The bell above the boutique door chimed softly as the girls stepped inside, a wave of perfume and soft pop music greeting them.
The shop was everything teenage dreams were made of — silk, sequins, velvet, laughter, and too many mirrors. Racks of glittering prom dresses lined the room, their soft fabrics catching the afternoon light like tiny galaxies.
Jessica was already squealing over a red satin number, while Angela wandered toward a soft lilac gown that looked like spring made into fabric.
Amara smiled, her eyes glimmering. "All right, ladies, today we're going to find dresses so good that even the sun will be jealous."
Jessica snorted. "You mean so good Mike Newton will faint."
Angela giggled, holding up a dress. "You're terrible."
Amara grinned. "I prefer effective. Now go on, show me the contenders."
The next twenty minutes were chaos — happy, giggly chaos. Jessica kept emerging from the dressing room in another dramatic gown, spinning like she was auditioning for a movie. Angela shyly tried on soft pastel shades, each one prettier than the last.
Amara stood like a proud mom with opinions, holding her coffee cup like a fashion critic. "Okay, Jess, that's the one. You look like you came out of a 1980s dream — in a good way. Angela, that dress is made for you. Simple, elegant, totally you."
Both girls beamed, running back to change.
And then there was Bella.
She was sitting on the small couch near the window, chin in hand, eyes distant. Outside, the light was beginning to fade — golden turning to gray.
Amara sighed. "All right, space cadet," she said, walking over. "Get up. You're trying something on."
Bella blinked, startled. "What? No, I'm not going to prom."
Amara gasped dramatically. "Who said anything about prom? You can own a dress without a dance attached to it. It's called self-love, Bella."
Jessica and Angela chimed in, smiling. "Exactly! You should at least try one on."
Bella looked cornered. "But… I didn't bring money for a dress."
Amara stared at her. "You didn't—? Bella, for someone with top grades, you have negative life planning skills."
Then, leaning closer, she whispered with a teasing grin, "Don't worry, I got you. I'll be your sugar daddy for today. Only you, my love."
She wiggled her eyebrows for good measure.
Bella stared at her in disbelief. "Amara— I can't spend your money!"
"Shut up," Amara said sweetly, pressing a soft blue dress into her arms. "And try it before I tie you to the fitting room door."
Jessica was giggling. "You two are like an old married couple."
"Yeah," Amara sighed dramatically. "Except my wife refuses to shop properly."
Even Bella cracked a reluctant smile as she took the dress and disappeared behind the curtain.
When she stepped out, Amara couldn't help but smile. The color softened Bella's pale skin, her brown hair falling like waves down her shoulders.
"See?" Amara said softly. "It suits you. Maybe not movie-star perfect, but… real."
Bella looked down at herself, then at Amara, and smiled a little. "You're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously right," Amara corrected, pretending to wipe a tear. "I feel like your fairy godmother. My heart can't take it."
The others burst out laughing. The boutique echoed with soft chatter and girlish joy, the kind that made even the dull Forks sky feel bright.
By the time they finished, each of them had a dress picked — and Amara, though not planning to attend prom, found herself drawn to a sleek black gown. "Just in case," she said with a wink.
At the counter, when the clerk announced the total, Amara slid her card forward before Bella could open her mouth.
"Amara—!"
"Don't ruin my sugar daddy moment," Amara said calmly, signing the receipt. "Let me have this."
Jessica and Angela were laughing so hard they nearly dropped their bags.
When they stepped outside, the air was cooler, the golden hue of the sun fading into a dusky lilac. The streetlights flickered faintly, and the town had that calm, end-of-day quiet.
Jessica adjusted her bag. "There's this cute shoe store nearby — we should go look!"
Angela nodded eagerly.
Bella glanced across the street. "Actually, I wanted to stop by that bookstore. I need to buy a book."
Amara froze. Oh no. Oh no, no, no.
"That one?" she asked slowly. "Now?"
Bella nodded. "You guys go ahead. I'll meet you at the restaurant later."
Jessica turned to Amara. "You coming?"
Amara forced a smile. "Nope. I'll go with Bella. Someone's gotta make sure she doesn't trip over her own feet or, you know, get kidnapped."
"Ha ha," Bella said flatly.
Jessica laughed. "Fine, see you two later!"
As they walked away, Amara fell into step beside Bella. "So, this mysterious book— is it worth dragging your emotionally drained cousin through town for?"
Bella rolled her eyes. "You didn't have to come with me."
Amara grinned. "Yeah, but if I didn't, you'd probably trip, fall into a puddle, and get rescued by some sparkly stranger. No thanks."
"I'm not clumsy!" Bella protested.
Amara arched a brow. "Right. And I'm not dramatic."
Bella huffed, but there was laughter in her eyes. They kept walking, teasing each other as they navigated through the quieter streets.
By the time they reached the small bookstore, the sky had deepened into shades of violet. Streetlights glowed, and the air carried that eerie calm that comes right before night fully arrives.
Inside, the shop smelled of paper and dust. Bella immediately started talking to the kindly old shopkeeper, asking for a title Amara didn't care to remember.
Amara, however, couldn't relax. She glanced outside — and saw them.
A group of men loitering at the corner, laughing too loud. The kind of laughter that wasn't friendly.
Her stomach dropped.
No, no, not again. Not this scene.
She zipped her jacket, pulling it tight, and reached into her bag. The pepper spray felt small but solid in her palm. She checked that the second one was still in her pocket.
"Bella," she said softly, eyes on the street, "maybe… hurry up?"
"Just five minutes," Bella replied, distracted.
Amara's hand trembled slightly as she unlocked her phone and typed a message.
> Lucien, can you pick me up? I'm with Bella. Here's the location.
She sent it, then stared at the screen.
No reply.
Her pulse quickened a little.
Seconds ticked by — one, two, ten. Still nothing.
The small grey "Delivered" mark mocked her, glowing faintly on the screen.
A strange, hollow feeling bloomed in her chest.
Maybe he was busy. Maybe he hadn't seen it.
Or maybe… she just didn't matter enough for him to care right now.
She exhaled shakily, forcing herself to lock her phone and shove it back into her pocket, as if that could hide the sting that crept up her spine.
Her pulse quickened.
The men outside shifted, moving lazily down the street — too close.
The store bell jingled faintly when the door opened as someone left, and Amara's heart jumped. But it wasn't them. Not yet.
Bella finally came over, clutching a small bag with her book. "Sorry, I took a bit— Amara? You okay?"
Amara forced a shaky smile. "Yeah. Just… saw a few creeps outside."
Bella turned to look, her brows knitting. "Are they still there?"
"I don't know," Amara said quietly. "But we should leave. Call Charlie?"
Bella shook her head. "He's probably working. It's fine."
Amara sighed. No, it's not fine.
She handed Bella the extra pepper spray.
Bella blinked. "You carry these?"
"Precaution," Amara said softly. "And because I live with you."
They stepped outside together. The street was darker now — most of the shops closed, the faint sound of laughter echoing from somewhere far. Their footsteps sounded too loud against the empty pavement.
The tension in the air was a living thing.
"Maybe we should've stayed with Jessica," Bella murmured.
Amara squeezed her hand. "Don't say that. Just… walk fast, okay?"
Bella nodded, gripping the pepper spray.
Then came it — the sound of footsteps behind them.
Slow. Unhurried. Then quicker.
Amara's stomach turned to ice.
She grabbed Bella's hand tighter, her pulse hammering so loud it drowned out her thoughts.
The footsteps behind them didn't stop.
They matched their pace — slow at first, then faster.
Then came the laughter.
Low. Drawn-out. Amused.
The kind of sound that crawled down her spine and made the world tilt.
"Keep going," Amara hissed under her breath, tugging Bella's arm. "Don't stop, Bella."
The night air was sharp, slicing through her lungs as they half-ran down the wet sidewalk. Their sneakers slapped against the puddles — splashes echoing in the empty street like a countdown.
Bella's breath came in uneven bursts. "Amara— slow down—"
"No." Amara's voice cracked. "We can't."
They turned the corner — a narrow lane, lit only by a flickering streetlamp. Its light buzzed weakly, fighting against the thick dark pressing in from all sides.
Her heart pounded harder. The world felt unreal — like the air itself was holding its breath.
Shadows moved behind them. The sound of boots. The scrape of gravel. A whisper of laughter again, closer this time.
Amara's hand shook as she pulled her jacket tighter around herself, her other hand gripping the small pepper spray like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to sanity.
Don't fall. Don't trip. Keep her safe.
"Amara— wait—" Bella's voice trembled.
Amara stopped — too fast. Her body jolted, chest heaving, her breath fogging in the cold air. She turned, scanning the darkness — the alley behind them stretched like a throat, waiting to swallow them whole.
Bella looked terrified, eyes darting around. The sound of the footsteps had gone silent now.
That was worse. Much worse.
"Amara," Bella whispered, "where are they?"
"I— I don't know," she stammered, her voice thin. The pepper spray trembled in her hand. "Just stay close."
Then — a hand clamped down on her arm.
Amara reacted before her mind caught up. She spun around with a strangled cry, pressing down on the nozzle — a sharp pssst! of pepper spray cutting through the air.
The figure ducked fast — too fast — her wrist caught in an iron grip before she could aim again.
"Hey— hey— it's me— Amara, it's me."
That voice.
She froze.
Her vision flickered, the edges of her fear dissolving as the scent hit her — clean, cool, like rain hitting pine needles after a storm.
"Lucien," she breathed, voice breaking in disbelief.
He held her wrists carefully, lowering her hand without force, his tone a steady rhythm that seemed to pull her out of the chaos.
"You're safe," he murmured, voice low enough that only she could hear. "It's all right. I've got you."
Her breath stuttered. The adrenaline still buzzed under her skin, but the edges were softening — his voice a strange balm against the panic clawing in her chest.
"I— I thought—" she whispered, but the words tangled with her breath.
Lucien's hand moved to her back, drawing slow circles there, grounding her with every touch. "You're safe, Amara. You're safe now."
The world seemed to fade — the darkness, the rain, even Bella's quiet breathing somewhere nearby. All that existed was the warmth of his hand and the way his words wrapped around her, calm and certain.
When she finally dared to look up, she met his gaze — golden eyes, intense and steady, burning softly against the night. There was something fierce in them. Protective. Almost human.
Something in her cracked open.
Without thinking, she stepped forward, closing the space between them. Her arms slipped around his torso, trembling.
He froze — just for a moment — then his arms came around her, steady and sure, pulling her closer. His chin brushed against her hair, and his breath ghosted over her ear as he whispered again,
"You're safe, Amara. I've got you."
For someone who should've been cold as stone, he felt impossibly, achingly warm.
And in that trembling embrace — between the shiver of the streetlight and the distant hum of the rain — the fear finally melted away.
Amara let out a shaky breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
For the first time that night, she wasn't running.
She was safe.
And for reasons she couldn't explain — being in Lucien's arms felt like coming home.
In the dark, she ran from fear. In his arms, she found the kind of warmth no sunlight could give.
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