Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of SM.
/!\ Some parts of the story aren't suitable for a young audience. I'm responsible for what I write, not for what you read. Let's not focus on the original timeline of the books. I'm not gonna put a specific date.
Beta-reader is @cerealgoblin
"No one is so brave that he is not disturbed by something unexpected."
Julius Caesar
Jasper's pov
The weight of the box seemed deceptive, an illusion of simplicity belying the heavy, insidious history it contained. Its edges were worn, frayed by time, the surface rough beneath Jasper's fingertips as though it had weathered centuries of grief. The scent of dust clung to it, sharp and musty, mingling with the stale, forgotten memories it harbored.
This was Maria's box, her final act of cruelty. It carried her essence—her venom still lingering faintly in the fibers of the wood—infused with her twisted legacy. Though she had been gone for years, her shadow remained. This was no simple revenge, no blood spilled in a moment of rage. No, Maria's reckoning was slow, methodical, like everything she had ever done.
Jasper hesitated, his fingers tracing the faint carvings on the lid. He hadn't opened it yet, though he already knew its contents. Alice had told him, her usual calm tinged with apprehension as she handed it over. Her fingers had lingered on the box a second longer than necessary, betraying her worry. She had warned him, seen the weight of what was inside before it had even come into their possession. But no vision could have prepared Jasper for the way it would press on his soul.
He had left Maria at her weakest, at the precise moment she had needed him most. That's how she would have seen it. Maria had always viewed abandonment as betrayal, a breach of the iron control she demanded over everything and everyone. Jasper had thought he was free when he left her, slipping out from under her cruel thumb. But she had woven herself into him, like venom in his veins, impossible to completely purge. And now, the box before him proved it.
The small Texan cottage was silent, save for the crackling of the fire in the hearth. Alice sat across from him, her delicate hands clasped in her lap, her expression tight with concern. The weight of the moment hung between them, oppressive and thick. Alice, with her visions and foresight, had seen this coming—Maria's last act. But even she couldn't have predicted the depth of what it would unearth within Jasper.
Finally, he opened the lid.
Inside, the past glittered in the dim firelight, sharp like shards of broken glass, each fragment cutting into the parts of himself he had long tried to bury. Clothing, faded photographs, letters written in trembling hands—tokens of the lives Maria had ended, of the battles Jasper had fought, of the blood spilled by his hands. Newborns, soldiers Maria had created for her army. Their faces came flooding back to him, clear as day. And now, their memories lay before him, collected and preserved, mocking him.
One item caught his eye: a small locket, its delicate chain tangled, smeared with dried blood. The scent hit him like a wave, sharp and nauseating. It had belonged to a girl, barely fifteen when Maria had thrust her into battle. She hadn't survived a day. Her name had been Rosa, and Jasper could still remember the way her fear had clung to her in those final moments. His throat tightened, venom rising unbidden.
Maria had kept these things as trophies, reminders of her dominion. The locket, the photographs—they were all testaments to her power, and to the monster she had shaped him into. Her voice, once a constant presence in his mind, echoed faintly now, as if time had dulled its sharp edges.
"You belong to me," she had whispered in the quiet moments between battles, her words like silk wrapping around his thoughts.
Jasper's hand clenched around the edge of the box. He wanted to throw it into the fire, to watch it burn, to watch her memory go up in flames. But he couldn't. The past, like a stubborn weed, had rooted itself deep within him. There was no escaping it, no matter how hard he tried. The memories were part of him now, etched into his soul as surely as his vampire instincts were.
"Jasper?"
Alice's voice was soft, but it cut through the fog in his mind. He looked up, his gaze meeting hers. Concern flickered in her eyes, but there was something else, something deeper—fear. Not fear for herself. Never for herself. It was always for him.
"I'm fine," he lied, though the words felt hollow even as he said them.
Alice didn't believe him. She never did. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her hands twisting together in her lap. The tension in her was palpable, a trembling undercurrent that set Jasper's senses on edge. She wasn't just worried about the box. There was something else, something heavier. Her uncertainty rippled through the air, and Jasper could feel it clawing at the edges of his control.
"I saw something today," she said, her voice barely audible over the crackling fire. "Something… different."
Jasper's focus shifted entirely, the weight of the box suddenly irrelevant. Alice's visions were never "different." They were precise, clear, a map to the future. The hesitation in her voice now unsettled him.
"What did you see?" he asked, his voice low and steady, though tension coiled tightly in his chest.
Alice's hands stilled, and for a moment, she was silent, as if struggling to find the right words. Her dark eyes flicked to his, wide with a fear that Jasper had rarely seen in her.
"I was inside the vision," she began, her voice tentative. "It was like… I was living it, feeling it. I wasn't just observing, Jasper. I was part of it."
He frowned, leaning forward, the tension in the room thickening. "Where were you?"
"I don't know. It was a place I didn't recognize. But I wasn't alone."
Her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. Jasper waited, his gaze fixed on her, urging her to continue.
"Edward was there," she said finally, her voice tight with confusion.
Jasper blinked, taken aback. Edward? That was unexpected. Usually, Alice's visions were distant, detached. But now, she described something different—something immersive.
"What was he doing?"
Alice looked down, her brow furrowed. "He was with… a girl. A human girl."
A chill crept into Jasper's bones. Edward was always careful, disciplined. The idea of him being involved with a human, letting himself get close to one, was unthinkable, and disastrous.
"And?" Jasper prompted, his voice tense.
Alice's hands twisted together, her knuckles white. "He wanted to kill her, Jasper. But… he didn't. He looked at her like she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. And then there was this mirror. I saw myself in it, but it wasn't me. It was her. The girl."
Her voice cracked, and the weight of her fear pressed down on Jasper like a lead weight. He understood the darkness Alice was describing, the desire, the struggle. It was something he had wrestled with for so long, something Edward had always prided himself on controlling. But now, it seemed, that control was slipping.
"Who is she?" Jasper asked, though dread churned in his gut.
"I don't know," Alice whispered. "But she's important. She's connected to him… and to us."
The uncertainty in her voice unnerved Jasper. Alice's visions were never wrong, but this one was so unlike anything she had ever seen before. The implications of it stretched far beyond just Edward. This girl—this human—was about to change everything or Edward's lack of discipline was about to change everything for this poor, human girl.
———
The fire crackled softly inside the cottage as Alice left Jasper standing alone, his thoughts unravelling in the silence she left behind. The night outside was calm, the sky vast and clear, but within Jasper, there was no such peace. The vision Alice had shared lingered with him, thickening the air, and in the spaces between the crackle of the fire, the weight of the future pressed upon him.
Edward, cautious and precise in everything he did, had become central to Alice's troubling vision. A human girl—someone unknown but undeniably important—had crossed paths with him in a way that threatened to undo all that Edward had built for himself.
The restraint he had cultivated over a century seemed to teeter on the edge, an impulse for destruction that simmered just beneath the surface. This human girl had drawn him to a dangerous precipice, and in Alice's vision, Jasper had sensed the depth of her confusion, her disquiet. For the first time in a long time, Alice; usually so composed in her foresight, had been shaken to her core.
Jasper sank back into his chair, his fingers aimlessly tracing the worn fabric of the armrest. His mind, disciplined through years of war and carnage, grappled now with something unfamiliar—uncertainty. The mementos inside Maria's box still haunted him, reminders, mementos of the darkness he thought he'd never leave behind. Now, coupled with Alice's unsettling vision, they weighed even heavier on his soul.
Maria had always been a shadow over his existence. Her control, her manipulation—Jasper had long ago thought he had escaped it. But her box of memories, delivered after so many years, had proven otherwise. Each item it contained was a relic of his past, a past soaked in blood, torture and regret. The soldiers he had led, the lives he had taken, the people he had failed to protect—all were neatly cataloged within that box, each piece a reminder that his hands had never truly been clean.
The night was still and cold as Jasper stepped outside, leaving the oppressive weight of his memories of Maria behind. The stars, bright and scattered across the Texas sky, offered no answers and no comfort to him. The air was cool, brushing against his granite skin, although he didn't really notice the temperature and standing outside did nothing to calm the storm raging within him.
He had always been able to control the turbulent chaos inside him, able to bury it beneath his loyalty to Alice and the Cullen family. But tonight, as the events of the past collided with the unknown of his future, his control felt fragile.
And then there was Alice—his anchor in a world that was often turbulent. She had always been the one to calm him, to bring him back from the edge when his past threatened to pull him under. But now, the uncertainty in her vision had unsettled her, and in turn, it rattled him.
The bond between them was strong, a connection woven from years of shared experience, love, and understanding. He could feel her emotions as clearly as if they were his own, and right now, that bond was vibrating deep in the depths of uncertain waters, churning and clawing at his turbulent heart.
Inside, Alice was struggling. He could sense it, he could feel it, the way her mind was reaching for answers that continued to elude her. Her visions were her gift, but they were also her curse. When the future was clear, Alice was in control—confident, calm. But now, with this girl and Edward, the future had become something unknown, something dangerous. And Alice hated not knowing. Jasper couldn't let it become her downfall, she had to stay strong.
Jasper closed his eyes, leaning against the rough bark of a nearby tree. The texture grounded him momentarily, but his mind wandered back to the contents of the box, to Maria's voice, still whispering from the past. She had left these memories for him as a final act of control, a way to remind him that no matter how far he had come, he would never truly be free. Her influence, her venom, still ran through his veins. He had lived through centuries of violence under her command, and now, with her gone, her ghost lingered in the form of a small, wooden box.
The phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him from his thoughts. A message from Carlisle—always the steady hand, always the one to offer guidance when the path became unclear. Jasper glanced at the text but didn't respond. Not yet. Carlisle would understand that there were some things Jasper needed to process on his own before he could share them with the family.
The sound of the cottage door creaking open made him turn, and there stood Alice, her figure slight against the backdrop of the night. The resolve in her posture told him that, despite her confusion, she had come to a decision. Whatever she had seen, she was ready to face it. Jasper could feel the lingering tension in her, though, the uncertainty that still clung to her words.
"Did you see more?" Jasper asked, his voice quiet, careful not to disturb the fragile calm she had built around herself.
She moved closer, her bare feet soundless against the earth, and nodded. "I tried, but it's still fragmented. The girl… she's still there."
The girl. The human girl who had somehow entangled herself with Edward. The very idea of it unsettled Jasper deeply. Edward had been the most disciplined of them all, the one who had mastered his thirst for human blood more thoroughly than any of them. Yet now, Alice's vision suggested he was being pulled into something far more dangerous—a struggle between desire and control or even worse— pulling the young girl into his world; a dangerous, supernatural, secret-filled world .
"Do you think she's a threat?" Jasper asked, already bracing for an answer that would bring more questions.
Alice hesitated, her voice uncertain. "I don't know. But she's connected to Edward in a way I've never seen before. And it scares me, Jasper. I've never seen him like this."
"Do you think Edward will become the threat?" Jasper reluctantly said, to put all of the options into the air.
Alice didn't respond verbally, but her emotions spoke for her. Her fear bled into him, tightening the tension in his chest. Alice feared for Edward, for their relationship, for what this connection might mean for all of them.
The Cullens had built their life around balance—around keeping their existence secret, keeping the human world safe from their hunger. If Edward was faltering, if this girl was somehow the key to Edward unravelling, it could have significant consequences for them all.
Jasper reached out, placing his hands on Alice's shoulders, the weight of his emotions mixing with hers, now. He had always been her rock, the one to steady her when her visions clouded her mind. Now, as she struggled to comprehend what she had seen, Jasper knew he needed to be strong for her.
"What are we going to do?" Alice's voice was a whisper, her vulnerability laid bare.
"We'll talk to Edward," Jasper replied, though the words felt heavy. "We'll figure this out. Together."
As they stood in the quiet night, with the firelight flickering through the windows of the cottage, Jasper knew one thing for certain: whatever Alice had seen, whatever connection Edward had to this human girl, it was the beginning of something they couldn't yet understand. And whether they were ready or not, they would have to face it—together as a family, as they always had.
The stars above offered no answers, and the future remained uncertain, but in the stillness of that moment, Jasper felt Alice beside him, and her presence was enough to keep the darkness at bay for at least one more night.
———
Bella's pov
After dinner, Bella made her way to her bedroom, the familiar creaks of the old house following her. The air was cool, and the breeze from the open window stirred the curtains gently. The room was bathed in pale moonlight, soft shadows stretching across the floor. Normally, the quiet of the night would have been comforting, but tonight something felt off—amiss.
She stood at the foot of her bed, her fingers resting on the hem of her shirt, ready to undress, but suddenly a chill ran down her spine. Bella paused, a strange sensation prickling the back of her neck, as though someone's eyes were on her. Her gaze flickered to the window, the darkness outside yawning and deep, the trees barely visible in the moon's soft glow.
The sensation didn't leave her. If anything, it grew stronger, more tangible. She tried to shake it off—you're being ridiculous, she thought. But the feeling persisted, and her pulse quickened despite her efforts to calm herself. Her fingers twitched, abandoning the edge of her shirt, her attention now fully on the window.
The curtains billowed slightly in the breeze, and for a moment, it was as if the night outside was watching her, the darkness itself alive and aware. Bella's breath caught in her throat, her chest tightening with unease. It was irrational, she knew—there was nothing out there but the trees, the wind, the night.
And yet, the feeling that someone—or something—was watching her gnawed at the edges of her mind.
She couldn't stand it anymore. With a sudden, sharp motion, she crossed the room and yanked the curtains closed, her heart pounding in her chest. The darkness in the room deepened, the moonlight blocked out, but the sense of exposure, of being seen, lingered. Bella stood still for a moment, back pressed against the now-closed curtains, trying to gather herself.
Bella's breath came in shallow, ragged, and in uneven bursts, as her mind raced. No one is there, she told herself, but the unease wouldn't release its grip. She felt foolish, but the sensation of being watched had been so real, so vivid, that she couldn't entirely dismiss the notion.
Slowly, Bella moved to her bed and sat down, her knees pulled up to her chest. The room was still, but her heart wouldn't stop its frantic beats as panic seeped into her blood. She glanced at the closed curtains again, half-expecting them to ripple, to reveal something—or someone—behind them. But there was only silence.
With a sudden jolt, Bella felt the urge to check the curtains again. She rose and tiptoed across the floor, pressing her palm against the cool curtain's fabric as she peeked outside. The tree's and grass below revealed nothing more than the nature that sat soundlessly outside her window, but still, an odd anxiety gnawed at her.
Returning to her bed; her sanctuary, she perched on the edge of her bed and forced herself to breathe deeply.
"It was just a look," she whispered aloud, trying to convince herself as she settled back against her pillows.
Bella's thoughts raced back to the strange boy from earlier—the one who had stared at her with such intensity, his eyes cold and unreadable. The memory of that gaze stirred something in her now, a thread of fear woven through the quiet of the room.
She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, trying to shake the feeling, but the sensation of being watched stayed with her, long after she had turned off the light and slipped beneath the covers.
———
That night Bella had a tumultuous dream.
Bella stood on the beach at La Push, her bare feet sinking slightly into the cool, grainy sand. The breeze, gentle but persistent, caressed her skin, causing goosebumps to rise on her arms. She was naked, though the thought of it didn't trouble her. Here, under the vast, open sky, everything felt distant and unreal. The air smelled of salt and damp earth, the familiar scent mingling with the soft roar of the waves.
The ocean stretched out endlessly before her, a deep, shifting blue that seemed to pulse with a life of its own. The waves rolled in gently, their white foam sparkling under the afternoon sun like diamonds scattered across the surface. It was beautiful, serene, yet there was something more lurking beneath it all. A hum of energy vibrated in the air, a tension she couldn't place.
Bella's gaze was drawn irresistibly to the water. It called to her, the sound of the waves almost melodic, as if the ocean itself was speaking. The rhythm of the tide felt like an invitation, a beckoning she couldn't ignore. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of the sun bathe her face. The sensation was soothing, and yet, beneath it, something more urgent throbbed—a need, a compulsion.
The water called louder now. It wasn't just a pull—it was a demand. A current of excitement rippled through her, laced with a strange fear that she couldn't quite name. Bella's chest tightened as she stepped forward, the sand shifting beneath her feet. Each step brought her closer to the edge of the shore, where the frothy waves lapped at the beach with a rhythmic insistence.
Her toes dipped into the water, and she inhaled sharply. The cold shocked her, but it was a welcome sensation, grounding her in the moment. Her breathing quickened, loud in the quiet of the beach. The waves swirled around her feet, icy tendrils wrapping themselves around her ankles, pulling her deeper.
Bella's heart pounded in her chest, the sound almost drowned out by the roaring ocean. But within that roar, something else emerged—a voice, soft and feminine, slipping into her thoughts like a whisper on the wind.
"Go down in the water."
The words vibrated through her, clear yet distant, like an echo reverberating in her mind. Bella's pulse raced. The voice didn't sound threatening, but there was an urgency to it, a command that couldn't be denied. Her feet moved of their own accord, sliding further into the sea, the water now climbing past her calves, numbing her skin with its frigid touch.
"Go down in the water," the voice repeated, firmer this time.
Bella swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. Her body ached with the pull of the water, with the command that demanded obedience. The waves licked higher now, brushing against her knees, and the cold seeped into her bones. She wanted to resist, to step back, but her body seemed disconnected from her will. The ocean beckoned with a relentless pull, the voice growing louder, its tone more insistent.
She looked out at the horizon, where the sky met the sea in an endless stretch of blue. The sun hovered low, casting golden streaks across the surface of the water. It should have been peaceful, but Bella felt only mounting dread. The horizon seemed further away now, the sky darker, as though the day were slipping away faster than it should.
Her thoughts were muddled, confused. Why was she here, and why did she feel this overwhelming need to obey the voice? The rational part of her screamed to stop, to turn back, but her feet pressed forward, drawn deeper into the water. The waves reached her thighs now, their chill biting, yet the pull persisted.
Bella's breaths came in ragged bursts, her chest rising and falling rapidly. The hypnotic voice continued, smooth as silk, yet firm as iron. "Go down in the water." It wasn't just a suggestion—it was an order.
She stumbled forward, her legs feeling heavy beneath the weight of the water. The ocean seemed to rise faster now, as if it were swallowing her whole. Panic began to rise in her throat, but it was dulled by the dreamlike quality of the world around her. Everything felt distant, just out of reach, as though she were watching herself from afar, helpless to intervene.
The sun, once warm and comforting, now hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the beach. The sky had shifted to a deep, foreboding gray, the clouds rolling in like an advancing storm. Bella's heart pounded against her ribs, her breaths shallow and desperate.
She could feel the ocean's pull, stronger now, more insistent. It wanted her, needed her to surrender. The voice in her head was no longer a whisper—it was a force, compelling her forward with an intensity that frightened her.
The water climbed to her waist, and her legs trembled with the cold. She tried to turn, to pull herself free from the ocean's grasp, but her body betrayed her. The sea had claimed her, and there was no escape.
"Go down," the voice commanded one final time, its tone almost gentle now, as if offering comfort in the inevitable.
The water surged higher, wrapping itself around her chest, her shoulders. Bella gasped for breath, her mind racing, but it was too late. The ocean had her, and it would not let go. She felt herself sinking, the weight of the water pressing down on her, the voice a distant hum in the background.
And just as the cold water closed over her head, swallowing her whole, she woke with a start, her heart pounding, the sound of waves echoing in her ears.
The morning had already arrived, signaling the start of a new day.
Hello, this is user_arabella,
A big thanks to my beta-reader @cerealgoblin who is fantastic at her job. If you like wolf pack stories, check her job.
Thanks for all ur comments. It is very gratifying to see that my work is appreciated. Don't hesitate to leave reviews, I read them with pleasure.