A/N: Irina is hurt and makes a rash decision. And fyi, whenever I insert a break, it adds like ten words to the drabble.
The damn wolf. Laurent had been killed by him. My golden eyes flashed angrily—how could the Cullens, our family, ally themselves with the wolves?
Something caught my eye. A flash of red hair. A tiny child jumped up to grab a snowflake. She was pale as the moon, and with the chubby cheeks of a toddler.
A ripple of hurt shook my body. How could they? An immortal child?
An image of Vasilii swept through my mind. His bloodthirsty expression was screaming murder even as the Volturi threw him into the flames.
The Volturi were our allies. No longer were the Cullens.
I ran in the direction of Italy.