The airport was too bright, too loud, too full of life.

I sat in the hard plastic seat near my gate, my duffel bag at my feet, my fingers twisting in my lap. People bustled around me, dragging suitcases, holding coffee cups, murmuring to their loved ones. The hum of conversation, the distant crackle of an intercom announcing delayed flights—it all felt surreal.

I was surrounded by people, yet I had never felt more alone.

My carry-on bag was light. A few changes of clothes, my passport, some money—enough to last for as long as I needed. I hadn't packed anything sentimental. There was no point.

This was a one-way trip.

I checked the departure board for what felt like the hundredth time. My flight to Florence was still on schedule, leaving in just under an hour. From there, I'd find my way to Volterra. I had a vague memory of where to go—the city was small, ancient, walled in like a fortress. I knew the Volturi had a presence there, somewhere hidden beneath the cobblestone streets and towering buildings.

I just had to find them.

Would they sense me the moment I stepped into their city? Would I even have to search, or would they come to me before I had the chance?

I pulled my sleeves over my hands, trying to shake off the chill that had settled deep in my bones.

I was scared.

Not of dying. I had made peace with that. But of failing.

What if they didn't believe me? What if they sent me away? What if they decided I was too much of a risk and killed me on the spot?

I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. No. I couldn't let my thoughts spiral. I had to stay focused.

A sudden wave of noise erupted from a nearby group of teenagers laughing over their phones. I flinched, the normalcy of it all hitting me like a punch to the gut.

These people around me had no idea. They were boarding flights to visit family, to go on vacations, to start new lives.

And I was going to offer myself to monsters.

The overhead intercom crackled again, announcing the boarding of my flight.

This was it.

I stood, grabbing my bag, my legs shaky as I walked toward the gate.

No turning back now.

The flight passed in a blur. I stared out the window, watching the clouds shift and swirl beneath the plane, their shapes morphing into faces I thought I'd forgotten. Edward's face. Alice's. Charlie's. They haunted me, even here, miles above the earth.

When the plane touched down in Florence, the reality of what I was doing hit me like a tidal wave. I was in Italy. Alone. With no plan other than to find the most dangerous creatures I had ever known and beg for their help.

I stepped off the plane and into the chaos of the airport. The air was warmer here, thick with the scent of espresso and fresh bread. I moved through the crowds like a ghost, my duffel bag slung over my shoulder, my eyes fixed on the exit.

I found a taxi outside and mumbled the name of the city to the driver. He gave me a curious look but didn't ask questions. As the car sped away from the airport, I leaned my head against the window, watching the Italian countryside roll by. The landscape was beautiful—rolling hills, vineyards, and ancient stone buildings—but it felt like a painting, something distant and untouchable.

When we reached Volterra, the driver dropped me off at the edge of the city. I paid him with trembling hands and stepped out onto the cobblestone streets.

The city was exactly as I remembered it from Edward's stories—ancient, imposing, and eerily beautiful. The high stone walls loomed over me, their shadows stretching long in the late afternoon sun. The streets were narrow and winding, lined with shops and cafes that seemed to belong to another time. Tourists wandered the streets, their laughter and chatter filling the air, but I felt disconnected from it all, like I was walking through a dream.

I started to wander, my feet carrying me aimlessly through the city. My heart pounded with every step, my eyes darting to every shadow, every alleyway. I didn't know where to begin. How did you find a coven of vampires who didn't want to be found?

I passed a small café and caught a glimpse of my reflection in the window. I looked like a stranger—pale, hollow-eyed, and fragile. My hair hung limp around my face, and my clothes hung loosely on my frame. I barely recognized myself.

I kept walking, my mind racing. I needed a plan. I couldn't just wander the streets hoping the Volturi would find me. But what else could I do? I didn't know where their lair was, and I couldn't exactly ask for directions.

As I turned a corner, I found myself in a small piazza. A fountain stood in the center, its water sparkling in the sunlight. A few people sat on the edge, chatting and laughing. I hesitated, then sat down on a bench nearby, my bag clutched tightly in my lap.

I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. The sound of the fountain was soothing, but it did little to calm the storm inside me.

Think, Bella. Think.

I needed to find a way to draw their attention without putting myself in immediate danger. Maybe if I lingered in the city long enough, they would notice me. Or maybe I could find someone who knew something—a local who might have heard rumors, a shopkeeper who might have seen something strange.

But the thought of asking questions made my stomach churn. What if I drew the wrong kind of attention? What if Victoria was already here, watching me, waiting for the perfect moment to strike?

I shook my head, trying to push the fear aside. I couldn't afford to hesitate. I had come this far. I had to see it through.

I stood, slinging my bag over my shoulder, and started walking again. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the streets. The city felt different now, quieter, more ominous. The tourists were starting to disappear, retreating to their hotels for the night.

I turned down a narrow alley, my footsteps echoing against the stone walls. The air was cooler here, the light dimmer. I could feel the weight of the city pressing down on me, its history, its secrets.

And then I felt it—a prickle on the back of my neck, a sense of being watched. I froze, my heart pounding in my chest.

Someone was here.

I turned slowly, my eyes scanning the shadows. At first, I saw nothing. And then, from the darkness, a small figure emerged.

She was small, almost childlike, with delicate features and pale blonde hair that framed her face like a halo. Her eyes, however, were anything but innocent. They glowed faintly in the dim light, a deep, unnatural red, and they were fixed on me with an intensity that made my blood run cold.

Jane... I think?

I recognized her faintly. Edward had told me about her during an evening at the Cullens once—her gift, her cruelty, her unwavering loyalty to the Volturi. She was their most precious possession, one of their most feared enforcers, and she was standing right in front of me. I had seen her in a painting in Carlisle's study, her timeless face composited into oil paint across canvas.

For a moment, neither of us moved. She tilted her head slightly, studying me with a curiosity that felt almost predatory. I could feel her gaze like a physical weight, pressing down on me, probing, searching.

"You're not from here," she said finally, her voice soft but carrying an edge that made my skin crawl. "I would remember you."

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to meet her eyes. "No," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not."

She took a step closer, her movements unnaturally smooth, like a predator stalking its prey. "What brings you to Volterra?" she asked, her tone deceptively light. "It's not often we see strangers wandering these streets alone."

I hesitated, my mind racing. This was it—the moment I had been dreading, the moment I had been preparing for. But now that it was here, I felt utterly unprepared.

"I… I need to speak with the Volturi," I said, my voice trembling. "It's urgent."

Jane's lips curved into a faint smile, but there was no warmth in it. "Is that so?" she said, her tone almost mocking. "And what could a human possibly have to say that would interest us?"

I clenched my fists, trying to steady my nerves. "I'm being hunted," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "By a vampire. She's already killed my father. I have nowhere else to turn."

Jane's smile faded, replaced by a look of mild interest. She took another step closer, her red eyes narrowing as she studied me. "And why should we care about your troubles, human?" she asked. "What makes you think we would involve ourselves in something so… trivial?"

I swallowed again, my throat dry. "Because I know about your laws," I said, forcing myself to hold her gaze. "And I know that if I die, the secret of your existence could be exposed. I'm not a threat to you, but she is. If she kills me, there's no telling what she might do next. I'm her target right now, but afterwards? Her mate is long dead, I saw it happen myself, she has nothing left in this world, just the same as I." The words tumbled out of me like a waterfall as I kept going, "she's killed my father already, and who knows how many she has hunted in the Forks and Seattle area with how long she has hung around and toyed with me, leaving a bloodbath behind her. I know you don't care about the issues of a human alone, but this could pose a threat to your world, and, and, I'm just caught in the crossfire."

In my head I pumped my fist at the small victory that I hadn't exposed the Cullens. So far, so good on that front.

Jane's expression didn't change, but I thought I saw a flicker of something in her eyes—curiosity, perhaps, or amusement. She circled me slowly, her movements graceful and deliberate, like a cat toying with its prey.

"You're bold," she said after a moment. "I'll give you that. But boldness alone won't save you." She stopped in front of me again, her gaze piercing. "Why should we believe you? How do we know you're not lying?"

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. "I'm not lying," I said, my voice firmer now. "I have no reason to. I just want to live. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make that happen."

Jane studied me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, without warning, she reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my face, her fingers cold as ice. I flinched but didn't pull away.

"You're interesting," she said softly, almost to herself. "Most humans would be trembling in fear by now. But here you are..." she trailed off in thought for a moment.

I didn't respond. I couldn't. My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure she could hear it.

Jane stepped back, her smile returning as she accepted my words, though it was no less chilling. "Very well," she said. "I'll take you to them. But be warned, human—if you're lying, or if you waste their time, you'll regret it."

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.

Jane turned and began walking down the alley, her movements fluid and unhurried. I hesitated for a moment, then followed, my legs trembling with every step.

As we walked, the shadows seemed to deepen, the air growing colder. I could feel the weight of the city pressing down on me, its ancient stones whispering secrets I couldn't understand.

And then, as we turned a corner, I saw it—a massive, ancient building, its stone walls dark and imposing. The entrance was hidden, almost invisible, but Jane walked toward it without hesitation.

This was it.

This was why I was here, after all.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to come.

There was no turning back now.