I am just going to shamefully hide beneath a rock while I let you read this.

Leah's point of view - the next morning

I wake up the next morning disorientated. It takes me some time to dispatch reality and dream as consciousness finally possesses me. And honestly, I cannot remember the last time I slept this well. It is totally unexpected considering I had an appointment with the other side yesterday.

Doomsday is in 4 days.

I lay in bed, waiting for the panic crisis, the paranoia, the terror to drown me. instead nothing. I replay last night in my mind: Jane's anger, the Cullens being summoned, the tracker's deal. Nothing make sense. And for a pessimist, I am being quite optimistic. Hope is an obsessive demon that would not stop chasing me no matter where I go. This is the final battle, I need to panic, I need to drown myself into suspicion and paranoia to know this is real, this is happening, that I am standing in front of a dark tunnel, waiting to be summoned by the dark ones. There is no place to hope in the world of the dead, and I need to plant that seed in my brain.

The Volturi are chasing me. and they probably will, for the rest of my life. There are basically no way out.

Loud knocking can be heard from the other side of the door, instantly followed by a recognizable enraged voice.

"Open the damn door already, Leah!"

I groan and roll over on my side, in a failed attempt to ignore the shouting. I remain unaffected by the volume of it, a direct result from having endured twenty brothers at once. Besides, as much as I am annoyed by the unnecessary noise and clamor, I wouldn't mind keeping him and his angry banter out. But eventually, his threat of breaking in, gets me to get up, because he is clearly not joking.

I open the door as coldly as I could, letting my anger seep in every syllable I pronounce. "What do you want?"

To say Sam is enraged would be a lie. this is close to madness. I have this expression of his committed to memory since our dating days. No good comes out of it, and now that there is a wolf trapped inside of him, catastrophe is around the corner. but I am not backing out. Last time I have checked, I have not in any way personally harmed him.

"what is wrong with you?" I was taken aback by the offensive bluntness of his question. Rage, I can easily handle. Insult? that would be harder to digest. Even after Emily, he always treated me like a fickle heartbroken glass doll. but this, this is a whole new level of power abuse and rudeness.

"excuse me?"

"Haven't it came to your mind the need to inform me you were having a damn tea party with your little leech buddies?"

I eye him up for a few seconds before carefully answering

"I believe it was none of your business"

Sam's eyes widen, his expression dumbfound, he is slightly shaking. That was confirmation enough, but before I could even start explaining, Sam comes out of his stupor state, and starts yelling in anger.

"the hell is not! I can't believe you were this irresponsible, Leah"

Realization strikes me like a ton of bricks. He has no idea for what purpose the Volturi are really here for. He must have heard they were around but have not even asked why I was meeting them. His accusations are based on picked-up facts and not on the whole interlinked story.

"Leah. They. Could. Have. Hurt. A. Lot. Of. People. " he slowly articulates every syllable as if offensively talking to a mentally retarded individual.

I close my eyes in surrender. He will never change. The worse thing is that his harsh words still sting, even six years after the break-up. As sure as I am of my clean break, I realize the wound haven't totally metamorphosed into a scar yet. And that forged the idea that I will never change, will probably never change my reaction to such vicious words. The anger was traversing my veins like molten rocks during the eruption of a volcano.

"But they didn't! Are you even interested in knowing why? because they came for Me. So how about you leave me the hell alone, go to your little fiancée and help her decide whether her wedding gown should be out of lace or satin while I get toasted by my leech buddies"

As I turn to get inside, laughing darkly at my unintended pun, I glance a hand reaching for my wrist to stop my movement. Before I could register what is going on, I hear the cracking of a bone and an agonized scream.

"Don't you dare even consider touching her."

In a minimal interval of time, a dark shadow had managed to break one of Sam's arms. Sam in his wrath fit turns into a wolf. His size is ridiculously huge compared to the tracker, who bravely stands his ground, before everything starts to go down the gutter. For the first few minutes, the Volturi is playing Sam, which is oddly satisfying to watch, but as Sam's broken bone heals, the fight becomes more intense. it takes Sam a radically long time to realize the tracker cannot be taken by surprise from behind, so a confrontation is the only option.

I should let them fight it off. I cannot care less, so why I have this urge to interfere, God only knows. Sam is bouncing on the tracker, already at an advantage. Even though he lacks Demitri's gracefulness, his huge frame is not something you can overlook during a battle. I just stand there for a couple of minutes while the two perform this complicated dance of fight and flight. This is ridiculous. I need to stop this. if one of them is killed, trouble will sweep us all by its huge eternal tornado. Sam seems to have gained the upper hand when his paws are straddling Demitri to the ground. Even at this moment, the tracker has not lost his smart smug expression. His eyes drift to me, a hint of some unknown emotion in his eyes, he is not even struggling to get out of this mess. A suicidal vampire, does that even exist?

The wolf in me is irking to get over, seeking interference. Sam elevates one of his clawed paw, going for the final strike when everything becomes clearer in my mind. Mere nanoseconds before Sam's claws shredded the tracker into a million particles, I leap into him pushing him away from Demitri. My expression angry and challenging. I growl in warning, strolling territorially before the Volturi, in front of Sam, not breaking eye contact with him.

Don't you dare even consider touching him.

Even under the werewolf mask, my expression is as smug as Demitri's earlier. Sam not backing out, growls loudly in defiance. He is calling the others. I know he will not hesitate even for a second before getting rid of Demitri. But is he not aware of the deadly consequences it may have? The whole area extended from Forks to La Push will know no peace for the ten centuries to come.

In a flicker of a second, Sam is bouncing, in a ridiculous attempt in catching up with the tracker.

Close to Midnight.

By now, Sue, being one of the senior counselors of the tribe, would have heard of the little tantrum I pulled this morning, so turning back home tonight is out of question. My mother having been through a hard time herself might have started accepting the foolishness shading all of my actions and learned to overlook them but she will not be able or try at least to understand my motives, nor can I, if that matters.

I am lost. All my life I have been looking for something, and everywhere I turned, Sam, Sue, Jacob, everyone tried to tell me what it was. I accepted their answers even though they were often in contradiction and self-contradictory. I was naive, I was looking for myself and asking everyone except myself questions which I, and only I, could answer. it took me a long time and much painful boomeranging of my expectations to achieve a realization everyone else appears to have been born with: That I am nobody but myself. it is not until being placed involuntarily midway between freedom and dependency that these revelations start striking me.

I need to go, explore the world, find myself in places I have never dreamt of visiting. Getting out of this uptight box I seem to be living in. In the middle of a claustrophobic crisis, I start running. It is what I always do. But this time, the familiarity of the woods is scaring the death out of me more than my unknown destination will ever do.

"I know you did it out of spite, but I am grateful nonetheless." A voice in the darkness echoes. My built-up-in-the-heat-of-the-moment dream shatters, as the sound extract itself from the shadows to metamorphose into a dark persona.

Recognizing the intruder, I could not help the scowl.

"Trespassing was off-limit, leech!"

Demitri's Point Of View:

"It does not matter, orders concerning your safety were very specific and strict."

Leah laughs humorlessly "Safety? Are you kidding me right now?"

"No, he was touching you." I mentally face-palm myself for my lame excuse when the mere thought of another man hurting her, or even touching her is enough to drive me to madness. Are you not even interested in acknowledging what you do to me, Leah?

"The last thing I need is a brain-washed leech getting into my business telling me they were assigned to protect me from family."

"Maybe the problem is not me, maybe it is time for you to open your eyes and look around you."

I stiffen in fright I might have already said too much. Her stubbornness is frustrating. This is the kind of behavior that makes you want to commit a genocide but at the same time, passionately grab her and tell her everything. She is looking at me surprised that I am capable of making a comeback. I back away a few meters, and wisely deviate my eyes from her.

"I apologize for my temper and my rudeness"

A moment of silence passes before she quietly tries to walk away.

I cannot let her walk away.

"Are you even considering the offer?"

"No".

"You should"

"And why is that? Because then you can all protect me from my family all the time you want?"

"No, because you are in deep trouble if you are not".

Can't she see it? what she does to me. That supernatural effects that only magicians have over their marionettes. The kind of affection that runs deeper than dead organs and frozen blood, the type that makes you want to protect her even if your life is at stake. I am unquestionably and willingly ready to go this far.

But before I can deal with her demons, I need to face mine. I do not know what triggered Leah's next idiotic actions. But I don't think even my fated bond to her will be able to save her.

From myself.

Leah's point of view

What does he know? Just because I happened to save his ass so Sam could go to hell, he thinks we are a team?

I look at him for a while. He looks decent, as decent as a vampire can get, and he's edible, the kind of individual that is ready to handle whatever you throw at him, starting with the witch's wrath. Interesting.

For one moment, I do not know what possesses me, but an evil idea came to my mind.

"So you are saying you are less dangerous than my family is? Is that what you were implying?"

I bet he can see that mischievous glint in my eyes, but what can he do? He obviously cannot hurt me, so why not take the opportunity to torture a Volturi for a while? Without breaking eye contact, I get down and pick a random rock. I start playing with it, not bothering to look up to realize he's scrutinizing my actions, calculating my next moves. I smile. I am sure he has no idea where this is going.

"What the hell are you doing, Leah?"

"What grants my safety once I am in Volterra surrounded by hungry leeches only seeking my blood?"

I pick the rock up and cut my wrist deeply with it. It hurts, but it is worth it since the tracker's expression is pretty hilarious. Instantly, we are face to face.

Demitri's point of view

Leah is officially insane. What the hell is she doing? Hunger is not an emotion I mastered controlling. I never felt the need to anyway, living in a dark place where food is brought to us. So how the hell will I be able to hold back? I hold my breath the instant the first tints of the scent hit my nostrils. It is an appealing mixture of the rusty smell with the beautiful scent of the muddy earth.

But I have to constantly remind myself that this is an alluring trap, set by Leah of all people. She's a siren, from the same species that hunted Odysseys in his epic. The only difference is that Leah is the destination, rather than part of the journey.

I try to distract myself, think about anything but the beautiful smell in the air. I try to focus on the fact that it is her, that in my sane mind, I wouldn't dream of hurting her. I close my eyes, blocking the view of the leaking blood, but also Leah's smug expression from my brain. It helps but it is not enough.

I open my eyes to find her still looking at me. It's her, I can see it now. I smile at her before walking slowly in her direction. Her tough demeanor cracks when she takes a step back, then two, then another, till her back hit a tree. I got her cornered, I smile predatorily at her. For an instant, I can see the regret shielding her eyes; she is reconsidering everything she has done. And I can tell she underestimated me, labeling me incapable under any circumstances of hurting her. Which is perfectly true, but she does not know that.

"Killing me is not in your best interest, leech. you will get killed for it too!"

I ignore her feeble attempt at breaking my focus, because swiftly snatching her wrist. I softly but strongly take her hand in mine. I hold her wrist up, my eyes never leaving hers. we stay quietly like this for a few minutes. It is the first physical contact we ever make, I wonder how Leah interpreted this high-voltaged electrocuted shock traversing her body, paralyzing her for a few seconds, or if she even felt it at all.

Leah can't bring herself to try to snatch her hand. Her rhythmic breathing and pounding heart calming me. Every contraction is pulling me under, shielding me for Danger and Temptation. The wound starts to heal. I watch the phenomenon with utter fascination. I was never able to survive looking at a similar scene.

I do not let go of her until it becomes a faint scar.

"Stop tempting me, Leah"

Leah's point of view

"Stop tempting me, Leah" He whispers in the tranquility of the night.

Stop? what does that mean?

"Excuse me?"

He humbly stands immobile, a statuesque figure, a three-dimensional representation of one of Michael-Angelo's masterpieces. The only sign of life he gives away are the glint of a foreign emotion in his eyes. His dark intense stare is piercing through my core, as if desperately struggling to project something within me. I, myself, am too busy trying to decipher a shape, an emotion in those pitch black hues of his. They obviously hold back a dusty old story that only few can access and some scattered blood-stained thoughts, concrete proofs of the aftermath of the inner war he has just gone through. I have seen this expression before but my sense of deja-vu is awkwardly wronging me, sending me over the edge.

I have no idea when I start shaking, feeling the wolf starting to bounce within me, clearly recognizing something I am failing in perceiving. My head is twirling with unanswerable questions and unasked for possibilities.

Everything clicks. My nervous system starts transmitting the newest updates to my synapses and my muscles as soon as the supernatural wave has been registered. The secondary wave hit more brutally as my blood pressure starts dropping and my knees weakening. My blood circulation experiences some unknown errors effectively cased by supernatural phenomenon . My breathing becomes shallower as I fall unbalanced to the ground. It takes me a while to realize I am hyperventilating, an experience very closely compared to an inner earthquake.

The worse thing is that I cannot lose him from my sight, even as he becomes blurry and unidentified, he's there.

"No, no, no that's impossible"

I blink. He's gone.

I am not sure why, but i'm feeling my writing is regressing. Please feel free to post your thoughts :)

A while ago, I posted a story "In the heat of the Night". It is Santiago-centric, which may explain the lack of reviews. So it would mean a lot to me if you gave it a shot.

Thank you.