toe of my shoe caught on a root I hadn't seen.
I stumbled—

He reached me in a blink.

His hand wrapped around my wrist to steady me.

And God—he was burning.

Not warm.
Not feverish.
Burning.

My breath hitched.

His eyes widened.
He felt it too.

He didn't let go.

"Careful," he said, voice low, strained.

I should've pulled back.
But I didn't.
My wrist tingled warmly beneath his fingers, spreading up my arm, into my chest.

He exhaled slowly, like he was fighting every instinct he had.

Then—too abruptly—he dropped my wrist and stepped back.

His hands curled into fists at his sides.
His jaw clenched.

"I shouldn't..." he muttered, eyes flicking away. "I shouldn't be here."

"Then why are you?"

He didn't answer.

"I need to go," he said, voice tight, almost pained.

"Paul—"

He was already retreating into the trees, every step looking like it cost him something.

I watched until he vanished.

Only then did I notice my wrist still felt warm.
My chest too.
A strange, pleasant pull where his touch had been.

And the slight ache behind my temple sharpened the instant he was gone.

Like absence had weight.

Later that night, Jake called.

"You were running in the woods today," he said flatly.

"Yeah."

"And Paul was there."

"...Yeah."

He inhaled sharply. "Lena, you need to stay away from him."

"He didn't do anything."

"That's exactly why it scares me."
Jake hesitated, voice filled with something like hurt.
"Paul used to be my friend. Now he's—different. Angry. Weird. Not himself."

I touched my wrist unconsciously.
"Jake, I'm fine."

"Promise me you'll be careful."

I didn't promise.

We both knew I couldn't.

Lying in bed, the headache returned—soft, steady, the same dull throb that had appeared earlier.

I pressed my fingers to my temple.

Why did it feel worse when I thought about him leaving?

I looked at my wrist.
Still warm.
Almost throbbing with memory.

It didn't make sense.

None of it did.

But one thing was clear:

Being near Paul calmed something in me I didn't know was restless.
And being far from him made something inside me ache in ways I didn't understand.

I didn't know what he was hiding.
I didn't know what he was feeling.
I didn't know why he watched me like that fire inside him might consume us both.

Chapter Text

Bella spent the entire morning trailing after me like a lost puppy.

"Please, Lena. PLEASE come with us to Port Angeles."

"No."

"Lena—"

"No."

She clasped her hands dramatically. "Just a few hours. Jessica and Angela want to look for prom dresses."

"That sounds like a personal problem," I said, turning a page in my notebook.

Bella groaned. "I also want to stop at the bookstore. There's something I... need."

I narrowed my eyes. "What book?"

"It's not important."

"So shady."

"Lena."

I exhaled. "Fine. You win. But only because you'll cry if I say no again."

She didn't deny it.

Jessica and Angela were buzzing with excitement, debating colors, heels, fabric.

Bella stared out the window, unusually quiet.

"You okay?" I nudged her.

"Fine. Just... thinking."

About Edward. Obviously.

I didn't comment.

Jessica immediately dragged Bella toward a rack of pastel dresses.

Bella made a horrified noise.
Angela laughed softly.

I wandered the store, people-watching, occasionally rescuing Bella from Jessica's fashion disasters.

But Bella kept checking the time.
Restless.
Distracted.

The moment Jessica found a dress she loved, Bella grabbed my sleeve.

"Library. Now."

It was dim, the smell of old paper thick in the air.

Bella went straight to a corner shelf, scanning titles with trembling fingers.

"Are you going to tell me what you're looking for?" I asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to."

I stepped closer and glanced over her shoulder.

My stomach tightened.

Books on myths.
Legends.
Creatures.

Vampire folklore.

Oh hell no.

"Bella," I whispered, "this is weird."

She clutched the book to her chest. "I just want answers."

"About what, exactly?"

She didn't answer.

I didn't push.
But suspicion twisted in my gut.

We left the bookstore and took a wrong turn looking for Jessica and Angela.

A group of men lingered at the end of the street. Their voices sharp, mocking, cutting through the quiet.

Bella stiffened.

"Come on," I said softly. "We're going the other way."

But they spread out.
Cornering us.

"Where you girls going?" one asked, stepping closer.

"Anywhere but here," I retorted.

Another whistled. "Feisty one."

Bella trembled behind me.

One man reached for her.

I shoved him hard.
"Don't touch her."

Two grabbed my arms.
Bella screamed.
Someone hit me across the cheek—sharp, blinding pain.

I stumbled but didn't fall.

My elbow drove into a stomach.
My fist cracked against a nose—blood spraying warm across my knuckles.

"LENA!" Bella sobbed.

I grabbed her wrist, ready to run—

Headlights exploded across the pavement.

A silver Volvo swung into the street.

Edward Cullen stepped out like a storm wearing human skin.

"Get in the car," he said, voice razor-edged.

No hesitation—Bella collapsed into him, shaking.
I followed her into the backseat.

Edward slammed the door so hard the whole car shuddered.

His hands gripped the wheel, knuckles white, jaw clenched, chest barely moving.

The air thickened—like he was fighting something monstrous inside himself.

Bella sobbed into her hands.

Edward's voice trembled when he finally spoke:

"I read their minds."

Bella whimpered.

Edward's teeth pressed together, fury shaking every syllable.

"They weren't thinking anything good. Not about you. Not about Lena. Nothing good at ALL."

The temperature dropped in the car.
His control was unraveling.

I put a hand on Bella's back.
"Hey. You're safe now. I've got you."

Edward's eyes flicked to me through the rearview mirror—dark, terrified, and furious all at once.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I should've been sooner."

His voice cracked—barely.

He parked outside the restaurant where Jessica and Angela were supposed to be waiting.

Bella took a deep, shaky breath.
"Just... walk me in?"

"I will," I said softly.

But when I opened the door—

A wave of heat slammed into me.

Heat, tension... and fury.

I turned.

Paul stood directly in front of Edward's car.

Not across the street.
Not waiting casually.

Right there.
In our path.

His entire body shook.

His eyes zeroed in on my bruised cheek.

His chest heaved.
His fists clenched so hard his knuckles blanched.

Edward tensed immediately, stepping half in front of Bella.

Their eyes met—

Paul growled—low, barely audible, but the pavement seemed to vibrate.

"Who," he breathed, "did that to her?"

My heart lodged in my throat.

Jessica and Angela appeared at the door, taking one look at the scene and freezing.

"Go inside," Bella whispered to them, trembling. "Please."

They scurried away.

I stepped toward him carefully.

"Paul—"

He shook, every muscle in his body fighting itself.

"I should go after them."
His voice was raw.
"I should tear them apart for touching you."

"Paul."
I reached up and gently touched his forearm.

It was like touching fire.

He inhaled sharply—
and instantly stilled.

The shaking stopped.
His breathing steadied.
His eyes fluttered shut for a split second.

Edward stiffened at the realization.
Bella clutched his arm.

Paul opened his eyes.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, voice trembling.

"It looks worse than it is," I said.

He stepped closer, scanning me, rage barely caged under his skin.

"You shouldn't have been alone. You shouldn't—"

"I wasn't alone," I cut in. "I had Bella. And Edward helped us."

Paul's glare flicked to Edward.

Edward's jaw tightened.

"Paul," I whispered, touching his arm again.

"Calm down."

He exhaled shakily.

And he did.
Not completely.
But enough.

Just enough.

"You scared me," he admitted quietly.

The words looked painful coming out.
"Something felt wrong. I just—"
He shook his head.
"I needed to get to you."

My chest tightened.

I didn't understand everything.

But I understood that.

Paul backed up one step—still shaking—and jerked his head toward the street.

"Come on," he said.
"No arguments."

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Someplace safe."

Edward stepped forward. "She—"

Paul's head snapped toward him.
Edward stopped speaking.

I swallowed and nodded.

Paul walked me to the motorcycle, grabbed the spare helmet, and gently—
so gently—
placed it on my head.

Then he put his hands on my waist—warm, grounding, electric—and lifted me onto the bike.

"Hold on," he said, voice low.

I wrapped my arms around him.

His entire body exhaled.

The engine roared.

And the world blurred as he tore us away from Port Angeles.

Chapter Text

The motorcycle ride back to La Push was nothing like the one from Port Angeles to Forks earlier that month.

This time, I was bruised.
Shaken.
And wrapped entirely around Paul.

Heat poured off him in waves, radiating through my arms, my chest, my legs where they pressed against the bike.
No jacket in the world could’ve hidden it.

I could feel his heartbeat through his back.

Fast.
Hard.
Pounding like he was still fighting the urge to turn around and tear those men apart.

I pressed my helmet against his shoulder, trying to steady my breathing. His scent hit me instantly—cedar, warm earth, a hint of smoke. Comforting in a way that made no sense.

The wind whipped around us, cold.
But pressed against Paul, I felt nothing but heat.

Too much heat.

Every instinct in me should’ve been telling me to pull back.

Instead, I held him tighter.

His hand slipped from the handlebar for a second—just a second—to touch my arm.
A small, grounding squeeze.

Then he pulled his hand back, gripping the bike again.

Paul slowed as we entered La Push, turning down a narrower road lined with pine trees.
Finally, he stopped in front of a small, single-story house.

The porch light was off.
The curtains closed.
It looked… quiet.
Lived in.
But lonely.

“This is your place?” I asked, climbing off the bike.

He nodded, looking almost self-conscious. “Yeah. Been here a while.”

Inside, it was exactly what I expected:

Minimal.
Clean.
Masculine colors, dark wood, gray and black fabrics.
A couch, a TV, a dining table.
A few tools scattered near the counter.
A single framed photo of him with a group of boys—Jacob, Embry, Quil, a younger Sam.

Nothing else.

“Sorry it’s… not much,” he muttered.

“It’s nice,” I said softly.

He looked away, embarrassed.

He motioned to the dining table.
“Sit.”

I did.

He disappeared into the kitchen and returned with ice wrapped in a towel and a small first-aid kit.

His fingers brushed my chin as he angled my face toward the light.

My breath caught.

He froze, too—as if the contact shocked him.

Then he swallowed hard and pressed the ice gently to my cheek.

The cold stung, but his touch made my skin heat under the surface.

“Did you hit him hard?” Paul murmured.

“I broke his nose.”

A tiny smirk ghosted over his lips. “Good.”

Silence settled between us.

He dabbed gently at a small cut on my cheekbone.

I winced.

“Sorry,” he said—quietly, sincerely.

“You’re being gentle,” I murmured.

“I’m trying.”
His voice cracked slightly.
Then steadied.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Something twisted inside my chest.

When he finished with the ice, I leaned back and studied him.

His arms were tense.
His jaw tight.
His eyes avoiding mine like he was afraid of what I’d see.

“Paul… do you live here alone?” I asked.

He hesitated.

“Yeah.”

“For how long?”

“A couple years. Before that, I stayed with Sam sometimes. With Embry. With whoever would let me crash.”

“And your family?”

His entire body stiffened.

I immediately regretted asking.

“You don’t have to tell me,” I said softly.

“No. It’s fine.”
But his voice was strained.

He set the ice aside, rubbed the back of his neck.

“My dad… wasn’t really a dad. Drank too much. Yelled more. Hit worse.”
A bitter laugh.
“And my mom? She left when I was a kid. Haven’t seen her since.”

My stomach dropped.

“Paul…”

“Don’t.” He shook his head sharply. “It’s whatever. I’m used to it.”

But he wasn’t.

Not really.

He looked away, fists tightening once before he forced them to relax.

“What about you?” he asked, eyes flicking back to mine. “Your parents?”

“My mom left when I was a baby,” I said quietly. “My dad… he was great. And then he died. So now it’s just me, Bells and Charlie.”

His expression softened in a way I’d never seen.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “That must’ve been hard.”

I nodded, throat tight. “Still is sometimes.”

He exhaled slowly.

For the first time, we weren’t teasing, fighting, or pretending.
We were just… two people with scars they didn’t talk about.

He took the ice away from my cheek, setting it aside slowly.

Too slowly.

I became aware of how close he was.
How his knees brushed mine beneath the table.
How his breath warmed my face.
How his hand hovered near my jaw like he wasn’t sure whether to touch me again.

He stared at my lips.

Not subtle.
Not accidental.

My heart hammered.
Heat rushed through me so fast it stole my breath.

“Paul…” I whispered.

He leaned in.

Just enough for our breaths to mix.
Just enough for the world to stop.
Just enough for every nerve in my body to scream yes.

His eyes dropped to my mouth again.

I swore he was going to kiss me.

And then—

He jerked back like something burned him.

“No,” he muttered—too sharp, too raw. “I can’t.”

He stood abruptly, nearly knocking the chair.

I blinked, stunned. “What…?”

He shook his head, pacing once like a caged animal.

“I shouldn’t have brought you here.”
His voice shook.
“I can’t— I don’t— It’s not—”

He cut himself off, fists clenched.

Then he grabbed his keys.

“I’m taking you home.”

“Paul—”

“Now.”

The word hit like a slammed door.

He barely said a word as he helped me onto the motorcycle again—gentler this time, but distant.

The ride was tense.

Silent.

My fingers tightened around his jacket, but his body was rigid beneath me, like he was forcing himself not to turn around, not to touch me, not to feel.

He dropped me off at Charlie’s driveway.

Didn’t take off his helmet.
Didn’t look at me.

Just said, voice flat and rough:

“Get inside safe.”

Then he sped off into the night without letting me answer.

I stood frozen in the driveway, the engine noise fading into the darkness.

My cheek throbbed.
My chest felt heavy.
And my whole body buzzed with frustration and confusion.

What the hell had just happened?

Why did he pull away?
Why did he panic?
Why did I care this much?

I went inside, closed the door gently behind me, and leaned against it, pressing my fingers to my lips.

He had almost kissed me.

And I had wanted him to.

Badly.

Now all I felt was heat, confusion…
And anger.

At him.
At myself.
At whatever this was becoming.

Chapter Text

Paul’s POV

I left Lena’s driveway like a goddamn storm.

Didn’t even look back.

Couldn’t.

If I had, I might’ve turned around. I might’ve said something stupid.
I might’ve kissed her like I wanted to.

My hands were shaking around the handlebars. My chest felt too tight. My skin buzzed with heat—the kind that came before a phase.

I didn’t calm down when I got home.
Didn’t breathe right.
Didn’t think right.

I nearly tore the doorknob off going inside.

I shouldn’t have brought her here.
I shouldn’t have touched her waist.
I shouldn’t have let her sit at my table.
I shouldn’t have heard her voice soften when she said my name.

And I definitely shouldn’t have almost kissed her.

“Idiot,” I snarled, pacing. “Weak. What the hell is wrong with you?”

But I knew what was wrong.

Imprinting.

The ancient curse I never believed in. The thing I mocked Jared about. The thing I swore I’d never fall for.

Well. Joke’s on me.

I punched the kitchen counter. The wood cracked.

A knock came—firm, unforgiving.

Sam.

Perfect.

He let himself in without waiting. “You almost shifted tonight.”

“No shit?”

His eyes hardened, but his voice stayed annoyingly calm. “Paul, listen to me—this is serious. You were seconds away from phasing in front of humans.”

“Then they shouldn’t have touched her.”

The temperature spiked around me. Sam noticed.

“You cannot lose control like that.”

“Don’t lecture me.”

“Oh, I’ll lecture you,” he said. “You’re acting like this imprint is something you can fight. It isn’t.”

I laughed bitterly. “Watch me.”

Sam stepped closer, shoulders squared in full Alpha mode.

“You try to run from this bond, and it will hurt you.”

“I don’t care.”

“It will hurt her too.”

My blood went cold.

Sam continued, voice low and firm:

“The imprint connects you. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. If you try to break it or fight it, the bond snaps back. Hard. Painful. For both of you.”

My breath caught.
A weird, sharp panic punched through my chest.

Sam pressed on:

“You ignore her long enough? You’ll get sick. Pain, migraines, anger, instability. And she’ll feel it too—confusion, emotional strain, physical discomfort.”

I swallowed hard.
Lena had been rubbing her head earlier…

“And if you try to run away?” Sam added.

I tensed.

“You won’t make it far,” he said. “The pull will drag you back. One way or another.”

I hated that the truth in his voice sank into my bones.

“I don’t want this,” I muttered. “She’s Bella’s cousin. Bella hangs around Cullens. Vampires, Sam.”

“Don't make excuses. Lena has nothing to do with Bella's choices.”

I gritted my teeth.

“You think it cares about what you want?” he added.

“I decide my life.”

“You don’t,” Sam said softly. “Not in this.”

Silence slammed between us.

I hated him for being right.

He rested a hand on my shoulder—heavy, grounding, annoying.

“You feel everything stronger now. Love, anger, fear… desire. And the desire?” He sighed. “It belongs to her alone now.”

My throat tightened.

“You fight it,” Sam warned, “and you will break. And you will break her with you.”

I didn’t answer.

Because I was terrified to.

Sam left quietly.

I was still trying to breathe like a normal person when another knock came.
Lighter. Irritating.

I groaned. “Not tonight. Seriously.”

But Kaylee opened the door anyway, stepping inside in a tiny dress and a smug smile.

“I missed you,” she said, walking straight to me. “Heard you were back in town.”

I rubbed my face. “Kaylee, I’m not—”

She pressed her body against mine.

Usually, that did something.

Heat, interest, instinct—something.

Tonight?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

My body stayed cold.
Unmoved.
Detached.

It was like leaning against a stranger.

Hell—worse.

It felt wrong.

Kaylee slid a hand down my stomach, nails grazing lightly.

I waited for the usual reaction—the spark, the rush, the familiar heat.

But instead?

My stomach turned.

I actually felt repulsed.

She leaned up to kiss me.
Her lips touched my jaw.

And my entire body recoiled.

I stepped back so fast she stumbled.

“Paul?” she laughed awkwardly. “What’s going on with you? You used to—”

“I know what I used to do,” I snapped. “Not anymore.”

Her expression darkened. “Is there someone else?”

My fists clenched involuntarily.

She saw it.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Kaylee spat. “That Swan girl. The pretty one you’ve been staring at lately. The one everyone says you—”

“Get out.”

“Paul—”

“I SAID GET OUT!”

My voice cracked like thunder.

Kaylee froze, eyes wide.

Then she scrambled for the door and ran out, slamming it behind her.

Silence crashed down again.

My breathing was ragged.
Heat rolled off me in waves.
Every cell in my body was buzzing with one message:

She isn’t Lena.
She will never be Lena.
No one will ever be Lena.

I pressed both hands to the counter, bowing my head.

“I’m so screwed,” I whispered.

Not angry this time.

Just scared.

Really, truly scared.

Chapter Text

Lena’s POV

I woke up with a headache.
Again.
A slow, pulsing throb behind my temple that made me want to bury myself under my blankets and ignore everything—including the memory of Paul practically dragging me away on his motorcycle and then shutting me down like I’d slapped him.
Not that I was thinking about that.
Much.
Bella knocked softly on my door. “Lena? You awake?”
“Barely,” I muttered.
She pushed the door open and slipped inside, worry written all over her face.
“You look awful,” she said.
“Good morning to you too, sunshine.”
She sat on the edge of my bed, wringing her hands. “I just wanted to check on you. After last night.”
“I’m fine,” I cut in, even though my cheek still throbbed when I spoke.
Bella hesitated. Then she inhaled deeply, bracing herself.
“Edward also said…”
Her voice lowered.
“That you should stay away from La Push. From the reservation. From Paul.”
I stared at her.
Long.
Slow.
Disbelieving.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“He’s worried,” Bella insisted. “He says Paul isn’t—safe. Not for you.”
I laughed. Sharp. Bitter. “Great. Now Edward Cullen gets a say in my social life?”
“He’s just trying to help—”
“No,” I snapped. “Tell Eddy—”
Bella winced. “Lena, don’t call him—”
“—that he doesn’t get to make choices for me. He doesn’t even know me. And I want him to stay the hell out of my business.”
Bella’s expression crumpled, hurt and conflicted.
I felt a stab of guilt.
But then the headache pulsed again, and tension crawled under my skin like static.
“I’m going to school,” I muttered, getting up. “I need… air.”
Bella didn’t push. She just nodded with tight lips and left me alone.

Concentrating in class was impossible.
The lights were too bright.
The room was too warm.
My skin felt too tight, like I was wearing the wrong size.
And every time my mind wandered—it wandered straight to him.
Paul’s jaw tightening.
Paul’s hands shaking.
Paul pulling away from me like he was afraid of himself.
Stupid.
I wasn’t going to think about him.
I wasn’t.
“Nice bruise, Swan.”
Lauren Mallory.
Human embodiment of spoiled milk.
She smirked at me from across the classroom. “Did you finally get into a fight with someone who didn’t think you were cute enough to spare?”
The class tittered.
I turned slowly in my seat.
“Lauren,” I said sweetly, “if I wanted the opinion of someone who peaked in eighth grade, I’d ask.”
A few laughs burst out.
Lauren’s smile vanished. “Do you think you'll always get your way?”
“I think you should sit down before you sprain something trying to be relevant.”
“Bitch,” she hissed.
“Better than boring.”
That did it.
She lunged forward like she was about to actually hit me.
Mr. Varner shouted, “GIRLS!” just as I stood up, ready.
But I wasn’t angry at Lauren.
I was angry at everything else.
The bruise, the headache, the confusion, the way Paul’s hands felt on my waist, the way he looked at me before he ran away like a coward.
It all boiled over.
“Office. Both of you,” Varner said.
I grabbed my things and stormed out before Lauren could smirk again.

Charlie had barely gotten home from work when Jake showed up at the door, taller than ever, filling the entire damn doorway with concern.
“Lena,” he said. “You okay?”
“Define okay.”
He winced. “Bella told me what happened. The attack. And that Paul—uh—showed up.”
Here we go.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked.
“Nop.”
He stepped inside anyway. “Cool. Then I’ll talk and you can sit there and look mad.”
I snorted despite myself. He flopped onto the couch.
“You scared me,” Jake admitted. “I heard you were hurt. And that Paul got involved.”
“Paul is not my problem,” I said quickly. Too quickly.
Jake raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, okay. Totally believable.”
I threw a pillow at him.
He caught it easily. “Whatever’s going on, I’m here. And if Paul ever scares you—”
“Jake,” I cut in, rubbing my temples, “Paul doesn’t scare me.”
“Good,” he said.
I looked up.
“Just… be careful around them, okay?” Jake murmured. “Something’s off.”
I didn’t have the energy to argue.
My head throbbed harder.
I felt restless.
Irritable.
Sick.
Like my nerves were raw and humming under my skin.
“I think I need space,” I whispered.
“From Paul?” Jake asked.
“Yes.”
No.
I didn’t know.
But I nodded anyway.
Jake squeezed my shoulder. “Probably smart.”
Probably stupid.
Probably both.
When Jake left, I sat on my bed staring at the ceiling, trying to breathe normally.
I curled into myself and whispered into the empty room:
“Whatever this is… I need it to stop.”
But something in my chest knew—
It wasn’t stopping.

Chapter Text

PAUL

I felt like shit.
Not the normal kind of shit.
Not a bad-day shit.
Not even a fight-with-Sam shit.
This was deeper.
A dragging weight behind my ribs that made breathing feel wrong.
I haven't seen Lena in days.
And it was killing me.
Literally.
My skin burned.
My muscles ached like I’d been hit by a truck.
My chest tightened every ten minutes, sharp and sudden.
The pack noticed.
They always do.
“Paul, slow down!” Jared shouted as I sprinted past them on patrol.
I didn’t slow down.
Didn’t answer.
Didn’t shift back.
I just kept running through the forest until the trees blurred into green shadows and the ground shook under my paws.
Distance was supposed to make things better.
But it only made the pain worse.
And worse.
And worse.

Around dusk, Sam blocked my path—massive, black-furred, Alpha presence filling the woods.
Enough, his voice commanded through the pack mind. Shift back. Now.
I ignored him.
I tried to run past him—
—but his Alpha voice hit me like a physical blow.
PAUL. SHIFT.
My body obeyed before I could fight it.
Suddenly I was on two feet, shaking and furious in the cold air.
“Don’t do that!” I shouted.
Sam didn’t budge. “You’re spiraling. You’re making yourself sick.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
I snarled and looked away.
Sam stepped closer. “You’re not eating. You’re not sleeping. You’re running yourself into the ground.”
Silence.
“And Lena?” he added quietly.
His tone softened just enough to cut deeper.
“She’s suffering too.”
My heart dropped.
Sam folded his arms. “Imprinting goes both ways. She feels the strain, even if she doesn’t understand it. Headaches. Anxiety. Restlessness.”
My jaw clenched so hard it hurt.
Sam’s expression sharpened. “If you continue to resist, you’ll hurt her more. And yourself. This isn’t optional, Paul. You can’t break the imprint.”
I swallowed hard.
“You need to go to her,” Sam said. “Not speak. Not reveal anything. Just… be near. Let the bond settle.”
Something inside me snapped into decision.
Without another word, I shifted again—fur exploding, paws slamming into the dirt—and sprinted toward Forks.
Sam didn’t try to stop me this time.

LENA

By third period, my head felt like it was in a vise.
By fourth, my stomach twisted.
By fifth—English with Edward Cullen—I could barely breathe.
The classroom was too loud.
Too bright.
Too warm.
My heartbeat too fast.
My chest too tight.
Edward kept glancing at me with that worried look of his.
“Lena,” he whispered, leaning slightly toward me, “are you alright?”
“Don’t,” I snapped. “I’m fine.”
He didn’t believe me.
When the teacher dimmed the lights for a presentation, something inside me snapped.
My hands shook.
My vision blurred.
A hot wave of panic washed over me.
I pushed my chair back abruptly.
“Excuse me,” I croaked, stumbling toward the door.
I barely made it into the hallway before my knees bent and I pressed my hands to the lockers, fighting for air.
A second later the door opened softly.
“Lena.”
Edward’s voice.
Of course.
“Go away,” I muttered, squeezing my eyes shut.
“I’m not leaving you like this.”
I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the floor.
My chest hurt.
My head throbbed.
Everything felt wrong.
Edward knelt beside me—not touching, but close.
“You’re having an anxiety attack,” he said gently. “Breathe with me.”
“I don’t—need—your help,” I gasped.
“I know,” he said calmly. “But Bella would kill me if I didn’t try.”
I glared at him. “You mean she’d kill you if you didn’t obey her every command?”
He actually smiled a little. “You really don’t like me, do you?”
“No. Not really.”
He huffed a soft laugh. “That’s fair.”
I sucked in shaky breaths. He continued:
“Bella means a great deal to me,” he said quietly. “More than anything else. And that makes you important too.”
“Wow,” I muttered. “Touching.”
“You’re a very difficult girl,” he said, amused.
“And you’re extremely annoying.”
“But at least you’re breathing normally again.”
I paused.
He was right.
The tightness in my chest was fading.
My headache easing.
My body… relaxing.
Why?
Edward’s expression softened knowingly—but he didn’t explain.
“Come on,” he said, standing and offering a hand. “Let’s get you to the nurse.”
“I don’t need the nurse.”
“Then I’ll just walk you to class.”
“I don’t need you to do that either.”
He smirked. “Humor me.”
We walked slowly.
In silence.
And for once, it wasn’t unbearable.
But something inside me still hurt.
A deep, dull ache I couldn’t explain.
When school finally ended, I drove home, crawled into bed, and closed my eyes—
And within minutes, something shifted.
Like a string had stopped being pulled too tight.
Like a weight had lifted.
Like a warm blanket settling over my nerves.
My headache faded.
My chest loosened.
My whole body relaxed for the first time in days.
I sighed, long and shaky—and drifted into sleep almost instantly.

PAUL

I lay hidden in the trees behind her house.
Huge.
Silver-gray.
Breathing softly in the moss.
The moment she walked in the door…
The pain eased.
My pulse slowed.
The heat under my skin cooled.
Everything inside me went quiet.
She was resting.
Finally.
And I stayed right there, unseen, guarding her house until night fell.
I didn’t move.
Didn’t sleep.
Just breathed.
Calm for the first time in days.

Chapter Text

I should’ve skipped school.
I knew it the moment I stepped onto the track for PE.
Within minutes, my lungs felt too tight, my heartbeat too fast.
Halfway through warm-ups, a sharp ache stabbed behind my eyes.
Again.
Just like yesterday.
Just like the day before.
Just like every second since I decided to stay away from—
No.
Nope.
Not thinking about him.
I forced myself to finish the warm-up laps, pretending I wasn’t about to collapse. Pretending I wasn’t dizzy. Pretending my skin wasn’t too warm.
After PE, I splashed cold water on my face in the locker room and told myself I could make it through one more class. Through lunch. Through the rest of the day.
I lied.

Bella waved at me from across the cafeteria…
from the Cullens’ table.
Of course.
I smiled and waved back, even though it felt stiff. I grabbed an empty table by the windows, unwrapping a granola bar I suddenly didn’t want.
My stomach twisted.
I ignored it.
That lasted about thirty seconds.
Lauren Mallory’s voice floated from two tables away, loud on purpose.
“So,” she said dramatically, “you will NOT believe who I saw leaving Brett’s party last night.”
Her friend leaned in. “Who?”
“Paul Lahote.”
My heart dropped into my stomach.
Lauren smirked, savoring the attention. “And you KNOW how Paul is. I swear, he was all over me two nights ago, too. Right after school. He’s such a freak.”
Laughter.
Whispers.
A knife twisting under my ribs.
I kept my eyes down on my lunch tray.
Lauren continued, louder, making sure I heard, “He must REALLY like Forks girls. Especially the easy ones.”
Her friend giggled.
My hands curled into fists.
I forced my expression into something neutral. Something bored. Something unbothered.
But the pain behind my eyes grew sharper, and my stomach churned violently.
The bell finally rang.
I stood so fast my chair scraped loudly across the floor. Heads turned.
I barely made it to the bathroom before I threw up.

The cold tile felt good under my hands as I leaned over the sink, breathing hard.
I rinsed my mouth, splashed water on my face, and tried to calm down.
But the nausea rolled through me again.
The ache—
the pressure—
the wrongness—
It was getting worse.
I gripped the sink harder until the chill of the porcelain grounded me.
You’re fine.
Just breathe.
Just calm down.

When I finally opened the bathroom door, he was standing there.
Eddy...
Arms crossed.
Bottle of water in hand.
Like he’d known I’d be sick.
Like he’d been waiting for me.
He extended the bottle. “You should drink.”
I blinked, surprised. “Thanks.”
I took it, sipping carefully. My stomach settled slightly.
Edward’s eyes stayed on me—too knowing, too sharp.
“You’re not well,” he said.
“No shit.”
He sighed. “Lena… you need to stay away from the reservation. From Paul. He’s dangerous. You don’t know what he is capable—”
I lifted a hand sharply.
“Stop.”
Edward froze.
“Do me a favor,” I said tightly, “and stop talking about Paul. Stop warning me. Stop acting like you get a say. You don’t.”
He frowned, but I wasn’t done.
“I already distanced myself,” I said. “And guess what? I feel WORSE. So if this is supposed to help, it’s failing.”
Edward’s expression flickered with something like guilt.
“Lena… I can’t explain everything. But trust me—”
“I don’t trust you.”
He blinked.
I stepped closer, lowering my voice.
“And don’t treat me like I’m stupid,” I hissed. “I know something weird is going on with you. All of you.”
His jaw tightened.
“You sit there reading people like newspapers. Bella buys a book about legends and monsters and suddenly things start adding up. You disappear, you reappear, you move like—"
“Lena—”
“So don’t pretend nothing’s wrong,” I snapped. “I’m not blind. Or stupid.”
Edward inhaled silently, frustration etched across his face.
“You don’t understand the danger—”
“No,” I said sharply. “I think YOU don’t understand that you don’t get to control my life.”
He looked honestly speechless.
“Edward?”
Bella’s voice drifted down the hallway.
She rounded the corner, eyes widening at the tension.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Edward said quickly. “Lena wasn’t feeling well.”
“Again?” Bella asked softly, stepping toward me. “Do you want me to drive you home?”
“No,” I said. “I’ll go myself.”
Bella looked between us, suspicious.
Edward touched her arm gently. “We should get to class.”
Bella hesitated but nodded.
“You’ll call me later?” she asked me.
“Yeah. Sure.”
I walked past them before either could say another word.

Chapter Text

The fever hit me sometime after noon.
At first it was just heat—too much of it—rolling under my skin like I’d been standing too close to a fire. Then came the dizziness. The ache behind my eyes sharpened until every sound felt too loud.
I ignored it.
I was getting really good at that.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Paul: Can we talk? Please.
I stared at the screen longer than I should have.
Another vibration.
Paul is calling…
My chest tightened instantly.
I didn’t answer.
The ringing stopped.
A second later, another text.
Paul: I know you’re not okay. Let me help.
My fingers trembled as I locked the phone and shoved it face-down under the pillow.
No.
If I let him in again, I wasn’t sure I’d survive him leaving a second time.
I grabbed my jacket and keys.
I needed air.
I needed something normal.
I drove straight to La Push.

Jacob answered the door shirtless, as usual—but something about him made me stop short.
He was… bigger.
Not just taller. Broader. His shoulders filled the doorway, muscles packed tight under his skin like they were growing faster than the rest of him could keep up.
“You okay?” he asked immediately, brow furrowing when he looked at me.
“Define okay,” I muttered, swaying slightly.
“Whoa—hey.” He caught my arm. “You’re burning up.”
“I’m fine,” I lied. Again.
He pulled me inside anyway. “Sit. Now.”
I dropped onto the couch, suddenly exhausted. The room felt too warm, too small. My head throbbed in time with my heartbeat.
Jacob crouched in front of me, worry etched deep into his face.
“You look like hell,” he said softly.
“Wow. Everyone’s so kind lately.”
He snorted but didn’t smile. “You’ve got a fever, Lena.”
“I know.”
“Since when?”
“Since… I don’t know. A few days.”
I rubbed my temples. “It comes and goes.”
Jacob frowned. “That’s not normal.”
“Neither is Forks.”
That earned a small huff of laughter—but it died quickly.
He grabbed a glass of water and pressed it into my hands. “Drink.”
I did. It didn’t help.

We sat in silence for a moment, rain tapping against the windows.
“Bella’s been weird,” Jacob said suddenly.
I looked up. “Weird how?”
“She barely comes around anymore. Always with the Cullens.”
His jaw tightened. “And Sam’s been trying to talk to me.”
My stomach flipped. “Sam?”
“Yeah. Showing up out of nowhere. Asking questions. Saying I should ‘stick close to my people.’”
Jacob scoffed. “Like I joined a cult or something.”
I swallowed.
“That’s not all,” he continued. “The Cullens… something’s off with them. You feel it too, right?”
I hesitated. “I… yeah.”
He leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “And now you’re sick. And Paul—”
“Don’t,” I snapped, too fast.
Jacob raised his hands. “Okay. Okay. Sorry.”
But his eyes sharpened. “Did he do something to you?”
“No.”
The word came out raw.
“He didn’t.”
Jacob studied me carefully. “Then why does his name make you look like you’re about to pass out?”
I opened my mouth to answer—
And the room tilted violently.
Heat surged through my chest, crushing, unbearable.
My vision tunneled.
My ears rang.
“Jake,” I whispered.
Then everything went black.

I came back in fragments.
Voices.
Lights.
The smell of antiseptic.
Charlie’s voice—tight, scared.
“—what do you mean she fainted?”
Jacob’s, urgent and apologetic. “She had a fever, Chief. She was dizzy. I didn’t know what else to do.”
I tried to move.
Pain flared behind my eyes.
“Easy,” a nurse said gently. “You’re in the hospital, Lena.”
Hospital.
Great.
Charlie appeared beside the bed, pale, eyes bloodshot with worry. “Kiddo… what’s going on?”
I swallowed. My throat burned.
“I don’t know.”
And that was the worst part.
Because I didn’t.

Chapter Text

Lena’s POV

Charlie didn’t leave my side.
Not really.
He tried to act normal—made bad jokes, brought terrible vending-machine coffee, adjusted the blanket that didn’t need adjusting—but his eyes gave him away. Red-rimmed. Wide. Panicked.
He didn’t know what was wrong with me.
And that terrified him.
“They still don’t have answers,” he muttered for the third time, pacing the small hospital room. “They say it’s stress, dehydration, exhaustion—like that explains why my kid just drops unconscious.”
“I’m fine, Charlie,” I whispered.
He stopped pacing and looked at me like I’d said something absurd.
“You passed out,” he said, voice cracking. “You had a fever. You scared the hell out of me.”
Guilt pressed heavy on my chest.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
He sat down hard in the chair beside my bed and rubbed his face. “Just… don’t do that again, okay?”
I almost smiled.

Bella came later.
She looked… resolved. Calm in a way that didn’t match the situation.
“I’m going to Phoenix,” she said gently, sitting on the edge of the bed. “To see my mom.”
I frowned. “Now?”
She nodded. “Edward thinks it’s best.”
Of course he did.
“And you?” I asked.
“I’ll be okay,” she said quickly. Too quickly. “This is all just… a lot.”
I studied her face. She was scared. But determined. Like someone about to walk into a storm on purpose.
“Call me,” I said. “Every day.”
“I will,” she promised, squeezing my hand. “You focus on getting better, okay?”
I watched her leave with Charlie later that afternoon, her shoulders squared, her expression distant.

Jacob showed up with a bag of contraband snacks and his usual crooked smile.
“You look like crap,” he said cheerfully.
“Wow,” I deadpanned. “So does everyone.”
He laughed and plopped into the chair beside my bed, stretching his too-long legs.
For a while, he just talked.
About his growth spurt.
About fixing engines with Billy.
About Embry and Quil being idiots.
He told stories.
Stupid ones.
Comforting ones.
I laughed more than I had in days.
“Hey,” he said finally, softer. “You’re gonna be okay. Whatever this is… you’re tougher than it.”
I nodded, throat tight.
When he left, the room felt emptier again.

It was late afternoon when Sam Uley knocked.
Charlie had stepped out to talk to a doctor. A nurse had just left.
I was alone.
Sam stood in the doorway, tall and calm, his presence surprisingly gentle.
“Hi,” he said. “I hope this is okay.”
I blinked. “Uh. Sure.”
He stepped inside, hands relaxed at his sides.
“I heard you weren’t well,” he said. “I wanted to check on you.”
That alone was strange enough.
But there was something else about him—something grounding. Like the room steadied a little when he entered.
“Paul’s… worried,” Sam added carefully.
My chest tightened.
“I’m not here to talk about details,” he said quickly, as if sensing it. “I just wanted to say—he’s not trying to hurt you.”
I looked away. “He’s doing a great job anyway.”
Sam nodded, accepting that without argument.
“He struggles,” he said simply. “More than he lets on. Sometimes when people are hurting, they push away the things that matter most.”
I swallowed.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” I admitted quietly. “But it feels like my body’s falling apart.”
Sam studied me for a long moment.
Then he reached into the backpack slung over his shoulder and pulled something out.
A folded t-shirt.
Dark. Worn. Soft.
“I know this sounds strange,” Sam said, holding it out, “but this might help you rest.”
I stared at it. “A shirt?”
“It smells familiar,” he said carefully. “Sometimes that’s enough.”
I hesitated. Then took it.
The second the fabric touched my hands, something in my chest eased—just a little.
“Thank you,” I murmured, confused.
“Be patient with him,” he said gently. “And with yourself.”
Then he left, quiet as he’d arrived.

The doctors cleared me that evening.
“Rest,” they said.
“Eat properly.”
“No strenuous activity.”
“Reduce stress.”
I almost laughed at that last one.
Charlie drove me home in silence, glancing at me every thirty seconds like I might disappear.
That night, I curled up in bed, exhausted but restless.
On impulse, I pulled the t-shirt to my chest.
It smelled like pine, warmth, something wild and familiar.
My breathing slowed.
My head stopped pounding.
For the first time in days, sleep came easily.
Deep.
Steady.
Real.

Chapter Text

Paul’s POV

I was falling apart.
There was no other way to put it.
My body hurt in ways it shouldn’t. My chest felt too tight, my muscles constantly on edge, like I was braced for impact that never came. I hadn’t slept more than an hour straight in days. Food tasted like ash. The forest didn’t help anymore.
Distance was supposed to fix this.
It didn’t.
It made it worse.
Every mile away from Lena felt like something tearing loose inside my ribs.
I doubled over near the tree line, breath coming in sharp, angry bursts. Heat rolled under my skin, threatening a shift I didn’t want and couldn’t afford.
“Enough.”
Sam’s voice cut through the haze.
I straightened slowly, jaw clenched, refusing to look at him.
“You’re killing yourself,” he said. “And you’re not protecting her by doing it.”
“I’m trying not to hurt her,” I snapped.
Sam stepped closer. “By staying away? By pretending this isn’t real?”
I laughed, bitter and broken. “You saw what happened. She got sick. She collapsed. I wasn’t there.”
“And when you weren’t there,” Sam shot back, “it got worse.”
That shut me up.
Sam lowered his voice. “Paul, the imprint doesn’t wait for you to be ready. You don’t get to decide when it hurts. You only get to decide how much.”
My hands shook.
“You think I don’t know that?” I muttered. “Every time I close my eyes, I feel her. I feel her hurting.”
“Then stop running.”
I looked up sharply.
“You don’t have to explain anything to her,” Sam said. “You don’t have to break the treaty or reveal the truth. You just have to be present. Let the bond do what it’s meant to do.”
I exhaled slowly.
Before I could answer, a familiar voice cut in.
“What the hell is going on with you?”
Jacob stood a few feet away, fists clenched, eyes burning with worry and anger.
“You almost got her killed,” he said. “She ended up in the hospital, man.”
My chest tightened violently.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I growled.
“I know she was sick. I know she fainted. And I know you were involved somehow,” Jacob snapped. “So yeah, I think I know enough.”
I took a step toward him.
Sam moved instantly.
“Jared,” he said sharply.
Jared was already there, gripping my arm.
“Back off,” Sam warned Jacob. “This isn’t your fight.”
Jacob looked between us, confused, furious. “You guys are hiding something.”
“Go home, Jake,” Sam said firmly. “This doesn’t concern you.”
Jacob’s eyes flicked to me one last time. “If she gets hurt again—”
Jared tightened his grip. “Enough.”
Sam turned me away before I could say something I couldn’t take back.
As we walked, Sam leaned close. “You see? This affects everyone. You don’t get to isolate yourself.”
I stopped walking.
“I’m done,” I said.
Sam frowned. “Done with what?”
“Running.”

I didn’t go back to the forest.
I didn’t go home.
I got in my truck and drove straight to Forks High.
My hands were steady on the wheel for the first time in days.
I parked near the edge of the lot, engine off, watching students pour out of the building. Every passing second stretched thin.
Then I saw her.
Lena.
Walking slowly. A little pale. But upright. Alive.
My chest opened.
Relief hit so hard I had to grip the steering wheel.
She stopped when she saw me.
For a second, neither of us moved.
Then she walked toward her car.
I got out.
“Lena.”
My voice cracked on her name.
She turned fully toward me, eyes searching my face like she was bracing for impact.
“You look like hell,” she said quietly.
I huffed a humorless breath. “Yeah. Same to you.”
Silence. Thick. Loaded.
Seeing her again did something to me. A thousand emotions slammed into my chest all at once—relief, warmth, guilt, longing, something deeper I didn’t have words for.
“I need to talk to you,” I said. No jokes. No attitude. Just truth. “Please.”
She hesitated.
Then nodded once. “Okay.”
We climbed into her car.
She sat in the passenger seat without comment, handing me the keys.
I started the engine.
As soon as she was beside me, the pain eased. My breathing slowed. My hands stopped shaking.
I didn’t say anything.
Neither did she.
But for the first time in a long time—
I wasn’t falling anymore.

Chapter Text

LENA

The beach was almost empty.
Gray sky. Heavy clouds. The ocean rolling in slow, relentless waves like it always did—steady, unstoppable.
Paul parked near the edge of the sand and killed the engine. For a moment, neither of us moved.
The silence wasn’t awkward.
It was loaded.
“You okay walking?” he asked finally, glancing at me.
“I’m not made of glass,” I replied, opening the door.
But I appreciated that he asked.
We walked side by side along the shore, shoes in hand, the sand cold beneath my feet. The wind tugged at my hair, sharp and salty.
Paul kept glancing at me like he was counting my steps. Like he expected me to disappear if he looked away too long.
“You shouldn’t be out here if you’re still sick,” he said.
I stopped.
“Paul.”
He froze.
I turned to face him fully. “You don’t get to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Worry about me like this and then vanish for days.”
My voice shook—but I didn’t look away. “You don’t get to almost kiss me and then act like I imagined it.”
His jaw tightened.
“That wasn’t—”
“No.” I stepped closer. “You don’t get to disappear like that. If it meant nothing, fine. If it scared you, say that. But don’t make me feel like I did something wrong.”
The wind howled between us.
“I need an explanation,” I said quietly. “For all of it. For you. For me feeling like I’m falling apart. For why you look like hell every time I see you.”
His hands clenched at his sides.

PAUL

I’d faced down worse things than this.
Fights.
Pain.
Blood.
But Lena—standing there, eyes sharp and hurt and brave—terrified me more than anything else ever had.
I scrubbed a hand over my face.
“I don’t have a neat answer,” I said finally. “I wish I did.”
She crossed her arms. Waiting.
“I’ve never been good at… feelings,” I admitted. “I don’t let people close. I don’t need them to be.”
“That’s not what this is,” she shot back.
“I know.”
That was the problem.
I took a step toward her, lowering my voice.
“I feel things around you that I’ve never felt before. It messes with my head. My body. My temper. I don’t sleep. I don’t eat right. I lose control.”
Her eyes widened slightly—but she didn’t step back.
“So you ran,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Bad move.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “I’m figuring that out.”

LENA

My chest tightened.
“Lauren said you slept with her,” I said suddenly. “At a party. That you were all over her.”
Paul blinked.
“Who?”
I stared at him. “Lauren. From school.”
His brows knit together. “I don’t know any Lauren.”
I searched his face—really searched it.
He wasn’t lying.
“She said—”
“She lied,” he said flatly. “I wasn’t at a party. I haven’t touched anyone.”
I swallowed.
“I used to,” he added, quieter. “I won’t pretend otherwise. I wasn’t exactly… selective.”
That stung.
But he didn’t stop.
“But since I met you?”
His voice roughened.
“I can’t even look at anyone else. My body doesn’t react. My head doesn’t react. Nothing.”
I exhaled shakily.
“That’s not normal,” I whispered.
“No,” he agreed. “It’s not.”

PAUL

She looked shaken—but not scared.
That mattered.
“I didn’t disappear because I didn’t want you,” I said, stepping closer. “I disappeared because I wanted you too much. And I didn’t trust myself not to screw it up.”
Her breath hitched.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” I continued. “I just know that when I’m near you, everything settles. When I’m not… I fall apart.”
Her eyes softened.
“You could’ve just said that,” she murmured.
“Yeah,” I said hoarsely. “I’m not great at the simple stuff.”
She laughed quietly. A real laugh.
Then she stepped into my space.

LENA

I could feel him before he touched me—heat, tension, something electric humming between us.
“The almost kiss?” I said softly. “That wasn’t silly.”
“No,” he breathed.
“It hurt when you left.”
His hand hovered near my waist—asking without asking.
“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
That was it.
I didn’t overthink it.
I grabbed his jacket and pulled him down—
And he kissed me.
The kiss wasn’t gentle.
It was pent-up.
Frustrated.
Relieved.
Paul’s hands framed my face like he was afraid I’d disappear. His mouth moved against mine with a hunger that made my knees go weak.
The world narrowed to heat and salt and breath.
I kissed him back just as hard, fingers curling into his jacket, grounding myself in him.
He groaned softly—low, involuntary—and pulled me closer, chest to chest, forehead resting against mine when we finally broke apart.
His breathing was uneven.
Mine too.
For the first time in days—weeks—my chest didn’t hurt.
My head was clear.
My body calm.
Paul rested his forehead against mine, eyes closed.
“Yeah,” he murmured. “That explains a lot.”
I smiled despite myself.
“So,” I said softly, “are you going to disappear again?”
He opened his eyes.
“No.”
The word was solid. Certain.
“I’m not running anymore.”

Chapter Text

Bella was admitted to a hospital in Phoenix two days later.
Charlie tried to sound calm when he told me, standing in the kitchen with his phone still in his hand, but I heard it anyway—the crack in his voice, the fear he couldn’t quite hide.
“She fell down the stairs,” he said. “That’s what they’re saying. She’s stable. Broken leg. Some bruises.”
I nodded slowly, my stomach twisting.
Fell down the stairs.
Sure.
Bella Swan didn’t fall down stairs. She tripped over air, walked into doors, and managed to injure herself doing absolutely nothing—but this felt different. Bigger. Heavier.
“She’s okay,” Charlie added quickly, like he needed to hear himself say it. “I’m flying out tonight. I’ll bring her back as soon as they discharge her.”
“I’ll be fine here,” I said. And for once, it wasn’t a lie.

The house felt too quiet without Charlie and Bella.
No clatter in the kitchen.
No awkward silences.
No Bella hovering like she wanted to say something but didn’t know how.
I moved through the rooms slowly, aware of how… good I felt.
No headache.
No tight chest.
No nausea.
Healthy.
Actually healthy.
The realization settled uncomfortably in my chest.
This started when Paul stopped pushing me away.
When he stopped running.
I didn’t like the implication of that.
But I couldn’t deny the evidence.

Paul didn’t smother me.
Which surprised me.
He showed up—sometimes at the door, sometimes leaning against my car in the school parking lot, sometimes just walking beside me through town—but he didn’t crowd my space.
He smiled more.
Talked less nonsense.
Listened.
“You’re being suspiciously nice,” I told him one afternoon as we walked near the cliffs, the ocean loud below us.
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m offended.”
“I told you,” I reminded him. “I’m not making this easy for you.”
A slow smile curved his mouth. “Yeah. I heard you.”
“And?”
“And I’m okay with that.”
That made me pause.
“You know you don’t have to—” I started.
“I want to,” he said simply.
That shut me up.

We talked.
Really talked.
About small things at first.
“How old are you, actually?” I asked one evening, sitting on the hood of my car.
“Twenty-two,” he said. “You?”
“Seventeen. Almost eighteen.”
He nodded. No weirdness. No jokes. Just registering it.
“What kind of music do you listen to?” I asked.
He grimaced. “Old rock. Stuff my dad used to play before he… yeah.”
I didn’t push.
“I like alternative,” I said. “And angry girl playlists.”
He smirked. “That tracks.”
We talked about food—
him loving anything grilled, me admitting I survived on pasta and sprite.
Movies.
Running.
His motorcycle.
My car.
He told me he’d always worked with his hands. That school hadn’t been his thing. That he didn’t like feeling trapped.
I told him about my dad. About how my mom left. About learning to be independent too young.
He listened like it mattered.

Bella called late.
Her voice was tired but bright. “I’m coming home soon.”
“Good,” I said softly. “You scared the hell out of us.”
“I know,” she murmured. “Lena… I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when you were sick.”
I hesitated. “It’s okay.”
It wasn’t entirely—but I wasn’t ready to unpack that.
Charlie would be home soon.
Bella too.

Chapter Text

Bella came home on a gray Thursday afternoon.
Charlie tried to act normal. He failed.
He hovered like a storm cloud—asking if she needed water, painkillers, blankets, anything—while pretending not to stare too hard at the cast on her leg or the bruises she tried to hide under layers of clothing.
Edward stayed close.
Too close.
Polite. Quiet. Controlled. Like he was afraid to breathe wrong.
Charlie wasn’t subtle about it.
“So,” he said stiffly at dinner, eyes fixed on Edward, “the stairs, huh.”
Bella nodded quickly. “Yeah. Slippery. I tripped.”
I watched her face.
The pause before answering.
The way her eyes flicked away.
The tight grip she kept on her fork.
Bella Swan was a terrible liar.
Charlie sighed, clearly unconvinced but unwilling to push. “Glad you’re home.”
Edward thanked him, voice smooth, neutral. Too neutral.
I didn’t.

Later that night, I sat on Bella’s bed while she adjusted her pillows with clumsy care.
“You okay?” I asked quietly.
She nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
Another lie.
“You fell down the stairs,” I repeated flatly.
She stiffened.
“You don’t have to tell me,” I added gently. “But don’t insult me either.”
Bella’s shoulders slumped. “I can’t,” she whispered.
That was answer enough.
I noticed then—really noticed—the bandages under her sleeves. The careful way she moved. The faint scent of antiseptic that didn’t quite cover something else.
Something metallic.
Something wrong.
“Get some rest,” I said finally. “I’m here.”
She smiled gratefully. Guiltily.

The next morning, I made a mistake.
Or maybe I told the truth too soon.
“I’m seeing someone,” I said casually over breakfast.
Charlie froze mid-sip.
“You’re what.”
“Seeing someone,” I repeated. “A guy.”
Charlie set his mug down slowly. “How old.”
“Older than me,” I admitted.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Does he go to your school?”
“No.”
“Does he live in Forks?”
“Nearby.”
He inhaled sharply. “I want to meet him.”
I blinked. “Charlie—”
“I’m not asking,” he said firmly. “I want to know who my daughter is spending time with.”
Great.

Prom arrived anyway.
Bella didn’t want to go. That part tracked.
Alice Cullen appeared at our door like a whirlwind with fabric swatches, shoes, jewelry, and opinions.
“Oh, Bella,” she chirped, already pulling dresses from garment bags, “this will be fun.”
Bella looked like she wanted to crawl under the bed.
Alice treated her like a porcelain doll—adjusting straps, smoothing hair, fussing endlessly.
I watched from the doorway, arms crossed.
She was… nice. Too nice. Perfectly cheerful. Perfectly put together.
It made my skin itch.
“You don’t like Alice,” Bella murmured when Alice stepped out to grab something from the car.
“I don’t trust people who look like they walked out of a magazine and act like nothing bothers them,” I replied.
Bella smiled weakly.
Edward barely looked at me all evening.
When he did, his gaze slid away quickly—guarded. Distant.
Good.

Paul showed up right on time.
Clean. Nervous—though he tried to hide it.
Charlie sized him up immediately.
“So you’re the guy,” Charlie said.
Paul stuck out his hand. “Paul Lahote, sir.”
Charlie shook it, eyes narrowing slightly. Then relaxing.
“I’ve seen you around the reservation,” Charlie said. “You’re Billy Black’s friend.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You work?”
Paul nodded. “Construction. Mechanic work when needed.”
Charlie grunted approvingly. “Good.”
Edward appeared behind Bella then.
The air shifted instantly.
Paul stiffened. Edward’s jaw tightened.
They didn’t speak.
They didn’t need to.
I stepped between them.
“Prom?” I said pointedly.
Paul exhaled and offered me his arm. “Prom.”

The gym was loud. Bright. Overcrowded.
Bella stayed close to Edward. Alice hovered nearby like a proud stylist.
Paul stayed close to me.
Across the room, Edward watched Paul like he was measuring the distance between us with military precision.
Paul noticed.
He leaned down and murmured, “Your cousin’s boyfriend hates me.”
I smirked. “Join the club.”
Paul’s arm tightened slightly around my waist.
For a moment, everything else faded.
The music.
The lights.
The secrets.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling—
That Forks was holding its breath

Chapter Text

Lena’s POV
Forks felt different lately.
Not darker.
Not heavier.
Quieter.
Bella barely spoke at school anymore.
She sat with the Cullens now—always. Head bent close to Edward, fingers entwined with his like the world beyond their table didn’t exist. She still smiled at me in the hallways, still hugged me when she saw me in the mornings, but our conversations were brief. Surface-level. Almost… polite.
Like she was already halfway gone.
I tried not to take it personally.
The only Cullen who didn’t make me feel invisible was Emmett. He’d flash me a grin sometimes, or toss out a dumb comment in the hallway that made me snort despite myself.
At least one of them acted normal.

Paul introduced me to his world slowly.
Not all at once.
Not overwhelming.
One afternoon, he drove me out to La Push and parked near a familiar house with smoke curling lazily from the chimney.
“Emily’s,” he said. “She’s… important.”
The way he said it—soft, respectful—made me nod immediately.
Emily answered the door with a warm smile and flour on her hands.
“You must be Lena,” she said, pulling me into a hug before I could even respond. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
I blinked. “Only good things, I hope.”
She laughed. “From Paul? Doubtful. But enough.”
The house was full of life. Sam was there—calm, polite, surprisingly gentle. Jared cracked jokes. Embry and Quil sat together on the couch, quiet but friendly.
Jacob wasn’t there.
That stood out.
Embry and Quil used to be everywhere Jake was. Now they barely mentioned him. They looked… different. Bigger. More solid. Restless.
I noticed.
I just didn’t say anything.
Paul stayed close without hovering, hand warm at my lower back, grounding. When I leaned into him without thinking, he smiled like he’d won something.
Emily and I clicked instantly. Cooking, teasing Paul, rolling our eyes at the boys—it felt easy.
Safe.

“Bella’s birthday is coming up,” I said one afternoon as Paul and I wandered through Port Angeles.
“I know,” he replied. “She likes books. And quiet stuff. And things that look like they belong to another century.”
I laughed. “That’s… painfully accurate.”
We found a small bookstore tucked between a café and an antique shop. I picked out a book—something old, worn, romantic in that tragic Bella way.
Paul disappeared for a moment.
He came back holding a delicate silver bookmark shaped like a crescent moon.
“She likes symbols,” he said casually. “And things that feel… eternal.”
My chest warmed.
“She’s going to love it.”
He shrugged. “Good.”

Bella’s birthday arrived cold and gray.
Jacob came by to drop off a gift.
He barely fit in the doorway.
“Jake,” I breathed. “You got huge.”
He grinned awkwardly. “Growth spurt.”
Paul stiffened beside me—not aggressive, just alert.
Jacob’s skin radiated heat like a furnace. When he hugged Bella, she pulled back slightly, surprised.
“You’re warm,” she murmured.
He laughed it off.
I didn’t.
Something was wrong.
Something was changing.
And no one was telling me.

That night, Bella hugged me tightly before bed.
“Thank you for today,” she said. “For the gift. For being… you.”
I smiled. “Always.”
She hesitated. “Things are complicated right now.”
“I know,” I said gently.
She didn’t explain.
She never did.

Chapter Text

Bella didn’t answer when I knocked on her door.
At first, I thought she was still asleep. That wouldn’t have been unusual—especially lately. But when I pushed the door open, her bed was empty. Neatly made. Cold.
“Bella?” I called softly.
Nothing.
I frowned and checked the bathroom. Empty. Her coat was gone too.
Weird.
I grabbed my backpack and headed downstairs. Charlie wasn’t in the kitchen yet, which meant he’d already left for work. The house felt too quiet.
Bella had been distant before. Quiet. Withdrawn.
But this felt different.
I pulled out my phone, typing a quick message.
Me: Hey, are you already at school?
No response.
I hesitated, then left anyway.

The parking lot was damp, the air sharp with rain. I parked my car and glanced instinctively toward the Cullens’ usual spots.
Empty.
All of them.
Edward’s silver Volvo.
Alice’s Porsche.
Gone.
A knot formed in my stomach.
Inside, people noticed.
“Hey, where’s your cousin?” Angela asked as we walked to class together.
“No idea,” I admitted. “She didn’t come with me.”
“That’s strange,” Jessica chimed in behind us. “She never misses school unless she’s dying.”
Lauren smirked from her locker. “Maybe she finally got bored of Forks.”
I ignored her.
In Biology, Bella’s seat was empty. So was Edward’s.
Mr. Banner droned on, but I couldn’t focus. Something felt off. Too quiet. Like the air before a storm.
By lunchtime, I’d checked my phone six times.
Nothing.

I didn’t go home after school.
I couldn’t.
My new job started that afternoon, and I welcomed the distraction.
The town café sat on the corner of Main Street, small and warm, with foggy windows and the constant smell of coffee and baked bread. It felt… human.
“You must be Lena,” the owner, Maggie, said cheerfully. “Apron’s over there. You’ll be shadowing Claire today.”
Claire showed me the ropes—how to take orders, balance trays, deal with grumpy locals who drank too much coffee and tipped too little.
It was exhausting.
But good.
Normal.
I almost forgot about Bella.
Almost.
It was already dark when I pulled onto our street.
And saw the police cars.
Red and blue lights flashed against the wet pavement.
My heart slammed into my ribs.
I parked badly—half crooked—and jumped out of the car.
“Charlie?” I called, running toward the house.
An officer turned. “Miss, stay back—”
“That's my house.”
Charlie was on the porch, face pale, eyes wild with worry.
“Lena,” he said hoarsely, pulling me into a tight hug. “Thank God.”
“What’s going on?” I demanded. “Where’s Bella?”
He swallowed. “She’s missing.”
The words felt unreal.
“A neighbor saw her heading toward the woods earlier today,” he continued. “We’re organizing a search.”
The woods.
My stomach dropped.
I didn’t wait.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Paul.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
Nothing.
“Charlie,” I said quickly, already backing away, “I’ll help. I know the trails.”
“Lena—”
“I’ll be careful.”
I turned and ran.
The forest swallowed sound.
Branches snapped under my boots as I pushed deeper, calling Bella’s name until my throat hurt.
“Bella!”
“Bella!”
Then—movement.
Figures between the trees.
Sam.
He was carrying Bella in his arms.
Her head lolled against his shoulder, hair tangled, face streaked with tears.
Paul followed behind him, jaw tight, eyes dark.
I froze.
“Oh my God,” I breathed, rushing forward. “Bella!”
“She’s alive,” Sam said quickly. “Just… not okay.”
“What happened?” I demanded.
Paul shook his head. “We don’t know. We found her on the ground. Crying. Then she passed out.”
Bella murmured something—broken, unintelligible words—against Sam’s chest.
Paul’s gaze flicked to me. Concern. Relief. Something else I couldn’t name.
“We’ll talk later,” he said quietly.
I nodded, numb.

Back inside, the house felt too small for the fear packed inside it.
Charlie hovered as paramedics checked Bella over. Eventually, they left—saying she was in shock, dehydrated, emotionally exhausted.
I stayed with her.
Held her hand.
Cleaned her face.
That’s when I saw it.
A bruise on her wrist.
Not fresh.
Old.
Teeth-shaped.
My breath caught.
“What…?” I whispered.
Bella stirred slightly, eyes fluttering.
I pulled the blanket higher, heart pounding.
I didn’t say anything.
But I knew—
Whatever happened to Bella…
It didn’t start today.
And it wasn’t an accident.
I sat beside her bed all night, fear curling tight in my chest.
Outside, the woods stood silent.
Watching.
Waiting.

Chapter Text

I couldn’t stop seeing it.
The mark on Bella’s wrist.
Not the bruise itself—
but the shape of it.
Too precise.
Too deep.
Too intentional.
Teeth.
Human teeth didn’t leave marks like that.
I lay awake long after the house fell silent, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything I’d ignored over the past months. The old books Bella had bought in Port Angeles. Edward’s slip about reading minds. The Cullens’ perfection. Their absence from school. Their cold, distant beauty.
And Paul.
The heat.
The calm.
The way my body fell apart when he wasn’t near—and healed when he was.
I didn’t want to think the word.
But it was already there.
Vampires.
I must have drifted off at some point, because the next thing I knew—
“NO—STOP—PLEASE—”
I shot upright in bed, heart pounding.
Bella.
Her scream tore through the house like glass breaking.
I ran.
She was thrashing in her bed, sweat-soaked, eyes squeezed shut, breathing fast and broken.
“Bella!” I grabbed her shoulders gently. “Bella, wake up—”
Her eyes flew open.
She screamed again.
“They’re cold,” she gasped. “They’re so cold and fast and he’s laughing—he’s laughing and he bites and—”
She clutched her wrist, nails digging into the cast.
“Bella,” I said urgently, “who?”
Her eyes focused on me for half a second.
“Vampires,” she whispered.
The word landed between us like a gunshot.
Then she broke down completely—sobbing, shaking, retreating into herself like she’d said too much and couldn’t take it back.
I pulled her into my arms without thinking.
“It’s okay,” I murmured, even though nothing about this was okay. “You’re safe.”
She cried herself back into exhausted sleep.
I didn’t.

Bella barely spoke the next day.
She ate a few bites of toast, stared at nothing, flinched when Charlie asked her questions.
When I tried to bring it up—gently—she shut down completely.
“Bella,” I said quietly while Charlie was in the shower, “about last night—”
She shook her head, eyes unfocused. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You said—”
“I don’t remember,” she snapped.
Lie.
But she was too fragile to push.
So I didn’t.

Forks High felt unreal.
Like I was walking through a set after the actors had gone home.
The Cullens’ table was empty.
Again.
Edward’s absence screamed louder than his presence ever had.
Angela asked how Bella was doing.
Jessica speculated.
Lauren smirked.
I said nothing.
In Biology, I caught myself staring at Bella’s old seat, my pen unmoving over the page.
Vampires.
I almost laughed.
But nothing about this felt funny.

The café was busier than usual.
Tourists, rain-soaked locals, the hiss of the espresso machine grounding me in something solid and real.
I spilled coffee on myself. Took the wrong order. Forgot to smile.
“Long night?” Claire asked.
“You have no idea.”
I checked my phone twice.
No messages from Paul.
By the time my shift ended, my nerves were stretched thin.
That’s when I saw his truck.
Parked across the street.
Waiting.

Paul leaned against the hood, arms crossed, eyes searching my face the second I stepped outside.
“You okay?” he asked.
“No,” I said immediately. “Take me home.”
He didn’t argue.
The drive was quiet.
Heavy.
When we pulled up in front of my house, I didn’t get out.
“Paul,” I said, hands clenched in my lap, “I need answers.”
He stilled.
“I know about the books Bella bought,” I continued. “I know about the bite on her wrist. I know she said the word vampires in her sleep.”
He closed his eyes.
“And I know there’s something very wrong with the Cullens,” I said. “And with you. And with Sam. And with Jacob.”
Silence.
“I’m not crazy,” I said sharply. “And I’m done being kept in the dark.”
Paul looked at me for a long moment.
Then he nodded once.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “Come with me.”
We didn’t go far.
Just past the tree line.
Just deep enough that the road disappeared.
Paul stopped.
“You trust me?” he asked.
My heart was pounding—but I nodded.
“Yes.”
He took a step back.
“I need you to stay right there,” he said. “No matter what.”
“Paul—”
“Please.”
Something in his voice stopped me.
He turned away.
Then—
The air changed.
I felt it before I saw it.
Pressure. Heat. Power rolling outward.
I stumbled back, breath ripping from my lungs as a massive shape surged forward—
A wolf.
Enormous.
Silver-gray.
Muscles coiled with terrifying strength.
I froze.
My brain screamed run.
But my heart—
My heart knew him.
“Paul,” I whispered.
The wolf stilled.
Golden eyes locked onto mine.
Familiar.
Gentle.
“Oh my God,” I breathed.
I took a step forward.
Then another.
“It’s you,” I said shakily. “It’s been you this whole time.”
The wolf lowered his head slightly, a sound rumbling deep in his chest—not a growl.
Recognition.
I reached out slowly and pressed my palm against his fur.
Warm.
So warm.
The wolf exhaled, then turned away—
And moments later, Paul stood there again, human, breathless, shaken, very real.
“I didn’t want you to find out like this,” he said quietly.
I stared at him, mind spinning, fear and awe and a thousand questions colliding at once.
But I didn’t step away.
“I knew something was wrong,” I whispered. “I just didn’t know it was this.”
Paul swallowed.
“This is only the beginning,” he said.
I nodded slowly.
“Then you’d better start explaining.”

Chapter Text

We sat on the hood of my car.
The forest loomed behind us, dark and quiet, and the house stood just a few yards away—solid, familiar, safe. Paul positioned himself between my legs, not caging me in, just close enough that I could feel his warmth through the denim of his jacket.
He was being careful.
More careful than I’d ever seen him.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “I’m going to explain this slowly. And you can stop me anytime.”
I nodded, fingers gripping the edge of the hood. “Don’t sugarcoat it.”
A corner of his mouth twitched. “I won’t.”
He took a breath.
“We’re not exactly werewolves,” Paul began. “Not like the stories. We’re shapeshifters. Quileute warriors.”
I swallowed hard.
“We shift into wolves,” he continued, voice steady. “It’s tied to bloodlines. To protecting our land. Our people.”
“From vampires,” I said.
“Yes.”
The word felt heavy—but it fit.
“Vampires are predators,” Paul said simply. “They kill humans. That’s what they’re made to do.”
My stomach turned.
“The Cullens don’t,” he added quickly. “At least… not here. As far as we know. They drink animal blood. They follow the treaty.”
“The treaty,” I echoed.
“An agreement,” he explained. “They stay out of our land. We stay out of theirs. No killing humans. No revealing what they are.”
“And if they break it?”
Paul’s jaw tightened. “Then we defend.”
I exhaled slowly, trying to keep my breathing steady.
“What about Bella?” I asked, dread creeping into my voice.
Paul hesitated. Just a fraction.
“She was attacked in Phoenix,” he said quietly.
The world tilted.
“Not the stairs,” I whispered.
“No.”
My hands curled into fists. “Then why didn’t they protect her?”
“They tried,” Paul said. “They killed him. A vampire”
My chest tightened painfully.
“But he wasn’t alone,” Paul continued. “the redhead escaped. ”
“She was his mate,” Paul said. “And now she wants revenge.”
“On Bella,” I breathed.
“Yes.”
“And Edward left,” I said, anger boiling over. “He left her.”
Paul’s voice dropped. “That’s what I don’t understand either. The Cullens left after Bella's birthday, without a trace. Sam approached the house, but it was empty, and we caught a whiff of them all leaving town."
My hands shook.
“You’re enemies,” I snapped. “Vampires and werewolves. And Bella just—what—decided to play house with them? Let one of them bite her?”
Paul looked at me sharply. "Those are the decisions your cousin has made."
I froze.
“She was bitten during the attack,” he clarified. "The Cullens cannot transform any humans in this area, or the treaty will be broken. If she wants to become one of them, she'll have to go outside."
“I saw it. The bite" I said hoarsely.
Paul nodded then shifted closer—not crowding, just grounding.
“There’s one more thing,” he said carefully.
“I figured,” I muttered.
He hesitated, then met my eyes fully.
“Imprinting.”
I stilled.
“When a wolf imprints,” he explained, “it’s not about romance. Or sex. Or obsession. Well, a little obsessive, yes, but I can control it."
“Then what is it?”
“It’s… recognition,” he said quietly. “Your soul locking onto someone. Someone who becomes your center.”
My throat tightened.
“The imprint exists to protect,” Paul continued. “The wolf becomes whatever that person needs. A friend. A guardian. A partner. A constant.”
“And the person?” I asked.
“They feel it too,” he admitted. “Not the same way. But the bond affects them. Calms them. Grounds them.”
Every moment snapped into place.
The pain.
The sickness.
The relief when he was near.
“Oh my God,” I whispered.
Paul didn’t touch me. Didn’t move.
“I tried to fight it,” he said softly. “I thought distance would protect you. It didn’t. Once we both accept the bond of imprinting, you might notice it becoming stronger."
“You idiot,” I breathed—half angry, half overwhelmed.
“I know.”
“Jacob,” I said suddenly. “He’s changing.”
Paul nodded. “He’s close to his first shift. That’s why he’s hotter. Bigger. Why he’s unstable.”
“Is he dangerous?”
“Not on purpose,” Paul said. “But yes. Until he learns control.”
My stomach dropped. “The other day I touched his arm and it was burning hot.”
Paul’s expression darkened—but he stayed calm. “You should stay away from him for now.”
I nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“And the redhead?” I asked quietly.
“She’s out there,” Paul said, glancing toward the trees. “Watching. Waiting.”
Fear curled in my gut.
“The pack is patrolling constantly,” he added. “We protect humans. That’s our job.”
“And Bella?”
Paul’s jaw clenched. “She’s a target.”

Paul walked me to the door like I was made of glass.
“You’re safe,” he said. “I’ll be close.”
“You better be,” I replied, trying—and failing—to sound brave.
He kissed my forehead, gentle, reverent.
Then he was gone.
I sat on the edge of Bella’s bed later that night.
She stared at the ceiling, unmoving. Hollow.
“Bella,” I whispered.
No response.
I brushed her hair back gently, eyes lingering on the bandage at her wrist.
Anger burned in my chest.
At Edward.
At the Cullens.
At the choices Bella had been allowed to make without understanding the cost.
Outside, the woods watched.
And somewhere out there, a red-haired vampire was hunting.