Here are sections of the last two chapters from Edward's point of view, as well as the ride home. Content note for the thoughts of one seriously creepy vampire with bad intentions—avoid the italicized section near the bottom of the first section if you think this will bother you. If you like this, consider checking out my side project, Gratitude: what if Twilight was gayer and nicer to Leah? Thank you so much for the positive reviews and messages, they mean so much to me!

Friday night meant that it was finally time for a proper hunt. We had taken turns over the last few nights to patrol the area around Forks, but it was clear that preventative measures weren't sufficient. On Thursday we held a family meeting to plan everything out: Alice and Esme would work the farmer's market to keep up appearances. Carlisle (who had negotiated for two days off in a row) and Rosalie would stick close to Forks to keep an eye out on the locals. Jasper, Emmett, and I would follow the nomad's trail until we caught up with him.

By our reckoning, he was headed toward Port Angeles, so we began there, ditching the car on 101 just outside the city limits. A cursory search showed that he'd looped around and come in from the east only an hour or two before us. All seemed well, until we passed the library and were assaulted by the sharp tang of fresh blood.

"He was here," Emmett said darkly. Jasper nodded, holding his breath with a pained expression.

"Wait outside," I ordered, already pushing through the unlocked front doors. I followed the scent to the back of the library, where a woman's body sprawled on the floor. She had been dead for about ten minutes—killed by a powerful blow to the back of the head. I closed her eyes, furious that we had come too late.

"He's not hunting for food," I said after rejoining my brothers. "He didn't touch her."

"He'd have to be a newborn to be starving so soon," Jasper agreed. "He's not thirsty, he's bored."

Emmett laughed, an incongruously bright sound after the death I'd just seen. "We can fix that."

"Let's be quick about it," I growled. We jogged a little faster than was strictly advisable, but there were no cars coming along the road to see us.

Only a moment or two later, I held up a hand. "Stop." Emmett and Jasper froze, trusting me.

A frightened girl under a streetlight—wantwantwantwant—she's going to scream—I bet she'll be pretty when she begs—haven't had fun in a while—should I let her think she can run? no—what Vicky doesn't know won't hurt her—want—mmmmm—

"Run," I snarled, white-hot fury shooting up my spine. We covered the last half mile in under thirty seconds, arriving just in time to see Bella Swan facing certain death for the second time in two weeks—and in the split second before I spoke, I realized that if she died because I couldn't save her, I would never forgive myself.

I could hear Jasper and Emmett's conversation from where I walked, protectively close to the conspicuously fragile girl. Though Jasper's thoughts were still laced with anger that I hadn't warned them of who the nomad's victim was before she saw us, his arguments sounded calm and rational. One human life, which should have already ended, in trade for the safety and security of our entire family. The safety and security of Alice.

Emmett was thinking of Rosalie's unflinching drive for justice, and how she would react if he told her he'd protected her by sacrificing an innocent, but all he said out loud was that tracking down the nomad was more important than dealing with Bella. As much as he loved to fight, Emmett wasn't the type to debate.

I cleared my throat as we came into view, intending to stop that line of conversation before Bella came within earshot. Jasper flashed a glare at me but had the grace to look guilty when he faced Bella.

"He got away," Emmett said, in a tone that suggested he was personally affronted. "But I called Rosie—she and Carlisle are coming up and we'll have us a good hunt."

"What would Carlisle do?" I asked, trying to catch Jasper's eye. He refused to look at me, but I could see the nearly-imperceptible flinch as he pictured Carlisle's kind face and the word that was so dear to him: Better. Carlisle would do better.

He walked away, though. Emmett looked apologetic but turned to follow him, headed back up the road they had driven down.

She listened and accepted the truth far more calmly than I would have expected. Of course, it probably helped that she wasn't a newborn, half-crazed with thirst and overwhelmed with a sensory and processing system that was a thousand times more detailed than anything she was used to. Thank God for small mercies, at least.

I studied her covertly as we walked back out to the car, wondering what she was thinking about. Her eyes were intently focused on nothing and she was trying not to chew on her lip. I hoped that she would succeed—being in a car with her, even with the window rolled down, had been an exquisite torment. If she bled, even accidentally, Jasper's proposed solution might happen after all.

We started the hour-long drive to Forks in silence, but eventually the not-knowing was too much for me. "What are you thinking?"

She laughed again, the sound equally as startling and charming as it had been before. "How did you find me?"

"We were already hunting him. We just happened to be very close when he caught up with you."

"And before? With the van—how did you get there so fast?"

I smiled ruefully. "We can move very fast when we must."

Her eyes widened. "So I was right?"

"You were right," I acknowledged.

Instead of brightening, her face turned serious and she began fidgeting with her fingers. "That's twice you've saved my life. I should say thank you."

"I'd rather you didn't," I said, hastily.

She looked like she was hiding a smile. "Then I won't." There was another moment of silence, then: "What happened to the librarian?"

I thought about lying to spare her the truth, but decided against it. "She didn't make it."

Something flashed in her eyes. "So that vampire… he killed five people and he just gets away with it?"

"We can't exactly hand him over to the authorities," I said, in what I hoped was a steady and convincing voice.

"Maybe not, but can't you do something about it?" Her tone was demanding.

I gripped the steering wheel. "We're trying."

"Emmett said that he got away."

"We'll try harder."

"But you told him that if he got out of the state—"

"We can't chase him to the ends of the earth." I was aware that my tone was getting a little heated, and I fought to calm down. I couldn't afford to be angry around the delectable Bella Swan.

"Why not?"

I almost spluttered. "To begin with, other covens have territories that we have to avoid. Vampire turf wars are… ugly."

"So he can be there but you can't?"

"One lone nomad is less threatening than an entire coven bent on vigilante justice."

"What about the vampire governments?"

"Killing people isn't something that they care about."

She looked like I'd struck her. "Oh."

I felt like kicking myself. "Most vampires don't see humans as anything other than food. Maybe as recruits. Not as people."

Her voice was very small. "But you do?"

"Most of us made the choice to become vampires. And we all agree that if we had that choice again, we'd choose differently."

"You chose?"

"Carlisle would never turn anyone who hadn't."

"Why?"

I felt frustrated again. "Why? Because he cares about bodily autonomy? Because he isn't a monster? Because you can't make that kind of choice for someone else?"

"I meant," she said, her cheeks red and eyes angry, "why did you choose?"

"We were dying," I replied bluntly. "People who are dying don't make smart choices."

"What were you dying of?"

"Spanish flu."

"Oh."

Silence reigned for a full half hour. I wanted—needed—to get inside her head (to protect my family, I told myself, though a small and selfish part of me was honestly intrigued), but I couldn't bring myself to ask again.

"Why are the myths wrong about so much?" she asked, finally.

"Why would they be right about anything?" I countered.

She made a pensive face. "I assume that at least some of it is influenced by real encounters with vampires."

"Probably."

"So it would be strange if none of it were right. And then… humans embellish, don't we?"

"All the time." I had watched with amusement as Orson Welles' War of the Worlds had been released and the newspapers had drummed up reports of mass panic, creating a legend that still existed despite little standing in reality. "But the vampire government… they meddle, sometimes. Derail any projects that might be too accurate, use back channels to sponsor popular media that offers distracting mythos, that sort of thing."

"Where do you hide a needle?" she asked, thoughtfully.

"Where?" I asked, though the question was probably rhetorical.

"In a sewing kit," she answered, lips quirking slightly upward. "It's unlikely that you'll be able to find that particular needle again."

I hadn't thought about it quite that way. "That's insightful."

She blushed, and the world vanished for a moment as I stared at the pooling of blood beneath her cheeks. It would be so, so easy. She'd die before she had time to be afraid, and I could—

No. I turned away abruptly and sucked in cool night air from the open window. Never again. I couldn't live with that version of myself.

"You're angry," she said, voice small again. "Did I..?"

"It's not you," I hastened to reassure her. "At least, it's nothing that you're doing." Looking back at her sweet, trusting face, I found the resolve I needed.

As I pulled up to the Swans' home, Bella started. "We're here already?"

"I drive fast." Though tonight, I'd actually driven slower than usual; I would survive an unexpected car accident, but my passenger might not, and I couldn't risk that. Bella Swan would die one day, but it wouldn't be because of anything I had or hadn't done.

"I have more questions," she said, seeming hesitant to leave the car.

"I'll answer them," I promised. "But this weekend is… booked."

"Monday," she insisted.

"Monday," I agreed.

She nodded decisively and let herself out of the car. I watched the front door close behind her—she was home, safe, where she belonged. I wasn't going to let anything change that.