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Chapter Recap 3: Leah starts questioning her memories, especially about Sam and Emily, wondering if she's been lying to herself. Sam remembers everything differently, and Leah wonders which version is real. She calls Embry for help with Seth and he shows up at the Cullens' house, casually annoying as always. He talks about imprinting, revealing that wolves can't handle being apart from their imprints for long, making Leah realize Seth could be locked away for weeks. Embry suggests Leah sees imprinting as a disease, but she denies it. Seth is struggling in the vault, and Leah tries to comfort him, though she's unsure herself. The Cullens want blood samples to study imprinting's physical effects, and as they head to collect them, Leah feels tension with Embry, especially when he accidentally touches her, causing her to snap at him. The chapter ends with Leah dreading how to tell her mom about Seth.
Chapter 4
The second I hear the crunch of tires over gravel, my stomach twists.
Carlisle glances toward the sound, face unreadable. "That would be your mother."
Yeah, I know. I should have called her, told her on the phone, given her some kind of warning. But what the hell was I supposed to say?
Hey, Mom, Seth locked himself in a vault, and we don't know if he's going to make it out in one piece?
The last time something this major happened in our family, it killed my father. One moment, I was arguing with Mom. The next, I wasn't me anymore, and she was trying to keep Dad's heart beating.
And I was the cause.
So no, I couldn't be the one to tell her. I couldn't risk it. Instead, I made Bella do it—told her to text Charlie and get him to bring Sue here.
As if by telling her in person, I could prevent it from happening again. As if I somehow had the power to keep her alive.
But I also couldn't bear the thought of her dying while we were on the phone.
Charlie's cruiser rolls to a stop, headlights cutting through the trees. I stand rooted to the spot, watching as Mom steps out, her gaze already searching for answers.
She doesn't slam the door. Doesn't rush forward. But the way she holds herself—shoulders tight, jaw clenched—tells me everything. She's keeping it together by sheer force of will.
Charlie gets out too, his mouth set in a grim line.
Mom's eyes lock onto mine. "Leah."
I should answer right away. Should meet her halfway, say something reassuring. Instead, my throat locks up.
I feel the weight of everyone's eyes—Carlisle, Edward, Embry, even Rosalie, who lingers near the door with her arms folded like she already knows exactly how this is going to go.
I exhale sharply and step forward. "Hey, Mom."
Her gaze flicks over me, scanning for something, like she needs to know if I'm keeping secrets. Taking inventory of who else is—or isn't—here.
"Where's Seth?"
I jerk my chin toward the house. "Downstairs."
Her neck muscles tense, like she's bracing for a blow.
"Locked himself in their vault," I manage to get out. My mouth is dry as sand.
Her breath hitches. "He what?"
Charlie clears his throat. "Bella said something about… an imprint?" His voice is careful, unsure, like he's handling something fragile.
Mom exhales. She seems relieved. Then her forehead creases. "But why is he here, then?"
I swallow. "He's trying to break his imprint."
Silence.
Her mouth moves, but no sound comes.
Then, very quietly: "Who is it?"
I hesitate.
"Who has he imprinted on?" She says it more forcefully this time.
She's going to find out either way, but saying it out loud feels dangerous. Like striking a match near gasoline.
"Annie Mae," I say quickly.
No gasp. No tell me you're joking. She just stops moving, fingers pressing into her arms like she needs to anchor herself.
When she finally speaks, her voice is eerily calm. "Anna Mae Banks?"
I nod once.
Charlie frowns. "Who's Annie Mae?"
Mom doesn't acknowledge him. Doesn't answer right away. Instead, her lips press together, and for a split second, something unreadable flashes across her face.
Not anger. Not disgust. Something else.
I blink. I hadn't expected that.
When she exhales, it's sharp, like she's forcing the air out. "I need to see him."
Carlisle steps forward, ever patient. "He's stable for now, but we've been monitoring his vitals. He's—"
"Carlisle, I appreciate that, but can we please talk while we walk?" she snaps. Then she presses her fingers to her temple, shuts her eyes. When she speaks again, her voice is softer. "Sorry. It's been a long day."
Carlisle nods. "I understand. Come inside."
Mom turns to me. "Go home, Leah. Get some sleep."
I scoff. "I'm fine. Not like this is my first crisis."
"You're exhausted," she says, gesturing to the car. "Leave it here. Charlie needs to get back to work."
Embry clears his throat beside me. I feel his hand on my arm, trying to pull me toward the woods. "Come on, La Push is this way."
But I'm not ready to move.
Mom doesn't wait for more argument. She just walks inside, Charlie trailing after her. The door closes behind them, leaving me and Embry standing alone.
Leaving us behind in the driveway.
Then Embry mutters, "Well, that was tense."
I let out a sharp breath. "Welcome to my life."
We head into the woods, stripping down with the practiced efficiency of people who've done this too many times to care anymore.
As I shove my clothes into the leather string around my leg, I catch a brief glimpse of Embry out of the corner of my eye—broad shoulders, strong back, the faint gleam of a scar near his ribs.
My gaze jerks away before my brain can process anything else.
Heat rolls through me as I shift, the world stretching, reshaping. In less than a second, I land on four paws, ears pricked forward.
Embry shifts beside me, his thoughts flickering through the pack link. I block him out.
I take off, and he follows.
For a while, we just run. The rhythm of paws on damp earth, the cool air rushing past. The trees blur. The world is distant.
Then, after a long stretch of silence, Embry finally speaks into my mind.
You know, you don't have to be such an ass all the time.
I ignore him.
Seriously, he presses, was that crack about my dad really necessary?
A flicker of guilt. Not much, but it's there. I shove it down.
Oh, I'm sorry, should I be more sensitive? That doesn't seem to be a requirement for you lately.
Embry growls, picking up his pace. I match him stride for stride.
You always do this, Leah, he snaps. The second things get too real, you lash out. Like keeping everyone at arm's length is the only way to survive.
Maybe it is. Look at them—Edward nearly got himself killed for Bella. Jacob risked all of our lives for Renesmee. Maybe it's actually better not to get caught up in stupid feelings.
I think you're scared shitless.
I snort. Of what, exactly?
Of needing people.
The words hit harder than they should. Not in a way I'd ever admit, but in a way that settles deep in my ribs, burning slow.
Embry doesn't press, but I feel him watching me through the pack link, waiting.
Finally, I mutter, Maybe if you spent more time figuring out your own mess, you'd have less time to analyze mine.
He lets out a sharp, humorless laugh. Yeah, well. At least I'm not running from everything.
I almost snap back—almost.
Then I realize what he's really saying.
He never had a father to lose. Never had a girlfriend break his heart—yet.
Right. You just haven't had to run yet.
Silence. Stretched tight as wire.
Then, just as I start to pull ahead, his voice brushes against my mind—so quiet, I almost miss it.
Didn't I?
I don't respond. But somehow, that single phrase stays with me long after we're home.