The house was charged with tension.

Not the sharp, biting kind that made people snap at each other—not the kind that made tempers short and conversations clipped. This was something heavier. A weight pressing down on all of us, wrapping around our shoulders, settling into our bones. With each passing day, the pressure coiled tighter, not like a fracture waiting to split, but like molten iron forging us together—stronger, but never untouched by the heat

Everyone was here for the same reason. Everyone wanted the same thing. But desire and victory are not the same. And none of us knew if wanting it badly enough would be enough.

Leah and Jake were training every day, throwing themselves into preparation with an intensity that would have been terrifying if it wasn't so damn impressive. While they learned how to handle newborns, the rest of the combined covens were practising fighting together—adjusting to each other's rhythms, smoothing out rough edges, sharpening weak points. It wasn't just about individual strength anymore. It was about moving as a unit. It was about trust.

Each night, we found a way to unwind. Board games. Movie nights. Stories shared in low voices by the fire. Holding onto whatever normalcy we could before it was all stripped away.

I was lucky this was happening between semesters. I still had ghostwriting to do—assignments to complete—but I felt so detached from it. Like it belonged to another version of me, a version that lived in a world where essays and deadlines mattered. I had been asking anyone who passed by to read my work, just to make sure I hadn't accidentally typed I HAVE VAMPIRE EVENT RELATED STRESS over and over again. But no. Apparently, I was still writing my usual best.

Tanya had called a meeting tonight.

Not just any meeting.

The meeting.

The one where we would discuss turning day. My turning day.

Three days.

Seventy-two hours.

A handful of heartbeats left before the person I knew—the human I was—ceased to exist. I had made my choice. I had craved this for so long. But now that the future had a date, I found myself looking over my shoulder, searching for the last glimpses of the girl I had been.

Three days away, and everything would change.

––

I let everyone but Bella and myself assemble in the room first.

For a moment, it was just us.

I reached out and traced her face with a delicate touch, following the clean lines of her jaw, the soft warmth of her skin, looked into the depth of her brown eyes. I didn't say anything—nothing more needed to be said. Instead, I took her hand and squeezed, waiting for the squeeze in return.

It came, steady and sure.

Then we entered the room together.

The scouting mission had been planned for days. Everyone understood how vital this was, the weight of what we were doing. It was our first offensive move, the first time we were reaching beyond the safety of our borders. The tension had been thick ever since I announced it, and now it had settled over the room like a held breath.

I could feel Kate's gaze, sharp as ever. Garrett shifted beside her, restless, his fingers tapping idly against his thigh. Alice was murmuring to Jasper, her expression distant, locked onto the endless horizon of possibility.

This was the right play. The only play.

I breathed in slowly, then spoke.

"Alright," I said, scanning the room. "One last run-through. No mistakes. No second chances."

All eyes turned to me.

I swept my gaze over them, taking in the faces of those I was sending to war. The ones I was trusting with this mission.

"Kate, Garrett, Jasper, Eleazar, Peter, and Charlotte—you leave tomorrow evening," I said. "Your primary objective is reconnaissance. We need to know exactly what we're dealing with—numbers, movement patterns, whether Victoria has gained control over her newborns yet. You get in, you gather intel, you get out. No direct engagement."

I let that last instruction settle.

No direct engagement.

Jasper's gaze flicked to Alice for a fraction of a second, something unspoken passing between them. I knew Alice had seen what she needed to see. I knew Jasper had accepted what had to be done. But no one voiced it.

I reached into my coat pocket, retrieving a neatly folded envelope. The paper was thick, sealed with red wax, pressed with the Denali seal—a mountain, woven in the unbroken loops of Celtic knotwork.

I passed it to Kate as I continued. Her eyes flicked to the single instruction on the front of it, then secreted it into her pocket.

"Those remaining behind—Mary, Bella, Leah, Jake, Alice, Carmen, Irina, and myself—will stay together the entire time you're gone. We will try remain in public places. They won't take the chance of striking us in the open."

Mary looked pale, swallowing hard. Jake stepped closer, bumping her arm, a silent offer of support.

"When we are reunited—safely," I emphasized, levelling a hard look across the room, as if I could will their survival into existence, "we will divide. Half here, half at the southernmost cabin."

I turned to Bella now, holding her gaze.

"And I will turn Bella."

The room shifted with the weight of the words. A pause stretched between heartbeats.

Kate exhaled, breaking the silence first. "Well. No pressure, then."

Garrett let out a low whistle. "Good thing we're not planning on dying."

Alice nodded slightly, something sure in her expression. "You won't."

Jasper, quiet until now, let out a slow breath. "We've got this."

Carmen placed a reassuring hand on Bella's shoulder. "When the time comes, we will be ready."

Then—

"Um." Mary's voice cut into the quiet. She was fidgeting with the sleeve of her sweater. "What about me? As far as I understand, I'm also at risk? We haven't really discussed what to do with me."

A few glances were exchanged.

It was Leah who finally spoke, arms crossed, voice edged with something unreadable. "You could be turned too."

Mary's face did something complicated. "Oh. That's… an option?"

Jake shot Leah a surprised look, then turned to Mary. "You don't have to do anything drastic. If this all goes south, I can keep you safe."

Mary snorted. "I appreciate the effort, but you're still squishy."

Jake rolled his eyes. "and Leah's not?"

Mary hesitated, glancing toward Leah, then back to Jake, something considering in her gaze. Then she sighed. "I don't know. I—I'd rather not make a decision like that unless I absolutely have to."

Tanya nodded. "We won't force it. You'll stay close to us, and we'll keep you safe." She hesitated, then continued, voice careful. "I am, however, going to petition the Volturi to allow you to remain human."

Mary blinked. "Wait. The Volturi would allow that?"

Tanya's expression was unreadable. "They enforce the masquerade. If they deny my petition, there are only a few other solutions. All permanent."

A beat of silence.

Mary exhaled, rubbing a hand over her face. "Great. Love that."

Tanya's gaze softened slightly. "There are more supernatural creatures than just vampires and shifters, Mary. Many agreements. Treaties. Pacts. If we are lucky, they may provide another option."

Mary caught the unspoken if not that lingered at the end of that sentence.

She inhaled sharply but nodded. "Okay. Good to know."

I surveyed the room one last time.

"We know our roles. We know what's at stake. Tomorrow, we stop waiting. Tomorrow, we make the first move."

There was no argument.

There was only understanding.

And the weight of what was coming.

––

Bella barely had time to process what was happening before she was being bodily dragged out the door.

"Come on, little human, you need air," Kate declared, one arm slung over Bella's shoulder as she practically propelled her down the porch steps.

"I was breathing just fine indoors," Bella protested, though she didn't resist too much.

Irina scoffed. "Sure you were. Sitting in that house, stewing over Tanya's 'scouting' mission. You were five minutes away from stress-cleaning, and we all know it."

Bella narrowed her eyes at them but relented with a sigh. "Fine. Where are we going?"

Kate's grin was sharp. "Shopping."

Bella sighed. "Do I get a say in this?"

Irina smirked, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder as she slid into the driver's seat of Kate's car. "Absolutely not."

Kate's arm was already hooked through Bella's before she could protest, dragging her toward the car with the inescapable force of a hurricane dressed in leather boots, and they took off, speeding down the icy roads with the kind of reckless vampire driving that made Bella seriously question why she kept getting into cars with them.

The first couple of stores were harmless—cozy sweaters, boots that would actually survive an Alaskan winter, a few impulse buys that Irina tossed onto the counter before Bella could even check the price tags.

But then they rounded the corner, and Bella realized too late where they were headed.

"Oh, absolutely not," she muttered, skidding to a stop on the pavement.

Kate and Irina, naturally, did not stop.

"Come on, Bells," Kate sing-songed, already tugging her toward the glass doors of what was, unmistakably, a lingerie boutique. "You have to take advantage of the fact that your mate is an immortal sugar mama."

Bella spluttered. "That's not—"

"She buys you everything," Irina pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "Might as well pick something out yourself, that she'll really enjoy."

Bella was going to combust. Right here. In the middle of the street.

Kate didn't give her a choice.

The second they stepped inside, Bella was overwhelmed by way too much lace. And sometimes… far too little. It wasn't that she had anything against lingerie—it was just that Tanya was always the one doing things like this. Picking things for her. Surprising her.

Now that she was here, though…

She found herself trailing fingers along a deep wine-red set, something sheer and delicate, and undeniably hot. Tanya would definitely appreciate it.

"Look at her," Kate whispered conspiratorially to Irina. "She's already picturing the reaction."

"I am not—" Bella started.

Irina leaned against a display, smirking. "I don't know, sister. That shade of red would look very good crumpled on Tanya's bedroom floor."

Bella's entire soul tried to leave her body.

She bought the set. And another one, just to shut them up.

Oh.. and that one was cute too.

The Haven was warm, the air thick with the scent of freshly brewed coffee, spiced hot chocolate, and something sweet baking in the ovens. Snowflakes drifted lazily outside the large bay windows, settling in soft piles along the cobblestone streets. Inside, the three of them had claimed a booth near the corner, their shopping bags tucked beneath the table, steam curling up from their drinks.

She had chatted to James as they arrived - she felt more than a little bad that he was on the outside of everything that was going on, but really - there was no safer place for him. She would try make it up to him, when she could.

Kate had a cappuccino, purely for the aesthetic of holding something warm in her hands. Irina had opted for a tea, swirling the liquid absently as she people-watched out the window. Bella clutched a large mug of something dark and rich, letting the warmth seep into her fingers.

It had been a good day. A distracting day.

Still, despite the casual laughter, the teasing at the lingerie store, and the way Kate had tried (and failed) to convince Bella to buy a ridiculous fur-lined coat, the looming weight of everything else had never quite left her chest.

Kate was the first to break the silence, cutting straight to the heart of it like she always did.

"So," she said, stirring her coffee despite not needing to. "You've been weird today."

Bella blinked at her. "I have not been weird."

Irina hummed into her tea. "A little weird."

Kate smirked, tipping her chin toward Bella. "I know the difference between 'shopping to have fun' and 'shopping to distract yourself from your impending death.'"

Bella rolled her eyes. "I'm not dying."

Kate raised an eyebrow.

Bella hesitated. "Okay, well—not technically."

Irina set her tea down and turned her gaze toward Bella fully. "We know this is a lot. We know what you're about to do. But you're not alone in this, Bella. You do know that, right?"

Bella swallowed, running her fingers along the rim of her mug.

She did know. She wasn't alone. She had Tanya. She had this family. But the sheer enormity of the choice she was making—the finality of it—had been a weight pressing down on her for days.

Kate leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "You don't have to pretend it's not terrifying."

Bella let out a slow breath. "It's not the turning that scares me."

Kate tilted her head. "Then what?"

Bella stared into her coffee for a moment before finally speaking. "I guess… I keep wondering if I'll still feel like me."

Kate and Irina exchanged a glance.

Bella continued, voice quieter now. "Tanya always tells me that I'll still be myself, but what if I'm not? What if I wake up and I don't love the same things, or I can't love the same people? What if I—" She broke off, exhaling sharply, shaking her head. "It's stupid."

Irina reached across the table and squeezed her wrist. "It's not stupid."

Kate, for once, wasn't teasing. "Bella, look at me."

Bella glanced up, meeting Kate's golden eyes.

Kate's voice was steady. Certain. "You're not losing yourself. You're choosing yourself. You're choosing your life. And from where I'm standing? You're making the right choice."

Bella swallowed hard.

Irina squeezed her wrist again. "You are already one of us."

Something in Bella's chest loosened. Just a little.

She inhaled, then exhaled, and finally—finally—let herself relax into the warmth of the café, into the warmth of the family she had chosen.

Kate, apparently deciding the mood was too soft, smirked. "Besides, you already spent a fortune on lingerie. If you back out now, you'll never get to see Tanya completely lose her mind. You are going to be even sexier when you are turned."

Bella groaned, covering her face with her hands. "Oh my Goddess."

Irina grinned, sipping her tea. "She's already obsessed with you. This will actually break her."

Kate waggled her brows. "That, or we'll never see either of you again."

Bella's face burned, but she couldn't help but laugh.

And for a little while, the weight in her chest wasn't quite as heavy.

They had almost made it out of the shopping district when Bella stopped short.

It wasn't planned. It wasn't even something she had thought about doing.

But when they passed by a small jewellery shop, something made her pause, her feet halting on the footpath as her gaze locked onto the glittering rings in the display.

Irina and Kate had made it a few steps ahead before realizing she was no longer following.

"Bells?" Irina called, doubling back, her expression shifting to something more serious when she followed her gaze. "Oh."

Kate's eyes flicked between Bella and the display case before she exhaled, her usual teasing edge softening. "Do you want to go in?"

Bella didn't answer right away.

She just kept looking.

At the rings. At the ones that reminded her of Tanya. At the ones that made her heart stutter in her chest.

She swallowed. "Do you… know Tanya's ring size?"

The reaction was instant.

Kate made a sound that could only be described as a squeal before she tackled Bella into a hug. Irina's face lit up with genuine joy.

"Oh, my Goddess," Irina whispered, eyes wide.

Bella laughed nervously. "So that's a yes?"

Kate was already yanking her toward the car. "Forget the store—we have something better."

The house still smelled like venom, days later.

Bella realized it as soon as they walked in—the faint, cloying sweetness clinging to the air, mixing with the sharper tang of scorched wood and shattered glass. The clean-up had started, but it would take weeks before they could move back home.

She hesitated on that word. Home. Would the others notice the way she was starting to claim it, the quiet possessiveness creeping in? It wasn't hers. Not really. Not yet. But still.

She followed Irina and Kate through the space, cataloguing the damage as they moved. The front door had been replaced, but the frame was still cracked where a newborn had blown through it. The carpet in the sitting room had been torn up completely, too soaked in venom to be salvaged. Deep gouges marked the wooden beams near the staircase, long claw-like marks left by a struggle Bella hadn't even seen.

She swallowed.

It had been a battle.

And yet, it hadn't felt like one. Not in the moment. Just a blur of movement, too fast to track. At least the liquid on the floor that hadn't come from her.

Kate nudged her shoulder, pulling her out of her thoughts. "Come on, Bells. Don't look at the mess."

Bella blinked, refocusing as they continued upstairs.

The damage was less severe here—fewer broken things, fewer reminders of how close they had come to losing everything.

Irina and Kate led her to one of the older rooms, one she had never actually been inside. There were fewer signs of use, the space clearly meant more for storage than living, though it had the same eclectic touches that filled the rest of the Denali home.

Kate ran a hand along a carved wooden chest at the foot of the bed, exhaling slowly. "We should have brought you here sooner," she murmured, almost to herself.

Bella frowned slightly, stepping closer. "What is this?"

Irina reached down, pressing her palm against the lid. "It belonged to our mother."

Bella hesitated. Sasha.

She had heard the name before. Knew the history. Knew what had happened to her.

The way the sisters spoke about her was always brief—guarded. But now, in the quiet of the old room, Bella could feel the weight of her presence. Of something old, something important.

Irina's fingers traced the edge of the chest. "You know, she never thought she'd have daughters."

Bella's breath caught slightly at the unexpected tenderness in her voice.

Kate huffed a soft laugh. "Not officially, at least. We weren't like the Cullens. We didn't have a father figure leading a coven with moral codes. It was just us. And she made the best of it."

Irina nodded. "She was tough. She had to be. But she loved us." She smiled slightly. "Taught us everything. Including how to steal."

Bella blinked. "What?"

Kate laughed. "She had a very loose interpretation of ownership."

"Most of what's in here?" Irina said, tapping the chest. "Acquired through less than legal means."

Bella raised an eyebrow. "You're telling me Sasha was a thief?"

Kate smirked. "A very good one."

Irina rolled her eyes. "Technically, she called it 'liberating from those who did not deserve it.' But yes."

Kate flicked the lock open, and the chest creaked as the lid lifted. Inside, neatly arranged and still gleaming after centuries, was a collection of jewellery.

Bella sucked in a breath.

There were necklaces with intricate metalwork, bracelets set with polished stones, brooches that looked like they belonged in a museum. Rings—so many rings, inlaid with sapphires and emeralds and diamonds.

Kate reached in, plucking a small golden band from the pile, rolling it between her fingers.

"She kept this one for herself," she murmured, before pressing it into Bella's palm. "You should have it."

Bella stared.

She had been so caught up in the story, in the weight of history surrounding her, that she hadn't realized what they were doing.

What this was.

Her eyes flicked between them. "Wait. Is this—are you—?"

Irina smiled, her grip firm but warm as she clasped Bella's wrist. "You are ours, Bella. Not just because of Tanya. Because we chose you. You've been family from the moment you stepped into our home."

Kate's grin softened. "And she would have loved you. Fiercely."

This was it. This was forever. And it didn't feel overwhelming. It didn't feel like too much. It felt… right. Like it had always been waiting for her. Like she had always been meant to slip this onto Tanya's finger.

Bella swallowed, heart pounding, the cool metal of the ring warming against her skin.

And just like that—this was the one.

––

The six of them moved through the city like ghosts, their silent steps swallowed by the hum of human life around them. It was late evening, and Anchorage was still awake—cars rolling down slush-covered streets, neon signs flickering against damp sidewalks, the occasional burst of laughter spilling from bars and restaurants.

But none of that mattered.

They weren't here to be seen.

Kate adjusted the strap of her duffel bag, glancing at the others as they slipped into the shadows behind an old storage facility—their designated meeting point before they split up to begin their mission.

"We clear?" she asked, her voice low.

Jasper tilted his head, eyes half-lidded in focus. "No immediate threats," he murmured, but his tone wasn't entirely settled. He had been quiet since they left Denali, more watchful than usual.

Eleazar ran a hand through his hair. "We keep it quiet. Get in, get the information, get out."

Charlotte nodded, already scanning the area. "We confirm numbers, movement, and whether she has control over her newborns yet. No direct engagement unless we have no choice."

"Got it," Peter muttered, though his stance was tense, like he was already anticipating things going sideways.

Kate reached into the inner pocket of her coat, pulling out the neatly folded letter Tanya had given her before they left. She had felt something off when Tanya handed it to her—an edge of tension, a moment too long where their fingers had brushed, like Tanya had been measuring something.

"Prečítaj si ma, keď dorazíš do Anchorage."

Read me when you arrive in Anchorage.

Kate exhaled sharply through her nose, already suspicious. Tanya wasn't normally cryptic. She had a tactician's mind, a directness that rarely left room for ambiguity.

She cracked the wax seal, unfolding the note.

Her eyes flicked over the lines—then froze.

"…What?" she murmured, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.

Jasper's head snapped toward her.

Garrett frowned. "What's it say?"

Kate didn't answer immediately. Something inside her bristled, tightened. She read it again, grip tightening on the paper, then—without a word—handed it to Eleazar.

His gaze skimmed over the first sentence, his lips pressing into a thin line. He exhaled slowly. Not surprised.

Peter was next. As soon as he saw the first sentence, his entire body went still.

Charlotte read over his shoulder, her brows furrowing as she took in the words.

Garrett, impatient as ever, snatched the letter from Peter's hand. His eyes scanned the text—and then, in his typical lack of volume control, read it aloud.

"Victoria does have gifted vampires. One of them has superior hearing. They've been posted within listening distance of the Denali township since the night they attacked the house. Everything we said in the house has been a ruse."

The weight of the words settled over the group.

Garrett let out a low whistle. "Shit."

Kate's fingers curled into fists.

"You are here to kill Victoria."

Charlotte inhaled sharply.

"Alice has seen her at this property—"

Jasper finally spoke, his voice level, but firm. "South Anchorage. Near the port. Industrial area, mostly abandoned buildings. Lots of places to hide. Even more places to set a trap."

There was a beat of silence. Not hesitation—just the space between thinking you're playing chess and realizing you were a piece in someone else's game the entire time.

Kate exhaled slowly, then lifted her gaze to Jasper. Her eyes narrowed. "You knew."

Jasper didn't flinch. Didn't even blink. "We needed them to believe the lie."

Eleazar shook his head, a hint of reluctant amusement in his expression. "You knew Tanya would do this."

Jasper's lips tilted up slightly. "I knew Alice would."

Garrett let out a slow, impressed whistle. "You're telling me Tanya Denali and your psychic vampire have been playing us all for days, knowing Victoria would get the wrong intel?" He grinned. "Damn. Remind me never to bet against them."

Peter cracked his knuckles, a predatory glint in his red eyes. "Smart move."

Charlotte blew out a breath, shaking her head. "Tanya and Alice really ran an entire misinformation campaign right under Victoria's nose."

Kate, her fingers still tight around the letter, let her tension crack through her spine. This was the real mission. This was what Tanya had been planning from the beginning.

She flicked her gaze down to the final line of Tanya's message.

"Happy hunting."

Her smirk was sharp and deadly.

"Fine," she said, rolling her shoulders, the weight of anticipation settling in her bones. "Let's go kill the bitch."

And with that, they moved.