We reached the house in a matter of minutes, the forest thinning into the familiar clearing as our speed carved silent lines through the night, the trees parting like a curtain to reveal the warm glow spilling from the tall windows. The structure rose from the darkness in clean, familiar lines of glass and pale wood.
We crossed the clearing in a blur and slipped through the doors, urgency contained in the way we moved.
Inside, the stillness felt almost jarring.
The lamps cast their usual golden glow across polished floors and cream-colored walls, the air calm and undisturbed. Esme sat curled gracefully on the sofa, an interior design magazine resting lightly between her fingers. She looked up at us with immediate warmth.
"Oh good, you're bac-"
The words dissolved as her gaze moved across our faces. The smile faded, replaced by concern so swift and sincere it tightened something in my chest.
From the direction of his office, Carlisle appeared, composed as ever, though the sharpened focus in his eyes told me he had already sensed the shift in the room. "What happened?"
Before anyone could answer, Alice drifted into the living room.
She moved like liquid light, effortless, elegant, and there was something luminous about her that had nothing to do with the lamps overhead. Ever since her first vision of the winged man, she had carried that glow. She radiated it. A quiet, consuming happiness that made her seem almost untouchable.
"Let's wait for Edward," I said sharply, unwilling to begin without him.
Carlisle inclined his head once in agreement.
Exactly five minutes later, Edward stepped through the door with infuriating calm, as though he were coming home from a quiet walk instead of walking into tension thick enough to fracture glass.
I crossed my arms. "Nice of you to join us."
His golden eyes flicked toward me, unreadable but faintly amused. "I was nearby."
"That's comforting," I muttered.
I gestured toward Edythe. "Explain."
Edythe stepped forward, her voice steady despite the charge still humming beneath her skin. She recounted everything, the sudden sensation of being watched, the distant flicker of movement at the edge of her sight, the faint but unmistakable scent of fresh blood, and finally the deer itself, torn apart and devoured with unsettling precision.
As she described the clean fractures in the bones, Edward's expression slowly transformed, the quiet neutrality draining from his features as a sharper, more focused intensity settled into his eyes.
Carlisle began asking questions, each one measured and exact. "How fresh was the blood?"
"Still warm," Jasper answered from behind us, his tone clinical as he replayed the scene in his mind. "Fifteen minutes at most since it was killed. Probably less."
"Was there a clear scent trail?"
Edythe shook her head. "There was a scent," she clarified, her voice steady but edged with frustration. "But it was too faint, and completely unfamiliar. Not strong enough to track, and not distinct enough to identify. It wouldn't have led us anywhere."
Esme's voice came softer, though no less concerned. "Could it have been a rogue?"
"Or the Volturi," Emmett added under his breath.
Silence followed that suggestion, heavy and immediate.
Carlisle exhaled slowly. "I'll contact Billy Black. If a new Quileute shifter crossed into the territory, they would know or at least sense the shift."
The moment the words left his mouth, something clicked into place in my mind.
Alice.
She was far too quiet.
I turned toward her.
She stood slightly apart from the rest of us, posture relaxed, hands loosely clasped in front of her. She didn't look alarmed. She didn't look confused.
If anything, she looked faintly entertained.
The realisation passed through the room like a ripple over still water, until every gaze had shifted in the same direction and the quiet weight of collective suspicion settled on her.
She blinked, as though only just realising she'd become the centre of the room. "Why is everyone staring at me like that?"
Esme rose gently from the sofa. "Alice, sweetheart… do you know something?"
And then she smiled.
Bright, mischievous. Almost proud.
"Of course I do," she said lightly. "But don't worry. He won't hurt any of you."
The room went utterly still.
Something inside me snapped.
"You knew?!" My voice came out sharper than I intended. "You knew and didn't say anything?! And who exactly are you talking about?!"
Alice frowned, genuinely perplexed by my anger. "Why are you so upset?"
Edward answered before she could continue, his tone calm, almost conversational.
"It was her mate."
Silence fell again, heavier this time.
Every single one of us turned back to Alice.
She didn't hesitate. "Yes," she confirmed. "It was him."
"Him," Emmett repeated faintly, as though testing the word.
"My darling," she corrected sweetly. "He was hungry and wanted to eat. I didn't want any of you interrupting him." She tilted her head, "And it isn't the right time for me to meet him properly yet."
That did it.
"Not the right time?!" I stepped forward, disbelief burning through the remnants of restraint. "Alice, something tore through a deer like it was paper. We thought there was a predator in our territory!"
"Well, technically you do," she replied cheerfully.
"Alice," Edythe snapped, her patience thinning visibly, "you let us walk straight into that without warning."
The boys remained silent.
Esme moved subtly between us, hands lifting in gentle meditation.
"Let's breathe," she urged softly. "All of us."
Carlisle's voice cut cleanly through the tension. "Alice."
She looked at him immediately.
"Is he a shifter?"
The question settled over us with unmistakable weight.
For the first time, her confidence wavered.
"I don't want to tell you too much," she admitted, her voice losing some of its playful edge. "Mostly because I don't know the full truth myself." She drew in a quiet breath. "But yes. He's a shifter."
The room absorbed that revelation in silence.
"He was hungry," she continued, almost defensively now. "He hunted a deer. What exactly is the problem? We do the same thing."
"The problem," I said tightly, "is that we didn't know."
Edythe straightened slightly beside Jasper, her expression sharpening. "You said you don't know the whole truth. What exactly are you talking about, Alice?"
For a brief second, Alice hesitated.
Edward spoke before she could answer, "He shields himself. Or there's something about him that interferes with her visions. She can't see him clearly."
Alice's head snapped toward him, irritation flashing across her face. "Stop prying into my mind, Edward!"
"I'm not prying," he said quietly, his tone controlled but firm. "You're thinking rather loudly."
"It's… complicated," she said quickly, turning back to Edythe, her earlier certainty dimming just a fraction. "I catch fragments, glimpses of moments, but never the full picture."
"That's comforting," Emmett muttered.
The discussion stretched on, tension flaring and cooling in uneven waves. Edythe and I pressed for details, but Alice deflected with infuriating optimism. Esme worked tirelessly to smooth the sharper edges before sparks turned to wildfire.
At last, Carlisle raised a hand.
"That's enough," he said quietly, though the authority in his tone was absolute. "Alice, if he is here and intends to stay, we need transparency. For everyone's safety."
Her expression softened, the mischief dimming into something more sincere.
"I know," she said gently. "Everything is alright. I promise. But… I won't hide something like this again."
I held her gaze for a long moment, searching for hesitation and finding none.
"You'd better not."
She crossed the room in a blur and wrapped her arms around me without warning. "You worry too much."
"Someone has to," I muttered, though I didn't push her away.
Over her shoulder, Emmett's voice drifted in a whisper. "So… no flaming pigeon?"
I elbowed him on instinct.
He grinned.
The tension hadn't disappeared, but it had shifted into something new and unfamiliar. No rogue vampire was stalking our woods, no Volturi shadow creeping at the borders.
There was something else in our territory.
Not an enemy.
Not exactly...
When the argument finally burned itself out, and Carlisle declared the discussion temporarily closed, none of us felt particularly inclined to scatter.
Edythe had settled onto the smaller sofa with Jasper, slightly away from the rest of us. His arm rested securely around her shoulders, fingers splayed possessively against her upper arm, while she leaned into his chest.
I sat beside Esme on the larger sofa. She had turned slightly toward me, her expression soft and maternal in a way that made it nearly impossible to hold onto irritation for long.
"You're upset," she said gently, not as an accusation but as an observation.
"I'm not upset," I replied automatically.
Her eyebrow lifted.
I exhaled. "Fine. I'm a little upset."
Esme's smile was gentle, more sympathetic than amused. "Alice waited over a century for this. Imagine believing you'd always be alone, and then finally finding what you've been searching for all that time." She paused, her gaze flicking briefly to the window, thoughtful. "Honestly… any of us might act strangely if we were in her place."
I folded my arms loosely, though the edge had dulled. "According to Alice's vision, Edward is going to meet his mate soon too." I tilted my head toward where he stood across the room. "I'd say he's gone in the complete opposite direction."
Esme sighed softly. "Edward is a special case."
"That's one way to put it."
"He carries guilt like it's a second spine," she continued. "Love, for him, feels dangerous."
I glanced at Edward again, watching the careful neutrality he wore like armour. "Alice glows like she's been handed the sun," I muttered, so only she could hear me "He looks like he's been sentenced."
Esme's hand brushed mine lightly. "Different hearts, different fears."
Our conversation softened after that, turning quieter, more reflective. I found my gaze drifting toward the far side of the room, where Alice stood near the large panoramic window. The glass reflected her pale figure against the darkness outside, but her eyes were fixed on the forest beyond, scanning the shadows as though she half expected them to part.
She wasn't restless. She was expectant.
Waiting.
A faint, familiar ache pressed into my chest.
What would it have been like to know someone existed for me and not have them? To move through decades alone with that knowledge burning quietly in the back of my mind. If I hadn't had Emmett, if I'd walked through a century without his love, his ridiculous comments filling the silence, would I have endured?
The thought unsettled me more than I wanted to admit. A small grain of understanding settled somewhere beneath my irritation, not large enough to excuse her secrecy but enough to soften its sharpest edges. Alice was… unique, to put it gently. We all adored her, but loving her did not always mean understanding her. Half the time, it felt like she operated on a wavelength slightly removed from the rest of us.
A sudden shift in tone pulled me from my thoughts.
Emmett's voice carried easily across the room, loud and thoroughly entertained. "So, Edward," he said, grinning like he'd just found his new favourite hobby, "when this mysterious soulmate girl shows up, should we start planning the wedding, or your inevitable meltdown first?"
Edward groaned without looking at him. "I am not discussing this."
"Oh come on," Emmett continued, grinning. "Alice sees her. That means she's real. Statistically speaking, you're doomed."
"I will never turn her," Edward snapped, the humour evaporating instantly. His eyes darkened, jaw tightening. "I won't condemn someone to this. I'm a monster. I won't make another one."
The room cooled several degrees.
Jasper's voice slipped into the conversation, calm and steady enough to cut through the teasing without raising in volume. "You're deciding the ending before the story has even started," he said evenly. "At the very least, you should allow it the chance to become something before you dismiss it."
Edythe nodded in agreement from his side, her expression thoughtful. "You deserve something good, Edward. Whether you believe it or not."
Edward's mouth pressed into a thin line. "I don't want to talk about it."
"Too bad," Emmett started.
"Emmett," Esme warned gently.
Edward's gaze swept the room once, briefly, as though committing us all to memory in that moment of irritation. Then he shook his head and walked out, movements controlled but unmistakably tense.
The front door closed with unnecessary precision.
Silence settled over us, heavier this time but less volatile than before.
Emmett shifted awkwardly. "Well," he muttered, "that went well."
Jasper shot him a look.
"What?" Emmett defended. "I was being supportive."
"You were being you," I corrected.
He grinned, unrepentant.
Esme rose gracefully, smoothing an invisible crease from her skirt. "He'll come around," she said softly.
Across the room, Alice hadn't moved from the window, though her expression had softened at the exchange. Edythe leaned further into Jasper's chest, his hand absently tracing small, soothing circles against her arm.
Gradually, the tension thinned, conversation restarting in quieter currents.