Chapter 28: The Tides of Rebellion
The Olympic Peninsula stretched in quiet defiance beneath the night sky. Rain dripped from the towering evergreens, mist curling low over the forest floor like restless specters. The scent of damp earth, pine, and distant river carried on the wind, mingling with something older—something inevitable.
Luca stood at the ridgeline, watching the valley below. Forks lay in the distance, quiet and unaware, a town caught in the rising tide of war.
But his mind was elsewhere.
Memories surfaced, pulling him back to the nights when he had called in his debts—when he had gathered those who had reason to see the Volturi fall.
Except… it had not begun there.
No.
This plan, this war, had been set into motion the day Isabella Cullen was born.
He had watched over his descendants for centuries, even if they had never known his presence. He had seen Carlisle grow into something greater than any vampire he had ever encountered—a healer, not a destroyer. He had seen Bella's birth, her very existence proof that their kind was evolving, defying the limits the Volturi had so carefully crafted.
But evolution was dangerous. Aro feared what he could not control.
And Luca knew—if he did not act now, Carlisle and Bella would be the next ones the Volturi sought to erase.
His war was not one of conquest. It was one of preservation.
Carlisle. Bella.
His bloodline.
He had spent decades reaching out, weaving himself into the hidden corners of the vampire world, setting the foundation for the only war that truly mattered.
The war to end the Volturi's reign.
The first to answer his call were Vladimir and Stefan.
Luca had met them in the ruins of their lost empire, deep in the Carpathian Mountains. The castle had long since crumbled, its once-proud towers reduced to jagged stone and twisted ivy. The two Romanian elders had not rebuilt—they had only waited.
Luca had arrived in silence, his presence emerging from the fog like an old ghost returning home.
Stefan had studied him with knowing eyes, the ember of hatred still burning deep beneath his calm exterior.
"You wouldn't come here unless the Volturi were in your sights," he had said.
Vladimir had been less patient. "Tell us where to strike."
But Luca had only smiled. "Not yet."
Because war was not won in a single battle. It was won through patience, through the careful gathering of forces that even the Volturi had overlooked.
The next journey had taken him into the depths of the Amazon.
The jungle had been alive with sound—the chirp of insects, the distant call of birds, the slow rustling of leaves as unseen creatures moved through the undergrowth. The damp air clung to Luca's skin as he made his way toward the heart of the Amazons' territory.
Zafrina, Senna, and Kachiri had emerged from the trees like specters, their red eyes glowing in the dim light.
"We do not take part in wars," Zafrina had said, her voice carrying the weight of centuries.
Luca had inclined his head. "And yet, war is coming to you whether you wish for it or not."
Kachiri had exchanged glances with Senna, silent but watchful.
"The Volturi will not allow you to remain untouched forever," Luca had continued. "They are tightening their hold on our world. They see all, control all. But what they cannot control, they seek to destroy."
Zafrina had narrowed her eyes. "And what would you have us do?"
"Prepare," Luca had said simply. "Because the day will come when even the wilds of the Amazon will not be safe from them."
They had not committed then. But they had listened.
Amun had not been so willing.
The Egyptian vampire had hidden himself away, hoarding his secrets, keeping his coven small to avoid notice. But he had made a mistake long ago—a mistake that had left him indebted to Luca.
Amun had greeted him with thinly veiled contempt, golden eyes wary. "I do not meddle in Volturi affairs."
Luca had smiled. "Then it's unfortunate that they are about to meddle in yours."
The discussion had not lasted long. Amun was many things, but he was no fool. He had reluctantly agreed to Luca's terms—he would not fight, but when the time came, he would not stand in Luca's way.
And then there had been the nomads.
James, Victoria, and Laurent had been harder to track, but not impossible. Luca had found them in the forests of Canada, moving like shadows among the trees.
James had been the first to sense him, his instincts sharp, honed like a blade.
"You're a hard man to find," James had said, circling him like a predator. "Why is that?"
Luca had only smiled. "Because I do not wish to be found."
Laurent had been cautious. "You called us here. Why?"
Victoria had remained silent, her sharp red eyes studying him like prey she had yet to decide upon.
Luca had regarded them all in turn before speaking.
"The Volturi have never forgotten what you are," he had told them. "You live by your own rules, and that makes you dangerous. If you continue as you are, one day, you will vanish—without warning, without mercy."
Laurent had stiffened. "You expect us to believe that?"
"You already know it's true," Luca had replied smoothly. "How many nomads have simply disappeared?"
A slow silence had settled between them.
Victoria had shifted slightly, fingers brushing James' arm. "What do you want from us?"
"Nothing," Luca had said. "Not yet. But when the Volturi come for you—**and they will come—**I offer you an alternative."
James had tilted his head, intrigued. "And that is?"
"A chance to fight back."
None of them had agreed that night. But none of them had refused, either.
The Egyptian vampire had hidden himself away, hoarding his secrets, keeping his coven small to avoid notice. His territory was vast, stretching from the golden sands of the Sahara to the banks of the Nile, a place where time itself seemed to move differently. The ancient temples, the forgotten ruins—Amun had made a kingdom of shadows, ensuring that no one, not even the Volturi, could track his every move.
But Luca had always known where to find him.
He had arrived at sunset, just as the last light of day bled into the horizon, casting long shadows over the shifting dunes. The wind carried the scent of dust and ancient stone, whispers of civilizations lost to time. The hidden temple where Amun had taken refuge was carved into the rock face, its entrance nearly imperceptible beneath the golden sands.
Amun had been waiting.
He had greeted Luca with thinly veiled contempt, his golden eyes sharp with suspicion. "I do not meddle in Volturi affairs."
Behind him, Kebi stood silent as always, her presence unobtrusive but watchful. She never spoke unless necessary, never questioned Amun's decisions, but her eyes followed Luca with quiet intensity.
Beside them, Benjamin and Tia stood apart.
Benjamin was younger, his expression unreadable, but his stance betrayed his curiosity. He was powerful—Luca had known this long before meeting him. The boy who could bend the very elements to his will, a vampire unlike any other. A gift so rare that Aro himself had long desired to claim him.
Tia was by his side, her unwavering loyalty evident in the way she angled herself slightly toward him, as if prepared to shield him should things turn hostile.
Luca met Amun's gaze, his voice calm but edged with quiet certainty.
"Then it's unfortunate that they are about to meddle in yours."
Amun's expression darkened. He did not like being told what he already feared.
"The Volturi are focused on the Cullens," Amun countered. "They have no reason to look toward Egypt."
Luca tilted his head slightly, a knowing smile playing at his lips. "Are you certain?" He let the words settle, watching as the realization flickered behind Amun's eyes.
Because they both knew the truth.
Amun had spent centuries evading Aro's grasp. The Volturi had never forgotten him—never forgiven him for slipping through their fingers, for refusing to submit. His existence was tolerated, not accepted.
And Benjamin?
Aro coveted him.
He had seen the boy's power firsthand, witnessed the way he could summon fire from the air, shake the very earth beneath their feet. He had sent emissaries, time and again, offering safety in exchange for servitude.
But Amun had refused.
And for now, the Volturi had left them alone.
But it would not last.
"You've kept your coven small, kept yourself hidden," Luca continued, stepping forward, his crimson eyes unwavering. "But do you really believe they'll allow that forever?"
Amun's fingers curled at his sides, but he said nothing.
Luca let the silence stretch, then added, "The Volturi do not allow uncertainty. And you, Amun… you are a threat simply because they do not control you."
Benjamin shifted slightly, glancing at Tia, and Luca knew the seed of doubt had been planted.
Finally, Amun exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. "What do you want?"
"An understanding," Luca said smoothly. "I do not ask you to fight. But when the time comes, when the Volturi begin their purge, you will not stand in my way."
Amun hesitated, but he was not a fool. He had spent his immortal life surviving, and he knew that Luca's words were not threats. They were truths.
Slowly, he nodded.
Benjamin, however, took a step forward. "And if we choose to fight?"
Amun stiffened at the question, but he did not stop him.
Luca met the younger vampire's gaze, a flicker of something like respect passing through his eyes. "Then you will help shape the future, Benjamin. One where we are no longer ruled by fear."
Tia's hand found Benjamin's, a silent show of support.
Kebi remained motionless, unreadable, but Luca saw the way her gaze flickered toward Amun, waiting for his final decision.
The Egyptian leader let out a slow breath, then turned away. "Do what you will," he muttered, his tone resigned.
Luca inclined his head, a satisfied smirk forming at the corner of his lips.
The Egyptians would not stand against him.
And perhaps, when the time came, they would stand beside him.
With that, he turned, stepping back into the desert night. The wind howled over the dunes, sweeping away the footprints he left behind.
But the weight of his presence would not be so easily erased.
The Volturi had ruled for too long.
And now, the storm was coming.
The Amazon rainforest was a world of its own—untamed, primal, alive in a way that no other place on earth could compare. It pulsed with the rhythmic sounds of life, the dense canopy whispering above as nocturnal creatures stirred in the undergrowth. The scent of damp earth, mingled with the freshness of rain-soaked leaves, clung to the thick air. The jungle was vibrant, an endless sea of green where time felt irrelevant, untouched by human hands.
Luca moved through the dense foliage, undeterred by the terrain. His steps were silent, his form blending into the shadows as he navigated the labyrinth of trees and tangled vines. He had always preferred places like this—untouched by civilization, places where nature still reigned supreme. But even here, far from the watchful eyes of the Volturi, war was coming.
A soft rustle. A shift in the air.
Then, without a sound, three figures emerged from the darkness.
Zafrina. Senna. Kachiri.
Their presence was commanding, their crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light that filtered through the thick canopy. Their movements were seamless, blending into the wild surroundings with a grace that made them seem more like spirits of the jungle than vampires.
Zafrina stood at the front, tall and imposing, her dark skin and braided hair making her seem like a warrior queen from another era. Her stance was one of quiet confidence, her piercing gaze locked onto Luca as she spoke.
"We do not take part in wars," Zafrina said, her voice deep and unwavering, like the rolling thunder of an approaching storm.
Luca met her gaze without hesitation. "And yet, war is coming to you whether you wish for it or not."
Beside her, Kachiri remained silent, but her golden-brown skin shimmered under the faint moonlight. She moved with the fluidity of a hunter, every step calculated, every breath controlled. Her red eyes flickered toward Senna, who stood motionless at her side, her expression unreadable.
The three of them were different from other covens. They had never bowed to the Volturi, never followed their laws, never needed their protection. They had survived because they knew how to disappear.
But Luca had come here because he knew their time in the shadows would not last forever.
"The Volturi will not allow you to remain untouched," Luca continued, his voice steady, unwavering. "They are tightening their hold on our world. They see all, control all. But what they cannot control, they seek to destroy."
Zafrina's lips curled slightly, her expression skeptical. "They have never bothered us before."
"Because they never had a reason to," Luca countered smoothly. "But that will change."
Zafrina studied him for a long moment.
"And why is that?"
Luca let the silence stretch before answering, his words measured. "Because of your gift."
That made her eyes narrow.
"You think Aro would be foolish enough to challenge us?" she asked, a quiet threat woven into her words.
Luca tilted his head. "Aro does not make foolish decisions. Every move he makes is calculated. You may not be on his list now, but once he realizes your potential, once he understands just how powerful you are… he will not be able to resist."
Zafrina remained unreadable, but Kachiri's posture tensed slightly, her fingers curling into fists at her sides.
Senna, who had remained quiet up until now, finally spoke. "You believe they will come for Zafrina?"
Luca's gaze flickered toward her. "I know they will."
Zafrina was one of the most powerful vampires alive. Her ability to manipulate the senses, to blind even the strongest minds with illusions, was something Aro would covet. He had spent centuries collecting powerful individuals—he would not let her slip through his grasp forever.
"You've lived untouched for centuries," Luca continued. "But that is precisely why you are vulnerable. The Volturi allow no coven to grow too strong without oversight. And if you refuse their rule, they will force it upon you."
Zafrina exhaled through her nose, turning her gaze toward the jungle beyond. She was thinking, weighing his words.
Luca watched her carefully.
She already knew he was right.
The Volturi did not ignore power.
They consumed it.
"What would you have us do?" she finally asked.
Luca did not smile. "Prepare."
Silence stretched between them.
Then, slowly, Zafrina nodded.
"We will listen."
It was not a commitment.
But it was a beginning.
The Canadian wilderness stretched vast and silent beneath the pale moonlight, the dense trees standing like sentinels against the frozen night. Snow blanketed the forest floor, untouched except for a faint trail of footprints—barely noticeable, but to the right hunter, impossible to miss. The wind whistled through the pines, carrying with it the scent of three vampires who thought they had left no trace behind.
James, Victoria, and Laurent had learned to live in the shadows. They were ghosts, predators who never stayed in one place long enough to be caught. But tonight, the past had finally caught up to them.
Luca moved soundlessly, his steps weightless against the snow. He had been tracking them for days, watching from a distance, waiting for the right moment. They owed him a debt, one they had yet to repay.
James stiffened first, his nostrils flaring as he caught the scent. His crimson eyes sharpened, scanning the darkness with the precision of a born hunter. A slow, predatory smirk curled his lips. "You're a hard man to find," he mused, circling slightly, his stance loose but coiled like a panther preparing to strike.
Luca remained still, unbothered by the display. "Because I do not wish to be found," he replied evenly, his voice smooth as silk.
Victoria lingered in the shadows, her wild red curls catching the moonlight. She did not speak, but her sharp eyes flickered between Luca and James. She was wary—not of Luca's strength, but of his presence. Because she knew who he was.
Laurent stood slightly apart, his expression careful, unreadable. But his fingers twitched, a telltale sign of unease.
James tilted his head. "And yet, here you are."
Luca's gaze flickered toward Victoria before settling on James. "Indeed."
This time, it was Victoria who spoke, her voice laced with suspicion. "What do you want?"
Luca stepped forward, slowly, deliberately. "To collect on an old favor."
The tension in the air thickened.
Laurent exhaled, shaking his head. "We repaid you in the South," he murmured, his voice quieter, carrying the weight of old memories.
"You repaid me with your survival," Luca corrected, his crimson gaze unwavering. "You are only standing here because of me."
Silence.
The memories surfaced between them, unspoken yet undeniable. The newborn wars in the South. The carnage. The chaos. The moment the Volturi had descended to cleanse the bloodshed.
James, Victoria, and Laurent had been among those caught in the crossfire. They had been outnumbered, hunted. The Volturi had not cared who was guilty or innocent—only that order was restored through extermination.
They would have been slaughtered.
But Luca had stepped in.
They never understood why he had helped them, why he had spoken on their behalf, why the Volturi had withdrawn.
And now, they were about to find out.
James let out a breath, his smirk fading. "That was a long time ago."
"But I remember," Luca murmured. "And so do you."
James's muscles coiled, a flicker of frustration passing through his expression.
Victoria's sharp gaze darted to Luca. "Why now?"
Luca's answer was simple. "Because history is repeating itself."
James narrowed his eyes. "Meaning?"
"You failed me once," Luca said. The words were calm, but the weight behind them sent a ripple through the air.
James's smirk vanished entirely. His body tensed, instincts screaming at him to move, but he forced himself to stay still. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said smoothly, though his voice lacked its usual arrogance.
Luca chuckled, low and deep. "Don't insult me, James. You remember." His gaze darkened slightly. "You were supposed to bring me the child."
Victoria inhaled sharply, her posture shifting as realization dawned on her.
Laurent, who had remained passive up until now, stiffened.
"You knew," he said, looking at James and Victoria with dawning clarity. "You knew who he was… back then."
James's jaw clenched. He had known. But he had never spoken of it.
Luca stepped closer, his crimson eyes gleaming. "You were never meant to kill her," he said, voice quiet but firm. "You were meant to watch over her. To ensure that she grew up untouched by the Volturi's reach."
James said nothing, but the flicker of recognition in his eyes was enough.
Victoria's lips pressed into a thin line. "Why her?"
"Because she is my blood," Luca answered.
That sent a shock through them.
Laurent exhaled sharply. "You're related to her?"
"In ways you cannot begin to comprehend," Luca said smoothly.
Another silence.
James exhaled, slow and controlled. "I never got the chance," he admitted. "The Cullens got to her first."
Luca's expression remained impassive. "And so, I gave you a different task. To watch over her from the shadows. To ensure that no harm came to her, even under their care."
Victoria's eyes narrowed. "You never said why."
"I never had to," Luca said simply. "You owed me, and I collected my debt the only way I could after you failed to bring her to me."
Laurent frowned, his brows drawing together. "And now? You're collecting again?"
Luca inclined his head slightly. "No. I am offering you a choice. The Volturi will come. And when they do, you will have two options—run, and be hunted. Or fight, and have a chance at survival."
James's jaw clenched.
Victoria crossed her arms, looking to James, then Laurent. "And you think you can stand against them?"
Luca did not smile, but there was something in his gaze—certainty.
"I do not think," he said. "I know."
The wind howled through the trees, whipping the snow into swirling patterns.
None of them agreed.
But none of them refused.
Luca took a slow step back, his form disappearing into the darkness.
"When the time comes," he said, his voice carrying through the night, "you will know where to find me."
And then he was gone.
Leaving only silence in his wake.
The Rocky Mountains stretched vast and wild beneath the midnight sky, the jagged peaks casting long, inky shadows over the dense pine forests below. The air was crisp, tinged with the scent of pine and the distant rush of an unseen river carving its path through the valley. The stars burned bright above, untainted by city lights, their cold brilliance mirrored in the frost that clung to the rocky outcrops.
Luca stood atop a ridge, his crimson gaze sweeping the landscape with quiet contemplation. He had always found a certain peace in places like this—untamed, untouched by time, where civilization's grip had yet to take hold. Freedom lived here.
And so did Garett.
Luca did not need to search long. The nomad had sensed him before he arrived. A creature like Garett was always aware of the invisible chains that lurked beneath any meeting.
"You picked an interesting place for a conversation," Garett's voice carried through the night before his figure emerged from the darkness, stepping onto the same rocky ledge. His sharp eyes, a shade darker than most golden-eyed vampires, flickered with interest as they met Luca's. "Then again, I suppose you already knew I'd be here."
Luca inclined his head slightly. "I make it a point to know where free men roam."
Garett's lips twitched. "Is that what I am to you? A free man?"
Luca studied him for a moment. "It is what you value most, is it not?"
The mountain winds howled between them, tugging at their clothes, carrying the scent of distant snowfall. Garett did not belong to any coven, any rule. He had spent his existence drifting, never lingering too long in one place, never allowing himself to be bound by laws he did not believe in. He had fought wars, lived alongside revolutionaries, and had seen firsthand what happened when power sought to crush the will of those beneath it.
"You're not wrong," Garett admitted, his expression thoughtful. "But something tells me you didn't come all this way to praise my ideals."
Luca's lips curled faintly. "No. I came because the freedom you cherish is at risk."
Garett's gaze sharpened, his stance shifting just slightly. Not in fear, but in readiness. "The Volturi."
Luca gave a slow nod. "You are not on their list now, but you will be. They do not permit power to exist outside their control. You are an anomaly, Garett. A warrior, a thinker, a leader with no allegiance. That makes you dangerous to them."
Garett exhaled through his nose, the motion purely habitual. "I've been on the edges of their world for centuries, and they've never come for me before."
"They will," Luca said simply. "It is only a matter of time."
Garett crossed his arms. "And what are you proposing?"
"A choice," Luca replied, his voice steady. "To wait and hope they never turn their gaze toward you, or to be part of something greater—before that day comes."
Garett let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "You're asking me to join a cause?"
Luca met his gaze, unwavering. "I'm offering you the only path where your freedom is not just borrowed time."
Silence stretched between them, broken only by the whisper of the wind and the distant call of an owl hidden somewhere in the treetops.
Garett's fingers flexed slightly at his sides. He had spent his long existence walking alone, fighting for the ideals that mattered to him. He had fought beside human revolutionaries who had died believing in a world better than the one they had been born into.
And now?
Now he was faced with a battle not just for an idea—but for survival.
Finally, Garett sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw before flashing Luca a smirk. "You're damn persistent, I'll give you that." His expression sobered. "I won't be anyone's soldier, Luca. But I fight for what's right."
Luca inclined his head. "That is all I ask."
Garett studied him for another moment before nodding. "Alright. When the time comes, you have my answer."
Luca did not thank him. There was no need.
The deal had already been made.
High in the Andes Mountains, where the air was thin and sharp as a blade, where the world stretched far and endless beneath the clouds, Joham sat upon a throne of his own making.
It was not a throne of stone or gold, nor one built by human hands. It was a natural seat of power—a jagged outcrop of rock, worn smooth by time and wind, perched at the edge of a cliff that overlooked the valley below. Snow clung to the peaks, untouched and eternal, while far beneath them, rivers carved their way through the earth like veins of silver. The sky above was vast and open, the stars burning cold and distant, watching over them like silent gods.
Joham sat with an air of careless authority, his golden-tinged eyes reflecting the moonlight, his posture deceptively relaxed. There was an undeniable presence about him, one that came not from brute force, but from the confidence of a man who had shaped his own existence to his liking. He was a ruler of his own domain, answerable to no one.
Luca approached without hesitation, his steps soundless against the rock. The wind howled around them, carrying the scent of ice and stone, but it did not touch him. The cold meant nothing to their kind.
Joham's lips curled into a smirk as he studied Luca. "You must be desperate," he mused, his voice smooth, cutting through the night like a whisper of steel. "To come all this way."
Luca remained unmoved, his crimson gaze steady. "You've spent centuries creating hybrids. But what if I told you… you weren't the first?"
The smirk twitched. Faltered.
Luca saw it—the flicker of something behind Joham's eyes. Doubt. Not because he feared what Luca had said, but because he wondered if it was true.
Joham had long believed himself to be a pioneer, the first to create something beyond the limits of their kind. His arrogance was woven into his very being, an unshakable foundation upon which he had built his existence. But Luca had just cracked it.
The wind howled between them, whipping at their clothes, carrying their words far into the night.
Luca stepped closer, his voice steady. Measured.
"The Volturi allow you to exist because you've remained a curiosity," he continued. "An anomaly. A scientist playing with his creations, never stepping beyond the boundaries they set for you." His crimson gaze darkened slightly. "But what happens when that changes?"
Joham leaned forward now, resting his elbows on his knees, watching him with keen interest. "And what exactly do you mean by that?"
Luca's tone did not waver. "They let you live because you never built an army." His next words were slow, deliberate. "But what if someone convinced you to?"
Another silence stretched between them.
This time, it was not amused.
Joham's fingers stilled, his playful mask slipping just slightly as he studied Luca more carefully. He was intelligent, perceptive. Dangerous.
"And what do you need from me?" Joham asked at last, his voice softer now, but sharper—like a blade hidden beneath silk.
Luca did not hesitate. "Your hybrids," he said simply. "Every single one of them."
A slow silence stretched between them.
Then—Joham laughed.
It was a deep, rich sound, one that seemed to echo off the mountain peaks around them, as if even the world itself found amusement in Luca's audacity.
"You are dangerous," Joham said, amusement still lacing his tone, but beneath it, something more—interest. "I like that."
Luca said nothing. He did not need to.
Because in that moment, he knew.
The final piece had fallen into place.
The Olympic Peninsula stretched before him once more.
The Volturi had spent centuries shaping the world in their image, ensuring that no single force could rise strong enough to challenge them. They had ruled from the shadows, their reach stretching across continents, eliminating threats before they could ever become more than whispers in the dark.
They were patient. They were methodical. And they were feared.
Any coven that grew too large, any vampire who showed too much promise, any power they could not bend to their will—they destroyed.
They did not allow alliances to form.
They did not allow enemies to gather.
They ensured that those who opposed them remained scattered, isolated, and weak.
For centuries, their control had remained absolute.
But now—
The storm had begun to gather.
Luca stood at the edge of a cliffside, overlooking the vast wilderness below. The wind howled around him, tugging at the edges of his dark coat, the scent of the earth thick in the air. Below, the forests stretched endlessly, a sea of green swallowing the land, untouched and untamed. Much like the future he envisioned.
His crimson gaze was steady, unblinking, fixed on the horizon where the mountains stood like silent sentinels. This was where it would begin.
He had spent centuries waiting, watching as the Volturi tightened their grip, as they crushed opposition before it could take form. He had learned their patterns, their weaknesses, the arrogance that festered beneath their so-called order. They believed themselves untouchable.
They were wrong.
This time, it was different.
This time, he was not alone.
Carlisle. Bella.
His bloodline.
Carlisle—the grandson who had unknowingly carried his legacy. A healer, not a warrior, but a leader nonetheless. A man who had built something the Volturi had always feared—a family bound not by power, but by loyalty. A force stronger than any coven they had ever destroyed.
And Bella—the impossible child, the living proof that their world was evolving beyond the Volturi's control. She was the key, the bridge between two worlds, the one they could never allow to exist. She was everything they feared.
They would come for her.
For Carlisle.
For all of them.
But this time, the Volturi were the ones who were unprepared.
Luca's fingers curled at his sides, his breath slow, steady.
Because the pieces had fallen into place.
The Romanians. The Egyptians. The Amazons. The nomads. The hybrids.
All had been gathered, bound not by blind loyalty, but by a singular truth—the Volturi's reign had lasted long enough.
The storm was no longer distant thunder.
It was here.
And soon—the Volturi's reign would end.