Ch 11 Little Lion Man
"In altitudine hiemis, tandem didici quod in me invicta infinita aestas."
Beau stepped out of his car and shut the door, the sound of the lock clicking into place punctuating the quiet afternoon. Its crimson red coating practically glowed in the sun's light. It hadn't gotten him any less attention, in fact his car was now the talk of the school for the second time since he'd gotten it. It had been enough to get the school to stop talking about his injury, half the time he wanted to come to school in a halloween masks so he'd know the people staring at him weren't looking at his face. At least the condolences had finally dried up, the other kids at the school simply grew used to looking at his deformed face, it was just another part of their daily routine, same as it was for him.
This was the first time Charlie 'allowed' him to drive himself to school. He didn't really listen when he first told him that and refused to let Jules pick him up but he hadn't caught on yet, nor had he asked any questions as to why he'd gotten so good at driving with his newfound disability when he finally showed him. He'd managed it in record time, owing mostly to the fact that Jules helped him, she really was a good teacher, surprisingly patient when he nearly killed them several times while re-learning previously easy maneuvers from scratch.
It was another school day that had dragged on, a blur of classes and casual conversations that barely registered in his mind. His thoughts had been elsewhere—distant, tangled up in the events of the past few months, and the weight of everything that had happened since Edythe left.
As he walked up the driveway and approached the front door, Beau caught sight of his father's car parked in its usual spot. Charlie was home. Beau felt a strange mix of relief and trepidation wash over him. Normally, he'd retreat to his room, avoiding any unnecessary conversation, but today something felt different. The questions that had been gnawing at him needed answers, and for once, he felt ready to ask them.
He opened the door and stepped inside, the familiar scent of the house greeting him. It was a comforting smell—faintly of coffee and the lingering aroma of the food he'd cooked for breakfast that morning. Beau dropped his backpack by the door and slipped off his shoes, pausing for a moment before heading further inside.
Charlie was in the living room, sitting in his usual spot on the couch with the TV remote in hand. The television was on, but it was clear he wasn't really watching it. His gaze was distant, lost in thought, as if he too was grappling with something.
"Hey, Dad," Beau called out, his voice breaking the quiet stillness of the house.
Charlie looked up, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Hey, Beau. How was school?"
Beau shrugged, making his way over to the couch. "Same as usual."
Charlie nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer, but Beau could see the concern in his father's eyes. It had been there ever since he got out of the hospital—a worry that never really left. And Beau knew why. His father had watched him go through hell, and he'd seen the toll it had taken. Physically, mentally, he wasn't the same person he'd been when he came to Forks. So much had happened, he didn't even recognize himself, how could his father?
For a moment, Beau hesitated, unsure of how to start the conversation that was now bubbling up inside him. He glanced at the spot on the couch next to Charlie, the space between them feeling more like a chasm. But he needed to do this. He needed to understand.
"Dad," Beau began, his voice quieter now. "Can we talk?"
Charlie's expression softened, and he set the remote down on the coffee table. "Of course, Beau. What's on your mind?"
Beau swallowed hard, moving to sit down beside his father. He stared at his hands for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. The words felt heavy on his tongue, and he mentally chastised himself for the lack of grace in his approach. This wasn't how he had planned to ask, but there was no turning back now.
Beau stared at the floor, his voice barely above a whisper. "How… did you keep going?"
Charlie frowned, not understanding. "What do you mean?"
Beau hesitated, feeling the words catch in his throat. Finally, he looked up, meeting his father's eyes with a mixture of fear and hope. "After Mom left… how did you find the strength?"
Understanding dawned in Charlie's eyes, and his expression softened even further. He nodded slowly, as if he had been expecting this question for some time. For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze drifting to the floor as he contemplated his words. "That's a big question, Beau."
"I know," Beau admitted, glancing down at his hands. "I just… I guess I'm trying to figure out how you did it. How you got through it."
Charlie sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It wasn't easy, that's for sure. But the truth is, it wasn't anything I did that got me through it. The strength to persevere… it was already in me. I just didn't know it yet."
Beau looked up at him, the words resonating in a way he hadn't expected. "You mean, you were always strong enough?"
Charlie nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. "In a way, yeah. Your mom leaving was one of the hardest things I've ever gone through. But looking back, I'm almost thankful that she did."
Beau blinked in surprise. "Thankful?"
"It wasn't easy," Charlie admitted, his voice low and reflective. "In a way," Charlie continued, "I'm thankful that she left. Not because it didn't hurt—it did, more than I can put into words. But because it gave me the chance to become the man I am today. I wouldn't be the Chief of Police if she hadn't left, I wouldn't be the man people in this town had come to respect and rely on. It forced me to find a strength I didn't know I had."
Beau stared at his father, a sense of awe slowly dawning on him. It was hard to imagine that the man sitting next to him, the man who had raised him, had once been as lost and broken as he felt now.
"Was it hard?" Beau asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "I mean, in those first few months… after she was gone?"
Charlie let out a small, humorless chuckle. "It was the hardest thing I've ever done. There were days when I felt like a walking corpse, just going through the motions. But it was also the most worthwhile thing I've ever done."
Beau blinked, the sheer honesty of his father's words catching him off guard. He had always admired Charlie, but hearing this—hearing how his father had struggled and survived—it made him see Charlie in a new light.
"You know," Beau said, his voice filled with a newfound respect, "I'm really lucky that you're my dad."
Charlie smiled, a warmth in his eyes that hadn't been there in a long time. "Thanks, Beau. That means a lot."
For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, the weight of the conversation settling around them. Beau felt a strange sense of relief, as if a burden he hadn't realized he was carrying had been lifted. But then, Charlie spoke again, and his next words left Beau flabbergasted.
"You know, Beau," Charlie began, his tone thoughtful, "in a way, Edythe did you a favor. Not intentionally, of course, but she did."
Beau's eyes widened in shock, his mind struggling to process what he was hearing. "A favor?" he repeated, disbelief evident in his voice.
Charlie nodded, his expression serious. "I know you've been put through the wringer, and I saw it firsthand. But, Beau, when you got out of the hospital… even a little bit before that, I noticed something. You changed."
Beau shook his head, feeling a mix of confusion and denial. "I don't feel any different, Dad. I'm still… me."
Charlie placed a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder. "That doesn't change what I've seen. You're stronger for it, Beau. I don't know when it started, and I know you haven't realized it yourself yet, but you've become stronger."
Beau wanted to argue, to tell his father that he was wrong. That he wasn't strong, that he was still the same broken person he had been since Edythe left. But there was something in Charlie's voice, something in the way he spoke, that made Beau pause.
"Whatever you decide to do, Beau," Charlie continued, his voice filled with unwavering support, "I'll still love you, and I'll still support you. No matter what."
Beau stared at his father, his heart swelling with emotion. He had always known that Charlie loved him, but hearing it said so plainly, so confidently, it hit him harder than he had expected. "Thanks, Dad," Beau said quietly, his voice thick with gratitude.
Charlie smiled, giving his son's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Anytime, Beau. Anytime."
Beau sat there for a few more moments, the warmth of his father's words lingering in the air. But eventually, he felt the need to retreat, to process everything that had just been said.
"I think I'm going to head to my room," Beau said, his voice soft.
Charlie nodded in understanding. "Alright, son. If you need anything, I'm here."
Beau offered his father a small smile before standing up and making his way to his room. He misjudged how far away his door was, managing to smack himself twice in rapid sucession with his own door as he clumsily stagged inside. Slamming the door shut before Charlie could notice his sudden burst of clumsiness. Made only worse by his new lack of depth perception.
He flopped himself onto the bed, again getting the distance wrong, smashing his already tender skull against the headboard of his bed, a pathetic sounding groan of pain escaping his lips.
If he wasn't clumsy before, he certainly was now. Beau took a deep series of breaths, calming the growing wave of frustration his pain brought out, focusing on a random point on the ceiling and forcing his tumultuous thoughts to quiet. His mind replayed the conversation over and over, Charlie's words echoing in his thoughts.
The heaviness in his chest that had become so commonplace was gone—at least for now. He hadn't snapped at Charlie or anyone else today, and that alone felt like an improvement. But even as he climbed into bed, he couldn't shake the conflicting feelings that Charlie's words had stirred up.
Beau's gaze lingered on the empty space on his bed where Edythe once sat, the memory of her departure still raw. He clenched his fists, the words of his father echoing in his mind, but he wasn't ready to believe them yet. It wasn't a fresh wound, but it was still a deep one. One that hadn't fully healed.
But as he lay there in the quiet of his room, the darkness pressing in around him, Beau realized something else. His father's words had given him something he hadn't felt in a long time—hope. Maybe he wasn't as broken as he thought. Maybe, just maybe, he was starting to heal.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, that thought didn't terrify him. It gave him something to hold onto, something to look forward to. He wasn't there yet, but he was moving forward.
Slowly, cautiously, but forward all the same.
Beau awoke peacefully to the sounds of nature outside his window, such an uncommon occurrence he didn't believe he was really awake until he'd pinched himself. The remnants of an unpleasant dream lingered at the edges of his consciousness, but he couldn't remember any details of it. The room was dark, and the house was silent except for the occasional sound of snoring coming from his father in the living room.
He glanced at the clock: 6:47 AM. Unable to shake the lingering unease, he slipped out of bed and padded quietly to his piano. Sitting down, he stared at the keys, feeling a pull to express the turmoil that had been building inside him for months. As was his newest obsession. It made him feel connected to her even when he wasn't. Gave him a desperately needed distraction when he could think of nothing else, and allowed him to vent the ceaseless storm of emotions brewing inside him. It didn't matter how deformed he was, even in complete darkness, with only the faint light of the moon to illuminate the keys. He could still do this, that hadn't changed.
Taking a deep breath, he let his fingers hover above the keys before they began to move, almost of their own accord. The cool feel of the plastic soothed his ailing heart, gave his brain something to focus on. The melody started light and happy, the notes painting a picture of the time when Edythe was still with him.
It was a carefree, joyful tune that brought a smile to his lips as he played. His mind wandered back to those early days, filled with laughter and stolen moments of tenderness. He could almost feel Edythe's cool hand in his, hear her musical laughter that had lit up his world.
But soon, the song began to shift. The notes descended in pitch, mirroring his own descent into darkness after she left. The melody became haunting, filled with the weight of despair and betrayal. Each note was a dagger to his heart, bringing forth the pain and anger he had felt.
The music became a lament, each note dripping with sorrow. The music captured his heartbreak, the nights spent wondering why she had abandoned him, and the days filled with an aching emptiness he could never fill.
His fingers moved slowly as sadness washed over him anew, a deep well of sorrow that seemed to have no bottom. He thought of the countless nights lying awake, staring at the ceiling, questioning everything he had ever known.
His fingers moved faster, the intensity of the music growing. The song painted a vivid picture of his journey—anger at the cruel world he found himself in and the self-loathing that gnawed at him every day. He hated himself for not being enough to make Edythe stay, for being so helpless in the face of her departure. For being so lovesick that he'd never be able to forget her if he lived a thousand years.
The anger was a fiery counterpoint to the sadness, a rage that boiled beneath the surface and threatened to consume him. His hands pounded the keys harder, the notes becoming sharp and discordant, expressing his fury at the universe for tearing them apart. For refusing to allow him the one and only thing he's ever truly wanted, with every fiber of his being.
The melody was tumultuous, reflecting the inner battle he had fought, the clash of love and despair tearing him apart. But then, as the song progressed, another emotion began to weave its way into the music—a determined resilience.
His fingers moved with purpose, the notes lighter and more hopeful. He thought about the moments of clarity he had found amidst the chaos, the small victories of self-discovery and growth.
Beau's fingers stilled on the keys, the last note hanging in the air. He sat there for a moment, breathing heavily, the catharsis of the music leaving him both exhausted and at peace. The silence that followed was profound, a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions that had filled the room just moments before. He reflected on the completion of the melody, realizing it mirrored the emotional rollercoaster he had been on since Edythe left. It was a piece of his soul, laid bare in the music.
The final bars were a testament to his journey, a promise that the trials and tribulations he endured had made him stronger. That there was still hope for the future, a glimmer of light at the end of a long, dark tunnel.
Quietly, he stood and moved to the living room. Charlie was sprawled on the couch, snoring loudly, completely oblivious to the world around him. Beau smiled softly, grateful for his father's presence. He tiptoed past him, careful not to make a sound, and slipped out the front door.
The night air was cool against his skin as he walked the short distance to Charlie's police cruiser. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale glow over the quiet street. Opening the glovebox, he reached inside and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. He held them for a moment, the cold metal heavy in his hand, before slipping them into his pocket.
As he stood there, a flood of memories washed over him. He thought about the months spent in isolation, the self-hatred that had consumed him, and the gradual healing process he had undergone. So gradual even he couldn't tell you when it started, and it felt far from over. The music he played was a reflection of that journey, each note a step towards recovery.
This is how it ends, all of it. It had to be this way, his decision.
Without a word, he closed the glovebox and quietly shut the door of the cruiser. He turned back towards the house, his footsteps silent on the pavement. Stopping at his car to leave the metallic object in his own glovebox. As he made his way back inside, he couldn't help but feel a sense of purpose, overpowering the almost crippling fear he felt. Knowing that at any moment he could be caught with no good explanation for his actions.
He crept back through the living room, Charlie's snores still echoing softly. As he passed the couch, he paused for a moment, looking at his father's sleeping form. A wave of gratitude and love washed over him.
"Goodnight, Dad," he whispered softly, knowing that Charlie wouldn't hear him but feeling the need to say it anyway.
Beau made his way back to his room. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring out the window at the moonlit night. The events of the past months had taken their toll, but he was still standing. His father had been right. He was stronger, more resilient. And for the first time in a long while, he felt hopeful about the future.
As he lay back down, he felt a sense of peace. The nightmare that had woken him was a distant memory now, replaced by the soothing aftermath of the music. Closing his eyes, he let the remnants of the melody lull him back to sleep, the promise of a new day waiting just beyond the horizon.
The familiar hum of the high school hallways buzzed around Beau as he made his way through the throngs of students. It had been weeks—months, even—since he'd felt at ease in these halls, but today was different. There was a knot of nervousness in his stomach, but beneath it, a flicker of determination. It was time to make things right, or rather, less wrong than he'd already made them.
He spotted them near the lockers, the group he'd once been so close to—McKayla, Jeremy, and Allen. They were chatting, though their conversation seemed subdued. Beau's heart pounded in his chest as he approached, the weight of his past actions pressing down on him. He had lashed out at them in his darkest moments, pushing them away when they had only tried to help. The guilt gnawed at him, but he knew he couldn't keep avoiding them. Not anymore.
"Hey, guys," Beau called out, his voice hesitant.
McKayla and Jeremy glanced over at him, their expressions unreadable. Beau stood at an awkward angle to ensure only his good eye was facing them, though he couldn't help but notice neither of the pair was making actual eye contact with him, not that he blamed them but it only made him more aware of his own hideousness, the deformity and scars that would stay with him the rest of his life. Mckayla had the decency to hide her disgust, but Jeremy lacked her grace, stuck in a staring contest with his unseeing eye, looking as if the sight of him was enough to make him physically ill.
Allen, however, turned with a smile, his eyes brightening at the sight of Beau, his eyes locking with his own and never once straying. That small gesture of warmth and solidarity gave Beau the courage to continue.
"Can we talk for a minute?" he asked, his gaze shifting between them.
McKayla crossed her arms, her posture guarded. "What's there to talk about, Beau?"
Beau swallowed, taking a deep breath. "I… I know I haven't been the best friend lately. Actually, I've been a pretty terrible one. I said things I didn't mean, and I pushed you all away when I should have leaned on you. I'm really sorry. I was going through a lot, but that's no excuse for how I treated you."
There was a moment of silence. Jeremy exchanged a glance with McKayla, and Beau braced himself for their reaction. McKayla sighed, her expression softening slightly.
"Look, Beau," she began, her voice tinged with exhaustion. "We get that you were going through something, but it wasn't fair to take it out on us. We tried to be there for you, but you just… shut us out."
Jeremy nodded in agreement, though he seemed more indifferent than upset. "You made it pretty clear we weren't worth your time."
Beau nodded, guilt settling in his chest. "I know, and you're right. I didn't handle things well. I'm not asking you to forgive me, but I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry. Really, I am."
McKayla and Jeremy exchanged another look before McKayla shrugged. "It's whatever, Beau. We all have our moments. I guess we just moved on, you know?"
Beau nodded, trying not to let the words sting too much. "Yeah, I understand."
Jeremy gave a half-hearted smile. "Just…don't do it again man, okay?"
"I won't," Beau promised, though he could see that their friendship wouldn't be the same as it once was. If it continued at all. It was for the best.
As McKayla and Jeremy began to turn away, Allen stepped forward, his smile wide and genuine. "I'm just glad to have you back, Beau. It's been weird not having you around."
Beau couldn't help but smile, a wave of relief washing over him. "Thanks, Allen. I've missed you, too. I'm really sorry for what I said."
Allen hesitated, his hand hovering for a moment before he finally clapped it on Beau's shoulder. "You know… I was pretty upset for a while," he admitted, his voice soft. "But… I get it. We've all got our battles." He offered a tentative smile, the warmth slowly returning. "Let's just move forward, alright? No hard feelings."
Beau's relief was palpable, the weight lifting from his chest as he returned the smile. "Thanks, Allen. I really mean it.". Only now did he realize how much he'd missed his usually calm and pensive friend, it wouldn't sit right with him to leave things how they'd been before. Thankfully Allen was a better man than he was. "So, what's new with you? Anything exciting?"
"I'm dating Becca now, partially because, well you were right, if a little rude." whispered Allan, his cautious demeanor poorly hiding the excitement in his voice. He really liked that girl, it was nice to see them stop pretending they didn't like each other.
"That's great Allan! When did that happen?" He punctuated his compliment with a friendly pat on his shoulder, bringing him close enough to prevent the others from overhearing them.
"I asked her out and we've been together for a couple weeks now. Don't tell anybody though, you know how people gossip in this town." Allan's voice gained an edge as he finished talking, he understood his feelings well.
"Don't I ever." The pair shared a laugh as they thought about the modern town criers they were forced to share Forks with. He'd taken over duties of being the talk of the town, he'd probably be a hundred and still hear the same story of how the police chief's son got with the Cullens precious daughter, forcing the prestigious family to flee Forks.
"So, what about you man, anything going on?" Allan spoke with warmth and genuine curiosity, the natural rhythm of their conversations returning as if they'd never been apart.
Beau chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders as they fell into their old rhythm. "Well, I just watched Back to the Future 2 and 3 for the first time."
Allen's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, what? You just watched those now? But you've had that DeLorean for months! I thought you were a fan!"
Beau sighed, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation. "Yeah, I know, I know. It's a long story. I didn't exactly pick the car because of the movie."
Allen laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. "Man, you're full of surprises. But hey, better late than never, right? What did you think?"
Beau smiled, glad for the easy conversation. "They were alright. pretty good, actually. I get why people love it so much."
The two of them continued to chat, the conversation flowing naturally as they talked about movies, classes, and everything in between. For the first time in what felt like forever, Beau felt a sense of normalcy. The chaos and turmoil of his life seemed to fade into the background as he reconnected with Allen, their friendship picking up right where it had left off.
After a while, the bell rang, signaling the start of the next class. McKayla and Jeremy had already disappeared into the crowd, and Beau felt a pang of regret, knowing that he couldn't repair every bridge he had burned. But as he turned to say goodbye to Allen, he realized that he didn't need to fix everything at once. He had earned Allen's forgiveness, and that was enough for now.
It made him reflect on how good of a friend he'd been to him. He never asked him for anything and forgave him easily, almost too easily. He seemed like a bit of a doormat, but a good person with a good heart nonetheless.
Small-towns were ruthless, he could remember what he'd been told when he first hung out with the boy. Apparently as a kid he'd had a love of fire, so much so that he burnt down his parent's house. Years ago now, but in a town where nothing happened stories like that had a long shelf life. He could become a firefighter after graduation and that still wouldn't be enough to stop the most devoted town gossips.
"Hey, Allen," Beau began, glancing over at his friend with a curious expression. "You said when you were a kid you used to be, like, a pyromaniac, right?"
Allen's eyes widened in shock, and he quickly looked around to see if anyone else had overheard. "Wait, I told you that? When!?"
"Forever ago," Beau replied with a chuckle. "I almost forgot, but I guess I was curious."
Allen rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Well, yeah. I stopped when I accidentally burned down my dad's shed. Haven't touched a flame since then, honest."
Beau raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "I thought you burnt down your house. How'd you do that?"
Allen hesitated for a moment before admitting, "I did not, thank god. I'd still be grounded if that were true. I was playing with homemade flamethrowers and well…"
"Homemade flamethrowers?" Beau repeated, disbelief clear in his voice as his eyebrows shot up.
"Yeah," Allen said, shrugging slightly. "You just take a can of hairspray that has a warning against being near an open flame, duct tape a lighter to the nozzle, and let it rip. It's pretty fun when you don't get grounded for a year afterward."
Beau stared at him, half-amused, half-astonished. "Wow, that sounds dangerous. Glad you're alright."
"I am too," Allen replied, his tone more serious now. "Fire sucks, and I'm glad I grew out of that phase. But hey, if we're ever in a zombie apocalypse, I'm set."
Beau grinned, feeling a warmth in his chest he hadn't felt in a long time. "I'll see you around, Allen."
"Definitely," Allen replied with a grin of his own. "Next time you wanna hang out, we'll have to marathon the series. They're better when you watch them together, I swear it."
Beau laughed, the sound genuine and free of the weight that had been dragging him down for so long. "You're on."
As Beau walked away, he felt a strange sense of peace settle over him. He knew that he still had a long way to go, that there were still people he had hurt and bridges that might never be mended. But for the first time in what felt like forever, he was moving forward. He was evolving as a person, slowly but surely finding his way out of the darkness. With another friend at his side, only one, but one more than he had before.
And that, he realized, was more than enough. A day well spent.
Beau walked the familiar path toward the Quileute reservation, the morning air crisp against his skin. The crunch of gravel under his feet the only sound in the otherwise quiet morning. The weight of recent events hung heavily on his mind, yet this routine—the act of visiting the reservation—was one of the few constants in his life. Even after the incident with Jules, he couldn't bring himself to stay away. It was as if returning here offered him some semblance of normalcy in a world turned upside down.
Charlie was also here a lot, nearly as much as he was. It started off as him only coming once a week but had steadily progressed since. Thankfully for him Jules and his bikes were safely left in the woods outside her garage. They only saw each other on the rare occasion they left at the same time, or came in together.
His father went straight to Bonnie's, the pair watching sports, each forgetting they even have children until it was time for dinner. Thankfully Bonnie was happy to send them away with food, meaning he'd barely had to cook for anyone but himself.
The reservation still held an aura of grief, a strange stillness to the land which hadn't faded in the weeks following Samantha's funeral.
As he rounded a corner near the cluster of houses, he spotted Elliot standing outside his small, weathered home. The man's dark hair was tousled by the wind, and despite the faint smile on his lips, there was an undeniable sadness in his eyes. When Elliot noticed Beau approaching, he raised a hand in greeting, his smile widening just slightly.
"Morning, Beau," Elliot called out, his voice carrying over the distance between them.
"Morning," Beau replied, offering a polite nod, hoping to keep the conversation brief. He didn't feel ready for more social interactions today.
"Heading somewhere?" Elliot asked casually as Beau neared the house.
Beau hesitated. "Just… making my rounds, I guess."
"Well, before you go, how about a cup of tea? I've recently received a stockpile of my favorite blend. You have to try it."
Beau's first instinct was to decline. "I'm not really a tea drinker," he said, trying to back out without being rude.
Elliot wasn't deterred. "Trust me, you'll like this one. Besides, I could use the company. It's been a quiet morning."
Beau felt a twinge of guilt at the thought of rejecting the invitation. He could see that Elliot was lonely, and it wasn't like he had anywhere else pressing to be. Reluctantly, he agreed. "Alright, sure. Just for a bit."
"Great," Elliot said with genuine enthusiasm. "Come on in."
Elliot led him into the small, cozy house, the warmth of the interior a stark contrast to the coolness outside. The smell of fresh wood and faint traces of incense lingered in the air. Beau's shoulder crashed against the side of the doorframe, the impact startling him as he'd literally been unable to see it coming. Hoping his blunder went unnoticed he acted nonchalant.
Elliot moved to the kitchen, quickly setting a kettle on the stove to boil. Beau glanced around, noticing the small, personal touches that made the house a home—a framed photograph of Samantha on a shelf, a blanket folded neatly on the arm of the couch, a pair of mugs set out on the counter.
"Have a seat," Elliot said, motioning to the chair across from him at the small dining table.
Beau sat down, feeling slightly awkward but trying not to show it. Elliot joined him after a moment, leaning back in his chair and studying Beau's face. There was a brief pause before Elliot spoke again, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"You know," Elliot began, his tone light but tinged with something deeper, "we're twins now."
Beau blinked in surprise, the comment catching him off guard. He looked at Elliot, and for a moment, he was confused. But then, as he processed the joke, he couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from his chest. It started as a chuckle but grew into something more genuine, the tension in his body easing slightly.
"Yeah," Beau agreed, shaking his head with a smile. "I guess we are."
Elliot's smile widened, and for a brief moment, the sadness in his eyes seemed to lift. "I'm glad to see you can still smile, Beau. It suits you."
The kettle whistled, breaking the moment. Elliot stood to prepare the tea, his movements fluid and practiced. As he worked, Beau felt a flicker of nerves in his chest. There was something he needed to say, something he'd been holding onto since that terrible day.
"Elliot," Beau began, his voice uncertain. "I… I was there, the day Sam… passed. I saw it happen."
Elliot paused for a moment, his back to Beau, before turning around with the steaming cups in his hands. He placed one in front of Beau and then sat back down, his expression softening.
"I know, Beau," Elliot said quietly, meeting Beau's gaze with an understanding look. "Jules told me… It was her last decision, to save your life. And I'm so proud of her for making that decision."
Beau's throat tightened, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. The guilt he'd carried since that day felt heavier than ever in the face of Elliot's kindness. "I'm sorry," Beau said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't know her well, but I know how much she meant to everyone. I just… I never got the chance to really know her before she was gone."
Elliot's expression softened further, and he leaned forward slightly, his voice taking on a warm, almost fond tone. "Sam was… incredible. She was fiery, determined, and fiercely protective of those she loved. But she was also human, you know? She had her doubts, her fears. There were nights when she'd wake up, worried that she wasn't doing enough, that she wasn't strong enough to protect everyone. I'd spend those nights reassuring her, telling her she was doing the best she could, even when she didn't believe it."
Beau listened, a mixture of awe and sorrow in his heart. "I can't picture her like that," he admitted. "She was so strong, so stoic. It's hard to imagine her being anything but… invincible."
Elliot chuckled softly, shaking his head. "She was far from invincible, but that's what made her so strong. You see, Sam was the first in the tribe to gain the ability to shift. Her first time, it took her more than a week to switch back. She thought she'd never be human again."
"She did?" Beau cursed himself as the words slipped out before he could stop them. "I'm sorry, I thought… weren't you all told the legends? Jules told me."
"Fables and legends," Elliot began, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. "They only mention our kinship with the wolves, not that the wolves themselves are our kin. I remember thinking it was a metaphor for our kinship with nature. There were no instructions on how shifting works, no hint as to who'll end up shifting and who won't. The elders refused to tell anyone the truth until the process had already begun."
He tried to imagine what it must've been like. To be trapped in an inhuman form you had no way of understanding, having to learn everything she could about her new monstrous abilities with no one to guide her. Then having to teach others like her not long after that. It seemed like an impossible task, yet when he'd met Sam she seemed cool, collected. Wise beyond her years, like she always had the answer even when there was none.
If Samantha had still been around, Jules wouldn't be so stressed all the time, maybe he'd still have his eye then, be less deformed. It was impossible to say for sure, only Archie would know. Instead he'd been spared, and what had he done with his second chance at living?
Not as much as she could've done, helped people instead of guilting them into helping him, or wasting his time making a melody nobody will listen to. For all he knew she would have found some way to lure Victor out of Seattle and kill him. Instead, she was dead and he was alive, how the hell did that make any sense?
Beau frowned, genuine confusion clouding his features. "That seems unnecessarily cruel. Why?"
"With the Cullens gone, we thought they hadn't stayed long enough to trigger it," Elliot explained, his tone somber. "But we were wrong."
Beau's eyes widened. "Wait, what do you mean? Are you saying the Cullens trigger the shifting?"
Elliot nodded, sighing deeply. "I apologize. I thought Jules would've told you. Yes, without the threat of vampires, our tribe lived peacefully for a time. That time has ended."
"But they're not like other vampires," Beau argued, leaning forward earnestly. "They're not a threat to anyone."
"They are still vampires, Beau," Elliot replied, meeting Beau's gaze with a stern expression. "The genetics of our tribe don't consider such things."
Beau was silent, taking in the weight of Elliot's words as they sat there in the cozy little house, the coming sunset casting an orange glow over the entire reservation.
Finally, Elliot continued, his voice softer now. "When the others started shifting, it was awful for her. At first, she'd hoped to be the only one, to bear that burden alone. But when the others joined her, she stepped up. She taught them everything she'd learned, even when she didn't feel ready to lead."
"She must've been an incredible leader," Beau said, his voice filled with admiration.
"She was," Elliot agreed, his eyes glistening with pride and sorrow. "She led by example, even when she didn't know what to do or how to do it. She made the tough decisions, the ones no one else wanted to make. And she did it all with a heart full of love for her people."
Beau's mind began to spiral, the comforting and open nature of their conversation allowing his thoughts to drift to darker places. The guilt he'd been carrying for so long weighed heavily on him, pressing down on his chest. "Elliot… I shouldn't have been saved," he blurted out, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them.
Elliot's expression remained calm, though a shadow of understanding crossed his eyes. He nodded slowly, as if he had anticipated Beau's response. "Why do you say that?" he asked gently, his voice tinged with curiosity.
Beau hesitated, searching for the right words. "Samantha… she was a great leader," he began, his voice filled with emotion. "A good person who helped others and had people who relied on her. Trading her life for mine isn't fair. I'm just a human."
Elliot tilted his head slightly, considering Beau's words. "And what does 'just a human' mean to you, Beau? I'm just a human too." he asked, his tone probing but kind.
Beau hesitated, then sighed, feeling the storm of emotions building inside him. "Humans in this world… we're nothing more than prey. We're completely and utterly useless. We rely on others stronger than us just to keep us alive another day. And it's terrifying. I'm scared all the time, and I'm so sick of it. I'm sick of being so weak, of needing others to protect me all the time."
Elliot looked at him for a long moment, his gaze thoughtful. "You're right," he said finally, surprising Beau with his agreement. "It is scary. We live in a world where we're constantly faced with things beyond our control. But here's the thing, Beau—each of us has come so close to death that we've looked it in the eye. That's terrifying, knowing what's out there, knowing that any moment could be your last. It can keep you up at night if you think about it too much."
Beau was confounded by Elliot's calm acceptance. "But… you were going to marry Sam. You were going to spend your life with her, despite all of that. How did you… how did you cope with the fear?"
Elliot smiled, a sad but genuine smile. "You're right. I was terrified, Beau. But my love for Sam was stronger than my fear. And that's why I stayed, why I chose to live here with her, even knowing the risks. Love has a way of making the fear bearable, of giving you something to hold onto when everything else feels uncertain."
Beau was silent, the weight of Elliot's words settling over him like a blanket. He realized then that Elliot wasn't trying to dismiss his fears—he was acknowledging them, and showing Beau that there was a way through the darkness.
"You're stronger than you think, Beau," Elliot took a deep breath before continuing, his gaze distant. "You know, when I was younger, I always thought I had to be the biggest, the strongest, to protect those I loved. I thought that's what a real man was. Over time, I realized… it's not always about being strong. It's about knowing what really matters, what you're willing to fight for. Once you know that, everything else… it just falls into place, you know?"
Beau looked down at his tea, the warmth of the cup seeping into his hands. He felt a flicker of something—maybe it was hope, or maybe it was just the comfort of knowing he wasn't alone in his fears. "Thank you, but what if I…" he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion.
Elliot reached across the table and placed a hand on Beau's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "It's okay, Beau. You can tell me."
Beau hesitated, his gaze dropping to the table. "I don't know. I really don't. I just… I don't want to drag everyone else down with me."
Elliot leaned in slightly, his voice gentle but firm. "Then what do you want, Beau?"
Beau sat there in silence, the weight of the question pressing down on him. He searched deep within himself, trying to find an answer. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want to do something for them, before more people die trying to keep me safe. People I care about." Beau paused as his throat constricted, looking up to find Elliot patiently waiting for him to finish.
"I want to keep them safe, even if I'm not around to see it." His hands idly played with the hem of his shirt as choked out the last words. All that kept him from breaking down into tears was his own desire not to. He was becoming a serious crybaby.
"Don't you want to see it?" asked Elliot, his voice sounding more curious than judgemental.
"Of course I do. I'm not strong or brave, or particularly cunning. I'm just… Beau. A loser lucky enough to have awesome people who, for some inexplicable reason, like having me around. Won't have that for much longer either at the rate things are going now…." His words trailed off as he was momentarily lost inside himself, finding the answer coming to him far more easily when he shook himself out of it.
"I… I want to do something for them this time." His mouth snapped shut, looking fearfully across the table at Elliot, worried that he'd said too much.
Elliot's gaze softened as he met Beau's eyes. "Then do something for them. Being Beau is all that you need to be for that. Can I tell you a story Beau? It's about nature, I'm going to school to become a teacher so forgive my eagerness."
"Uhh, sure? I guess, knock yourself out." Beau looked at Elliot in bewilderment, confused as to how his story would be even slightly relevant to their talk. Feeling slighted that he was apparently disinterested in their emotional conversation when they were already in the thick of it.
The man across from him chuckled at his expression, ignoring the question in his eyes before continuing. "You know, Beau, there's this animal called the honey badger."
"You mean like the school mascot, what does that have to do with anything?" He spoke sharply, feeling suddenly claustrophobic in the tight confines of the small living room. Elliot simply raised his hand to silence him before continuing, his gaze never once falling from his face.
"It's not much bigger than a small dog—certainly no match for a lion or a leopard. But honey badgers have a reputation. They don't back down, not even from the deadliest predators, even when they're certain they're about to die. They'll face down lions, jackals, and even venomous snakes, all because they refuse to give up. It's not about their size or strength; it's about their sheer will to survive, to protect what matters to them. They don't have the luxury of being the strongest, but they don't let that stop them. They fight because they have to, because no one else will."
Beau stared at Elliot in alarm as he processed the meaning behind his words. It was the first time someone hadn't told him off for wanting to involve himself further in the supernatural. It was almost as if Elliot knew what he was planning, and instead of discouraging him, he was subtly telling him to move forward. This was not at all what Beau expected to hear.
Instead of dismissing him. He listened earnestly and gave an honest answer, he could act, and he'd probably die. He was still weak, that wouldn't change, but he wasn't helpless. He could still choose to act.
As they finished their tea, Beau heard distant yelling from outside. He recognized the voice instantly—Jules. The sound pulled him back to reality, reminding him of the life he still had to navigate, the relationships he needed to mend.
"I should go," Beau said, standing up and offering Elliot a grateful smile. "But thank you for the tea, and for… everything."
Elliot stood as well, returning the smile. "You're always welcome here, Beau. Remember that."
Beau nodded and made his way to the door. Stopping for a moment at the door's threshold. His expression locked into one of grim determination. "If I don't see you again Elliot, thank you."
"You're welcome, now go, it's rude to keep a lady waiting." Elliot nodded solemnly, the ghost of a smile on his lips.
As he stepped outside, the cool air hit him, and he took a deep breath, feeling a little lighter, a little more grounded. He started toward the sound of Jules' voice, a new resolve settling in his heart.
The world was still terrifying, and he still had a long way to go. But for the first time in a long while, he felt like he could face it—like he had the strength to keep moving forward, no matter what lay ahead.
A tension hung in the air that hadn't been there before, a heaviness that weighed on his chest as he made his way to the clearing where he and Jules had agreed to meet. The last time he'd been here, things had gone so wrong. He still felt the sting of the deep slash marks on his face, the scars serving as a permanent reminder of that terrible day. The price to be paid for involving himself in a world determined to kill him.
He spotted Jules waiting by a picnic table, her posture stiff, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She wasn't facing him, instead staring off into the distance as if lost in thought. Beau hesitated for a moment, feeling the awkward tension between them even from a distance. He wondered if this was a mistake—if they were really ready to confront what had happened between them. But he knew they had to. There was no going back now, only forward.
As he approached, Jules looked up and gave him a small, tentative smile. It was strained, but it was a start.
"Hey," she said, her voice almost too quiet to hear over the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.
"Hey," Beau replied, stopping a few feet away from the table. "Mind if I sit?"
"Of course," Jules said, gesturing to the seat across from her. "It's a free country, right?"
Beau couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped his lips. It was such a Jules thing to say. He screwed up his landing when sitting down, bashing both his kneecaps against the edge of the table as he collapsed onto it. Jules watched him in utter silence, before she'd have made a joked about his clumsiness that seemed to only worsen as he got older, it wasn't funny anymore. The sight of it looked to be enough to bring her to tears.
An awkward silence settled between them as Beau reached the table. He shuffled his feet, unsure of what to say, while Jules simply stared at him, her usual confident demeanor replaced with something more subdued. The wood felt cold against his skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the morning sun filtering through the trees. They sat in silence for a few moments, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife.
"I, uh… I'm glad we're doing this," Beau started, breaking the silence. "Talking, I mean. It's been… weird."
"Yeah," Jules agreed, her voice quiet. She looked down at her hands, fiddling with the edge of the table. "Weird."
Another pause, longer this time. Beau shifted uncomfortably, trying to think of something—anything—to say. But before he could speak, Jules finally looked up at him, her eyes full of uncertainty.
"Beau, I've been thinking a lot about what happened," she said, her voice soft but steady. "About everything. And… I know I was wrong. I was wrong to be so forceful with my feelings. I just…" Her words trailed off as she looked to him with a vulnerable expression, he nodded his head, silently encouraging her to continue.
"I've been relying on you so much ever since Samantha died. You kept me sane, you know? Those moments I got to spend with you were the only times I could forget all the responsibilities and worries I have to deal with now. I was terrified of facing that alone, still am actually. I didn't know how to deal with it."
Beau listened quietly, his heart heavy with guilt and sadness. He had never considered how much pressure Jules must have been under, how much she had been struggling. It made him feel even worse for what had happened.
Jules continued, her voice trembling slightly. "I'm not trying to excuse what I did. I just wanted to tell you the truth. I know I hurt you, Beau, and I'm sorry."
Beau nodded slowly, his throat tightening as he absorbed her words. "I accept your apology, Jules. I really do. And… I'm sorry too. For everything."
Jules managed a small smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Thank you, Beau. But I want to make one thing clear—I'm not giving up on you. I know how I feel, but I'm trusting that if we're meant to be together, we will be. No point in rushing it."
Beau forced a smile, though he felt a pang of discomfort at her words. Internally, he was just relieved that she was getting closer to understanding that he wasn't interested. "I appreciate that, Jules."
There was another pause, but this time it felt less awkward, more reflective. Beau took a deep breath, deciding it was his turn to open up.
Beau leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "I've been relying on you too, Jules. More than I should. I keep thinking that I can't get through this without you, but I don't want to do that to you. I want to be able to stand on my own feet."
Jules sighed, her gaze drifting to the horizon. "Yeah, Me too. But sometimes it feels like an impossible task, you know?"
"I know, trust me." Beau agreed. He hesitated for a moment, then added, "I can't even begin to imagine how hard it's been for you as Alpha."
Jules was quiet for a moment, her jaw tightening slightly. "It's been… a lot," she admitted, though Beau could tell she was downplaying it. "But I'm managing."
"Are you?" Beau asked, his voice soft but probing.
Jules blinked, surprised by the question. She looked at Beau, really looked at him, and saw the concern in his eyes. Her shoulders slumped, the weight of her burden pressing down on her. "No," she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not. I hate being Alpha, Beau. I never wanted it. I'm a terrible, selfish leader."
Beau frowned, sensing the pain behind her words. "Why do you think that?"
Jules let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "Because I'm a terrible, selfish leader. I've been using the pack to ensure your safety, Beau. And while they're fully supportive, they know just as well as I do that I'm not cut out for this. I can't even keep a single secret to myself with the pack's hivemind constantly in my head."
Beau shook his head firmly, his voice filled with conviction. "You're still learning, Jules. When Samantha was Alpha, it's not like she flipped a switch one day and became a model, selfless leader for her people. It was hard for her, and it'll be hard for you too. But I know that if anyone can do it, it's you."
Jules closed her eyes, a single tear slipping down her cheek. "I don't know," she murmured. "I just... don't know."
Beau leaned in closer, his voice filled with quiet conviction. "You will," he said, his words firm and reassuring. "I know if anyone can do it, it's you."
Jules exhaled slowly, her shoulders slumping with relief. "Thank you, Beau. You have no idea how much that means to me."
Without thinking, Beau reached out and took her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. The contact was warm, comforting. Jules looked at their joined hands, her lips trembling as she tried to hold back tears.
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their shared history hanging between them. Finally, Jules couldn't hold back any longer, and she leaned forward, pulling Beau into a tearful hug. Beau held her tightly, feeling the tension melt away as they embraced. It was as if a dam had broken, and all the emotions they had been holding back came rushing out in that single moment.
Truly he cared for Jules, she'd always have a spot in his heart. A smaller part than Edythe but she loved him and he couldn't stand seeing her in danger again, because she wanted to protect him. Stubbornness was in her blood, there would be no changing her mind, it was already too late for anything else.
That made what he was about to even more unforgivable. Hopefully she'd be able to understand, one day. That didn't make him feel any better about it, however.
But as they pulled away, something in Beau's mind clicked. He'd put it off for long enough, it was time. What he was about to do was a cruel but necessary evil. He looked Jules squarely in the eye, his heart pounding as he whispered, "I'm sorry."
Jules blinked in confusion, her tear-filled eyes searching his face. "Sorry? For what?"
Before she could finish her sentence, Beau leaned forward and kissed her. The contact was brief, just a brush of lips against lips, but it was enough to send a shockwave through them both. For Jules, it was as if her mind went blank, her senses overwhelmed by the unexpected intimacy.
"Goodbye Jules."
When the kiss ended, Beau pulled back, his breath hitching in his throat. He looked at Jules for a moment, her stunned expression only making him more aware of what he'd just done. Then, without another word, he bolted, launching himself out of the picnic table and breaking into a dead sprint toward his car.
Jules sat frozen in place, her mind struggling to catch up with what had just happened. But as reality set in, she quickly snapped out of her daze, her confusion giving way to a rush of emotions—surprise, anger, and something else she couldn't quite name.
"Beau! What the hell?" she shouted, scrambling to get up and chase after him. But as she tried to move, she found herself yanked back, her arm held in place by something cold and metallic. Looking down, she saw the handcuff fastened tightly around her wrist, the other end secured to the picnic table.
Her shock quickly turned to fury as she realized what had happened. "Beau, you idiot!" she yelled, yanking on the handcuff in frustration. She could feel the metal digging into her skin, but the pain only fueled her anger. With a growl of determination, she braced herself and yanked harder, the table creaking under the strain.
Beau's heart was pounding in his chest as he sprinted toward his car, the weight of the keys in his hand feeling heavier than ever. He could hear Jules' angry shouts behind him, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. His vision was uneven, the world shifting and warping as he tried to focus with his one good eye. The depth perception was all wrong, and the distance between him and the car seemed to stretch and compress in a dizzying fashion.
"Come on, come on," he muttered under his breath, fumbling with the keys. His fingers trembled as he finally jammed the key into the lock, missing the slot twice before finally managing to turn it. The door swung open with a metallic creak, and he practically threw himself inside, slamming it shut behind him. His hands were clumsy, betraying his growing panic as he tried to get the key into the ignition. He missed the slot again, his one good eye struggling to guide his trembling hand.
"Damn it!" he cursed, his voice shaking as he finally got the key in and turned it. The engine roared to life, but in his panic, Beau fumbled with the gearshift, nearly stalling the car. His foot slipped on the pedal, sending the car lurching forward awkwardly before he managed to correct it, the wheels skidding on the gravel as he tore out onto the narrow road.
He dared a glance in the rearview mirror, but the motion sent a sharp pain through his head, making his vision swim. Jules was already shifting, her human form melting away as she transformed into the massive wolf, her eyes locking onto the car with a predatory gleam. Beau's breath hitched in his throat as he slammed his foot down on the gas pedal, the DeLorean's engine roaring in protest as it accelerated down the road.
Just as he pulled out onto the gravel road, he heard a loud crack, followed by a string of curses. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw Jules standing by the table, the handcuff dangling from her wrist, her eyes locked onto him with a look of pure rage.
"Oh, crap," Beau muttered under his breath, his foot pressing harder on the gas pedal. The car sped down the road, the engine roaring as he pushed it to its limits. He knew he didn't have much time—Jules was strong, fast, and once she shifted into her wolf form, he wouldn't stand a chance of outrunning her.
He dared a glance in the rearview mirror, but the motion sent a sharp pain through his head, making his vision swim. As if on cue, he caught a glimpse of Jules in the mirror, her form blurring as she started to shift. In a matter of seconds, the tall, muscular girl was replaced by a massive wolf, her powerful legs propelling her forward with frightening speed. Beau's breath hitched in his throat as he slammed his foot down on the gas pedal, the DeLorean's engine roaring in protest as it accelerated down the road.
The trees around him blurred into a dark, green tunnel, and Beau found himself struggling to keep the car centered on the narrow path. His one good eye couldn't keep up with the speed, making it hard to judge the curves in the road. He swerved to the left, nearly clipping a tree, and had to jerk the wheel hard to avoid crashing.
"Focus, focus!" he growled to himself, but the dizziness was making it difficult. He couldn't keep track of everything—the speed, the road, Jules rapidly closing the distance. His vision kept sliding out of focus, the edges of his sight darkening as he fought to stay alert. The car bounced over a rut in the road, and he nearly lost control again, the tires squealing as they fought for traction.
Jules was gaining on him. He could see her in the brief glances he got of the rearview mirror, her massive form closing the gap with terrifying speed. He tried to push the car faster, but his shaky hands made it difficult to keep the wheel steady. The car swerved dangerously close to the edge of the road, the tires spitting gravel as Beau wrestled it back onto the narrow path.
Just ahead, the road took a sharp curve to the right, but with his distorted vision, Beau misjudged the angle. He didn't turn soon enough, and the car skidded toward the edge of the road. Panic surged through him as he yanked the wheel hard to the right, the tires screeching in protest. The DeLorean fishtailed, nearly spinning out as it careened around the bend.
Jules was almost on top of him now, her growls echoing in his ears as she leaped into the air, her claws outstretched. Beau felt a cold sweat break out across his skin as he realized he wasn't going to make it—he'd screwed up, and she was going to catch him.
But at the last second, the car jolted forward as the wheels caught on the gravel, and Jules' claws scraped the road just behind him. She hit the ground running, but the brief moment of lost momentum was enough. Beau slammed his foot down on the gas pedal, the engine screaming as the DeLorean shot forward, pulling away from her by mere inches.
His heart was racing, the adrenaline making his vision blur even more as he tried to keep the car steady. He couldn't afford another mistake, but the world around him was spinning, his one good eye struggling to process the speed and motion. He swerved again, narrowly avoiding another tree as the car barreled down the narrow road.
Jules let out a frustrated howl, the sound echoing through the trees as she pushed herself to catch him. Beau could feel the vibration of her pounding footsteps through the ground, could sense her drawing closer with every passing second. The car was shaking under the strain, the speedometer needle quivering near the redline, but he couldn't let up—not now, not when he was so close.
The road ahead was a blur of dark green and brown, and Beau knew he was running out of time. His vision was swimming, his grip on the wheel slipping as his hand cramped from the tension. Jules was closing in again, her massive form just a few yards behind the car.
Beau gritted his teeth, his entire body tensing as he pushed the car to its absolute limit. The engine screamed in protest, the frame rattling dangerously, but he didn't dare slow down. He could feel the car beginning to shake, the vibrations making it harder to keep control. His eye kept flickering, his vision wavering as the dizziness threatened to overwhelm him.
Then, just as he thought Jules might catch him after all, the road ahead straightened out, giving him a brief reprieve. He floored the gas pedal, the car surging forward with a burst of speed. Jules was still right behind him, but she was starting to fall back, the gap between them widening by inches.
Beau could barely see through the tears that had welled up in his good eye, the strain and fear almost too much to bear. But he forced himself to keep going, to keep pushing the car forward, even as the landscape around him became a dizzying blur. The engine whined, the tires screamed, and the car shot down the road, finally leaving Jules behind.
In the rearview mirror, Beau saw Jules slow to a stop, her massive chest heaving with exertion. She stared after the car, her eyes blazing with frustration and anger, but she didn't give chase again. Beau's breath came in ragged gasps as he realized he'd made it—barely, but he'd made it.
The road stretched out ahead of him, the trees on either side rushing past in a blur as he drove, but Beau could still feel the lingering terror in his chest. His hands shook on the wheel, his knuckles white from the tight grip, and his vision wavered as the adrenaline began to wear off. He'd almost lost control—almost let Jules catch him—but somehow, he'd managed to pull through.
As he sped away, the image of the wolf standing in the road faded in his mirror, replaced by the dense forest on either side. But just as he thought he was in the clear, he heard a sound that sent chills down his spine—a deep, resonant howl that echoed through the trees, a haunting reminder of the beast that still pursued him, full of pain and frustration.
Beau's heart pounded in his chest, the sound of the howl reverberating in his ears long after it had faded. He knew he had only bought himself a little time, Jules wouldn't stop for long, they were always outside his house, asking where he was going each and every time he went out shopping or to work. This was his only chance to break away. She'd be after him soon, most likely with the rest of the pack behind her.
Now that he'd separated from the wolves Archie would be able to see his intentions plain as day. Luckily for him, they were off looking for Victor somewhere and didn't know where that was, they were safe. Jules would be back—and when she was, she wouldn't be so easy to escape, since she didn't know his plan she'd hesitate, take the time to try and figure out what exactly he was doing. That would give him all the time he needed.
But for now, he had to focus on getting as far away as possible.
With his foot pressed firmly on the gas pedal, Beau raced down the road, the howl still echoing in his mind. He didn't really know where he was going or what he would do when he got there, but he knew one thing for sure: he couldn't stop now. Not until he was there.
As the car sped into the distance, leaving the reservation far behind, Beau couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. He had done what he had to do, but in doing so, he had lost something—something important, something he might never get back. And as he drove, he wondered if he would ever be able to make things right again.
The sun dipped low in the sky, casting a pleasant orange glow over their surroundings, the lengthening shadows beckoning the end of another day. Another day where Beau is in danger and she's nowhere close to fixing it.
Edythe and Archie navigated the shadowed pines east of Forks, The border to Idaho was not far off, and the two of them had been combing the area for hours, following the faintest of trails in their relentless pursuit of Victor.
This is where he'd fled after sending the newborn to Forks, yet there was no sign of him anywhere. The trail had gone cold some time ago. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and pine needles, the occasional rustle of leaves the only sound breaking the silence.
Archie moved with an easy grace beside Edythe, his sharp eyes scanning the landscape for any sign of their quarry. Despite the seriousness of their mission, there was a lightness in his demeanor, a faint smile playing on his lips as he glanced over at his sister. He was just glad they were together again.
Edythe paused, her sharp eyes scanning the horizon as she listened to the rustle of leaves in the wind. "Do you think they'll come back?" she asked, her voice low and pensive.
Archie glanced over at her, his golden eyes thoughtful. "Our family, you mean?"
Edythe nodded, her expression unreadable. "It's been too long, and the longer we stay apart, the more difficult it will be to return."
Archie sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets as they continued walking. "Maybe. But I think it's smart to wait a little longer. The wolves are on edge, especially after… well, after what happened. It's better to let things cool down before we make any decisions about coming back."
Edythe's jaw tightened, the memory of her reckless actions still fresh in her mind. She had broken the treaty, and though she had her reasons, it didn't change the fact that she had endangered them all. "I know I've said this before, but… I'm sorry, Archie. I should have been more careful. I let my anger get the best of me."
Archie waved a hand dismissively, though there was genuine understanding in his eyes. "We all make mistakes, Edythe. You were protecting Beau. No one blames you for that. But you're right—next time, let's just be a little more careful."
Edythe was about to respond when she saw Archie's face suddenly go slack, his eyes widening in horror. His entire body went rigid, as if he were paralyzed by some unseen force. It was as if Edythe's inhuman heart skipped a beat, a wave of icy dread washing over her as she reached out to steady him.
"Archie, what is it?" she demanded, her voice sharp with worry.
But Archie didn't respond. His gaze was distant, his mind far away in a place Edythe could only glimpse by peering into his thoughts. Without hesitation, she did just that, her mind linking with his as she sought to see what had terrified him so.
The vision hit her like a sledgehammer, a flash of images and emotions so intense that it left her reeling. She couldn't make sense of it all, but the overwhelming sense of fear—primal, instinctual fear—gripped her with a force she hadn't felt in a long time.
"Archie," she whispered, her voice trembling. "What can we do?"
Archie blinked, snapping out of the vision as he gasped for air, though he didn't need it. "We need to go, now," he said urgently, his voice tight with panic.
"Would it be faster if we ran or took the car?" Edythe asked, already anticipating his answer as she prepared to move.
Archie glanced around, calculating the distance in his mind. "It's the same either way, but—"
Before he could finish, Edythe was already in motion, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him toward where they had parked the car. "Then we're taking the car."
They burst through the trees and into the small clearing where Archie's new Aston Martin was parked, the sleek car's freshly painted crimson coat gleaming in the fading light. Without a second thought, Edythe yanked open the driver's side door and slid behind the wheel, slamming the door shut as Archie barely managed to dive into the passenger seat.
The engine roared. Edythe jammed the key into the ignition, slamming the car into gear. Her hands moved with lightning speed as the car surged forward.
The tires spun in the dirt, kicking up massive plumes of dust that enveloped them as the car lurched forward, skidding dangerously close to the edge of the trail.
Edythe's foot pressed hard on the gas, the car rocketing down the narrow hiking trail that wound through the forest. The trees whipped past them in a blur, the branches scraping against the sides of the car with a harsh screech.
The road was little more than a dirt path, uneven and full of ruts that sent the car jolting and bouncing with every bump. The steering wheel vibrated in her hands, the suspension groaning under the strain as they hurtled over a particularly rough patch of ground.
The trees grew denser as they sped through the forest, the narrow trail barely wide enough to accommodate the car. Edythe's knuckles were white as she gripped the wheel, her eyes locked on the path ahead. Her heart pounded in her chest, the primal fear from Archie's vision still fresh in her mind, driving her to go faster, faster.
They hit a dip in the trail, the car briefly lifting off the ground before slamming back down with a bone-jarring thud. The impact sent a spiderweb of cracks racing across the windshield, the glass buckling under the force.
"Dammit!" Archie cursed, bracing himself against the dashboard. "I just got this car painted!"
Edythe's response was a wordless growl of frustration as she yanked the wheel to the left, narrowly avoiding a massive tree that loomed in their path. The tires screeched as they skidded around the corner, the car fishtailing dangerously before Edythe wrestled it back under control.
The forest began to thin out as they neared the edge of the trail, the trees giving way to open road. Edythe didn't slow down, not even for a second. She jerked the car onto the asphalt, the tires screaming in protest as they left the dirt behind and tore onto the highway.
The speedometer climbed higher, the car now a silver bullet racing along the empty road. The wind howled through the cracked windshield, the broken glass whistling with the force of their speed. The landscape blurred past them—trees, rocks, the distant mountains, all merging into a dizzying rush of color and motion.
Archie's hands gripped the sides of his seat, his mind still reeling from the vision. Edythe could sense his anxiety, the panic simmering just beneath the surface. They were both putting on a brave front, beneath the surface however, they were thinking the same. It was bad—really bad, it still wasn't a certainty they'd make in time, the future was turbulent, constantly shifting. That knowledge only drove her to push the car harder, to go faster.
They raced down the highway, the engine roaring as the Aston Martin flew through the turns with reckless abandon. The tires squealed as they hugged the curves, the car leaning dangerously as Edythe cut each corner as tight as she could, shaving off precious seconds.
The road ahead stretched out endlessly, the horizon glowing with the last light of day. The fear that had gripped Edythe was still there, like a bowling ball was lodged in her chest. She couldn't shake the feeling that time was running out, that something terrible was about to happen.
But whatever awaited them, Edythe was determined to face it head-on. She pressed the pedal to the floor, the car responding with a surge of power that sent them hurtling down the highway like a missile.
For a moment, the only sound was the roar of the engine and the rush of wind through the shattered windshield. Then, finally, Archie let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.
"I swear, Edythe," he muttered, his voice tight with a mix of fear and frustration. "If this car survives this, it'll be a miracle."
Edythe's expression remained grim, her eyes locked on the road ahead. "Then I'll buy you another one. Now shut up and keep focused, if anything changes I need to know."
As they sped through the night, the ominous sense of foreboding hung over them like a dark cloud, the details of Archie's vision still haunting them both. But neither of them spoke of it. The only thing that mattered now was getting to Beau in time, before the nightmare Archie had seen became reality.
"In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an endless summer."