A.N. Holiday release, enjoy the extra chapters.
(Thomas POV)
Forks High spit us back out into the parking lot like it always did, bells, bodies, slamming locker doors, and the sharp little roar of teenage freedom. Well, the freedom we had until the larger cage of adulthood closed in around us.
Edward and Bella were gone before I even got my key into my passenger door to unlock it for Edythe. Alice had been picked up by Jasper today, so I was clear to drive home without her commenting on my driving. I loved the girl, but she could rarely follow one thought through to the next without being distracted by something else.
I walked around the truck to the driver's side and got in, Edythe had hit the auto unlock for me. As I turned the ignition and the truck rumbled to life,
Edythe rested her hand on the center console, close enough to mine that the contact was inevitable without being clingy. I pulled out into traffic and headed for home, silently brooding without realizing I was.
"You're thinking again," she said.
"I'm always thinking," I answered, throwing her a smile.
She didn't smile, but her eyes softened. "About them."
"The pack," I admitted. "You planted the seed. Now it's taking root."
"I suggested," she corrected, voice mild.
"That's what you call it when you want me to do a thing without pushing me into it."
She tilted her head slightly, like she might argue, then decided not to. "Will you call Sam?"
"Yeah," I said. "Tonight."
The drive home was short, wet-road quiet, the kind of normal that didn't match anything we actually were. But my mind kept circling the same point, over and over, like a tongue on a sore tooth.
Training the wolves meant trust.
Trust meant truth.
And truth meant… deciding how much I was willing to put in front of people who were raised to see the Cullen's as monsters. Worst case scenario, what I teach them could one day harm my soon to be vampire family.
When we got home, Edythe peeled off towards the living room as I went to the kitchen, looking for some fruit to snack on. Jasper and I had been talking about getting back to my workouts in my normal form again to see if any increase strength in my base form transferred to my enhanced form's.
Even in my fully human form I was supernaturally strong but nowhere near as strong as a vampire. We figured Jasper could provide the resistance to make sure my body was getting a true workout and go from there. Partly it was an excuse to spend time with my friend like we had done before, at least that's what it was for me and I suspected it was the same for him.
Finally, when I couldn't procrastinate it further, I grabbed my phone and called Sam.
It rang once.
Twice.
Then his voice came through, flat, controlled, and somehow still carrying the weight of being responsible for too many people at too young an age.
"Thomas."
"Hey," I said, and forced my tone to stay casual. "You got a minute?"
A beat. A faint shift in the background, wind? footstep? Then, "Yeah. Talk."
I leaned my hip against the counter, staring at the bruised skin of a banana like it was going to give me the right words.
"I'm looking to set up a meeting," I said. "With the council."
Silence. Not anger. Assessment.
"The elders," Sam said finally, like he needed to hear it in his own words before he decided whether to bite. "Why?"
"Because I'm not trying to do this sideways," I answered. "No sneaking around. No 'hey, your teenagers want to spar, let's do it behind everyone's back and hope nobody takes it as an insult.'"
Sam exhaled slowly. "And what is 'this,' exactly?"
"Training," I said. "Real training. Not just running patrol routes and hoping instincts cover the gaps. You've got wolves who can hit like trucks and move faster. But that's not enough to stop them from getting themselves killed the first time they try to fight something that thinks like a vampire."
Sam didn't interrupt, which meant I'd hit a nerve he recognized.
"I can train the pack at that level," I continued. "I can take hits without it turning into a treaty incident. And I can hit back hard enough that it actually teaches them something."
"You're human," Sam said, skeptical and sharp. "How does that help us train for vampires?"
"I'm human," I agreed. "But I can make this form strong enough to match an average vampire."
Another silence, heavier now. I could almost picture him staring out into the trees with his jaw tight, doing that internal math he always did, risk versus benefit, pride versus necessity.
"You said the council," he repeated. "So, you want permission."
"I want consent," I corrected. "From the people who are going to have to live with the consequences if the future goes bad. And I'm willing to answer questions while I'm there. About what I know. About what's out there."
That finally got a sound out of him, half a scoff, half disbelief.
"You want to stand in front of the elders and offer them a Q&A about monsters."
"I want to stand in front of the elders and be honest," I said. "Call it whatever you want."
The line went quiet long enough that my grip tightened around the phone.
Then Sam said, "You're not banned from the rez."
"I know."
"And you know the Cullen's are."
"I know," I said again, firmer this time. "This isn't them. This is me."
Another beat. Then, "You planning to bring your fiancée anyway?"
The word landed oddly—fiancée—like my life had shifted into a new lane and my brain hadn't updated the signage yet.
"No," I said. "Edythe won't step foot over the line. She respects the treaty."
"Good," Sam replied, and I couldn't tell if he meant it as approval or as a warning.
I rubbed my thumb across the edge of my phone case. "Sam… I'm not trying to replace you. Or challenge you. Or make the pack look weak."
"You're trying to make them stronger," he said, and there was an edge to it, like he didn't entirely trust gifts.
"I'm trying to make sure none of you die because you weren't ready," I answered. "That's it."
The silence that followed wasn't comfortable, but it wasn't hostile either. It was… the pause of someone deciding whether to trust the shape of your intentions.
Finally, Sam spoke. "I'll talk to Billy. We'll see if they'll meet."
Relief didn't hit like a wave. It hit like a loosening band around my chest that I hadn't realized was there.
"Thank you," I said.
"Don't thank me yet," Sam replied. "The elders are going to ask a lot of awkward questions. And if you dance around it…"
"I won't," I said, and surprised myself with how true it was. "I'll answer what I can."
"And if they don't like the answers?"
"Then they say no," I said simply. "And we go back to pretending the world is normal until it kills someone. But if that happens, my conscious is clear that I tried, and those deaths will be on them."
Sam made a sound like he didn't love that sentence but couldn't argue it.
"I'll call you," he said. "Probably tonight."
"Okay."
"And Thomas?"
"Yeah."
"If Paul starts anything, I'm not stopping him."
I snorted once. "I wouldn't want you to. I can handle Paul."
That got the faintest hint of amusement, just a breath of it.
"We'll see," Sam said, and then he hung up.
I stared at the phone after the screen went dark, like the call might continue through sheer willpower.
Behind me, the house was quiet.
Not empty quiet, Edythe quiet. The kind where you could feel someone's presence even when you weren't looking.
"I didn't hear everything," her voice came from the living room, calm and even. "But I heard enough to know you did well."
I turned my head toward the doorway. She was leaning against the frame, posture relaxed, eyes steady on my face.
"You could've heard everything," I said, not accusing. Just stating fact.
"I could have," she agreed. "But you didn't ask me to."
Something in my chest eased at that. Not because I'd doubted her, but because I'd needed the proof anyway.
"He's going to get me a meeting," I said.
Edythe nodded once, like she'd already seen it as a possible future and had chosen to let me arrive at it on my own. "And you're going to walk into it as yourself."
I let out a slow breath. "Yeah."
Her gaze didn't waver. "How much are you going to tell them?"
That was the question. The blade hidden in the softest cloth.
I looked down at my hands, human hands, callused and scarred and still not entirely believable as the same hands that could become claws.
"I'll tell them what matters for their safety," I said. "And what matters for trust."
Edythe crossed the room without sound and stopped close enough that her presence pressed into my space, cool, steady, grounding. Her fingertips brushed my face, light as a feather.
"Just remember," she murmured, "you don't have to bleed to earn respect."
I met her eyes. "I'm not planning to."
A pause.
"And I'm not planning to show them the hybrid form," I added, because the thought had been chewing at me since I'd said the word truth to Sam. "Not unless something forces it."
Edythe's expression didn't change, but something subtle in her eyes softened, approval, maybe, or relief. "That seems wise."
"Yeah," I said. "Also, I don't want the elders fainting. Billy's already in a wheelchair. It feels rude."
Her mouth twitched. "You are impossible."
"You love it."
"I do," she admitted, like it was the simplest fact in the world. Then she kissed me, and I turned my mind to what was truly important and in front of me right now.