Back in Volterra, while Demitri was away pursuing answers, Aro found himself with a troubling sense of unease.
Nearly two weeks had passed since Edward's arrival, and outwardly, life within the castle seemed untouched by the growing mystery. The letters had ceased, the threats momentarily dormant, and Isabella remained unscathed—her days spent exploring the halls, her laughter ringing like a melody in the shadowy confines of the Volturi's stronghold. On the surface, all was well.
But something about Edward and Isabella's budding connection gnawed at Aro's thoughts. He observed their growing bond with mixed emotions, his feelings teetering between gratitude and unease. On the one hand, Edward's presence brought an unprecedented sense of calm to Isabella's days, a layer of protection Aro had never seen the need to question—until now.
When Isabella had first met Edward, Aro had watched their introduction carefully, intrigued by the shift in Edward's demeanor. Gone was the brooding man with a gaze as impenetrable as stone. In his years of knowing Edward, Aro had never seen such unguarded emotion on his face. Not even Caius—who wore an expression of indifference tempered with disdain—could rival Edward's cold detachment. Yet, in the presence of Isabella, all of Edward's walls seemed to crumble effortlessly.
Aro had been pleased then. This attachment, he thought, could only strengthen Isabella's security. What better shield for his beloved daughter than a vampire with Edward's unparalleled abilities—his cunning mind, his uncanny speed, and his telepathic prowess? Edward's devotion to Isabella seemed like a blessing, something none in the Volturi could hope to rival.
But as days stretched into weeks, Aro's approval shifted uneasily toward suspicion.
It wasn't merely that Isabella adored Edward, although she certainly did. Aro watched as his little girl trailed behind Edward like a bright sunbeam following its tether to the earth, her vibrant energy completely transfixed by his every move. They had shared strolls to the marketplace—a cherished activity Gianna or Aro himself had once enjoyed with her. Yet now, Isabella's little hand sought Edward's, her laughter directed at his gentle teasing, her stories spun for his ears alone.
Aro paused in the doorway to her garden one afternoon and saw Isabella perched beside Edward on a stone bench, her legs swinging idly while he read from a small, leather-bound book. She didn't interrupt him, didn't tug at his sleeve or squirm with impatience as she sometimes did during his own readings. She was still, entranced, her attention entirely his. The sight, while sweet, gnawed at Aro's chest.
Evening brought more evidence of the shift. When Sulpicia kissed their daughter goodnight, Isabella asked, almost shyly, "Could Edward read me my story tonight?"
Aro had expected this, perhaps. He had seen signs of it—the way her eyes lit up at Edward's approach, the delighted laughter bubbling whenever Edward surprised her with a quick, playful maneuver. And still, the words struck him like a subtle blow, a feeling he hadn't experienced in centuries.
Later, when he shared his concerns with Sulpicia, she dismissed his worries with a gentle smile. "She's a child, Aro. Naturally, she's fascinated by someone new, especially someone so unique. Edward is charming and kind. She admires that."
"There's more to it," Aro had insisted. "I can sense it. Isabella isn't merely enamored by novelty—Edward has captured her attention in a way none of us ever could."
"That doesn't mean it's dangerous," Sulpicia countered, her tone calm but firm. "This attachment may simply strengthen her bond to this castle—and to us. Edward is loyal, and he cares for her. It's not something we should discourage."
Aro considered her words, and while they were sound, they did little to quell the flicker of unease within him. He had been content to share Isabella's love with Sulpicia, knowing that bond would only serve to enrich their family. But Edward… Edward was different.
It wasn't just Isabella's feelings he questioned. It was Edward's.
From the moment Isabella met him, she had managed to unravel every stoic thread of Edward's being. Aro saw it in the subtle softening of his gaze, in the warmth of his tone when he spoke to her, in the quiet resolve with which Edward attended to her every need. It was clear now—Edward's attachment went far deeper than mere fondness for a child.
Aro recognized it because he had felt it himself centuries ago: the unrelenting pull of a mate.
Now, standing just outside the gardens, Aro studied them from a distance. Edward leaned forward, his expression animated as Isabella giggled at whatever he was explaining. There was no mistaking the quiet intensity in his gaze whenever Isabella spoke, nor the protectiveness that seemed to deepen with each passing day.
The soft glow of candlelight flickered across the private chamber, casting shadows on the ancient stone walls. Sulpicia reclined gracefully in her chair, her calm presence a stark contrast to the man seated across from her. Aro's fingers drummed against the stem of his goblet, his usual composure frayed by a growing storm of emotion.
"Are you jealous, husband?" Sulpicia's voice cut through the tense silence, her tone light with teasing, though her sharp eyes missed none of his unease.
Aro's lips curled in a faint smirk, but there was no mirth behind it. "Perhaps," he admitted grudgingly, swirling the dark liquid in his goblet. "But that is not the heart of it."
"Then what is?" Sulpicia pressed, leaning forward slightly.
"There is a change in Edward," Aro said, his voice tight with the weight of his observations. "Something profound. He is no longer the detached, calculating vampire I once relied on to act only in self-interest. This newfound softness… it is unlike anything I have ever seen from him."
Sulpicia arched a brow, her lips twitching in faint amusement. "You think Isabella is his mate," she guessed softly, her voice devoid of surprise.
Aro inclined his head, his eyes narrowing. "It is difficult to say for certain, but it would explain much. He dotes on her every word, every movement. He is always at her side, attending to her whims as though it is his sole purpose in existence. A vampire does not behave that way without cause."
"And this concerns you?" Sulpicia asked, though her voice held no alarm.
Aro's eyes darkened as he set the goblet aside. His hand clenched into a fist, resting against the table. "It infuriates me," he snapped, his composure slipping. "Edward is not loyal to the Volturi—he never has been. If Isabella has indeed bound him in the way mates do…" He paused, his jaw tightening. "I must determine if his intentions align with our own or if this attachment will drive him to act against us."
Sulpicia sighed softly, rising from her seat to stand beside him. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, her calm gaze softening the edges of his anger. "Husband, if Isabella is truly his mate, it could be the best thing to happen to her—and to us."
"You presume much," Aro muttered darkly, though he didn't shake off her touch.
"No more than you do," Sulpicia replied evenly. "But consider this: if Edward's devotion to Isabella is genuine, would he not do everything in his power to protect her? And in protecting her, would he not naturally protect what she loves? This coven is her family. He will protect the Volturi because she loves us."
Aro's silence was heavy, but the flicker in his eyes betrayed his reluctance to accept her words.
Sulpicia knelt beside him, her fingers brushing his tightly clenched hand. "You are her father, Aro. It is natural to question any man who might hold her heart. But she is still a child, and Edward…" She paused, choosing her words carefully. "Edward is not Caius. He is no tyrant. He has no thirst for power. What he does, he does for her."
"Or for himself," Aro interjected, his tone sharp.
"Then confront him," Sulpicia said simply, rising to her full height. "But do so with wisdom, not anger. Speak to Marcus as well; let him tell you what he has seen."
At the mention of Marcus, Aro's features tightened further. He stood abruptly, moving to the window where moonlight filtered through heavy curtains. The night outside was quiet, much like the castle halls. Yet the tension within him felt anything but calm.
"I will speak to Marcus," Aro decided at last, his voice like stone. "And then, I will confront Edward. If what you believe is true… if Isabella is his mate…" He trailed off, the words caught in his throat. "Then he must prove himself worthy of her. If he intends to stay here, to remain at her side, he will answer to me."
Sulpicia watched him in silence, her hands clasped before her. "You are her protector, husband, as you have always been. But trust in the bond she has created. If Edward loves her, truly loves her, then his loyalty will follow."
Aro didn't reply. His gaze remained fixed on the shadows beyond the glass, his mind a whirl of emotions he hadn't felt in centuries: frustration, protectiveness, suspicion—and a flicker of something dangerously close to hope.
Aro paced the darkened halls of the Volturi palace, his mind a whirlpool of conflicting emotions. The shadows danced along the stone walls, a reflection of the storm brewing within. Isabella is his mate. Marcus's confirmation echoed relentlessly in Aro's mind, each syllable heavier than the last.
The anger coursing through Aro was unlike anything he had felt in centuries, but it wasn't mindless rage. It was cold, deliberate, and calculated. Edward Cullen was not just another reckless boy caught in the web of Isabella's charm—he was one of the strongest vampires Aro had ever encountered. And therein lay the problem.
Edward was cunning, deceptively so. His intelligence ran deep, his thoughts carefully measured, his instincts sharp. His ability to read minds made him a formidable asset—or a deadly adversary. For all of Edward's strengths, there was one glaring flaw: his loyalty to the Volturi was… tenuous.
Aro paused at a balcony overlooking the central courtyard. Below, he could see Isabella's young form skipping alongside Gianna, her laughter ringing like a delicate melody through the stone confines of the palace. Her joy was a fragile thing, something Aro had meticulously nurtured and protected.
And now Edward was a threat to it.
Aro's hands gripped the marble railing, his knuckles whitening under the pressure. Edward had already woven himself into Isabella's life so seamlessly, so profoundly, that Aro could hardly see where one ended and the other began. That bond was unshakable. Even Marcus had admitted its unparalleled strength.
But why?
Aro's suspicion turned darker. He had long known that Edward was not blindly devoted to the Volturi. Despite his respect for their power, Edward had always walked a careful line, fulfilling obligations without ever truly committing to their cause. And now, with Isabella in his life, Aro feared the unthinkable.
Edward might take her away.
The thought alone sent a searing bolt of fury through him. How dare Edward entertain such an idea? To remove Isabella from Volterra, from the protection of her family, to place her in a life unbound by Aro's careful guardianship—it would be a disaster.
And yet… Aro knew it wasn't impossible. Edward was dangerous, not because of his strength or his talent, but because of his resolve. He was a vampire who would defy kingdoms, covenants, and even centuries-old traditions for those he loved. For Isabella, he would burn the Volturi itself to the ground if it stood in his way.
This understanding filled Aro with an unusual kind of fear. He rarely feared anything, for what could truly rival the Volturi? But Edward Cullen was not to be underestimated. He was brilliant, adaptable, and stubborn. With Isabella as his mate, Aro could feel his control slipping—not over his coven, but over the one thing he could not bear to lose: his daughter.
What's worse, Aro couldn't see the chessboard Edward may be building in his mind, his pieces could already arranged. He could remain in Volterra just long enough to strengthen his influence with Isabella, then quietly undermine the Volturi's authority, creating cracks too subtle for anyone else to notice. He wouldn't challenge them openly—no, Edward was too intelligent for that. He would simply… leave. Take Isabella with him, and vanish into the world beyond.
Not while I live, Aro thought viciously.
Yet, he could not act prematurely. For all his anger, Aro knew Isabella adored Edward. Any confrontation, any misstep, would alienate her, driving her closer to Edward's side. He had to tread carefully, to move with the precision and cunning that had kept him in power for millennia.
He allowed his mind to drift briefly to contingency plans. If it came to it—if Edward's intentions became unmistakable—Aro would act. Swiftly, decisively. It didn't matter how powerful Edward was, nor how unshakable his resolve seemed. Everyone had a weakness, and Aro had centuries of experience finding them.
But there was a part of him—one he hated to acknowledge—that almost admired Edward's determination. His ability to forge connections so deeply, to inspire loyalty even in those who mistrusted him, was impressive. If Edward's cunning and strength were truly loyal to the Volturi, he would be a formidable ally, a weapon like no other.
But he wasn't loyal.
And Aro knew he never would be.
As the pale light of morning began to creep into the castle, Aro straightened, his resolve hardening like ice. He would watch. He would wait. For now, Edward would not suspect a thing. But the moment Edward Cullen made a move against him, the very thought of removing Isabella from her father's grasp, Aro would be ready.
And when that moment came, Aro would not hesitate. No matter how strong or cunning Edward might be, nothing and no one could take Isabella away.
We have Aro finding out. Again, let me know what you think of think of this chapter. I swear, your reviews are what kept me going.