Chapter 25: Unseen Moves

Bella sat at the long dining table, absently twirling a pen between her fingers, the small clicking sound the only thing breaking the silence. The Cullen home was still—too still. She had lived with vampires long enough to know the difference between their usual quiet presence and this... unnerving tension that had settled into the walls like an unshakable shadow.

It had started a few days ago.

Carlisle had been acting... off.

At first, she had brushed it off. Carlisle was always steady, always composed. If something was wrong, surely he would have said something. But as the days passed, she could no longer ignore the subtle shifts.

He wasn't himself.

There were moments when his golden eyes would drift into the distance, his focus elsewhere, as if he were lost in thoughts he wasn't ready to share. He paused mid-sentence more than once, hesitated before answering even the simplest questions. It was unlike him—Carlisle always knew what to say, always carried himself with the kind of certainty that made those around him feel safe.

Now, it felt as though he was carrying something too heavy to bear alone.

Even Momma had noticed.

Bella had caught the way Esme's worried gaze lingered on him when he wasn't looking, the way she would instinctively reach for him—only for him to offer her one of his gentle smiles. But Bella saw the difference. The warmth in that smile never quite reached his eyes anymore.

And it wasn't just Momma.

The entire house felt… unsettled.

Even Edward.

Bella glanced at him from across the table, her brows furrowing. Edward was still—too still.

His golden eyes, usually filled with depth and intensity, were distant, staring out the window but not really looking at anything. His expression was set in stone, his jaw tight, the muscle there twitching ever so slightly.

Edward never fidgeted. But today, his fingers tapped soundlessly against the polished wooden table in a slow, restless rhythm.

Something was wrong.

She had felt it in the way his hand lingered on hers a little longer when she was anxious, in the way he had stiffened every time Carlisle entered a room, his eyes flickering toward their father figure with something close to unease.

Edward knew something.

He had been keeping it from her.

Bella could feel her frustration rising, a mixture of worry and impatience tightening in her chest. She had spent enough of her human life being left out of conversations, being protected.

Not anymore.

She let the silence stretch between them, waiting for him to speak. When he didn't, when he kept his eyes trained on the window like he was somewhere else entirely, Bella had had enough.

Her voice was quiet but firm.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong, Edward?"

Edward's gaze snapped to her instantly, his entire body going rigid.

For a moment, he said nothing. He simply studied her, the way he always did when he was deciding how much to tell her.

Bella hated that look.

His golden eyes flickered toward the staircase. He wasn't just being cautious—he was making sure no one else was listening.

Bella's pulse quickened.

Finally, he leaned forward, his voice low. Controlled.

"Carlisle is hiding something."

A cold chill crawled down Bella's spine.

Her fingers clenched around the pen before she forced herself to set it down, folding her hands together to keep them from trembling.

"Hiding what?" she asked, her voice quieter than she wanted it to be.

Edward leaned in, his jaw tight.

"I don't know. But he's been blocking me out."

Bella's eyes widened slightly.

Carlisle? Blocking Edward out?

Her heartbeat stuttered.

"Papa never does that."

"I know." Edward's fingers tapped against the table again—faster this time. "At first, I thought maybe it was stress from work. But today, right before I left for school, I caught one thought before he shut me out completely."

Bella could feel her stomach tightening.

The house suddenly felt too small, too suffocating.

She swallowed hard.

"What did you hear?"

Edward's expression darkened, his golden eyes narrowing slightly as if he despised the memory of the thought itself.

He exhaled slowly.

"Luca."

Bella's blood ran cold.

The name slammed into her like a physical force.

She had never met Luca. She had never even seen him.

And yet, his name alone sent an undeniable wave of dread coursing through her veins.

She gripped the edge of the table, knuckles whitening.

Luca.

The vampire who had lingered in Forks. The one who had outmaneuvered the pack. The one who—

Her breath hitched.

The one who had tried to take her when she was a baby.

She didn't even realize Edward had moved until she felt his hand close over hers. Steady. Cool. Grounding.

"Bella." His voice was softer now, pulling her back.

She forced herself to look at him.

Edward's golden eyes were filled with something fierce. Protective.

"I won't let anything happen to you," he murmured.

Bella's pulse hammered in her ears.

"But what about Papa?" she whispered.

Edward exhaled, his hand tightening over hers.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I intend to find out."

Bella barely had time to process the weight of Edward's revelation before Alice entered the room.

Her movements were as graceful as ever, but there was something off—a tightness in her posture, a tension in the way her golden eyes flickered between Bella and Edward.

She had heard them.

"You said Luca?" Alice's voice was sharp, lacking its usual lightness.

Edward nodded, his expression unreadable, but Bella felt the slight tremor in his grip as his fingers curled tighter around hers. "Carlisle was thinking about him. It was just a fragment of a thought, but it was enough. As soon as I caught his name, he shut me out."

Alice frowned, crossing her arms. "That's not like him. He doesn't usually keep things from us."

Bella swallowed hard. The room felt colder, the walls closer. She thought of Papa's distant stares, the heavy silence that followed him like a shadow, the way Momma had reached for him, only for him to pull away.

"Do you think… something happened?" Bella's voice was barely above a whisper.

Alice didn't answer right away. Her gaze flickered toward the staircase—the third time Bella had seen someone do it tonight.

"I don't know," Alice admitted, but there was a note of uncertainty in her voice that sent another chill through Bella's spine. "But I do know something else—"

Her words cut off suddenly.

Alice's golden eyes glazed over, her body going unnaturally still.

Bella felt the air shift. She had seen Alice like this before—a vision taking hold of her mind.

Edward reacted immediately, tensing beside her, his hand gripping the edge of the table.

"Alice?" His voice was sharp, urgent.

Bella held her breath, heart pounding against her ribs.

Alice blinked rapidly, coming back to the present. But when she looked at them again, her expression had hardened—not with fear, but something close to anger.

"He's going to leave," she whispered.

Bella felt her breath catch.

The words struck her like a blow, confusion and dread twisting inside her chest.

"Papa?"

Alice nodded, pressing her lips into a thin, frustrated line. "I don't know when, but it's soon. He's made up his mind about something, and it's going to take him away from Forks."

Bella's fingers curled into fists.

No.

A sudden flare of panic ignited in her chest, hot and immediate, spreading like wildfire beneath her skin. Leaving? That wasn't possible. Papa wouldn't leave—not without telling them, not without telling her.

"He wouldn't," she muttered, shaking her head, as if denying the idea itself would make it disappear. "He wouldn't just—"

A chair scraped against the floor, loud and abrupt.

Edward was standing now, his hands planted firmly on the table, his body coiled with tension.

"Not without telling us," he said darkly.

His voice was low, controlled—but Bella felt the anger rolling off him in waves, seeping into the room like an oncoming storm.

Before Bella could form a response, footsteps approached.

Jasper and Emmett entered the room, both of them looking unusually serious.

"You guys are talking about Carlisle, aren't you?" Emmett's voice lacked its usual lightheartedness.

Edward exhaled sharply. "You've noticed too?"

Jasper leaned against the doorway, his golden eyes sharp, analyzing everything.

"The whole house feels different," Jasper murmured. "Carlisle's emotions are… controlled, but there's something beneath the surface. Something he's trying to suppress."

Bella turned to him, her heart hammering. "Can you feel it? His emotions?"

Jasper's gaze lingered on her for a moment before he nodded.

"They're muted," he admitted. "Like he's keeping himself in check, but beneath it…" He hesitated, frowning slightly. "There's… something else. Something I haven't felt from him before."

Bella felt a cold weight settle in her stomach.

Jasper had felt emotions in war, in death, in chaos. But whatever he sensed in Papa… it was new.

Before anyone could respond, another presence filled the room.

Bella turned just as Momma entered.

Esme's soft features were drawn, her usual warmth dimmed by the clear worry in her golden eyes. She didn't even have to ask what they were discussing—she already knew.

"He won't talk to me about it," she admitted softly. "Whatever it is… he's carrying it alone."

Bella swallowed the lump in her throat, her voice suddenly quiet.

"Momma… do you think he's okay?"

Esme hesitated. It was brief, barely a second—but Bella noticed it.

It was enough.

She already had her answer.

Carlisle exhaled, the weight of the revelation pressing down on him like a crushing force. He had spent his immortal life building a foundation of peace, of control. He had shaped himself into something more than what he had been created to be.

But now, it felt as though all of that had been built on unstable ground.

Luca had been there. Watching. Waiting.

His grip tightened on the edge of his desk.

How long had Luca been watching him?

The thought made his stomach twist, a rare and unwelcome sensation for someone who had spent centuries mastering his composure.

Had Luca known about Esme? His children?

Had he known about Bella all along?

Carlisle inhaled sharply, but it did nothing to ease the tension wrapping around his chest. He closed his eyes, trying to steady himself, but all he could see was Bella.

His daughter.

The daughter he had sworn to protect.

Carlisle had fought for so long to give Bella a life free from fear, from the dangers that came with their kind. He had prepared her for so much, but how could he prepare her for this?

For Luca?

He pressed his hand to his temple, trying to focus, trying to make sense of the storm raging inside his mind.

How much did Luca truly know?

Did he know that Bella was more than just his daughter? That she was something rare, something unique?

Did he know about her gifts? About the power she carried within her?

Did he know that the Volturi had already turned their eyes toward her?

Carlisle's throat tightened.

Aro.

The one thing more dangerous than Luca.

If the Volturi ever learned the full extent of Bella's abilities, they would never stop. Aro's thirst for power was boundless, and Carlisle had no doubt that his fascination with Bella would become an obsession.

He had barely managed to protect her once.

Could he do it again?

Carlisle opened his eyes, his gaze falling to the old leather journal sitting in the drawer beside him.

A journal that held centuries of thoughts, of regrets, of names written in ink that had long since dried—names that haunted him still.

With deliberate movements, he pulled it from its place, flipping open the worn pages until he reached a section he hadn't touched in decades.

There, scrawled in precise, controlled handwriting, was a single name.

Luca.

Carlisle traced the ink with his fingertips, memories rising unbidden to the surface.

A mentor. A creator. A monster.

Luca had been the first face Carlisle had seen after the agony of transformation. His voice had been the first to speak to him, to tell him what he had become.

Carlisle had once looked up to him, had once thought of him as something close to a father.

But then—the truth.

The truth of what Luca was.

The blood. The bodies.

The moment Carlisle had realized that he had been created not to heal, but to kill.

And Luca had expected him to embrace it.

Carlisle's hand clenched around the journal. He had rejected it then. He had fled, abandoning the life Luca had tried to force upon him. He had spent centuries proving that he was more than Luca's creation.

And yet, here he was.

Haunted by the same past he had tried so hard to escape.

Carlisle closed his eyes for a long moment, his body unnaturally still, as if frozen in time.

There was only one way to end this.

He had to find Luca.

Before Luca found Bella.

The Forest – The Pack Moves Against Luca

Jacob's wolf form moved through the trees silently, effortlessly. He and Sam were leading a small hunting party—Paul, Leah, and Embry—tracking the vampire that had humiliated them last time.

Tonight, they would catch him.

Luca's scent was strong, weaving through the damp forest air, guiding them deeper into the woods. He wasn't even trying to hide. That was what unsettled Jacob the most.

He's toying with us again, Sam's voice sounded in his mind, low and grim.

Not this time. Jacob pushed forward, his muscles tensed for the chase.

The scent led them to a clearing. Luca was standing there, waiting.

Not running. Not hiding. Waiting.

Jacob let out a low, guttural growl, stepping forward, hackles raised. The others fanned out, circling the vampire.

Luca merely smiled.

"I was wondering how long it would take you." His voice was smooth, almost amused.

Jacob didn't wait. With a snarl, he lunged.

Luca vanished.

One moment he was standing there, the next, Jacob was colliding with empty air.

Leah snapped her jaws at his side, but Luca was already behind her before she could make contact.

"Sloppy," Luca mused, sidestepping another attack from Paul as if he had all the time in the world.

Jacob whipped around, his frustration growing. Luca wasn't just fast—he was predicting their moves before they even made them.

He's messing with us, Leah growled.

Jacob snarled and lunged again, but before he could even register the movement, Luca was gone.

Completely.

No scent. No trace. Nothing.

The pack froze, listening, searching, but there was only silence.

Sam let out a low growl of frustration. He wasn't even running at full speed. He was…

Playing with us, Jacob finished grimly.

For the first time, real unease crept into his mind. Luca wasn't just fast—he was faster than anything they had ever encountered.

That meant one thing.

They couldn't catch him. Not unless he wanted to be caught.

They had to warn the Cullens.

The throne room was silent, save for the distant echoes of footsteps in the halls beyond. A deep, heavy silence.

Aro sat motionless, his fingers steepled, his crimson eyes unfocused, deep in thought.

He had never been one to ignore a feeling.

And right now, something was... off.

For centuries, he had carefully woven his empire of power, ensuring no stone remained unturned, no threat went unnoticed. And yet, there was a disturbance. A ripple in the still waters of his dominion.

His gaze flickered toward Heidi.

She stood near the base of the throne's steps, poised as always, her beauty striking even in the dim glow of the torches. But Aro saw beyond that.

He saw the faint tension in her shoulders, the slight hesitations in her movements—tells that most would miss.

But Aro?

Aro missed nothing.

He had already caught flickers of hesitation in her thoughts. Subtle, well-hidden. But there.

And then—a name buried in the recesses of her mind.

Luca.

Aro's fingers tightened ever so slightly.

Luca.

A name he had not heard in a long time.

His eyes darkened, the crimson hue deepening.

How long had Luca been moving in the shadows, unseen?

He turned to Caius and Marcus, his voice calm but laced with quiet curiosity.

"Tell me… what do we know of Luca's movements over the last century?"

Caius scoffed. Dismissive.

"Luca? He's a relic. Hiding in the corners of the world like a ghost."

Aro's lips curled at the word. Ghost.

Yes, that was the problem, wasn't it?

"And yet…" Aro mused, his voice thoughtful, fingers tapping against the armrest of his throne.

"Ghosts do not leave traces unless they wish to be found."

Caius's amusement dimmed.

For the first time, his expression hardened.

Aro knew what he was thinking.

No vampire could remain hidden for centuries without purpose. Without intent.

Aro let the silence stretch, the weight of his words sinking in.

Then, he rose gracefully, descending the steps of his throne with a deliberate slowness.

Heidi stiffened.

"Heidi, my dear," he murmured, stepping closer.

"Come."

She hesitated for just a fraction of a second.

That alone was telling.

Then, she obeyed, stepping forward and offering her hand.

Aro took it.

And the world shifted.

Memories surged forward, unraveling in his mind like threads pulled from a tapestry. Centuries of loyalty, of hunts, of feasts. Images of her bringing in mortals for the Volturi, the thrill of deception, the silent pleasure she took in her role.

But buried deeper, beneath layers of time and thought, something else stirred. A shadow among shadows.

Luca.

A flicker of his presence. Not direct, not tangible, but there. A lingering specter in the gaps between moments, always at the edges of her awareness. A name thought in passing but never spoken aloud. A memory so deeply buried that even she had not acknowledged it fully.

Aro's grip tightened.

He pushed deeper, peeling back the layers of her mind, searching for the why.

Then, he saw it.

A meeting—long ago, in the ruins of an abandoned city. A conversation spoken in whispers, the moonlight casting long shadows. Luca's face remained obscured in her memory, his form shrouded in the darkness of a forgotten past.

"Blood runs deep, child," his voice echoed faintly.

Heidi had not understood then.

But Aro did.

His expression remained unreadable as he withdrew from her mind, releasing her hand with a quiet, almost contemplative movement.

Heidi took a step back, her crimson eyes lowering ever so slightly. She knew he had seen something.

Aro turned away from her, his gaze sweeping back to Caius and Marcus.

"It seems our ghost has been more active than we assumed."

Caius frowned, his fingers tightening around the armrest of his throne.

"If Luca is moving, then he is plotting. And if he is plotting, he is a threat."

Aro exhaled softly, almost amused.

"Perhaps."

But his mind was already racing, calculating.

Luca had never been one for mindless power plays. He was old—older than many in this room. And he had survived by staying hidden, by avoiding unnecessary entanglements.

So why now?

Why, after so many centuries, was he surfacing?

Aro glanced toward Heidi once more, his expression unreadable.

"Tell me, my dear… how long have you kept this from me?"

Heidi did not flinch.

"I did not know what I was keeping."

Aro's smile returned, slow and knowing.

"Of course."

He turned on his heel, moving back toward his throne, his robe whispering against the marble floor.

Luca had remained in the shadows for centuries.

Now, it was time to bring him into the light.