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Nate slid through the treetops, his silhouette merging with the night shadows. Each leap took him physically further from the clearing where he had faced the wolves, but his mind couldn't escape the battle. It was as if every branch he touched creaked under his feet with echoes of growls, of fangs, of eyes burning with hatred and fear. Every sound in the forest seemed to return a fragment of that night: the distant howl of a wolf, the crunch of dry leaves breaking under his jumps, the whistle of the wind reminding him of the tension that had filled the air just moments before.
For a moment, almost against his will, a flicker of regret broke through the anger still vibrating in his muscles. He had made a mistake. By confronting them that way, he had lost more than time: he had compromised Riley's shirt, the only solid trace they had to track the evidence of his presence. Now, that fabric was soaked with the wolves' scent, ruined, contaminated. To Nate, it was as useless as trying to breathe water. Perhaps the tracker could still glean something, but doubt consumed him. To his senses, it was nothing more than a suffocating stench, a wet-dog smell that seemed to bounce off his nostrils and remind him of his clumsiness.
The further he went, the heavier his body felt. Not from fatigue—vampires did not know tiredness—but from another weight: guilt. That fight had been unnecessary. He could have avoided it. And he knew it.
A pang shot through him when he thought of Jacob. Deep down, he had harbored an almost naive hope of rekindling the friendship they once shared. That fragile spark, buried beneath resentment and silence, could have been rescued… but now he felt he had snuffed it out with his own hands. Yes, he was angry at Jacob. Part of him couldn't help but blame him for not stopping Riley. Yet another, colder and fairer voice reminded him that he couldn't: it was his first transformation. And still, he had done more than could be expected of anyone in those circumstances. He had protected Charlie, kept him alive. That was already a miracle.
The problem was different. The problem was himself. Being a newborn wasn't simple. Reason dictated caution, but his emotions always dragged him to extremes. Anger was like a constant fire beneath his skin, a force that demanded release, even if he didn't need it. That night, he had given in too much. He hadn't killed them, he had restrained himself, yes… but he had overstepped in the demonstration. He knew it. His conscience screamed it at him.
The worst part was that, though he had reduced them with ease, Nate didn't hate them. On the contrary, he felt respect for them. The Quileutes defended the humans of their land with a sacrifice that sought neither reward nor praise. They did it because it was their duty, because their blood and spirit were bound to it. He had once thought that, at some point, they could be his allies. That perhaps, in the future, they would help him face the Volturi. But after what had happened, that possibility seemed ever more distant.
With a sigh he didn't need, he slowed the pace of his leaps. His body still thrummed with the remnants of the fight, with the surge of energy he hadn't fully released. Inside, he was jumping between fury and guilt. Between the certainty that he had done what was necessary and the doubt that perhaps he had crossed a line from which he couldn't return.
He needed to calm down.
Finally, the vision of the Cullen house appeared among the shadows, like a crystal beacon lit in the forest's dimness. The windows glowed with an almost unreal calm, as if that place were isolated from the chaos ruling the rest of the world. And then he felt it: Alice's scent, electric and light, floating in the air like a spark of a storm. That scent hit him full force, and for the first time since he had started running, his muscles relaxed just a little.
He landed in the back clearing with a thud and walked to the door. The weight he carried in his chest didn't lessen, but a certainty pushed him forward: she was there. And with her, everything else could wait.
When he opened the door, he saw her. Alice waited in the center of the room, upright, delicate yet firm. Her posture was almost theatrical, as if she knew exactly when he would arrive, yet her expression carried concern. She didn't run to him nor let slip the light smile that usually brightened her face; she remained still, her golden eyes full of tenderness and a hint of unease she rarely showed.
The first thing Alice said upon seeing him was:
"Are you okay?"
Nate felt an unexpected warmth in his chest at that simple question. It was curious: since losing his humanity, no one had been able to physically harm him, yet Alice's concern reached him in a different way. With a small sigh that escaped unintentionally, and a tired smile barely forming on his lips, he answered softly:
"Yes… I'm okay. But there was a problem."
As he spoke, he carefully pulled Riley's now-torn shirt from his jacket. Alice's eyes widened in surprise at the sight, and she immediately brought a hand to her nose, raising her eyebrows slightly.
"That smell…" she murmured, wrinkling her brow slightly.
Nate furrowed his brow slightly; he, too, perceived the intense stench clearly. The mere swipe had ruined the garment that represented their most valuable clue, and the frustration weighed on him more than any blow he had taken.
Noticing the tension on his face and the slight tightening of his muscles, Alice stepped closer. Gently, she wrapped her arms around him—or at least tried as best she could—and rested her head on his chest. The warmth of her closeness and the softness of her touch seemed to absorb some of the burden Nate carried on his shoulders.
He let out a long-held sigh and, for a moment, allowed himself to relax. The rage had given him the strength to overwhelm anyone in his path, but that same fury had cost him the clearest lead to catch Riley. It had also cost him reconciliation with an old friend… and the chance to gain potential allies.
Almost instinctively, Nate tilted his chin to rest lightly on Alice's head, remaining motionless. His eyes wandered for a moment into the dimness of the room, seeking answers in the calm of that safe place, far from the screams, the fangs, and the eyes full of hatred still resonating in his mind.
After a few seconds, Alice pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. Her voice became a whisper, full of care:
"Edward told me what happened with the newborns… and also what happened with the Quileutes. So… I suppose your fight was with Jacob. Do you want to talk about it?"
Nate shook his head slowly. His expression remained calm, and his voice came out serene, almost like a contained sigh.
"No…"
He paused for a moment, weighing every word before continuing. His eyes stayed locked on Alice's, and he added in a more reflective tone:
"But at least I can tell you that I don't think the Quileutes will act against you. Not after what happened. At least not until I meet with them at the end of the week."
He straightened his shoulders, conveying assurance in his posture. He continued, with a slight emphasis on each word:
"They've already understood the difference between our strengths… and that's not even counting the newborns I have on guard nearby. The treaty issue will be resolved soon."
Alice hugged him tighter, closing her eyes for a moment as if she wanted to convey all the gratitude and relief she felt. Her voice, heavy with restrained emotion, came out sincerely:
"Thank you for helping ensure they don't expel you from here. I know coming back to Forks was very hard for you, that you even forced yourself to speak with Edward and Jacob. I know none of this is easy for you, especially while you're still learning to control yourself."
Nate held her firmly, feeling the softness of her hair against his chest and the faint scent she carried—a mix of fresh flowers and her characteristic sweet essence—which acted as a balm against the night's accumulated tension. For a moment, he allowed himself not to think about the fight, Jacob, or Riley; he could simply exist in the small refuge offered by Alice's closeness.
"I will always do everything in my power to make sure you're safe," he said in a low, deep, confident voice, adjusting his arms around her. "If your family is important to you, I'll protect them too. I feel bad about how things are turning out… but sooner or later, these things had to happen. I just hope that when I meet with the Quileutes, they'll be more receptive to talking."
Alice hesitated just for a moment, weighing each word. Her golden eyes reflected both concern and trust. Her hand rested lightly on Nate's chest, as if seeking contact that affirmed the reality of her words.
"But what will you do if they decide they don't want to restore the treaty?" she asked cautiously, her voice trembling just slightly, revealing that behind her calm demeanor, there was genuine fear about the situation.
Nate went serious for a moment, measuring his words. Before he could respond, Alice added with a thread of anxiety:
"I don't like what they're doing… forcing us to leave when we've kept our word. But I also wouldn't want them to die."
He shook his head slowly, not averting his gaze.
"I don't want that either… at worst, I'll just scare them a little," he said finally, calmly, almost as if he were repeating it to himself to remain firm. "But I'll make one last attempt to resolve this without having to resort to that."
Alice watched him in silence, and a calm smile softened her expression. She gave a small, trusting nod.
"I know you can do it. In all the time I've known you, I've never seen anything you couldn't accomplish."
Nate returned her smile and, in a spontaneous gesture, leaned toward her. Their lips met in a brief, tender kiss, filled with restrained emotion. With each passing second, the kiss lingered, as if both wanted to hold onto the moment of safety and closeness they shared.
But the moment broke when Nate heard footsteps approaching from the house, a sound that interrupted the intimacy of the instant. Reluctantly, he pulled away from Alice, though his hand remained lightly on her arm, as if not wanting to let go completely. His gaze shifted toward the source of the sound, quickly assessing the situation.
Esme appeared first, moving swiftly toward him. To Nate's surprise, her face showed evident concern.
"I'm glad you're okay," she said, relief clear in her voice. "When Edward came back alone, I thought something had happened… especially because he refused to say where you were."
Behind her, Edward descended the stairs with steady steps but an uncomfortable expression, showing that the situation had been tense. Nate shook his head slightly, maintaining a calm, controlled tone.
"I was finally able to speak with Jacob," he said, in a clear, almost declarative tone that resonated beyond the room.
Almost immediately, the rest of the Cullen family began emerging from their rooms: Emmett, Rosalie, and Jasper, approaching with curiosity, anticipation, and a faint glimmer of concern in their eyes. The tension in the room mingled with a sense of restrained relief.
Nate looked at them all and continued, maintaining the same calm tone.
"I can't guarantee anything, but I'm confident the Quileutes will seriously consider restoring the treaty."
A collective sigh of relief swept through the room. For a moment, the atmosphere relaxed. However, Nate didn't fail to notice Edward and Alice narrowing their eyes, sharing a cautious glance, as if the apparent calm wasn't quite enough.
Quickly, Nate added, maintaining calm but with firmness:
"But it's best if you keep a low profile, as you've been doing until now. I laid out my points with Jacob, and I think I made myself clear, but I'll meet with their Alpha as planned from the beginning, at the end of the week."
Esme nodded thoughtfully, processing the information. Alice, who had already heard Nate's explanation, clearly understood that he was withholding several details; her gaze said it all: respect for the situation, but also caution. Edward, who had been with Nate for much of the night, didn't need many words; reading Alice's last thoughts was enough for him to get a general idea of what had happened.
Finally, Esme spoke, her tone slightly rushed and reflective:
"I understand… the important thing is that they'll now be willing to listen. Carlisle will return in time with the tracker, and we'll all be able to talk. As long as Jacob convinces them to listen, we can reach some agreement."
Nate raised his hand with a subtle gesture, enough to halt the torrent of Esme's thoughts. His gaze became firm and direct, making it clear that there was no room for misunderstanding.
"I'm sorry… I didn't explain myself properly," he said, his voice calm but heavy with weight. "They'll only listen to me. So only I will go to speak with them when the week is over."
A brief silence followed his words. Different expressions crossed the Cullen faces: concern, surprise, caution. But the one that stood out most was Edward's. He exhaled a resigned sigh. Now that he was beginning to understand the true extent of what Nate was capable of, he couldn't help but feel a certain concern for the Quileutes.