Part 2: As Alara invites Aro into a dangerous game of catch me if you can, the cracks in her facade begin to show. Old wounds resurface, ghosts refuse to stay buried, and for the first time, the Volturi glimpse something raw beneath her defiance. Will Alara ever stop running from her past, or will she burn everything in her wake?
Notes: As this story is being extended, it starts to naturally take on a more serious tone.
The world was silent here. The kind of silence that only deep wilderness could provide—no hum of electricity, no distant rumble of cars, just the whisper of wind through the leaves and the occasional rustle of an animal moving unseen below.
Alara sat perched in the wooden structure she'd built high within the canopy, her legs dangling off the edge. It was crude but sturdy, something she had thrown together more for necessity than comfort. The height gave her the perfect vantage point over the endless stretch of forest, and more importantly, kept her out of reach from anything—or anyone—that might come looking.
But no one had.
Two weeks. Two weeks. since she had issued her challenge to Aro with a smirk and a teasing glint in her eyes. two weeks of nothing. No Volturi. No sign of pursuit. No game to play.
And yet, the knot in her chest wouldn't go away.
It had started as a whisper of discomfort, something she could ignore, brush off as restlessness. But over time, it had tightened, coiling deep inside her like something waiting to unravel. It made her antsy, irritable, like her skin didn't fit right. She had moved from place to place, tried running, tried distracting herself, but no matter how far she went, how deep into the wilderness she hid—it followed.
She didn't know why. She didn't know what.
But she felt it.
A pull she couldn't place. A weight pressing against her ribs, like something was missing, something she should know but didn't. And the worst part? It was only getting worse.
Alara exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of the platform. Get a grip. She was fine. This was just… stress. That was it. It had to be. But deep down, in the quiet corners of her mind, she wasn't so sure.
Her bats had been watchful, their sharp little minds attuned to any unusual presence, but there had been no trace of the dark-cloaked figures that once loomed at the edge of her world. No shifting shadows in the trees, no fleeting glimpses of crimson eyes in the night. Nothing.
Alara leaned her head back against the wooden frame of her treehouse, her gaze fixed on the endless stretch of sky peeking through the canopy above. The wind whispered through the trees, rustling the leaves, but it wasn't enough to quiet her thoughts.
She had sworn—sworn—to never get involved in things that didn't concern her. That had been her golden rule. No attachments. No sides. No entanglements that could lead her down the same bloodstained path she had walked before. And yet…
She had stood in that field. She had lured the newborns in with a song. She had shown the governing coven of vampires what she was capable of.
She had felt the weight of the moment pressing down on her, the kind of tension that could snap and send bodies crashing into one another in a violent storm of teeth and claws. The Volturi had come expecting to pass judgement, and the Cullens had been prepared to fight for their own.
And somehow, somehow, Alara had been right there in the middle of it.
How the hell did I let that happen?
She had always had a problem keeping her mouth shut, but this—this was different. She had walked into that standoff, felt the weight of the Volturi's scrutiny, and provoked them.
She could still hear the sharpness in her own voice, the biting edge to her words when she had mocked Aro, challenged Caius, scoffed at their authority like she had every right to do so.
And when she was done with the newborns? Had she taken the opportunity to slip away, to let them resolve their own issues?
No. Of course not.
When the dust had settled and they had invited her to stay, she had done the one thing she swore she would never do.
She had accepted.
Like a damn idiot.
She had let herself get involved. Let herself be pulled in, tangled up, despite knowing better. And before she knew it, she had done more than just stand on the sidelines. She had spoken. Mocked. Challenged. She had felt the weight of the Volturi's scrutiny press down on her, suffocating, crushing—and yet she had smiled.
Alara let out a sharp breath, rubbing a hand over her face. smiled. She had been cocky. Reckless.
Reckless like before.
Alara squeezed her eyes shut, willing the memories to stay buried. But they clawed at the edges of her mind, just out of reach, taunting her with ghosts of the past. There had been a time when she had been like that all the time. When she didn't care what she said, or to whom, or what the consequences were. When she had thought herself untouchable, invincible, as if the world could burn around her and she would still be standing.
But people had burned instead. Innocent people.
And no matter how many years passed, no matter how far she ran, their screams still followed her.
She exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down her face.
two weeks ago, she had invited the Volturi to come for her.
The words had left her lips before she could think better of it, before she could stop the old version of herself from roaring to the surface and taking control.
"Catch me if you can."
The challenge had felt good at the time, the thrill of defiance making her feel like she was someone else—someone who still had the audacity to laugh in the face of power.
She had said it without thinking, letting old arrogance slip past her lips like a reflex, like she was still the girl who didn't care, who didn't regret, who didn't—
Alara swallowed hard, forcing the thought away.
Because that girl?
That girl had gotten people killed.
The wind shifted. It was subtle, a barely-there change in the air, but Alara felt it. The kind of shift that meant something was near—watching.
She froze, every sense sharpening. Her bats, usually restless in the branches above, had gone eerily still. A warning.
Her first thought was the Volturi.
Had they finally come for her? Had they finally tracked her down? She had half-expected to hear Aro's smooth, unbothered voice drifting through the trees, or the cold bite of Caius's scorn slicing through the quiet.
But no one spoke.
Instead, there was only silence. A hesitation. Whoever was out there wasn't moving.
Alara stayed perfectly still in her treehouse, eyes scanning the dense forest below. The foliage was thick, the trees tangled together in a way that made spotting movement difficult, but she had lived long enough to know when she wasn't alone.
And right now?
Someone was definitely out there.
She exhaled slowly. "If you're here to kill me, you're doing a shit job of it," she called out, her voice carrying through the trees.
No response. The air was thick with something skittish. Not Volturi, then. They never hesitated. Alara stood, moving to the edge of her platform, peering down into the undergrowth. The feeling of being watched hadn't faded. In fact, it had only grown stronger.
And then—
A flicker of movement. A shape, lingering just beyond the tree line.
Small. She frowned. That wasn't right. She was miles from civilisation. No one should be out here—not unless they had a death wish. And yet, she could see her now.
A girl.
Alara's brows knit together as the figure finally stepped forward, hesitantly, cautiously, like a wild animal unsure of whether to run or approach.
She was young—too young. Couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen, barefoot, dressed in clothes that were tattered and stained. Her limbs were thin, her movements uncertain.
But it wasn't the dirt-streaked skin or the unnatural paleness that gave her away. It was the eyes.
Red.
Alara felt something sink in her gut. This wasn't some lost child. This was a vampire.
The girl flinched as soon as their eyes met, shrinking back slightly, torn between stepping forward and vanishing back into the trees. Her expression was fearful. Alara had met a lot of vampires in her time, but fearful wasn't usually one of their expressions.
She took a slow breath, forcing her body to relax. If the girl was scared, it meant she wasn't a threat—at least, not immediately.
"Hey," Alara said, keeping her voice even.
The girl stiffened. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, her shoulders hunched inward. Alara sat down at the edge of the wooden platform. The movement made the girl flinch again, eyes darting to the side like she was preparing to bolt.
"Relax," Alara said, stopping in place. "I'm not gonna hurt you."
She wasn't sure why she said it. Maybe because the kid looked like she expected to be attacked. For a long moment, there was nothing but silence.
Then, in a voice so quiet Alara almost didn't hear it, the girl whispered, "I don't know where to go."
Alara's fingers twitched. two weeks of solitude. two weeks of being left alone. And now, this. A scared, stray vampire on her doorstep. Alara studied the girl more closely. She was young—too young—her limbs thin, her movements cautious but untrained. Her clothes were torn, dirt-streaked, but something about her didn't fit the usual nomad profile.
Then there was her fear. Genuine, deep, bone-deep fear.
Alara had seen a lot of newborns in her time. Most of them were unstable, feral, incapable of rational thought. But this girl? This girl had been running.
Alara's stomach twisted. Where from? She didn't know. Not yet.
The girl stood frozen, her red eyes flicking toward the trees, as if half-expecting something—or someone—to come lunging out of the shadows to drag her back. Her fingers twitched, her whole body wound tight, poised between flight and collapse.
Alara sighed, more to herself than anything, and patted the wooden floor beside her.
"Come sit," she said.
The girl hesitated. Of course she did. She was like a stray, uncertain if the offered hand was a trick, if the warmth was real or just a momentary kindness before the cruelty set in. Alara didn't push. She just waited, watching as the girl's breath hitched—a reflex, useless now, but old habits died hard. Finally, cautiously, she jumped.
Bare feet scraped against the wood as she landed on the platform, settling down stiffly at Alara's side. Her hands curled around her knees, her whole frame so tense it looked like a single wrong word might send her bolting into the night.
Alara didn't look at her, not directly. She let her gaze drift toward the dark stretch of forest beyond them, where the night air hummed with the distant sounds of nature. For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then, without turning her head, Alara murmured, "Who were you running from?"
Because she had a feeling the answer mattered. The girl didn't answer right away. She sat stiffly, her red eyes flicking toward the forest as if expecting to see something—or someone—lurking in the darkness. Alara didn't rush her. She just leaned back against the wooden beams of her treehouse, letting the silence stretch between them, waiting.
Finally, the girl swallowed hard and whispered, "Riley."
Alara's jaw tightened.
Riley.
The name slithered through her mind like a phantom. It took her a second to place it, but when she did, the pieces clicked together with a quiet, dreadful certainty. Riley. One of Victoria's pets. One of the ones who had led the newborn army that Alara had burned to the ground.
She turned her head slightly, finally looking at the girl beside her. "You were part of that army." It wasn't a question. The girl flinched but didn't deny it. Alara exhaled through her nose, dragging a hand down her face. Shit. She had known there was a chance some of them had run before the fight. Not all newborns were mindless enough to throw themselves into a battle they didn't understand. But she hadn't expected to meet one. Not here, not like this.
And yet…
She eyed the girl again. She didn't have the air of a soldier. She was too small, too hesitant, too afraid.
"You ran," Alara said, not unkindly. The girl hesitated, then gave a jerky nod.
Alara clicked her tongue. Smart kid. If she'd stayed, she would've been reduced to ash along with the others. She should have felt something about that. Maybe pity. Maybe guilt. Instead, all she felt was tired.
She looked back out at the trees. "What's your name?"
The girl hesitated again before answering. "Bree."
Alara nodded slowly. Bree. A name. A person. Not just another pile of ash left in the wake of a fight she shouldn't have been part of. For a moment, she didn't know what to say.
But then Bree whispered, voice barely audible, "I didn't want to fight."
And Alara… understood. More than she cared to admit.
She sighed, rubbing her temples. "Well, Bree. You picked the worst possible place to show up."
The girl tensed, but Alara waved a hand lazily.
"I don't mean that as a threat," she said. "Just saying—you came looking for safety, and I'm probably the worst person to find it with."
Bree frowned, confused, and Alara huffed out a dry laugh. Because really. First the Volturi, now this? She had spent weeks trying to get away from the mess, and somehow, the mess kept finding her.
She should walk away. She should tell the kid she was on her own, that Alara wasn't some kind of saviour, that she wasn't going to pick up another stray.
Alara sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. This was getting complicated.
"Well, kid," she said, voice flat, "if it makes you feel any better, Riley's dead. He was the first one I killed."
Bree's breath caught. Her red eyes widened as she stiffened beside Alara. "He's actually dead?"
Alara nodded.
"And you… you killed him?"
Alara glanced at her, noting the way her fingers clenched around her knees, the way her whole frame trembled—not with hunger, not with anger, but with something else. Shock.
"They said you had… powers," Bree continued, voice uncertain. "But… they made it sound like you weren't a threat. That they were stronger. That he was stronger."
Alara huffed out a short, humourless laugh. "Yeah, well. That was their first mistake."
Bree swallowed hard, still processing, her gaze flitting toward the trees again, like she half-expected Riley to come storming out, furious at her betrayal.
Then, barely above a whisper, Bree murmured, "Well then… if Riley is dead, why does it feel like someone is still after me?"
Alara paused, the words settling deep in her mind like a stone sinking into dark water. Her gaze flickered toward the forest, scanning the tree line, suddenly aware of how exposed they were.
Finally, she sighed. "Probably because someone is," she muttered. "The Volturi, maybe."
Bree stiffened, panic flashing across her face. "The—"
"Relax," Alara said, though she didn't sound particularly reassuring. "If they were here, we'd already know it."
But even as she said it, her stomach twisted with unease. Because deep down, she knew. If the Volturi had any suspicion that Bree had survived that massacre, they wouldn't just let it go. Her gaze flickered back to the girl beside her, watching the way she still clutched at her knees, tense, wary—like she expected something worse to come.
Alara exhaled sharply. "You didn't watch the fight, did you?"
Bree shook her head quickly. "I got near the edge of the forest. I saw you. I ran as soon as Riley attacked. I—I didn't want to fight, so I just… ran. I kept running until I saw—" She cut herself off, her whole body going rigid.
Alara narrowed her eyes. "Saw what?"
Bree's breathing hitched, her voice barely more than a whisper. "The fire."
She shivered, as if just saying the word unsettled her. "I saw these—these giant fireballs falling from the sky. Everything was burning… I didn't stop running. I just—I kept going. I didn't look back."
Her fingers dug into her arms, eyes darting to Alara's face, searching for something. Maybe confirmation. Maybe reassurance.
Alara just held her gaze, her expression unreadable. She remembered that night. She remembered the heat, the way the flames had swallowed the battlefield, the way the newborns had screamed.
She didn't regret it.
But looking at Bree now, at the raw fear in her eyes, Alara knew exactly what she had seen. She had witnessed a massacre. And she had survived it.
Alara exhaled slowly, looking back out at the treeline. "Yeah," she murmured. "That was me too."
Bree swallowed again, visibly shaken. "I didn't think he would actually die," she admitted, voice small. "He was so… confident."
Alara smirked bitterly. "Confidence gets people killed."
Bree didn't argue. She just sat there, staring at the trees, as if trying to comprehend everything she had once believed was true… and everything that had just shattered before her. Alara let the silence settle, let Bree sit with the weight of it all. The wind whispered through the trees, rustling the leaves, but neither of them spoke.
Bree's hands were still wrapped tightly around her knees, her posture tense, like she was waiting for something—maybe for Alara to lash out, maybe for herself to wake up from whatever nightmare she thought she was trapped in.
Finally, Alara tilted her head slightly, watching the girl out of the corner of her eye.
"Are you here by coincidence," she asked, voice low, steady, "or did you seek me out on purpose?"
Bree's fingers twitched. She hesitated. And in that hesitation, Alara knew. It hadn't been a coincidence. Bree had been running, yes—but not blindly. She had come here, to the middle of nowhere, miles from civilisation, where no human would ever wander by accident.
That meant she had been looking for something. Or someone.
Bree swallowed hard. "I—" She stopped herself, pressing her lips together, eyes darting toward the trees again.
Alara didn't push. She just waited.
Bree exhaled shakily, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I heard them talking… before the fight. Some of them. They said—" She swallowed again, her throat working around the words. "They said you weren't like the others. That you were something different."
Alara's brow furrowed slightly. "'Different' how?"
Bree shook her head. "I don't know. Just… different. They didn't think you'd be a problem. Thought they were stronger. But…" She hesitated, then finally turned to look at Alara fully. "You weren't supposed to win."
Alara's lips curled into a humourless smirk. "Yeah, well. I do that sometimes."
Bree exhaled through her nose, something between a shaky breath and the ghost of a disbelieving laugh.
Alara studied her for a moment, then asked, "And that made you want to find me?"
Bree hesitated again before nodding. "I didn't know where else to go," she admitted. "And I thought—" She looked away. "I thought maybe if you survived, you wouldn't… you wouldn't kill me just for leaving."
Alara blinked. And there it was. Not just fear. Not just uncertainty. Desperation. This girl hadn't just run to save herself. She had run because she knew what happened to newborns who didn't obey. Because someone—probably Riley, probably Victoria, probably both—had made sure she knew what happened to deserters.
Alara exhaled slowly, running her tongue over her teeth, thinking.
"Well, kid," she muttered, half to herself, "you really are terrible at making good life choices."
Bree stiffened slightly, caught between offence and wariness, but Alara wasn't looking at her. She wasn't sure what to do with this. two weeks of solitude. two weeks of finally getting away from the mess, from the politics, from the Volturi's scrutiny.
And now? Now there was a scared newborn vampire sitting beside her, looking at her like she was the only safe thing left in the world.
Alara sighed, running a hand over her face before shifting her gaze back to Bree. "You haven't seen any members of the Volturi recently by any chance?"
It was casual—too casual.
Bree stiffened. Her fingers dug into the fabric of her torn clothes, and for a moment, she looked like she regretted every decision that had led her here. Alara's eyes narrowed. That was not the reaction of someone who had no idea what she was talking about.
Bree hesitated, licking her lips, then shook her head a little too quickly. "No… I mean, not up close."
Alara's fingers twitched. Not up close.
She didn't like that phrasing. "You've seen them, then," she said, her voice unreadable.
Bree swallowed. "Not them—not all of them. But I think… I think I saw one of their guards a few weeks ago. Maybe longer."
Alara stayed very, very still. "Where?"
Bree hesitated again, then reluctantly admitted, "A few towns over. I wasn't sure at first, but—I mean, they looked like a vampire. Pale, dark cloak, didn't blink. And the way people moved around them, like they knew something was off, even if they didn't know what."
Alara's jaw clenched. A Volturi guard. Near here. It didn't confirm anything, not really. The Volturi had eyes everywhere—they could've been passing through, handling something unrelated. But she didn't believe in coincidences.
Alara exhaled through her nose, rubbing her temples. "Right. And they didn't see you?"
Bree shook her head. "No. I was hiding. Didn't want to take any chances."
Smart kid. Alara leaned back, staring up at the canopy, mind racing. It had been two weeks. two weeks since she had challenged them to come for her. And now, a Volturi guard had been nearby—but hadn't approached her. Were they still watching? Were they biding their time? Or had they just written her off completely? For some reason, that last possibility unsettled her the most.
Alara let out a big, heavy sigh, throwing her hands up in exasperation, like she had just given up trying to make sense of the situation. Because, really—what the hell was she supposed to do with this kid? two weeks of solitude, of keeping her head down, of not getting involved, and now here she was, sitting beside a scared newborn who had sought her out like she was some kind of safe place.
And maybe, once upon a time, she would have been.
Past Alara would've pulled Bree into a hug, told her everything was going to be okay, promised to do whatever she could to help. But she wasn't that person anymore.
She couldn't be.
Because every time she tried to help someone, every time she let herself care, it ended the same way. In fire and in blood. And the last thing she wanted was to be the reason Bree got killed.
Still, when she finally spoke, her voice was quieter, resigned.
"How can I help you, Bree?"
The girl blinked up at her, startled, as if she hadn't expected Alara to offer at all. For a long moment, she didn't say anything. Then, hesitantly, like she wasn't sure if she even had the right to ask, she whispered:
"Can you teach me how to survive?"
"I'm not a vampire, Bree," Alara said flatly, shaking her head. "I can't teach you that."
Bree's lips parted slightly, like she wanted to argue, but she hesitated, unsure. Alara sighed, lifting her hands in front of her. The air shimmered for a moment before flames ignited at her fingertips, crackling softly in the night. Bree flinched hard, scrambling back a few inches on instinct, her red eyes going wide. Alara didn't move, just let the fire dance along her skin, illuminating the space between them with a warm, flickering glow.
"I had abilities you don't have," she said evenly, watching Bree's reaction. "Our survival tactics are vastly different."
Bree swallowed hard, eyes darting between Alara's hands and her face. "You—you can just do that? Whenever you want?"
Alara flexed her fingers, letting the flames flicker and shift before extinguishing them with a slow blink. "Yeah," she said simply.
Bree still looked unnerved, like she was trying to make sense of everything she thought she knew.
Alara studied her for a moment, then leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees. "Look, kid. You want to survive? That's on you. I can't teach you how to be a vampire. But I can teach you how to think like a survivor."
Bree blinked, frowning slightly. "...What's the difference?"
Alara tilted her head. "One of them keeps you alive. The other gets you killed."
And that's how Alara found herself flying behind Bree in the form of a bat, her wings slicing through the cool night air as she watched the newborn charge after a deer.
Bree moved fast—too fast. Her steps were loud against the forest floor, crunching twigs and rustling leaves as she lunged forward, her breath sharp and uneven. Alara could already see where this was going. The deer stiffened, sensing the movement behind it, and started to bolt—but Bree was faster.
With an awkward, uncoordinated leap, she tackled it to the ground, arms wrapping around its torso as she sank her teeth into its throat. The deer let out a pitiful cry before going still. Alara, still midair, gave a long, exasperated sigh before shifting back into her human form, landing on the forest floor with an effortless grace. Bree was hunched over the deer, her face twisted in mild disgust as she swallowed thickly.
Alara crossed her arms, unimpressed. "Bree," she said, voice flat.
The girl barely looked up. Alara tilted her head. "I told you—you need to be more silent. If the deer notices you, if it hears you, you've already given up your position. And if you pull something that sloppy on a vampire?"
She let the words hang. Bree swallowed another mouthful and muttered, "I got it, didn't I?"
Alara pinched the bridge of her nose. "That's not the point, kid. This isn't about getting lucky. It's about not getting caught."
Bree huffed, wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve. "Yeah, well. I wasn't exactly trained for stealth."
Alara arched a brow. "Clearly." Bree scowled but didn't argue.
Alara crouched beside her, eyeing the deer before flicking her gaze back to Bree. "Again. Slower this time. Stalk it, don't chase it. If it knows you're coming, you've already lost."
Bree groaned, pushing herself to her feet. "Fine. But if I have to eat another one of these, I'm gonna throw up."
Alara smirked. "Welcome to survival, kid. It sucks."
She stretched lazily before tossing Bree a look over her shoulder.
"Oh, and by the way," she said casually, "the more you fail, the more deer you have to help me carry back. Winter's coming, and I could use a nice supply of meat."
Bree froze mid-step, eyes widening. "Wait—what?"
Alara grinned. "You heard me."
Bree groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "You're kidding."
Alara shrugged. "Nope. You wanna be reckless? Fine. But every mistake comes with a price."
Bree looked down at the deer she had just killed, then back at Alara, horror dawning on her face. "You're actually making me do manual labour?"
Alara clapped her hands together. "Yep. And you better start getting better at this real fast, or I'm gonna have enough venison to last me three winters."
Bree groaned again, muttering under her breath as she yanked the deer onto her shoulders. Alara just chuckled, already shifting back into her bat form to scout ahead. If nothing else, at least this was entertaining.
Another week went by.
Alara and Bree had fallen into a nice little routine. Wake up, hunt, practice survival skills, haul whatever they caught back to their hideout, and occasionally, argue over the best way to take down prey. Bree still had a long way to go, but she was learning, adapting—surviving.
And Alara had to admit…
It was nice.
Not just having someone else around, but having an extra pair of hands to do the heavy lifting. Bree wasn't nearly as strong as most vampires yet, but she was still way stronger than a human, and Alara had shamelessly taken advantage of that.
But as she lay on her makeshift bed, staring at the beams of her treehouse, something gnawed at her. She was getting too close. Too comfortable. This wasn't supposed to happen. She had spent years keeping to herself, cutting herself off from the world, ensuring that no one had the chance to drag her into their mess. And now?
Now she had let a stray vampire weave her way into her life. And it needed to stop. She needed to cut ties. Fast. Because this wasn't going to end well.
It never did.
It never had.
Everyone she had ever gotten close to had met an unfortunate end. And those who were still alive?
She was dead to them.
Alara closed her eyes, pressing the heels of her palms against them, trying to push the thoughts away. But the realisation settled over her like a weight.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, she would fix this.
Tomorrow came.
It was a dreary, overcast day, the kind where the sky felt heavy, pressing low against the earth. The air was thick with the scent of damp wood and the distant promise of rain.
As the sun rose, Alara's bats settled inside her treehouse, curling into the beams and shadows, their tiny bodies twitching as they adjusted into their rest.
She reached out to the few within her grasp, running her fingers gently over their fur, pressing soft kisses to their little heads. They chittered in response, shifting but not stirring, and she let herself linger there for a moment longer than necessary.
Then, with a deep breath, she turned and stepped out onto the verandah.
It was one of Bree's projects—one she had convinced Alara to build so they had more space to move around outside without feeling so confined to the small platform she had hastily put together. Alara had let her do most of the work, half out of laziness and half out of curiosity to see if the kid could actually do it.
She had.
And now, as Alara stood leaning against the railing, she caught sight of Bree below, standing stiffly near the base of the tree, shoulders rigid. She was on edge.
Uncomfortable.
Alara narrowed her eyes. "What's wrong?"
Bree didn't look up right away. Her gaze was locked on the forest beyond them, her fingers twitching at her sides.
"There's someone out there," she said.
Alara stilled. The wind shifted. The world felt too quiet. Slowly, she straightened, her muscles coiling tight.
"You sure?"
Bree gave a jerky nod. "I don't see them, but I can feel it." Alara's jaw clenched.
She didn't doubt Bree's instincts. The kid had learned a lot in the last week—how to move silently, how to hunt, how to pay attention to the things most people ignored.
And right now? Right now, Bree's instincts were screaming at her that something was very, very wrong. Alara inhaled slowly, stretching her senses outward. For a long moment, there was nothing. Just the wind. Just the trees. Just the heavy, overcast sky.
And then— A shift. A presence. Something lurking. Not approaching. Just watching. Alara's fingers twitched.
So.
The Volturi hadn't forgotten about her after all.
Alara didn't waste time. Her body shrank and twisted, her limbs vanishing into a blur of dark wings as she shifted seamlessly into her bat form, letting the wind carry her down. She landed softly at the base of the tree, her small frame solidifying as she shifted back, standing beside Bree in an instant. The younger vampire barely flinched—she was getting used to that. Alara's gaze remained locked on the treeline, her senses sharpening. The presence was there. Not moving. Not revealing itself.
Just watching.
She exhaled slowly, crossing her arms. "They're not coming closer," she murmured, half to herself.
Bree shifted uncomfortably, her crimson eyes darting between the trees, fingers twitching at her sides. "What do we do?"
Alara tilted her head slightly, considering. Whoever was out there wasn't making a move. Yet. They were waiting for something. For nightfall? For orders? For her to make the first move? Alara's lips curled into a slow, humourless smirk.
"Well," she said, just loud enough for the unseen presence to hear, "we could sit here and pretend we don't notice them."
Her eyes gleamed, something dark curling at the edges of her voice.
"Or." She cracked her knuckles. "We could go say hello."
Alara didn't wait. She took off, her feet barely touching the earth before she launched herself into the forest, weaving between trees with effortless speed. The wind rushed past her, the dense undergrowth a blur as she followed the faint, lingering presence of whoever had been watching them.
Behind her, Bree cursed under her breath but followed.
"Alara, this is a terrible idea!" she hissed, dodging a low-hanging branch as she struggled to keep pace. "What if it's them? What if they're trying to lure us out instead?"
Alara smirked but didn't slow down. "Then we're making their job easier, aren't we?"
Bree groaned. "Oh my God, I hate this."
The feeling in the air shifted. Alara felt it—a flicker of movement, just ahead. They were running. Whoever was out there, they weren't standing still anymore. Alara grinned, sharp and wild. They'd been made. And now, they were trying to get away.
"Gotcha," she muttered under her breath, pushing herself faster.
Bree, still trailing behind, let out another strangled noise of frustration. "I seriously hate this plan!"
But she kept running.
Alara didn't hesitate.
She lifted her hands, and in an instant, her bats erupted into existence.
A flurry of dark wings and sharp, chittering cries burst into the air, spiralling forward through the trees like a living storm. They scattered, weaving through the branches, hunting—tracking.
The unseen figure ahead was running.
Not fast enough.
Alara felt the familiar pull of her shift, her body shrinking and twisting, bones bending as she melted into her bat form.
She launched into the air, following the swarm.
Bree, now alone on foot, cursed again. "I swear to God, Alara—!"
But her words were lost to the wind.
Alara shot forward, cutting through the air like a blade, her senses focused on the presence just ahead. The chase was on. The bats came from all directions.
They flooded the trees, blotting out the light, their screeches filling the air like a deafening storm. Wings brushed against branches, sharp claws scraped against bark, their sheer numbers turning the forest into a living, moving mass of darkness.
The presence ahead stumbled, their movements faltering as the bats swarmed.
And then—they stopped.
Alara caught up in an instant, shifting back into her human form as she parted the bats like the Red Sea, their bodies peeling away from the figure to make space for her.
She sauntered forward, eyes locked on the stranger as the last of her swarm settled into the trees, leaving behind an eerie silence.
And that's when she saw him. Standing perfectly still. Unbothered. Calm as can be.
His gaze met hers, unreadable. Around his neck, a silver crest dangled—a symbol she recognised instantly.
Volturi.
Alara exhaled through her nose, tilting her head. "Huh."
Of course it was them. Her lips curled into something mocking, something sharp. "You guys sure took your time."
Alara crossed her arms, cocking her head slightly as she took another step forward, eyes locked onto the Volturi insignia hanging from his neck.
"Why are you running?" she asked, voice laced with amusement. "You're here for me, yes?"
The figure didn't react immediately. Didn't flinch. Didn't shift. Just stood there, hands at his sides, as if the sheer overwhelming mass of bats moments ago had been nothing more than a mild inconvenience.
Alara studied him more closely now.
Something about him itched at her memory, but she couldn't quite place it. The way he held himself—calm, composed, standing like he knew he had the upper hand despite the fact that she had just cut him off.
That confidence. That absolute lack of concern. It was too familiar. Still, she didn't recognise his face. At least, not yet.
She lifted her hand, letting flames curl around her fingers, casting flickering light onto his face.
"Now, are you going to answer me, or do I have to assume you were running because you didn't want to be caught?"
Finally, he moved. Not a flinch. Not a recoil. Just the slightest tilt of his head, his lips quirking in the faintest trace of amusement. And then, he spoke.
"I wasn't running," he said smoothly, his voice deep, measured. "I was leading you away."
As the words left his lips, movement flickered in the shadows.
Alara didn't even need to turn to know—they were surrounded.
A dozen more Volturi guards materialised from the darkness, stepping out from between the trees like they had always been there, waiting. Their crimson eyes gleamed in the dim light, their cloaks blending into the dreary forest like ink spilling into water.
Bree pressed up against Alara's back, her fingers clenching into the fabric of her shirt in absolute terror. She was trembling, her instincts screaming at her to run—but there was nowhere to go.
Alara just looked amused.
She let out a slow, thoughtful hum, surveying the situation with a lazy smirk. Then, with a casual wave of her hand, her bats vanished into thin air, dissolving like smoke, leaving nothing but eerie silence in their wake.
The Volturi didn't react. Didn't flinch. Of course not. They were used to her theatrics.
Alara tilted her head, locking eyes with the figure again. "So," she drawled, tapping a finger against her chin, "I take it this means you've finally accepted my challenge?"
His lips quirked slightly. "Oh, Alara—" his voice was silk and steel, smooth but sharp beneath the surface—"we accepted it the moment you issued it."
Then, almost playfully, he added, "And now, you're caught."
Alara let out a low chuckle, tilting her head as she surveyed the dozen Volturi guards surrounding her.
She tsk-tsked, wagging a finger at him.
"Am I, though?" she taunted, the smirk never leaving her lips. "Caught?"
She took a slow step forward, challenging. "Because, correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm looking quite free at the moment." She spread her arms out dramatically, motioning to herself—no restraints, no chains, nothing physically holding her back.
"You misunderstand," he said smoothly, tilting his head slightly, his gaze never leaving hers. "'Caught' doesn't always mean trapped. It simply means… we have you exactly where we want you."
"Oh, do you now?" Alara mocked, her tone dripping with amusement. She folded her arms, cocking her head with a smirk. "Please, do explain."
The Volturi guards remained deathly still. Bree was practically shaking behind her, still clutching at Alara's shirt like a lifeline. Terrified.
He exhaled softly, something almost resembling a laugh under his breath. "Oh, Alara" he mused, stepping forward at a leisurely pace, his presence radiating control. "Always so eager for answers. Always so sure of your position."
He stopped just in front of her, his head tilting slightly, studying her like she was a puzzle he had already solved.
"But tell me—" his voice was a silken thread, his red eyes gleaming with quiet confidence, "—if we weren't in control, why aren't you running?"
Alara knew his cockiness, knew he thought he had the upper hand. She let the silence stretch for a moment before letting out a mocking hum, tapping a finger against her chin.
"I merely wanted to see what was taking you guys so long," she said airily. "So, quite the disappointment, really."
She pretended to look around, hands on her hips, scanning the group before turning back to him with an exaggerated sigh.
"And I don't see Aro here." Her tone was bored, almost lazy. "That is a bit of a problem, you see."
He arched a brow, intrigued but unbothered. "Hmm? And how is that?"
Alara's smirk widened. "Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but I did issue the challenge to Aro. Directly."
The amusement in his expression didn't fade, but something shifted in his stance, subtle but telling. He knew what she was getting at. This wasn't about them. This was about Aro. And the fact that he wasn't here meant something.
"And who are you exactly?" she asked, voice laced with casual boredom.
The vampire before her inclined his head slightly, his smile polite but razor-sharp. "Demetri."
Alara sucked in a breath, making a show of glancing around at the gathered Volturi guards, before clicking her tongue and shaking her head.
"Well Demetri… seems like you're in a bit of a pickle here," she mused, her tone dripping with mock sympathy.
She folded her arms, tilting her head at Demetri. "See, Aro is supposed to catch me. Not you lot." Her smirk widened. "Not that any of you have actually caught me yet." She gestured loosely to the space around her. "Surrounding me doesn't count, I'm afraid."
There was a flicker of something in Demetri's eyes, amusement, irritation—maybe a mix of both. But he didn't take the bait. Instead, he simply sighed, as if she were a particularly exhausting puzzle he had grown accustomed to dealing with.
"You do love technicalities, don't you?" he murmured, tone edged with quiet amusement.
Alara grinned. "Oh, absolutely. Aro of all people should know that by now."
Demetri's lips twitched. "Indeed."
The air hummed with tension, the Volturi guards standing still as statues, waiting, watching. Alara was enjoying every second of it. Demetri's gaze shifted, his attention drifting from Alara to the small vampire clinging to her side.
"And who is this?" he asked, his voice smooth, calculated.
Bree's grip on Alara's shirt tightened, her entire body going rigid as those sharp red eyes settled on her. Alara's playful demeanour vanished in an instant. Her smirk faded, her stance hardening as she subtly positioned herself between Bree and Demetri.
"She's none of your concern."
Her voice wasn't taunting anymore. It wasn't teasing. It was serious. Final. Demetri noted the shift immediately. His head tilted slightly, watching her with newfound interest, his gaze flicking briefly to Bree before settling back on Alara.
"No?" he mused. "Then why do you look like you're about to bare your teeth at me?"
Alara didn't deny it. She just stood there, still, her expression unreadable—but her stance said everything. Bree was off-limits. And Demetri? He absolutely noticed.
Demetri held her gaze, unwavering, eyes sharp and assessing. The silence stretched between them, heavy, tense. Alara didn't move. Didn't blink. Didn't let a single hint of weakness show. Bree clung to her tighter, but Alara didn't budge. She was a wall between them, an immovable force.
Demetri's lips curled into something almost amused.
"Interesting."
Alara's fingers twitched. "Drop it."
Before Demetri could respond, a new voice cut through the air—soft, sweet, and laced with venom.
"But you see… stray newborns tend to attract unwanted attention."
Alara clicked her tongue, tilting her head just slightly. "Oh, great. The demon child is back."
Her eyes flickered to Bree, who shrank back, pressing herself into Alara's side. Alara shifted forward, barely perceptible, just enough to make it clear—this wasn't a discussion.
"And what makes you think she's a newborn?"
Jane's lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk. "Well, for one," she said, voice deceptively sweet, "she's clinging to you, a human, like a lifeline."
Her gaze flickered toward Bree, calm and calculating, drinking in every detail—the way the girl pressed herself into Alara's side, fingers curled into her shirt like letting go would send her tumbling into something far worse.
Alara scoffed. "Or maybe she just has good taste."
A quiet, breathy laugh escaped Jane, her amusement razor-sharp. "Oh, we both know it's more than that."
Alara didn't deny it. "She's mine," she said, voice low, sharp.
Demetri arched a brow. "Is that so?"
The other Volturi guards didn't move, but their interest sharpened. Alara could feel the weight of their attention settling on her, on Bree, on the boldness of her claim. She didn't care. She wouldn't let them take Bree.
"She's broken no laws," Alara continued, voice steady, unyielding.
Jane's smirk didn't waver, but there was something sharper in her gaze now, something pressing. "Is it a mere coincidence," she mused, tilting her head slightly, "that you took down a newborn army mere weeks ago… and now this stray newborn shows up on your doorstep?"
Alara exhaled through her nose, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Yes, actually," she said dryly. "But by all means, keep reaching."
Jane hummed, expression unreadable. "Curious," she murmured, tapping a single finger against her chin. "Because we've been hunting down the stragglers of that little army of yours. Cleaning up your mess, so to speak."
Alara's eyes narrowed.
Jane smiled. "And imagine my surprise when I find one—hiding in plain sight."
Alara's eyes darkened, her stance unwavering. "I don't have to prove anything to you, Jane."
Jane's smirk twitched, the amusement in her gaze thinning. "Oh, but you do," she murmured, tilting her head. "Unless, of course, you'd rather I take the matter into my own hands?"
Bree pressed further into Alara's side, barely breathing.
Alara let out a slow breath, clicking her tongue. "You could try," she said, voice dripping with boredom. "But we both know how that would end."
Alara's hands ignited, flames licking up her fingers like they belonged there. The fire cast flickering shadows across her face, making the dark glint in her eyes all the more menacing.
Demetri sighed. "Now, now," he mused, stepping forward ever so slightly. "Let's not be hasty, ladies. I'd hate to see things get… out of hand."
His gaze flickered to Bree. Alara knew what they wanted. What they assumed. That Bree was part of Victoria's army. That she had fought with them. And that meant one thing.
Jane had come to eliminate her.
"You won't be the first child I've killed, Jane."
Her voice was steady, unshaken, but there was something deeper beneath it—something raw. She wasn't lying. She had killed children before—completely by accident—but that didn't matter now. The memories clawed at the back of her mind, but she shoved them down, buried them beneath the weight of the moment.
She had to stand strong in the face of the Volturi. She had to prove she wasn't to be trifled with, even if it meant making light of a past that haunted her. Jane's smirk faltered, just for a fraction of a second. And that was enough.
Alec stepped forward, his expression far more measured than his sister's.
"Now, now, Jane," he murmured, his voice like silk, a stark contrast to the crackling flames in Alara's hands. "Let's not let this get out of hand… lest we upset Master Aro."
His gaze flickered to Alara, taking in the fire, the tension in her stance, the way Bree clung to her side. Unlike Jane, Alec wasn't baiting her—he was assessing, calculating.
Alara let out a mock gasp, pressing a hand to her chest as if scandalised. "Ohh, I would hate to upset Master Aro," she drawled, stretching out his name with dramatic flair. "Truly, it would ruin my entire day."
Alec's lips twitched, amused despite himself. Jane, however, looked one second away from setting something—or someone—on fire with her glare alone.
"You're insufferable," Jane seethed.
Alara grinned. "And yet, here you are. Suffering." She wiggled her flaming fingers for emphasis before casually extinguishing them with a flick of her wrist. "Shame, really."
Bree, still clinging to her side, made a tiny sound—somewhere between terror and admiration.
Alec sighed. "Perhaps we can all agree that incinerating each other in the middle of the forest isn't the most productive way to spend the evening."
"I don't know, Alec. Sounds pretty productive to me." Alara hummed, tapping a finger against her chin.
Jane's glare could have set a lesser creature aflame. Unfortunately for her, Alara had already mastered actual fire.
"You're testing my patience," Jane hissed.
Alara gasped again, pressing a dramatic hand to her heart. "Not your patience, oh no! Anything but that!" She leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You do realise that's not really a threat, right? It's like saying water is wet."
Jane's expression twisted, but before she could speak, Alec sighed, stepping in again like the long-suffering sibling he clearly was.
"As much as I love witnessing these little exchanges," he said, smooth and measured, "perhaps we can redirect our focus. The newborn?" He gestured lightly toward Bree, who was still half-hiding behind Alara, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else.
Alara clicked her tongue, tilting her head. "Oh, right, her. Almost forgot with all the theatrics." She patted Bree's shoulder lightly. "What do you think, kid? Wanna throw hands with the Volturi or maybe, I don't know, not die today?"
"Not die?" Bree squeaked.
Alara beamed. "Excellent choice! Look at you, making great life decisions." She turned back to Jane and Alec. "And that settles it. I'm keeping her."
Jane scowled. "That's not how this works."
Alara crossed her arms. "Says who?"
Jane opened her mouth, probably to remind her exactly who, but Alara cut her off with a breezy, "Oh, right, the scary vampire government." She snapped her fingers. "Well, since I don't recognise your authority, I guess that's a you problem."
Jane looked one second away from actually trying to kill Alara.
"Master Aro will hear of this," Jane bit out, voice full of venom.
Alara's smirk widened. "Great! Tell him I said hi. Oh, and make sure to really drag out my name when you do it. He'll love that."
Jane's smile was all sharp edges, her red eyes gleaming with cold amusement. "You might not recognise our authority," she said smoothly, "but you are a part of our world now. So it is in your best interest to follow our laws—including handing over the newborn… for trial purposes. She is under our jurisdiction."
Alara's smirk didn't falter. If anything, it grew. "Trial purposes, huh? Wow, you almost made that sound convincing." She tapped her chin, pretending to mull it over before snapping her fingers. "Oh wait, no—you didn't. Because we both know how that ends."
Bree stiffened beside her, pressing in tighter, but Alara didn't move, didn't flinch, didn't give an inch.
Jane's expression darkened. "It is the law."
Alara huffed. "You know what else is the law? Speed limits. And guess what? People break those all the time." She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice to something conspiratorial. "And—get this—not everyone gets caught."
Alec let out a quiet laugh. Jane shot him a glare, and he lifted his hands in faux surrender.
"Alara," Jane ground out, voice laced with warning.
"Jane," Alara mimicked, perfectly matching her tone.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The tension stretched, thick and coiling, an invisible line drawn between them.
Then Alara sighed, rolling her shoulders. "Look, I get it. You have a job to do. Scary vampire government, laws, punishments, blah blah blah. But here's the thing—Bree isn't part of that army. She's just a scared kid who ran."
Jane's expression didn't change. "Then prove it."
Alara barked out a laugh. "Ah, there it is! The classic Volturi move—prove it or die. So predictable." She shook her head, feigning disappointment. "You guys really need new material."
Jane's expression remained cold, unwavering. "We will take her by force if we have to."
As the words left her lips, the vampires around her tensed, their movements sharp, precise—synchronised like a well-trained pack of wolves. A single step forward, deliberate and threatening.
Alara let out a low whistle, unimpressed. "Oh no," she deadpanned, placing a hand over her heart. "A bunch of scary vampires stepping toward me all menacingly? Whatever will I do?"
Bree stiffened against her side, but Alara didn't move, didn't even blink. Instead, she let her smirk widen, eyes flicking between Jane and the guards.
"You know," she mused, cracking her knuckles lazily, "for a group that prides itself on being all-knowing, you guys really need to start thinking things through."
Jane's gaze sharpened. "And what, exactly, does that mean?"
Alara tilted her head, pretending to think. "Well, if you were smart, you'd realise that I don't respond well to threats. If you were smarter, you'd remember that I don't play by your rules. And—" she lifted a hand, flames sparking to life at her fingertips, casting eerie shadows against her smirk—"if you were the smartest of all, you'd know that trying to take something from me never ends well."
The fire flickered, the heat pressing against the already-tense air. The guards hesitated.
Alara's smirk widened. "What's wrong? I thought we were stepping forward dramatically. Do keep up."
Demetri stepped up to Jane, leaning in close to whisper something in her ear. His voice was too low for Alara to catch, but the shift in Jane's expression was telling—her lips pressed into a thin line, her annoyance simmering just beneath the surface.
Alara narrowed her eyes, then turned her head slightly, whispering down to Bree. "What is he saying?"
Bree swallowed hard, glancing between the gathered vampires. She hesitated just a second too long—long enough for Demetri and Jane to notice. Their eyes flicked toward her, but before they could say anything, Demetri stepped back from the group, expression carefully neutral.
Bree took a shaky breath and finally found her voice. "He said…" She licked her lips, nerves clear in her tone. "He's going to call Aro. And to keep things civil. And… how important you are to the Masters."
Alara blinked. Then, slowly, a grin stretched across her face.
"Ohhh," she breathed, dragging out the sound like she'd just heard the most delicious piece of gossip. "I'm important, huh?"
She clapped her hands together, the last remnants of fire flickering out at the motion. "Well, would you look at that? Seems like you can surprise me after all." She turned her attention back to Jane, smirk as sharp as a blade. "Guess that means you don't get to take the kid by force. Bummer, really. I was looking forward to seeing how that played out for you."
Jane's nostrils flared, but she didn't lash out. Couldn't, really—not with Demetri's warning hanging over her head like a guillotine.
Alara rocked back on her heels, arms crossed. "So. What now? We all stand here awkwardly and wait for Daddy Aro to weigh in?"
Right on cue, Demetri returned within the minute, phone in hand, his expression unreadable. "Aro is on the line," he announced smoothly. "He wishes to speak with you."
Alara blinked, then snorted. "Oh wow. Personal call from the big boss himself? I am special." She took a dramatic breath. "Alright, hand it over."
Demetri didn't move, simply holding the phone out expectantly.
Alara raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you're on speaker? Cute. Should I say ciao first, or is he already listening?"
A soft, airy chuckle floated through the phone. "Ah, tesoro," Aro's voice came, smooth and indulgent. "Of course, I am listening."
Alara grinned, unbothered. "Figures. How do you feel knowing Jane was about to make a very dumb decision?"
A pause. Then, another soft laugh. "Now, now," Aro mused. "Let's not be too harsh on dear Jane. She is simply carrying out her duties."
Alara glanced at Jane, whose expression remained rigid, though her eyes burned with quiet fury.
"Sure," Alara said, dragging out the word. "And I'm sure you're just dying to hear my side of things."
"Naturally," Aro responded, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "So, tell me, cara mia, what exactly is going on?"
Alara smirked, rocking back on her heels again. "Oh, you know. The usual. You send your murder toddlers to play police, they try to strong-arm me, I call their bluff, Demetri remembers I have plot armour—same old, same old."
Aro chuckled again, the sound amused but patient. "Ah, how delightful you are." A brief pause, then, his tone light yet pointed, "Now, tell me about this newborn."
Alara's smirk didn't waver. "She is none of your concern, Aro."
The silence that followed was almost suffocating. Even the guards around her seemed to stiffen, as if waiting for the inevitable weight of Aro's displeasure.
Then, a soft hum crackled through the speaker. "Oh, tesoro," Aro mused, voice still as smooth as silk, but there was something in it now—something sharp. "You wound me again."
Alara rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I'm just breaking your heart left and right today."
Jane's glare could've burned a hole through her skull. Demetri simply watched.
"Surely," Aro continued, unbothered, "you of all people understand that all creatures of our world are of some concern to me."
Alara let out an exaggerated sigh. "Look, Aro, I get it. You like to have your fingers in everyone's business. But Bree? She's just a kid who ran from a fight. Not a threat, not a soldier, and definitely not your problem."
Another pause. Then, "Hmm."
Alara narrowed her eyes. She knew that sound. That was the sound of Aro thinking, calculating, rearranging the pieces on whatever mental chessboard he was playing.
"And yet," Aro finally said, voice lighter, "your insistence on protecting her makes me wonder..."
Alara's smirk faded, her expression sharpening into something unreadable.
"This game isn't about her," she said, voice low, steady—deadly serious.
"It's about me." She didn't waver, didn't blink, the weight of her words settling like a heavy stone between them. "If you want this game to continue, you'll leave her out of this."
A pause, deliberate. Calculated.
"She isn't the key to my cooperation." She let that sink in, let the silence stretch, thick with meaning. Let Aro think, let him turn it over in that mind of his, piece by piece.
Then, softer. Sharper. A promise.
"But interfering with her will be the key to your downfall." Her eyes gleamed as she smiled, slow and knowing.
"Choose wisely."
For the first time in the conversation, there was silence. Not the usual, easy kind that stretched in Aro's favour—the one where he let his amusement linger, let the weight of his perceived authority settle over those around him.
No.
This silence belonged to her.
Alara didn't need to see Aro's expression to know she had his attention. That single moment of quiet, the slight pause on the other end of the line—it was telling.
Aro hummed, the sound light but considering. "And what, pray tell, are your plans with the newborn?"
Alara exhaled slowly, rolling her shoulders. And that's when she made her decision. One she had considered before but never fully committed to. She lifted her chin, meeting Demetri's gaze first, then Jane's, before finally looking back at the phone in Demetri's hand.
"I'm taking her to the Cullens," she said.
The silence that followed was palpable. Even the wind seemed to die down, as if the entire world had paused to process her words.
Then, a soft, indulgent chuckle crackled through the speaker. "Ah, how fascinating," Aro murmured. "And here I thought you had no interest in their way of life."
Alara shrugged. "I don't. But lucky for me, this isn't about me." She tilted her head, eyes glinting. "And it's definitely not about you."
"Mmm," Aro mused. "An interesting move. But tell me, tesoro—do you believe they will take her in?"
Alara smirked. "I dunno, Aro. You tell me. Didn't you just say you enjoy watching things unfold?"
Aro laughed, rich and knowing. "So I did."
Jane, however, did not look amused. "The Cullens," she bit out, as if the name itself offended her. "You would entrust a newborn to them?"
Alara stretched, cracking her neck with an exaggerated sigh. "Listen, Jane, I could sit here and debate vampire morality with you, but frankly? I have better things to do. Like literally anything else." She patted Bree on the shoulder. "So if you're done throwing your little tantrum, I think we'll be on our way."
Jane's eyes blazed. Alec sighed.
"Very well," Aro finally said, still as smooth and unbothered as ever. "I shall not interfere—for now. But do keep in mind, my dear, I always collect what is owed to me."
Alara tilted her head, tapping her chin. "Hmm. Let me think. Is it… my eternal gratitude? No, no, that can't be it—you'd already have that if you weren't so insufferably nosy." She snapped her fingers. "Oh! I know! You want my autograph!"
Alec stifled a laugh. Jane did not.
Aro's voice remained patient, though there was an unmistakable undertone of amusement. "Your allegiance, tesoro. Your cooperation. Those are things I am quite fond of."
"Ahh, but yes," Alara mused, tapping her chin as if lost in deep, serious contemplation. "You won't even get close to my cooperation until you win the game."
A pause. Then, she gasped, eyes widening in mock realisation. "Oh, wait! That means you could be at this forever! My bad! I should've put a time limit on it!" She sighed, shaking her head dramatically. "I really can't let you try and fail for the rest of my life. That'd just be cruel."
The line was silent for half a beat before Aro chuckled, soft and indulgent. "Oh, my dear, you do amuse me."
Alara smirked. "Glad someone's entertained."
"But tell me," Aro continued smoothly, "if you truly believe we stand no chance, why prolong the game at all?"
Alara hummed, tilting her head. "Because it's fun."
Jane bristled. Alec exhaled a quiet laugh. Demetri just raised an eyebrow, watching her like she was the most perplexing puzzle he'd ever encountered.
"Amusing," Aro murmured. "But remember, tesoro... games have a way of shifting when you least expect it."
Alara waggled a finger at the phone. "Ah, ah, ah! No foreshadowing allowed unless you actually do something about it. Otherwise, you just sound like a knockoff fortune teller."
Another chuckle, slow and knowing. "Then I shall bid you farewell, for now."
"Finally," Alara muttered. "This has been the longest phone call of my life."
"Until next time, Alara."
The line clicked dead.
"Well, that was fun. Let's do it again sometime." She turned to Jane, who was fuming.
"Looks like Daddy Aro chose wisely," Alara drawled, placing a hand on Bree's shoulder with exaggerated nonchalance. "Which means you get to go home empty-handed. Again. Rough day for you, huh?"
Jane's fists clenched, but she said nothing. Not with Demetri still watching, not with Aro's decision looming over her like a command carved in stone.
Jane's glare could have stripped paint from walls. "You are insufferable."
"And yet," Alara beamed, spinning on her heel, "you keep coming back for more, demon child."
She turned to Bree. "Alright, kid. Time to go meet the Cullens. Try not to spontaneously combust from all the goodness in that house."
Bree swallowed. "Are they really that… nice?"
Alara snorted. "Nice? Apparently, they're so nice it's a little unsettling. They've weaponized nice. You'll see."
And with that, she walked off, Bree trailing behind her, leaving the Volturi's finest standing in the forest, watching her go.
Jane, predictably, looked furious.
Alec sighed. "I do enjoy her."