When he turned onto the private road leading to the cabin, the awareness of what he'd just done crashed into Edward's mind with full force. He could hear Eliza struggling to stay upright and slowed the car down to help her out.

"Are you hurt at all?" he asked.

He saw her scowl in the rearview mirror as she stretched the seatbelt across her chest.

"I don't think so. No thanks to you." Her thoughts were a jumble of rage, frustration, confusion, and fear. He deserved that; he deserved anything she might throw at him.

He tried to block her thoughts as much as he could and drove in silence until they pulled up in front of his temporary home. Eliza's heart rate increased, and he heard her breathing get progressively shallower as her mind flashed through grisly images of dungeons and dry wells, masked men wielding chainsaws, and bloodied girls strung up on trees and dangling from meat hooks. 'They'll never even find my body!' The audible thought cut through the imagery. Before he could stop himself, Edward let out a bitter chuckle, which he regretted immediately.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, trying to reassure her. But she was not reassured; suspicion and disbelief clouded her mind – he already had, it seemed.

He noted that she was scanning the tree line, looking for a possible exit route. As he opened the car door to let her out, he spoke.

"Getting lost in the woods will be more dangerous for you than staying with me."

'Wanna bet?' Her thought rang out in response, and he caught a memory of Eliza following her grandfather down a deer trail deep in the forest on an autumn morning when she was around eleven years old. She took in every detail of her surroundings as she walked, intuitively calculating how far they'd come and in which direction. The sound of Charlie's voice was muffled, but the scent of pine, earth, and the acrid notes of deer urine were clear and strong. Edward noticed that she had not faltered even once in her steps. He knew that no child was ever a replica of either parent, but in this, at least, she was Bella's polar opposite.

Bella! Oh, she would not understand this at all, not unless he could somehow make it better. Undo it. He knew this was mere wishful thinking, but perhaps there could be some way to repair the damage?

"Let's just get inside, then," Eliza said, with a resignation he hadn't seen from her during these weeks.

He motioned for her to go ahead of him to the door, and she complied, head down, shoulders slumped, and thoughts dull and irritated. She wasn't exactly dragging her feet, but her steps were hesitant, and a layer of fear clouded her mind again.

Slipping the key from his pocket, he reached around her to unlock the door and noticed that she tensed rather dramatically when he was close to her; he could not pull from her mind whether this was involuntary or an act of small rebellion. Either way, he did not like the implication – this would take much more to fix than it would if she were more like her mother.

Bella had also tensed when he would draw near, but hers was a glorious tension, so different from this. The blood would pool in her cheeks in the loveliest of ways, her skin would prick up, and her breaths would come quick and soft. Her luscious, tempting aroma would be enhanced by something warmer, muskier. If only she could have known what that did to him, the precipice upon which they stood each time they touched. He scarcely knew the version of himself that was able to walk away from that.

As they stepped inside, he did a quick scan; he hadn't heard or smelled anything amiss, but he couldn't be too careful. He needed to sort this all out, and if something – or someone, he thought bitterly – interfered, his chance could be ripped away forever. The slightly musty smell was a little more pronounced than usual, but the air was particularly damp today. All seemed as it should be.

Eliza was also looking around, and she was filing the layout into her mind at an impressive speed – the girl's spatial awareness was rather remarkable. He probed her mind and saw her filling in a potential layout for the loft level that was surprisingly accurate. Left alone, she would absolutely make a run for it, and there's almost a chance she could be crafty enough to elude him. He would need to remain vigilant, or there was a very good chance she would jump from this frying pan he'd constructed right into a pit of fire.

He truly had not walked into that cafeteria thinking he was going to do anything but talk. With Charlie improving, he would eventually run out of time before Bella left, and it felt like that was where his chance to win her back would end. But why? He had been running on instinct since the day of Alice's vision, and that had certainly felt like a plan at the time: Show up, comfort Bella, and all would be right again.

Even the daughter wasn't a problem in and of itself. Her love for her mother and desire to see her happy and fulfilled were pure. If that wolf hadn't interfered, he was still certain that he and Bella would have easily cleared up any misunderstanding the girl had regarding their initial meeting.

Alas, that was not how it happened, and he had made what was quite possibly the worst snap decision of his cursed life. His actions can only have strengthened the girl's loyalty to the wolves and proven her fear of him to be warranted. Oh, God, her fear is warranted! He remembered a time when all he wished was that Bella would be afraid of him and keep herself safe from his world. Was this the universe getting revenge after all these years he had lived in defiance of nature?

'Leave it to me to get the kidnapper who's too awkward to tell me what the fuck he wants me to do now,' Eliza's thought rang out. She was afraid of him, yes, and she was angry – also a reasonable response, he conceded – but he wasn't sure he'd known such contempt from any human before, other than that bitter old Billy Black.

"Just go sit down there," he instructed, pointing to a brown couch in front of a large picture window. He didn't look her in the eye; he couldn't.

Eliza shuffled over and plopped down like the teenager she was. She pulled her legs up to cross them, 'crisscross applesauce; spiders crawling up your back' and a flash of Bella's face up close to hers as she tickled, both of them giggling; a lovely, joyful sound. The pang of her nostalgia hit him hard, right in the chest. He needed to do something fast, or he was liable to let her go right now before he had a plan.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, trying to keep his tone perfectly neutral.

She narrowed her eyes as she watched him and bent her head to one side. Her thoughts were hazy again, as if she were still forming them herself, but she was curious. They became clearer, but it was still strange, all imagery, like a schematic of himself that she was breaking down, piece by piece. When the words formed in her head, her mouth was only a fraction of a second behind.

"So, what's the plan, Edward?"

She couldn't know, could she? He'd wasted time watching and listening to her while he should have been planning his next step. What was the goal? Bella. The goal is always Bella.

"You're going to send a message to your mother that you are interested in what I have to say and will be spending the afternoon with me." He was happy with that, and Bella would see that this was all an innocent mistake, just a misunderstanding.

Eliza snorted. He felt a growl leave his lips, and she slunk further back into the couch, eyes wide in fear. In her mind, she was telling herself to stay calm, stay nice, 'Don't piss him off, Eliza. Don't get yourself killed.'

"I'm sorry, I just—I don't think that will work like you think it will. She's not stupid." He could finally hear a waver in her voice.

"I am aware, thank you," he replied, more terse than he intended, as her internal cringe confirmed. "Your mother is a very intelligent woman, of course. She understands the value of hearing both sides. We can continue our conversation; the message does not need to be untrue."

To say she was extremely skeptical would be an understatement, and again, he could not blame her for this. Still, the girl had survival instincts; she was actively trying to keep her thoughts vague and would flit to something entirely unrelated when words or images became too clear. None of it prevented him from hearing the chorus of self-reassurances and reminders to stay calm, however.

"I'm sort of a captive audience," she said. He heard her mentally scold herself for the unintended pun, and he couldn't help but chuckle.

He decided to sit on one of the chairs as he sensed that his standing was contributing to her unease. Standing is not the problem, his own mind shot back unbidden.

"I know this may not make sense to you right now, but I do have your mother's best interests at heart," he began. "You cannot possibly understand the love we shared nor the loneliness that comes from severing such a connection. I understand your loyalty to the wolves, but your life was never in danger. Not from me."

Eliza did not answer him; she simply nodded.

"I should have reassured you earlier on that I meant no harm."

"You just wanted to watch my mom through me, because you couldn't get to her," she said, almost as if she'd just worked it out. "Leah was right."

What did the she-wolf have to do with this? He couldn't even imagine what sorts of things they might have been telling Bella and her daughter about his intentions.

"You think they're the reason she hasn't run straight to you, but you still can't read her mind. You still don't know who she is now – but I do. You watched me because watching her wouldn't help you even if you could do it."

The girl was much too proud of herself for what she'd just said. She still didn't understand how much those beasts were twisting the truth and influencing them. He was a monster, it was true, but not nearly as dangerous as they were, and he had decades to cultivate his self-control, to master himself. They were at the mercy of their instincts in a way neither she nor Bella seemed willing to acknowledge. Of course, he had just given in to an impulse and – no! He shook his head to clear the thought. That wasn't the same.

He took a deep breath and leaned forward in his seat. Eliza flinched in fear, and he broke.

He really had become something terrible again. Memories of Carlisle's embrace upon his return after his vigilante days so many decades ago flared up in his mind. Would he forgive again? Could the prodigal son return a second time?

In a very real way, this was worse than the murder of another murderer could ever be. For all her bravado and sarcasm, this was an innocent girl whom he had thrust into a terrifying world, even if it were unintended. Truth be told, if he'd fled from Bella Swan that first day as he should have, neither of them would be here.

And Bella—oh, sweet Bella—she would forgive much. She was good and kind. But could she forgive this? Perhaps if she could get away from them, he could change things with her. Her presence always soothed his overworked mind, and if she were here, safe and protected in his care, he might be able to think things through and feel the sweet relief of rational thought once again.

Eliza's confusion and terror cut through the air again. He saw himself through her eyes: an unpredictable, unhinged madman who could strike or flee at any moment. Burying his face in his hands, he slipped out of the chair and onto the floor, feeling the slight splintering of the wood where his knee made contact.

"Go!" he cried. "Go upstairs. Leave me be, please!"

She didn't hesitate, and he felt the air moving as she passed him, her scent still shockingly like her mother's. It didn't soothe him now but only made him long even more for the real thing. Her thoughts of pity at the sight of him weren't comforting, either; he was pathetic—eternally pathetic, he could see that—but he would give anything for mercy, forgiveness, redemption. There was little sign of it from her, but perhaps from Bella—perhaps there could be from his Bella.

She had to come here, hear him out. If only she would grant him one last chance to give her the future she'd once wanted, which he could only pray some small part of her still desired, that could be enough.

The decision was made: He would release Eliza to her mother and her mother alone the moment she came. Bella would learn the depth and intensity of his love for her still, and she could make her choice then.

Alice would see it; there was no need for anything further.