I'm sorry updates continue to be so far between, and I'm sorry I haven't been able to respond to reviews. Believe me, this past month, they've been more appreciated than ever. This past month has been awful. Not long after I posted chapter 22, I learned of the positively stunning betrayal of someone I trusted completely. She did something absolutely indefensible and unforgivable and pulled others into it, including me, which makes it just that much worse. I had absolutely no idea of what she had done, and I don't believe the others did either. I'm still pretty badly bruised. I've been depressed, despondent, livid, bitter, resentful—you name a negative adjective, and I've been it. Luckily, I have the greatest family ever. My husband and daughter have been wonderful, and I know I have the rest of my family only a phone call away.

So. Enough of that.

A huge thank you to Raum, Patricia, and Eliza for all their help, advice, and their endless patience, and to everyone else who has helped this Pennsylvania girl with advice, recommendations, and information on the Olympic Peninsula. Without their help, this fic would not exist.

This story is set in 2012.

Disclaimer - All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners.

Just to remind everyone where we left off, since it's been so long. . . .

"Charlie," she said again, a whispered answer to the plea it had been before. His name. It was his name she said like that.

Their fingers still laced together, her other hand rose to his jaw, her fingers trailing back toward his ear then down his neck to his shoulder. He wasn't aware if he'd moved closer to her or if she'd moved closer to him, but he could feel her breath on his face, faint brushes of cool, sweetly scented air. He breathed in through his mouth, and he could taste it.

Her fingers came to a rest against his chest, directly over his heart, and his eyes fell shut. He felt the tip of her nose trace along his jaw as light as the brush of a feather. She exhaled, saying his name a third time—a promise, that time—just before her lips pressed gently against his. That first kiss was brief, no longer than the blink of an eye. The second was longer. The third longer still. Their lips met time and again. Charlie curled his good hand around her neck, his thumb tracing along her jaw as she had traced along his, and he felt her smile against his mouth. He felt lightheaded, and he touched her lips with his fingers as he caught his breath, unable to take his eyes off of them. They were as smooth and as hard as granite, and he was keenly aware that the teeth behind them were sharper than razor blades, but they curled were into a smile so radiant that none of those things seemed to matter. Just then, he couldn't think why they ever had. His head swam as hopes he'd long since given up on ever having flooded through him. She kissed the palm of his hand, and she curled his fingers around her own and kissed his knuckles.

Tanya whispered against his lips, their hands still together between them. "I have waited a thousand years for you." Her fingers crawled up his neck and fanned out into his hair, pulling him towards her, and she covered his mouth with hers.

.~.

Chapter 23

.~.

Charlie awoke from a deep sleep to the sound of someone mowing their lawn, the smell of coffee, and sunlight streaming in through his window. His first thought was to curse whoever was cutting their grass that early in the morning, and his second was to curse himself for not closing the damn curtains the night before. He was wearing the clothes he'd had on yesterday, but rather than wonder why, he rolled over, away from the window, to bury his face in the pillow and try to get back to sleep. As soon as he moved, though, the reason for yesterday's clothes and for the curtains being open came back to him, and his eyes went wide.

Tanya.

Tanya throwing pebbles at the window like a scene out of some romantic comedy.

Tanya asking if she could come in.

Tanya slipping in through the window.

Talking.

And after the talking.

Wide awake, Charlie pushed himself up and sat there, staring straight ahead. He remembered allof what had come after the talking. Every touch. Every breath. Every kiss. Holy hell—they'd made out on his bed like a couple of teenagers. He rubbed his hand over his face, hardly able to believe he hadn't dreamed it. It wouldn't have been the first time.

Charlie looked around his room. He could see her everywhere. He remembered the way she'd rolled her eyes when he'd said he had neighbors and the way they'd shimmered like gold dust when she'd laughed. He remembered her smile. The taste of her breath, the feel of it on his face. The way she'd kissed him. The way her skin had felt, as soft as silk but has hard as granite. How that shouldn't have seemed exactly as it should be—but had. How it still did, even then. How indescribably beautiful she'd looked, and how she'd looked at him, as if no other man had ever existed. She'd taken his breath away last night, and just the memory of her did again then. For the life of him, he couldn't imagine what she saw in him, why she would ever want him. It defied logic.

Charlie grabbed the blanket from underneath and twisted the fabric in his hand. He remembered the way it had felt to lie in his bed next to her, to fall asleep with her arms around him. They hadn't done more than kiss, but his mind couldn't help continuing from where they'd left off.

A knock at the door jolted him back to the present. It cracked open, and Tanya peeked in. "Charlie?" she whispered.

Quickly, he ran a hand through his hair.

"I made you coffee," she said, closing the door behind her and keeping her eyes on the ground. The bright sunlight pouring into the room shimmered on her face like she were a diamond come to life, and he couldn't look away. She still wore what she'd had on yesterday, too. She'd never left. She held a cup in one hand and gestured tentatively toward the window with the other. "I thought you'd be up soon, with all the noise."

"Um, thanks."

She handed it to him, looking everywhere but at him.

"How did you sleep?"

"Fine," he said. Charlie wished their fingers had brushed as he took the cup from her, but they didn't. Damn—he should've brushed his teeth. What was his breath like? Could he somehow surreptitiously put his hand over his mouth and check? What good would it do if he could?

A thousand years, she'd said last night. She'd said she'd waited a thousand years for him. It had to be an exaggeration, of course. Still, though.

Her eyes fixed on the floor, she wrapped one arm around her middle, and her hand closed around her opposite elbow. He recognized the posture, and he set the cup down on the nightstand.

"I stayed last night," she said. "After you fell asleep. I hope you don't mind."

Charlie's heart felt like it was trying to pound its way out of his chest, and he grabbed a hold of the blanket from underneath again, twisting the fabric around his hand, bunching the blanket around himself. "I don't mind."

Still staring at the floor, she admitted under her breath, "You see, the thing is, I don't think I'm strong enough to stay away from you anymore."

"Me either."

With a gasp, she looked at him for the first time, and her arm dropped to her side. Her shoulders hitched, and she covered her mouth as her breath shuddered and caught.

Charlie jumped out of bed, but the sheet tangled around his leg, and he stumbled forward into her outstretched arms.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He'd tensed, but he relaxed. He'd braced for a fuck ton of pain, but there had been very little. Her hands had caught him so gently, his shoulder had hardly felt a thing. He was embarrassed, not his smoothest moment, but he was fine.

Her eyebrows were drawn together, forming a little line between them. Her eyes really were impossibly beautiful.

"Charlie? Is your shoulder okay?"

How many shades of gold could there possibly be? There was bronze too, and amber. Hints of onyx. At that moment, Charlie knew he was a lost man. He could stare into her eyes forever.

"Yeah," he answered.

The little line vanished as her eyebrows relaxed, and his eyes fell too her mouth. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, and he watched as it slipped free. Her teeth. Just the glimpse of them should've sent him running. It would've, if he had any sense. But it didn't.

"Charlie?"

He would never get over the way his name sounded when she said it. She looked at him intently, pleading silently. They stood so close, the bridge of her nose brushed his jaw when she tipped her head up. Her breath washed over him and sent goosebumps down his back.

"I'm not strong enough to stay away from you anymore either," he said.

He'd fought it, and he'd denied it, but it had won. He admitted defeat. He surrendered, and he called himself every kind of stupid for ever fighting it in the first place. It had been a loosing battle all along. His resistance had never stood a chance.

"Really?" she asked.

Tanya's eyes danced, and her smile shined brighter than the sun. Her hand ghosted up the back of his left, uninjured arm, elbow to shoulder.

"I love you," he breathed.

She pressed her hand flat against his shoulder blade and slid it across his back. Her fingers trailed down his spine. Her hand touched his stomach, just below his ribs, and moved upward to his chest.

"I never thought I'd hear you say that."

He loved her beyond sense, beyond reason. Her lips were an inch from his. The tips of their noses brushed first, then their lips followed. Once, twice. Over and over.

"I love you," he repeated between kisses. He'd tell her a hundred times a day if she wanted him to.

"Oh, Charlie. I love you, too. So very much."

Charlie shuddered. He buried his face in her neck and held on to her, clutching the fabric of her shirt in his fist like she was his lifeline and someone was about to rip her away from him. Hearing her say she loved him hit him harder than he could've imagined.

Tanya stroked his back and threaded her fingers through his hair. "Shh, darling," she whispered in his ear.

He smiled and laughed, and when he took her face in his hands and kissed her, he felt more alive than he ever had. These kisses were no light brush of lips. These kisses seared. These kisses melted two souls together. Charlie learned every contour of her face, the curve of her shoulder, the back of her neck, the small of her back, the feel of her body pressed against his, and she learned his. Kissing Tanya was like watching the sun rise. Every moment the darkness and the cold receded farther as the sun rose higher above the horizon, brightening everything it touched.

Tanya toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck as Charlie caught his breath. "When you decide to do a thing, you don't hold back," she said.

The look she gave him had his brain skipping several steps ahead, and his body following along. He could be a teenager again for what she did to him. She inhaled deeply, a deep hum vibrating from inside her. The hand in his hair stayed where it was, her other curled over his shoulder and down his back, drawing him closer.

"Do you do everything as thoroughly as you kiss?" she asked.

Down the hall, something fell, a hard, heavy thud breaking into what had felt like another world as effectively as a hundred gallons of cold water.

"Edward," Charlie gasped.

"No blood, nothing broken," Tanya promised. "It sounded like he fell out of bed."

Fell out of bed. She was right. That was exactly what it had sounded like. Charlie ran a hand over his face. What had he thought it had been? He didn't even know.

"I'm sorry," Charlie said of their broken moment.

She held his hand close. Looking at her standing next to him he felt a hundred pounds leave his shoulders. He didn't realize how alone he had felt until he didn't feel it anymore.

Grinning and pressing her lips just below his ear, Tanya whispered to him, "We have all the time in the world. I'm not going anywhere. I told you. I've waited a thousand years for you. A little while longer, the anticipation will just make it that much sweeter." She kissed his jaw, and it was natural and easy and right. "Go. Check on him. The poor thing barely slept a wink. And you need to eat. I'll make you both breakfast."

Charlie watched her walk out of the room, her hips swaying. She stopped at the door and smiled back at him. He blinked a few times, then he smiled, too. She wasn't going anywhere. They had all the time in the world.

Still smiling, Charlie knocked on Edward's door.

"Yeah," Edward said, and Charlie opened the door. Edward sat on the floor next to his bed, his knees bent and his head in his hands, the blankets puddled on the floor around him.

"You okay?" Charlie asked.

"Super," Edward said, pulling himself up and reaching for the blanket. He looked at Charlie, then did a double take. "You sleep in your clothes?"

"Um, yeah," Charlie said. He'd striven for a natural, normal tone. He'd failed.

Edward stiffened. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Dad—"

"Nothing's wrong," Charlie promised.

Edward relaxed and dropped like a rock to sit on the edge of his bed, the blanket still in his hands.

"Sleep okay?" Charlie asked.

Edward grimaced and didn't answer. Charlie sat next to him and rubbed his hands together. He looked around Edward's room, remembering back almost eighteen years. He could still see the little mobile that had hung over Edward's crib when he was a baby. He remembered something else, too. Another time sitting with Edward in this room, and a promise he'd made him. Charlie breathed deep and released it slowly. He had a confession to make.

"I'm sorry," Charlie said for the second time in as many minutes.

"You're not the one who should be sorry."

"You know your mom and I eloped, but I never told you why."

Edward sat up straight in surprise. Charlie winced. Yeah, he had kind of come out of nowhere with that. It was out there now, though.

"It was because of our parents," he admitted. "Mine didn't like her, and hers didn't like me. Mine didn't want me seeing some radical, liberal Californian. They wanted to see me with some nice, local girl. Her parents didn't want her getting herself stuck with some guy from the sticks who'd probably never been out of the county he'd been born in." Their actual words. Arguing with Renee over the phone about him, her father's voice had been so loud Charlie'd heard him from across the room. "So, we just went off together and got married without telling anyone." He paused, remembering. "My parents came around eventually."

"Mom's didn't."

"No." Renee's parents hadn't come around.

His parents had bought them a rocking chair before Edward was born. A peace offering. They still had it. After they'd died, he hadn't been able to get rid of it. At a time when he'd been the lowest he'd ever been in his life, it was a reminder of a time when he'd been the happiest. It was in a corner of the living room now, probably with a couple of their jackets hanging off the back of it, but then it had sat next to Edward's crib with a baby quilt Renee had made draped over the arm.

"After you were born," Charlie began, "when we brought you home, your mom carried you into the house and up the stairs and laid you down in your crib. You'd fallen asleep in the car. We both stood there looking down at you, dumbstruck, like we couldn't believe what we were seeing." Charlie smiled at the memory. There weren't many memories to smile at from his marriage. It had gone belly up pretty quickly after that. "Your mom went to bed to lie down, and I stayed there with you. I was afraid to leave you alone." Afraid? Hell, he'd been terrified. What if he left the room for five minutes and Edward stopped breathing? Or spit up and choked on it? Or developed a fever? Or was abducted by aliens? "The rocking chair downstairs in the living room used to be in your room. Your grandparents gave it to us. You woke up and started to fuss, and I picked you back up and sat down with you and rocked you. I remember, that was the first time I was alone with you. I was scared to death that I'd drop you or that I wasn't supporting your head the right way or who knows what. Sitting there holding you, I made you a promise. I haven't done a very good job of keeping it."

"Dad, no," Edward interrupted.

"No, let me say this." Charlie braced his good hand on his thigh. "What I promised you was that when you grew up, whoever you fell in love with, I'd support you, no matter what. After everything with our own parents, I didn't want to be like that."

Edward sniffled.

"Well, to be fair, it's not like you thought that girl would be a vampire."

Charlie squeezed Edward's shoulder. Or that you'd only be seventeen. He'd thought he'd have more time. Charlie stood up. As he opened the door, Edward called him.

"You know I love you, right?" Edward said. "Whatever—Never think—" He dropped his head and rubbed the back of his neck, leaving what he began to say unsaid.

Charlie nodded. "We've, um, got company," he said.

.~.

The moment his bedroom door closed behind his father, Edward sprang to his feet and hunted for his phone in the tangle of his blankets.

We've got company, he texted Grace.

Her response was immediate.

The Blacks?

Edward assumed so. He didn't say, but I'm guessing.

They're there early.

Yeah. He hadn't heard anyone arrive. He's still in what he had on yesterday. Edward rubbed his eyes. He'd finally fallen asleep around five. At least, he thought it had been about then. He wouldn't have thought he'd slept at all if it weren't for the nightmares.

He couldn't' shake the images from his head. Awful, Hollywood style vampires—clawed, fanged, twisted demonic faces, blood dripping from their mouths—all coming for Grace. He was on the outside of some kind of dome looking in. Like a horror story version of a snow globe. He'd yelled at her to run, but she couldn't hear him or see him. All he could do was watch, helpless again, as she'd hissed and crouched, her lips curling from her her teeth. Her normal, not fanged, teeth. The hands she held out curled like claws, but they weren't claws. They were just hands. She wasn't like them. They were monsters. She was just Grace.

Behind her she shielded a small child.

Is there trouble? she asked, pulling him back to the moment. I don't like the idea of you alone with them after what happened. I could send Jasper and Emmett.

I don't hear any shouting.

That was a good sign, except . . . Edward wrapped his hands around his phone—what if it's Ms. Mason? He hadn't thought of that. He'd rather it be Billy and Jacob.

How are you? he asked. He curled his hand around the back of his neck, waiting for her reply.

Same as the last time you asked me. I'm okay. I promise.

Edward gritted his teeth. He'd have to start asking Alice if he wanted an honest answer.

What did Tanya say about last night? he asked. Was it bad? Did they argue a lot?

It was longer than usual before Grace responded. Just long enough to make him start thinking the worst.

She hasn't come back yet.

That wasn't good. Edward worried—Sam's back up plan . . . Surround the house . . . Pick them off. . . .

He texted, You don't think Sam. . . ?

No.

The response came so immediately, it could've been a response to something he'd said before.

We'd have smelled the smoke, she explained a moment later.

Edward shivered. Practical thinking, but it chilled him that Grace thought about it in such practical terms. His best friends, and her family. One seriously planning to kill the other. Bad plan or not, they were planning it.

He changed his mind. He'd rather it was Ms. Mason. He couldn't face Jake or Billy, not after last night. He didn't know what he'd been more afraid of. That the pack would've gotten passed Grace's family, or that they wouldn't have. That had been Jake out there. And Leah.

No. That wasn't true. He knew which he'd been more afraid of.

But Ms. Mason. His English teacher, joining them for breakfast. Great. When on Earth had she come? Had she spent the night? Edward felt himself blanch, and he shoved the thought from his head.

My dad told me more about him and my mom, he texted. He recounted the story his father had told him, leaving out the promise he'd said he'd made him when he was a baby.

What had brought that on? Could he really have meant it? Was his dad maybe willing—possibly, hopefully—to accept Grace? He had seemed to express concern for her at the house, but Edward was afraid to get his hopes up.

I wish I could see that, she said. I bet you were a beautiful baby.

That made Edward want to ask why she couldn't hear what his father was thinking anymore, but that really wasn't something he could ask in a text.

How is everything there? he asked. What about Jasper?

Jasper is Jasper. He and Emmett had a real knock-down, drag-out.

Edward remembered the sound they'd made. Like two eighteen-wheelers slamming into each other doing ninety.

Jasper won, but then he always does.

That didn't make Edward feel any better.

His hands shook as he remembered everything Grace had told him about the Southern Wars. Countless numbers sacrificed without a second thought. Jasper had been a part of that. A big part.

Edward stared across his room. Jasper had seemed to stand down from his original reaction, but what if he got riled up again? "Our kind are prone to violence," Grace had said. "We're aggressive." They didn't play well with others, was how she'd put it. Abstaining from human blood lessened those instincts, she'd said. It was what enabled them to live as they did, as a family. But Jasper hadn't always abstained from human blood.

Edward dropped his head and threaded his fingers through his hair. He had considered asking Jasper to influence Grace's feelings about keeping it. He was ashamed to have even considered it, but he had.

We have a real drama going on, Grace texted.

Edward's heart lodged itself in his throat, and his stomach dropped to his feet. Between the two he felt hollowed out.

What's wrong now?

It's not bad. I promise. I can't explain in a text. I'll tell you later.

Not bad. Edward breathed deep and clenched his teeth. Grace saying that whatever was wrong now wasn't bad didn't reassure him.

He smelled bacon cooking, and that reminded him of their unknown visitor. He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth and closed his eyes.

One thing at a time. Deal with whoever was at the house first.

I'll be over soon, he texted. We need to talk.

.~.

Mangled pieces of plastic and wiring lay on Gray's lap. The remnants of her phone. Rosalie came immediately, the moment she'd heard it shatter. Her whole family had heard it shatter, of course. They'd all stopped what they'd been doing and waited. They all had questions, and assumptions. No one voice them, but she heard them all nonetheless. Gray turned her face away from her sister. She couldn't bare the pity she knew she'd see on her face. Hearing it in her thoughts was bad enough.

We need to talk, Edward had said.

"I'll order you a new one and get you one of the prepaids in the meantime," Rosalie said, gathering up the pieces before slipping out of the room.

Gray didn't respond. She couldn't even nod. She fought with everything in her not to break down, and even something as small as a nod would break the fragile control over herself she was clinging to.

One by one, her family slowly resumed what they'd been doing. No one asked for an explanation, but all kept one sliver more of their attention on her. Sympathy, concern, apprehension, uncertainty. Her head was filled with all of those and more as her family worried what had caused her to crush her phone to bits.

.~.

After the fastest shower of his life, Edward returned to his bedroom and grabbed the first things he set his hands on. He yanked them on, his back still wet when he pulled his shirt over his head.

What were you supposed to say to your English teacher over the breakfast table after she may or may not have just spent the night with your father? Or to your best friend who less than twelve hours earlier had been part of a planned attack against your girlfriend and her family?

Either way, he only half cared.

He had to get back to Grace. He had to see for himself that she was okay. He checked his phone. She still hadn't responded. There was only a message from a number he didn't recognize. Cursing under his breath, he swiped it to get rid of it without looking at it. Fucking spam.

A woman's laugh cut off abruptly as he opened his bedroom door, and he took a moment to gather himself. Good. Ms. Mason was the definite lesser of the two evils. But of all the times his father could've had her stay over, did it have to be then? Sighing, he closed his eyes and leaned against the door frame. If his father and Ms. Mason's relationship had reached the point of her having breakfast there, he needed to get used to the idea. It was for the best, really.

Edward drew himself up to his full height and marched down the hall to face his English teacher.

Two steps from the door, she whispered something to his father that was too low for Edward to hear. Her voice had a musical quality that reminded him so much of Grace it stung. He'd never noticed it before. What really made him stop in his tracks though was his father's answering whisper. Never in his life had Edward heard his father talk to anyone that tone of voice. The sound of his father's voice just then, that was the sound of the man who had gone off and eloped after a month. Edward hadn't heard what had been said, but he felt like a peeping Tom, like he'd witnessed something private, something intimate.

He cleared his throat loudly and coughed, giving warning before he turned into the kitchen.

"Good morning," Tanya said.

Edward gasped loudly. "You?" He gaped. Mouth hanging open, his eyes shot from Tanya to his father and back. "But—I thought—When—How—?" He snapped his mouth shut, still looking from one to the other in surprise.

His father sat at the table with Tanya standing behind him. Both looked about as embarrassed as he felt. That he'd expected to find someone else had to be obvious. His father shifted in his seat, angling himself closer to her, and her hand came to rest on his good shoulder. Edward gaped for a second time, and for a second time, he snapped his mouth shut.

It had been Tanya who'd stayed the night. It had been Tanya who'd whispered to his father a moment ago. Tanya, who his father had whispered back to in that tone. Tanya, who also wore the same thing she'd had on yesterday.

"Do you mind?" she asked softly, pleadingly.

"Mind?" Surprise made his voice sound like a twelve-year-old hitting puberty. Mind? Hell, he had to fight the urge to pump his fist in the air. He could've danced on the spot. "No," he said.

His father's posture relaxed, and they leaned into each other as Tanya's hand slid down his arm.

Edward blinked and shook himself out of his stupor.

"I'm just . . ." He pointed across his chest and over his shoulder. "I'm going to see Grace."

"You should eat first," Tanya said, smiling.

"I'll just . . ." Edward reached for a protein bar from the pantry and grabbed a sports drink from the fridge. He held them up like they were prizes in a scavenger hunt and nearly tripped over his own two feet as he turned to flee the room. He did not want to be the three in the crowd.

"Stop!" Tanya said.

"Really, this is good enough."

"There's a wolf," she said, striding across the kitchen. "I can smell it."

His father jumped to his feet. Edward saw the flash of pain in his face from the movement, and he took a step toward him, but then he took a step back. Tanya had moved like a flash and was already there, back at his side, her arm around his waist.

"Who is it?" his father asked.

"The female."

"Leah," Edward breathed.

"She's alone," Tanya said.

Edward remembered the nightmares he'd had, only the Hollywood style vampires were replaced with wolves the size of Hummers advancing on Grace, and he saw red. He charged down the stairs, ignoring is father's shout for him to come back, and threw the door open as Leah was coming up the front stairs.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded.

She strode past him. "Don't worry. I'm not staying."

"Leah," his father said. He stood at the top of the steps, Tanya beside him.

Leah stopped just inside the front door, her face pinched like she'd smelled something rotten. Looking at his father and Tanya, she shook her head in disgust.

"Well, I knew it was only a matter of time."

"Did Sam send you?" Edward asked.

"Sam doesn't even know I left."

"What do you want?" Edward pressed.

"He knows."

"Knows what?"

"About your bouncing baby bloodsucker."

Edward's insides seized. He tried to hide it, but he knew he'd failed. How could they—?

"I convinced Jake to come and try one more time to talk to you last night." She folded her arms. "We drove out, and we heard you both talking about it. Forgive me for not bringing balloons."

"You were spying on us?" Edward spat.

"What's that Volturi you were so worried about?" she demanded.

"You were spying on us!"

"We came to try to talk some sense into you. We can't help it if we have good hearing. Answer the question."

"I'm sure Carlisle will answer any questions the Alpha has," Tanya said.

"Will he?" Leah scoffed. "Well, how very—" She glared at Edward. "What was the word your girlfriend used? Oh, right. How very magnanimous of him."

"Then if that is all," Tanya said.

"No, that's not fucking all," Leah fumed. "Sam and the Elders have declared the treaty void. They want that thing destroyed at all costs."

Edward's adrenaline shot through the roof. "He comes near her, and I swear to God—"

Tanya edged in between Leah and him.

"I won't remind you of this again," she said in a low, steady voice. "We still outnumber you. We still have no desire to harm you, but I warn you, another stunt like last night would end very differently."

Leah snarled. "Count on it."

"Oh, honey. Don't let Laurent go to your head. You're out of your league."

"Leah," his father said, coming to stand beside Tanya.

Hard brown eyes saddened. "Billy will be inconsolable. I hope you know that. I'm only glad my dad isn't here to see . . . They loved you like a brother. They trusted you."

"And I trusted you all," Edward shot back.

"You know Seth will have to fight if it comes to it?" Leah asked his father, ignoring Edward's response. "He's fourteen!"

Edward remembered Seth at the house the day Harry had died, surrounded by a small group of his friends. He remembered how much the younger boy had shot up and figured he was part of the pack as well.

Leah's nostrils flared. "You just get that thing away from here and fast. And don't come around the reservation. Sam—" Her word cut off like she'd choked on them. "You're not welcome," she said through clenched teeth. "I warned you to be sure of what you wanted, Edward. I warned you there would be no going back. Sam—" She clenched her jaw, her lips pressed into a thin line, and she swallowed hard. She trembled as she spoke, as if getting out each word was a battle within herself. "From what Jake and I overheard, Sam knows it's growing fast, and it's strong. He knows they're worried it won't be able to control itself, that they won't be able to control it. He isn't willing to take the chance. He considers it a threat to the tribe—not just the tribe, to every human in the area—and he wants it killed before it has the chance to slaughter anyone. Jake and I can't stop him. The whole pack is united behind him. They all know some of us will not—" She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists. "They know the cost, but they consider the risk too great to allow. We can't stop any of them. They won't wait long, and they won't hesitate. If you get in the way, either of you, they will go through you to get to it."

Leah spun on her heal and left without another word and without looking back.

Tanya stepped forward and closed the door. She didn't make a sound. There was only the click of the door and his father's heavy breathing. He sounded like a bull about to charge.

A cold hand pressed under Edward's elbow and guided him back two steps. A warm hand on his shoulder guided him down to sit on the stairs.

The bull about to charge wasn't his father. It was him.

"They aren't going to touch her," Tanya said.

No. They weren't.

"We'll go to the house," she said. "I'll call the others while your father showers and changes. We'll make a plan. Now that we know. . . ."

A drum beat inside Edward's head, and it drowned out Tanya's words. It was his pulse, pounding. He jumped to his feet. He already had a plan.

"Go," she said to his father, who nodded and jogged up the stairs.

"I need to get something," he said once his dad had gone, and he darted down to the lower level. He strode across the room and reached for the closet door. His hand on the knob, he stopped and waited until he heard the sound of the water running in the shower. The moment he did, he yanked it open. Inside the closet was the gun safe, and he punched in the code to unlock it. If they thought they could get through him to get to Grace, they had another thing coming. It took under a minute to retrieve and load his hunting rifle.

The rifle clutched in his hand, he crossed the room in long strides and took the steps two at a time.

"Edward, wait!" Tanya called as he opened the front door.

She wouldn't follow him, he knew. Not without his father, and the shower was still running. He tossed the rifle on the passenger seat and started the truck, flooring the pedal the moment the engine roared to life.

.~.

I hope everyone liked it! Reviews are very appreciated, so please let me know what you thought.