Chapter 33 - Twilight: Immortal Dusk

Cullen Residence — Great Room

1:17 AM

The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting lazy gold flickers against floor-to-ceiling windows. The Cullen home—sleek, modern, and cathedral-quiet—held its collective breath. Outside, the rain had eased to a sleepy whisper, and the moonlight spilled across the polished hardwood like silver silk.

Every member of the coven was present.

Edward leaned against the far wall, bronze hair tousled, jaw tight, arms crossed like he might fold in on himself if he let go. His stormy eyes were locked on the carpet, but he wasn't seeing it. He was thinking about Bella. He was always thinking about Bella.

Carlisle stood near the fire, tall and effortless in a dark sweater and slacks that somehow made him look more like a Calvin Klein model than a small-town doctor. His icy-blond hair caught the firelight as he spoke, calm and grave.

"Four victims in eight weeks," he said. "All within our territory. All the same signs."

Daenerys sat elegantly on the armrest of Hadrian's chair, one leg crossed over the other, violet eyes gleaming. Her silver hair spilled down her back in soft waves, catching the firelight like liquid starlight. She looked at Carlisle, then tilted her head toward the rain-streaked windows.

"They're not tourists," she said, voice soft and clipped. "They're hunting. Deliberately."

Hadrian sat casually in the chair beneath her, elbow resting on his knee, emerald eyes bright under thick lashes. He looked carved from shadow and intent, but his fingers brushed lightly against Daenerys's ankle like it was instinct.

Emmett, shirt stretched across his jacked frame, was pacing like a caged bear. "Yo, Hadrian. You got any magic for this? Like, supernatural GPS? Something?"

Hadrian blew out a breath and glanced up. "Most tracking magic is blood-based. Guess what vampires don't have?"

Rosalie, arms crossed on the stairs like the most judgmental Vogue cover of 2005, rolled her eyes. "So charming."

"There's the Point-Me spell," Hadrian continued, dragging his fingers through his hair. "But it's being blocked. Which suggests someone in this group has a gift—probably one that scrambles detection. Like magical stealth mode."

"Someone who can hide even from you?" Jasper drawled from the corner, where he leaned against the wall like a Southern ghost. "That's new."

"Not new," Hadrian said. "Just rare. And seriously inconvenient."

"We tried following scent," Jasper added, adjusting his jacket. "Hadrian and I went ridge to ridge. Someone in that pack's a tracker. And not your average kind. He's… creative. Knows land and tricks better than I do. Which is saying something."

"Covering his tracks, doubling back, crossing rivers to lose scent trails," Hadrian said. "This one isn't sloppy. He's trained."

Alice stood near the window, arms folded tight over her cardigan, pixie-cut hair sharp as ever. "And I still can't see them. It's like trying to read static."

"They're slipping the timeline," Edward murmured. His voice was low, barely a ripple in the heavy silence, but everyone turned to look.

"They're cautious atleast," he said, stepping forward. "But they cleary like playing with their food. That much is clear."

"And Bella," Daenerys added with a knowing glance, "is basically a cosmic magnet for chaos."

"I want to place wards near her house," Edward said, turning to Hadrian. "Perimeter magic. Subtle. Just enough to get a warning if something gets too close."

Rosalie snorted from the staircase. Her long legs were crossed like a queen on her throne. "So we're baby-proofing Bella Swan now? Should we get her a magical leash too?"

"Rosalie," Esme said gently, from the end of the couch. Her chestnut hair was pulled into a soft braid, her tone the kind that soothed and shamed at the same time.

"I'm just saying," Rosalie said, folding her arms. "She's one human. One. Why are we rearranging the world for her?"

"Because she's already in it," Edward said, voice sharp. "Because she's a target. And because Alice keeps seeing her in our future."

Katherine, curled into the far armchair with a book still open on her lap, lifted an eyebrow and said in her quiet Scottish lilt, "Maybe the universe just really likes Bella."

Elizabeth, lounging beside her twin on the rug and painting her nails purple with unnecessary focus, added, "Or maybe she's the plot twist none of us saw coming."

"We're getting off-track," Hadrian said, voice steady. "Edward's right. Wards could help. But magic has limits. I can't place them on property without permission."

Carlisle turned toward him. "Because it would violate boundary magic?"

"Because magic is consent-based," Hadrian replied. "Wards are contracts. You're asking the land to protect someone. The land listens—but only if the people living on it agree. That means Charlie… or Bella."

Alice perked up. "She might say yes. Especially if she knew she was being stalked by bloodthirsty nomads with a flair for murdery dramatics."

"We're not telling her anything," Rosalie snapped. "She doesn't need to know. We've kept humans in the dark for centuries."

"She's not just any human," Edward said, voice low and dangerous. "And she's not going to stay in the dark for long."

Silence fell again. Esme reached over and gently placed her hand on Carlisle's.

Carlisle sighed, looking around the room. "Then for now, we monitor. We double patrols. We take shifts watching over the borders. But if these nomads escalate—"

"They will," Hadrian said, eyes glowing slightly. "They're not testing us. They're baiting us. And next time… they might not go after some hiker in the woods."

He glanced at Edward.

"They'll come looking for her."

Daenerys slid her hand into his, her fingers cool and fierce. "Then we make sure we're ready."

Hadrian didn't look away from Edward as he squeezed her hand back.

"We will be."

—

The fire murmured in the hearth, licking at half-charred logs with lazy gold tongues, casting light and shadow in a constant slow dance across the sleek walls and hardwood floors of the Cullen residence. The tall windows let the silver wash of moonlight pour in, highlighting pale faces, tense stances, and an undercurrent of storm-born urgency.

Carlisle stood at the center, his composure sharp as ever. He looked less like a doctor tonight, and more like the immortal prince of a long-lost court—regal, spine straight, blonde hair swept back with casual precision. His gaze traveled the room, catching each of them like a chess master lining up his next move.

"We'll use the next few days wisely," Carlisle said, voice calm but commanding. "Clear skies are coming. Three days of sunlight, per Alice's visions. We stay inside. We plan. We feed."

Elizabeth, lounging on the floor beside her twin, waved her freshly painted nails like a tiny royal scepter. "I prefer the term fashionably nocturnal."

Carlisle arched a brow but allowed himself the ghost of a smile. "Whatever helps you commit to discretion."

"Nomads will go quiet too," Alice chimed in, perched on the edge of a velvet armchair, pixie-cut sharp and glinting under firelight. "They'll know exposure is a risk. No one wants a sunbeam disaster on the six o'clock news."

"So that's our breathing room," Carlisle said. "Feed. Regroup. Then we track."

"Already scheduled a hiking trip at dawn," Emmett boomed, cracking his knuckles. He looked like a linebacker who moonlighted as a Greek god. "Bring on the bears."

Rosalie, folded elegantly at the top of the stairs, narrowed her eyes. "You just want to suplex something."

"Is it my fault bears have attitude?" Emmett grinned. "I like my meals with a side of challenge."

Carlisle nodded. "Who's going with you?"

"Jasper, Hadrian, and Edward," Emmett said, flexing like he was introducing a wrestling team. "Team Broody Eyes and Me."

Jasper smirked faintly from his shadowed corner. "Let's just hope they don't pick up on my charming presence."

Hadrian leaned back in the chair beneath Daenerys, his posture deceptively relaxed, his emerald eyes anything but. "We'll stick to the upper ridges. Deer trails are thick up there, and the chance of running into some flannel-wearing hiker with a Nokia is low."

Edward, silent for most of the conversation, finally nodded. His bronze hair was still slightly wind-tossed from his abrupt exit earlier that night.

"And you'll return before sundown?" Carlisle asked.

Hadrian shot him a smirk. "We're not aiming for a glitter bomb scandal, thanks."

Daenerys laughed, fingers lazily twisting a lock of her silver hair. "I don't know. I think you'd make a delightful disco ball, Hadrian."

He turned to her with faux offense. "I'll remember that when you need help detangling dragon-sized knots from your hairbrush."

She raised one delicate brow. "Rude and sparkly. My favorite combo."

Carlisle let the teasing play out before steering the ship back to course. "The rest of us stay inside. Use the time to coordinate. Patrol schedules resume once cloud cover returns."

Esme looked up from her spot near the hearth, concern softening her features. "And Bella?"

"We watch," Carlisle said, his gaze flicking to Edward. "Quietly. No more overnight surveillance."

Edward didn't move. Didn't speak.

Rosalie smirked. "You're one tree branch away from being Forks' creepiest myth."

"I'm careful," Edward muttered.

"You're obvious," Elizabeth chimed. "She's going to start charging you rent."

Alice perked up. "I could casually shadow her at school. BFF mode."

Daenerys tapped her chin with mock thoughtfulness. "Or I could start texting her. It's time she got a proper girl gang."

Hadrian didn't even look up. "You don't have her number."

"Minor obstacle," Daenerys replied, violet eyes dancing.

Carlisle raised a hand. "Let's stay on task. We assign rotating eyes. No interference unless there's danger."

"And if there is danger?" Edward asked, voice low and steely.

Carlisle's expression darkened just enough to make the room drop a few degrees. "Then we handle it. Swiftly."

A crackle from the fire. The hiss of pine sap. Then:

Jasper shifted forward, expression grave. "If these nomads are scouts, the rest may not be far."

"They're not sightseeing," Hadrian said. "They're probing our defenses. Seeing who stumbles."

Edward's fists curled at his sides. "And Bella…"

"She's bait," Hadrian finished. "They'll test us through her."

A tense silence spread like spilled ink.

Then Daenerys stood, smooth and radiant, every inch the silver-flamed warrior queen. "Let them come."

Hadrian rose beside her, fingers finding hers with unconscious certainty. "Just make sure they regret it."

Carlisle exhaled softly, a shadow of pride in his eyes.

Outside, the rain had finally stopped.

But above the trees—somewhere in the darkness—something watched.

And waited.

—

Forks National Forest — Upper Ridge Range

12:16 PM

The trees here were older than memory—gnarled titans of moss and bark, standing shoulder-to-shoulder in silent judgment. They loomed over the ridgeline like ancient sentinels, their twisted branches clawing at the overcast sky. Shafts of pale sunlight broke through the forest canopy in thin beams, lighting the earth below like sacred scripture carved from gold and shadow. The air smelled sharp—pine sap, wet stone, and the ghost of some distant snowmelt drifting in on the wind.

Edward moved like a phantom along the trail's edge, his steps soundless, his expression carved from worry and restraint. His bronze hair shimmered faintly under the light. He was supposed to be hunting. Tracking the two mountain lions Jasper had scented a few miles back. But he wasn't.

His thoughts were in Forks.

Bella.

She was probably in class right now, surrounded by florescent lighting and adolescent speculation. He could picture her in that scratchy chair, chewing on the end of her pen, pretending not to hear the whispers. Her heartbeat had been echoing in his ears even out here.

A sharp crunch sounded behind him, and before Edward could turn, Hadrian landed beside him with the soft rustle of pine needles beneath worn boots.

"Forest's gorgeous this time of year," Hadrian said, peering around with those luminous emerald eyes that caught every flicker of motion. "Perfect place for a soul-searching angst spiral. Very 'early-2000s vampire with issues.' All you need now is a Linkin Park track playing in the background."

Edward sighed, long-suffering. "Do you ever take anything seriously?"

Hadrian tilted his head, considering. "Sure. Breakfast. And people I love getting murdered. Everything else is kinda negotiable."

Edward didn't answer. His jaw was clenched tight.

Hadrian leaned closer. "You know you're practically vibrating with Bella energy, right? Like, dude. It's so loud I swear the squirrels are gossiping about it."

"I'm focused," Edward said stiffly.

"You're distracted," Hadrian corrected. "There's a difference. You've got Bella on the brain like a stuck CD—skip, skip, obsession. I'm about one Coldplay hum away from staging an intervention."

A low rustling emerged from the thicket to their right, followed by the crunch of boots. Jasper materialized from the underbrush, his blond hair wild with wind and his golden eyes sharp.

"Tracked the cougars to a rocky ledge two ridges north," he drawled, his Southern lilt smooth as bourbon. "One's limping. The other's fresh. Real twitchy."

"You want the fast one?" Hadrian asked, cracking his neck. "Or should we let Edward run off some emotional constipation?"

Jasper smirked. "I'll take the limper. Edward's been needin' a challenge."

Edward rolled his eyes. "Why does everyone suddenly have a commentary on my emotional state?"

Hadrian shrugged. "Because you wear it like a trench coat. All drama, zero insulation."

Edward's response was to turn and begin striding silently toward the direction Jasper had come from.

"Brooding walk," Hadrian noted. "Yep. Definitely Edward's fourth mood of the day."

They moved fast after that. Faster than sound. A blur of motion beneath the trees. Jasper took point, weaving through the terrain like he was born in the wild. Hadrian flanked the other side, half-gliding, half-sprinting with the lazy grace of a predator who didn't need to try hard to be dangerous.

They split at the rocky outcrop. Jasper peeled away left, heading down into a ravine where the injured cougar had nested. Edward vanished right, his lean frame melting into the trees. Hadrian, because chaos was clearly his middle name, launched himself straight up the ridge.

The cougar Edward tracked was fast—lean, desperate, smart enough to loop its trail over ice and stream. It didn't matter. Edward's focus sharpened, instincts finally aligning. He moved like smoke, catching the scent, the shift of weight in the branches above—and then launched.

One crack of motion, and the mountain lion met him mid-leap. They collided with the force of two hurricanes. Claws raked his shoulder, but he spun with it, using the momentum to slam the animal into a boulder. The fight lasted five seconds. Then it was over.

Breathing steady, Edward stood over the still form, blood cooling fast on his skin. He didn't feel triumphant.

Just… still.

Hadrian dropped from a branch overhead a second later, landing without a sound. "So. How's the bloodlust? Satisfied?"

Edward wiped his hand across his shirt. "Temporarily."

Hadrian studied him for a beat. "You ever gonna let yourself breathe around her?"

"She makes it hard."

"She makes it real," Hadrian said. "That's rarer than you think. Especially for people like us."

Edward looked away.

"Also," Hadrian added, his voice lightening as he kicked a rock off the edge of the ridge, "Alice is with her. And so is Dany. The girl's got more magical security than the Pentagon. If Lauren so much as thinks about saying something shady, Daenerys will turn her into a rumor-shaped pile of ash."

Edward huffed a small laugh.

"She invited Bella to lunch," Jasper's voice came from the woods behind them. He was dragging the second cougar effortlessly behind him like it weighed nothing. "Alice says they're already bonding."

"Told you," Hadrian said. "Meanwhile, we're out here playing wildlife control."

Edward gave the ridge one last look before nodding. "Let's finish this."

And the three of them vanished into the trees once more, leaving only silence—and the ghosts of ancient predators—in their wake.

Miles away, Bella Swan sat at a lunch table between a silver-haired girl with the eyes of a storm and a pixie-cut psychic, and laughed like she belonged there.

For now, at least—she did.

—

Forks National Forest — Upper Ridge Trailhead

9:42 AM

The sunlight pierced the towering Douglas firs in golden shafts, slanting through the early mist like divine judgment—or, in Emmett's case, nature's spotlight for his latest wrestling match. The forest was thick with moss and the smell of damp pine needles, alive with the buzz of unseen insects and the faint sound of Emmett yelling something about cardio.

Edward stood motionless on a rocky bluff overlooking the valley. The morning light kissed his pale skin, glinting faintly off the bronze waves of his hair. He looked like a statue of some tragic Roman prince—except the only thing on his mind wasn't empire or honor.

It was Bella.

Back at school. Vulnerable. Mortal.

He clenched his jaw.

Behind him came the unmistakable sound of Emmett suplexing a fully grown grizzly into a tree.

"C'mon! At least try, big guy!" Emmett whooped. The bear responded with an offended grunt and promptly lunged again, claws flashing.

Hadrian lounged on a mossy log like it was his throne, one boot propped up, the other knee lazily dangling. His emerald eyes sparkled beneath thick lashes as he watched the chaos below.

"That's four flips and one tree slam," he drawled. "Pay up, Jasper."

Jasper, crouched nearby with his fingers drumming against the hilt of his hunting knife, narrowed his eyes. "Nah. Tree slam's only half a point if there's no bark left on the trunk. We said full bark stripping counted."

Hadrian arched an eyebrow. "That wasn't in the rules."

Jasper grinned, all charm and Southern trouble. "Well, maybe next time you oughta get it in writing, sugar."

Edward turned slowly. "Are we really gambling on wildlife abuse now?"

"No," Hadrian said without missing a beat. "We're celebrating nature's resilience. And Emmett's inability to differentiate between breakfast and a bar fight."

From below: "I heard that!"

A second later, the bear yelped and fled into the trees, leaving Emmett standing triumphant, shirt shredded, mud across his abs like he was in a Calvin Klein survival ad.

"Another win for the big guy!" Emmett grinned as he jogged up the slope, brushing pine needles out of his curls. "Did anyone time that? That was, like, record speed."

"Six minutes, thirty-two seconds," Hadrian said, flicking his wrist. "You could've shaved it to five if you'd stopped flexing mid-match."

"Flexing is part of the experience," Emmett declared. "You don't see gladiators go in without a little showmanship."

"You're not a gladiator," Edward said flatly. "You're a walking protein commercial."

Emmett clutched his chest in mock pain. "Ouch, bro. Low blow."

Hadrian stood, stretching his long limbs like a cat roused from a nap. The light caught the faint silver threadwork in his dark coat as he moved beside Edward.

"You're quiet," he said, tone suddenly softer. "Well, quieter than usual. And broody. Very broody. That's Edward at Level Four Angst."

Edward didn't turn. "She's not safe."

"No, she's not," Hadrian agreed. "But she's not glass either."

Edward's jaw flexed. "You'd feel the same if it were Daenerys."

That got a pause. Then a slow exhale from Hadrian.

"I'd raze the continent," he admitted. "But until then, I'd make damn sure I was sharp enough to stop it before it happened. Which means not spacing out during a hunt."

Jasper joined them, eyes scanning the forest floor. "We picked up a trail to the northeast. Three days old. Someone came through on foot—silent, but not scentless. Doesn't smell like human. Doesn't smell like us, either."

Hadrian's fingers twitched slightly. "A gift-user."

"Likely," Jasper said. "Clever, too. Knows how to bend air currents. Mask the scent. Someone's trained."

"Tracker," Hadrian muttered. "Could be the scout we've been dodging."

Emmett, now wrestling a branch off his shoulder, looked up. "So are we going after it, or what?"

Edward's gaze drifted back toward the ridge. Toward Forks. Toward her.

Hadrian clapped him on the back. "Let's track. For her. But keep your head here. Not fifteen miles south with the girl who smells like wildflowers and unresolved tension."

Edward huffed a laugh despite himself.

"You really should be a therapist," he said.

"Nah," Hadrian grinned. "I like setting fires too much."

With that, they vanished into the trees.

One scouting a path. One wrestling pine. One whispering to the wind. And one silently praying that Bella Swan made it through second period without getting devoured by something worse than teenage gossip.