Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

Alice looked at Bella.

"I need to go to Italy. Please, Bella, tell me you're coming with me. Edward still loves you, you have to believe me."

Bella froze. She wanted so badly to believe Alice's words, but she didn't know if she could face Edward again. He had destroyed her, broken her in the worst possible way. Could she really give him another chance? Another chance to hurt her?

"Alice, I don't know. I love you and your family, but… you left me here. Without even a goodbye."

Alice's cold hands touched her face gently. "Bella, I know we hurt you. But I also know you're undoubtedly the most forgiving person I've ever met. Please, give us a chance to make it up to you. I just need to go quickly to our house and get the passports. There's one for you too. You can wait for me here, and pack something for a few days."

Bella took a deep breath. She needed more time to think. "I'll wait for you here. Just go."

Alice left as soon as Bella agreed. Bella listened for the sound of the car driving away, then slowly went to her room to pack a small bag.

She was still unsure. Yes, she missed Ed…him…and the Cullens. But could she really forgive or forget? He had been so clear about her future, he wanted her human. So in the end, where did that leave her? A human in a world of vampires who could disappear without a trace and leave her behind again?

She honestly didn't know if she wanted to go with Alice. But she didn't feel like she had any other choice.

Jacob had left the moment Alice walked into the house. He'd been furious, and she knew he wasn't coming back anytime soon. The thought of Jacob froze her in place on the stairs.

What would he think of her leaving to go save Edward?

After everything he had done for her, after the safety, the acceptance, the love, could she betray him like that?

Jacob had only given her comfort, space, and the freedom to make her own mistakes. He had been her rock, her best friend, and so much more.

The front door slammed open hard enough to rattle the windows. Bella spun, heart jerking into her throat. And there he was.

Paul.

Naked. 

Furious. 

Radiating heat like he’d walked straight out of a wildfire.

Bella didn’t move. Couldn’t. Her fingers dug into the banister. His dark eyes locked on hers, sharp and cutting, like he could flay her open with a glance.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he growled, stepping inside like he owned the house, like he didn’t give a damn who he woke or what walls he broke. His voice was rough, guttural, barely human. The air cracked around him with the barely-restrained pulse of a phase.

She swallowed hard. Her spine stiffened. “None of your business,” she said. Her voice was thin, fragile, like paper that had been wet and dried again. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Paul laughed, low and bitter. It was almost a snarl. “Bullshit.” He was in front of her in three long strides, all heat and muscle and fury. “We’ve spent months picking up the pieces of your broken ass, and now you’re crawling back to the thing that broke you? Jesus, Swan.”

His mouth curled, not amused. Disgusted. But beneath the disgust, there was something else. Something like pain.

Bella’s breath caught. She hated the way his words hit. Hated that they were true. But she still said, “You don’t understand.”

His eyes narrowed. “No. You don’t understand. You think you’re making a choice, but all I see is someone begging to get hurt again, because she doesn’t know who the fuck she is without the pain.”

That landed. Hard.

Something cracked in her chest, something old and soft and still bleeding.

Paul didn’t stop. “You don’t even want him,” he said, quieter now. Crueler, in a way. “You just want to matter to someone again.”

Silence.

Bella looked away. Her hands were trembling.

He stepped closer, close enough that the heat of him soaked into her skin. He smelled like rain on hot pavement, like salt and smoke and something animal. She hated that part of her noticed. “You gonna write her a note?” he murmured, his voice suddenly low. “Or do I drag your stubborn ass to the Rez and tell the pixie to fuck off?”

She blinked up at him. His face was inches from hers, jaw clenched, eyes unreadable. And still, he didn’t touch her. Not this time.

She exhaled. Her voice came out smaller than she wanted. “I’ll write the note.” 

He nodded once.

…

Bella gripped the pen like it might steady her shaking hand. Paul loomed just beyond the kitchen doorway, silent now, but present. Watching.

Her fingers hovered over the page, then clenched into a fist. The first attempt came out in scribbles. The second, too cold. Too detached.

It was the third that stayed.

…

Alice,

I don’t even know what I’m supposed to feel anymore. I keep thinking if I wait long enough, the numbness will turn into something I can name. Forgiveness, maybe. Relief. Anything.

But all I feel is this ache.

I loved you. All of you. I gave everything I had. And you didn’t even say goodbye. You vanished like I was nothing, like I never mattered at all.

You want me to come running now? To save him?

You left me with shattered bones and silence. He left me with a hollowed-out chest. And now you expect me to pretend none of it happened because you suddenly remembered I exist?

I’m tired of breaking myself for people who only want me when I’m convenient.

So no. I’m not coming. Not this time.

Tell Edward I hope he finds peace, whatever that looks like for him.

Tell him I’m done being the girl who waits to be chosen.

Bella

…

Bella stared at the words, breathing hard. Her hand ached. Her eyes burned. But she still didn’t cry.

She folded the paper carefully, too carefully, like it might all unravel if she wasn’t gentle, and set it on the counter.

When she turned, Paul was still there. Watching her like she was a storm gathering strength.

….

She folded the letter with care. That was the last piece of Edward she was ever going to give.

When she turned, Paul was already out the back door, silent as a threat, heat lingering in his wake. She followed.

The woods behind Charlie’s house were dark, but not silent. Not with him standing there in the clearing.

His skin shimmered, a sharp snap of energy breaking the air, and then he wasn’t Paul anymore.

He was a beast.

Not just a wolf. A force. Massive. Larger than any of the others she’d seen. His fur was ash-dark, his eyes like liquid bronze and warning fire. His claws carved the earth as he shifted his weight. Coiled potential. A body built to break things, and protect what mattered.

She froze.

He looked at her, no, through her, with those burning eyes. Waiting.

And then he did something unexpected.

He sat back on his haunches.

Not attacking. Not advancing.

Just waiting. Patient. Powerful. In control of everything, including himself.

Bella’s breath caught. The air felt sharp in her chest.

She could hear a car in the distance, Alice. She was coming back. If Bella waited just five more minutes, she could be gone, racing toward Italy. Back into that carefully carved illusion of love. But something had shifted.

Paul hadn’t asked her. He hadn’t begged. He hadn’t promised anything.

He had simply refused to let her destroy herself again.

And he was still giving her a choice.

That’s what cracked something open in her chest.

Not control.

But freedom.

She stepped forward slowly. “Just so we’re clear,” she said, her voice quiet but steady, “this is my choice. Not because you told me to. Not because anyone’s pulling strings. I’m done being someone’s pawn.”

The wolf didn’t move. But his eyes, those wolf eyes, locked on hers, and for just a moment, she felt seen.

Not pitied.

Not worshipped.

Seen.

She stepped closer, placing her hand cautiously on his thick fur. It was warm, surprisingly so. Rough and real under her fingers.

She climbed on, legs straddling the massive shape of him. Her fingers tangled into the fur at the base of his neck.

Paul moved the moment she was settled, like a shot.

They tore through the woods in silence. Trees blurred, branches cracked, and the cold wind clawed at her cheeks. But for the first time in what felt like months, she didn’t feel like she was running away.

She felt like she was moving forward.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2 

Bella’s face was buried against Paul’s back as he ran, the wind tearing at her wet clothes and her thoughts unraveling like loose threads. She was bone-deep tired. Not just from the ocean, the cliffs, the screaming in her own head, but from months of silence. Of pretending. Of waiting for someone who never came back.

Letting Alice go had been a knife. Letting Edward go… was a wound that hadn’t even started to close.

Paul stopped so suddenly that Bella almost slid off his back. He dropped to the ground without ceremony, and she blinked through the haze of cold and confusion.

A small house sat ahead, tucked deep into the forest like it didn’t want to be found. It was rough, windows dark, siding weathered, like it had been built to survive a fight.

She slid off his back as he phased behind a tree. A second later, Paul emerged, stark naked and utterly unapologetic. His body was lean and powerful, and the air around him buzzed with an energy that wasn’t quite human.

Bella dropped her gaze, her voice hoarse. “Where are we?”

“My place.” His tone was flat. “Not a fancy mansion, but it’s not falling apart either. Yet.”

“Why… why didn’t you take me to Jacob’s?”

He snorted. “Everyone’s at the Clearwaters. Harry had a heart attack. Your dad’s there, too. You think showing up like this”—he gestured at her soaked clothes and pallid skin—“is gonna help anyone?”

She flinched. He didn’t soften.

“You looked like hell,” he added. “Still do.”

And something inside her snapped.

“Why do you hate me so much?” she demanded, teeth clenched. “You decided I wasn’t worth anything before you even met me. I slapped you, yes, but you hated me long before that. Just because I loved someone you hate.”

Paul’s lip curled. “Newsflash, Swan: I don’t need a reason to see through your bullshit. You want pity? Try someone who’s dumb enough to still believe you’re innocent. Maybe Jake.”

Her fists clenched. “I don’t care what you think of me.”

“Good,” he said with a cold smile. “Because I don’t think of you at all.”

The tension was suffocating, electric and crackling like a coming storm.

She followed him into the house, her pride bleeding all over the floor. Inside, it smelled like pine and smoke and something wild. The kitchen was small, half-lit. The couch in the corner looked like it had survived claws and claws alone.

Paul didn’t speak again. He grabbed a plate of food from the fridge and slammed it in the microwave. “The shower’s down the hall. Use it. You stink like salt and desperation.”

Bella nearly turned around and walked back into the woods. But she didn’t. She was tired of running, from pain, from shame, from the truth.

The shower water was scalding. She stayed under it until her skin burned, and her chest cracked open under the pressure of everything she’d buried. Edward. The cliff. The silence. The way her father’s eyes had grown hollower by the week. She’d almost drowned, and not just in the ocean.

When she came out, her skin was raw and her heart felt bruised.

She padded into the kitchen wearing one of his t-shirts, swallowed up in it, but dry. He was standing at the sink, forearms flexed, steam rising from the water. “I can do that,” she said softly.

“I’ve got it,” he replied without looking.

“I want to help.”

His head turned, just slightly. His jaw twitched. “Help?”

She met his eyes. “I want to make things right. I want to try.”

Paul went still. And then he laughed. Low, bitter, feral. “Try,” he repeated, voice thick with something sharp and heavy. He turned slowly, eyes burning into her. “You don’t get it, do you?”

He stepped closer, the wolf just under his skin now. It was in the way he moved, like every inch of him was fighting not to shift. Not to snap. “You think you can apologize and start over?” he said. “You think a shower and a t-shirt erase the fact that you almost killed yourself for someone who left you in the woods? That you walked around like a fucking ghost while we bled for you?”

His voice got lower. Darker. “We watched your house. We ran patrols day and night because Victoria wanted your head. Sam lost ten pounds. Embry got pneumonia. We were dying for a girl who didn’t give a damn whether she lived or died.”

She stared at him, hollowed out by his words.

“You didn’t just grieve, Bella. You abandoned us. You chose a leech over your family. Over your friends. Over yourself.”

Her lips parted. “I didn’t know how to survive without him.”

Paul’s jaw clenched so hard she heard it crack. “And you think that makes you special?” he growled. “Leah wakes up every day with her ex-fiancé’s memories burning through her head. Quil’s imprint is two years old. Sam almost tore himself in half trying not to rip you to pieces when you showed up looking like roadkill.”

He stepped back, breathing like he’d just run a marathon. “You think you’re the only one who hurts. But you’re not. You’re just the loudest.”

Silence. Thick and total.

Bella’s knees felt weak. But something under her ribs stirred, like the first flicker of fire catching. “Then teach me,” she whispered. “If I’ve been selfish, if I’ve been stupid, fine. Say it. Scream it. But I’m still here. So stop trying to break me down and tell me how to stand up.”

Paul stared at her, something feral in his eyes. The wolf liked that. The fight. The fire. But he wasn’t ready to admit it. He turned away. “I’m going to bed,” he muttered. “Couch is yours. Try not to cry too loud.” Then he paused, without looking back. “If you leave this house before morning, I will find you. And next time, I won’t stop Victoria.”

Bella didn’t flinch.

She curled up on the worn-out couch, heart hammering in her chest.

And for the first time since Edward left, she didn’t feel like disappearing.

She felt like burning.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3.

Bella woke with a jerk, heart hammering, body drenched in sweat. For a moment, she forgot where she was. The dream had been so vivid, Edward walking away again, his back disappearing into mist, her screams swallowed by silence.

But she wasn’t in her bedroom.

Or the forest.

She was curled on a battered old couch, too hot, and…

Her hand was on someone’s chest.

Her fingers splayed over smooth, feverish skin. Skin that shifted with the steady rise and fall of breath. Skin that wasn’t hers.

Her eyes flew open.

Paul Lahote.

Lying next to her. Shirtless. Smirking.

“Comfortable, Swan?” he asked, voice low and rough, like gravel dragged over heat. “Didn’t take you for the cuddling type. But then again, you always struck me as a little desperate for warmth.”

She yanked her hand back like he burned her, because he did. He radiated heat like a furnace. Every inch of him reminded her what he was: not normal. Not safe.

“Why the hell are you on the couch?” she snapped.

He stretched, slow and lazy, muscles rippling under golden skin. “It’s my couch. You’re the uninvited guest, remember? But you were shivering in your sleep. Whimpering a little too. Didn’t seem like you were enjoying your dreams.” He leaned in. “I thought I’d help.”

“You’re disgusting.”

His grin widened. “And yet, here we are. You clinging to me like I’m your personal space heater.”

“I wasn’t clinging. I was asleep.”

“You sure about that? Or did you just miss having someone in bed who didn’t need to fake a heartbeat?”

Her breath caught. The insult landed hard.

He was testing her, again. Digging. Cruel on purpose. She could feel it in the way his eyes tracked every flinch, every little tremor she couldn’t control. Like a wolf circling something wounded, wondering if it still had the strength to bite.

She forced herself to sit up, to glare.

“Let me guess,” she said, voice rough, “you’re planning to pass this on to the pack. Make Jacob jealous? Stir the pot?”

Paul’s eyes gleamed. “Jealousy’s good for him. Reminds him that you’re not as loyal as he wants to believe.”

“I’m not yours to play with.”

He sat up, too fast, too close, crowding her without touching. His voice dropped into a growl. “Then stop acting like you’re still his. Or the leech’s. Or anyone’s.”

“I’m not acting like anything.”

“You’re acting like a ghost,” he spat. “Floating through the days, letting people drag you around, still grieving over someone who threw you away like trash. You think he’s pining for you, Swan? He’s gone. And you’re still here. So either fucking be here, or don’t bother.”

The air between them pulsed—hot, sharp, unbearable.

Bella’s chest heaved. “You don’t get to judge me.”

“I do when you throw yourself off cliffs and leave the pack to clean up the mess.”

Her eyes stung. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know enough,” Paul said, leaning in until their noses nearly touched. “I know you’re not fragile. Just tired of pretending you are. So stop pretending with me.”

She held his gaze, jaw clenched.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said, voice shaking.

He smiled again, slower this time. “Good. Then stop acting like a corpse and start acting like someone who’s still got a fucking pulse.”

Bella stood abruptly and shoved past him. “I need air.”

She didn’t wait for a response, just stepped outside, the screen door slamming behind her. The cool morning hit her like a slap, but she welcomed it.

Inside, Paul didn’t follow.

Good. She needed a minute to remember that she was still standing. Still breathing. Still herself—whoever that was now.

The woods behind Paul’s house were dense and quiet, thick with moss and morning fog. Bella walked fast, each step an attempt to outpace the heat simmering under her skin, not desire, not exactly. More like humiliation and rage.

Paul followed her. Of course he did.

“You always stomp around like that,” he said lazily behind her, “or is this just for me?”

She didn’t stop walking. “If you don’t want me here, just say it.”

“I didn’t say that,” he replied, his tone dipping low, teasing. “You’re more entertaining than I expected.”

Bella halted and turned. “You think this is a joke? That I’m some broken little girl you can poke at for fun?”

Paul stepped closer, eyes gleaming with something sharp and unreadable. “You said it, not me.”

“I loved him,” she said, voice shaking. “I thought he loved me too.”

“And yet, here you are. In the woods. With me.” He tilted his head. “He left you. I’m not going to pretend he didn’t.”

She swallowed, hating the burn behind her eyes. “What do you want from me, Paul?”

He closed the distance between them, heat radiating from his bare chest like a furnace. “I want to see what’s under all that Cullen dust. The girl who didn’t shatter. The one who slapped a wolf across the face and survived.”

Her breath caught.

He leaned down, voice a growl. “Do you even remember who you were before them? Before you let yourself fade into someone else’s shadow?”

Bella blinked up at him, something primal tightening in her chest. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t,” he said, but it was a lie. She could see it flicker in his expression. “But I hate waste. And watching you waste yourself on ghosts pisses me off.”

He was close enough that she could see the faint scar beneath his collarbone, the wildness barely restrained behind his eyes. He was beautiful and terrible, like a storm right before it broke.

“I don’t need your approval,” she said, voice low.

“No,” he agreed. “But you need someone who’ll tell you the truth.”

She laughed once, bitter and raw. “And that’s you?”

“Like it or not, Swan,” he said, taking a step back, “I don’t lie. I don’t coddle. I don’t pretend to be someone I’m not.”

She crossed her arms, bracing herself against the wind, or maybe just him. “Good. Because I’m done pretending too.”

Paul’s lips curled into something dangerously close to a grin. “Then maybe we won’t kill each other.”

“Don’t be so sure,” she muttered.

He barked a laugh and turned, motioning for her to follow. “Come on. You said you wanted real. Let’s start with breakfast. And no, before you ask, I’m not wearing a shirt.”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips tugged at the edges.

Something had shifted between them.

Not trust. Not friendship.

But something.

Raw. Animal. Real.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

The plates were still warm when Bella stood, moving on instinct. She gathered them quietly and turned on the faucet. The sound of water was grounding. Normal.

Too normal.

Paul moved beside her without a word, grabbing a dish towel and starting to dry. Their elbows bumped once. Neither apologized.

It was domestic, weirdly peaceful. But peace felt unfamiliar, like a coat that didn’t fit anymore.

She risked a glance at him, only to find him already watching her, dark eyes unreadable.

“You always stare this much?” she muttered.

His mouth curved lazily. “Only when I’m trying to figure out what the hell your angle is.”

She didn’t answer. She didn't have one. She just needed something real. And right now, this, plates, water, heat, tension, this was more real than anything she’d had in months.

Paul broke the silence. “Since you’re finally using your brain again,” he said, voice rough, “there’s something we need to talk about. Jacob’s gonna lose his shit, but I have a plan to catch Victoria. It involves you.”

Bella didn’t flinch. “You want me to be bait.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Didn’t think you’d say it first.”

“I’m not stupid,” she said, drying her hands slowly. “With her tracking gift, the only thing that’ll pull her in is the scent she’s obsessed with. Mine.”

Paul didn’t look impressed or concerned. Just focused. “We set the trap right, we get one shot. She’s smart, vicious, and slippery. But she’s also arrogant. She wants the kill.”

Bella moved to the window, needing space. The forest outside was green, endless, and alive in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. She sensed him before she saw him, heat radiating behind her like a warning.

“You’ll need to take it to Sam,” she murmured.

“I will,” Paul said, stepping closer. “But Jacob’s going Alpha soon. Sam won’t cross him easily.”

She smirked faintly. “Then don’t tell him until it’s too late.”

Paul barked a laugh. “Cold, Swan. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I didn’t,” she said. “Until now.”

Their reflections blurred in the window, her pale and taut, him shadow-dark and seething with energy. They didn’t match. And yet…

Paul exhaled slowly. “Alright. I talk to Sam and Jared. We block it from the others, get it airtight. Then we move.”

“You think they’ll go for it?”

“They will if I say it’s worth it.” He paused. “But there’s a risk. You might not walk away from this.”

She turned to face him, chin high. “I know.”

“Do you want to die?” He asked.

“I want her gone.” Her voice cracked. “If I have to bleed for that, fine. But I’m done being the one everyone protects while people get killed for me.”

Paul’s jaw flexed. “You’re a goddamn mess.”

“I know that too.” She whispered.

Something shifted in his eyes then. Not softness, Paul didn’t do soft, but recognition. Respect. “I’ll be there,” he said finally. “If you go down, I go down.”

“Romantic,” she deadpanned.

He smirked, and for one second, one stupid second, she forgot who he was.

Then he stepped even closer. “You gonna keep biting your lip like that?” he asked low. “Or is that just how you flirt with murderers?”

“Are you calling yourself a murderer now?” She said softly.

He leaned down, mouth almost brushing hers. “I’m saying I’m not safe. And I don’t give a shit about being gentle.”

Her breath hitched, but she didn’t back away. “Good. I’m done with lies and gentle liars.”

That did something to him. She felt it, tightening in his posture, a flicker in his expression.

She reached out and offered her hand. “Deal?”

Paul looked down at her fingers, like they were more dangerous than fangs. Then he clasped them in his own.

“Deal.”

Neither moved.

She swallowed hard. “One more thing.”

Paul arched a brow. “You really want to test me today, Swan?”

“It’s about imprinting.”

He stilled. “Jacob?”

“No,” she said firmly. “He’s family. I love him, but not like he wants. I won’t pretend.”

Something eased in Paul’s shoulders. Not relief, something rougher. “Then what do you want to know?”

“What you think about it.”

Paul shrugged, but the motion was tense. “It’s a leash. Everyone calls it fate, but it’s just biology in a pretty wrapper. Love shouldn’t come with shackles.”

She watched him carefully. “So you don’t believe in soulmates?”

“I believe in choosing,” he said. “Choosing someone over and over, even when it’s hard. I don’t need magic for that.”

“You’re a romantic,” she said, mouth quirking.

He grimaced. “Don’t ruin my image.”

She laughed, actually laughed, and it startled them both..

“You look calmer,” he said. “More grounded.”

“I’m thinking,” Bella answered.

He joked. “Are you sure that’s safe?”

She gave a sharp little smile. “I’ve made worse decisions.”

“Like loving a leech?”

She froze. Not because the jab hurt, it didn’t, but because of the way he said it. No venom. Just truth.

“That’s not your business,” she said evenly.

“Maybe not.” He shrugged, voice casual. “But I make it mine if your corpse ends up in our territory.”

She turned toward him then, slowly, letting him see her eyes. “That’s not why you’re interested.”

Paul went still. Then he smiled, wolfish, slow, and dark. “You think I’m interested?”

“Aren’t you?” she asked. “You’ve been circling me since I got here.”

His head tilted. “I like puzzles.”

“And I’m a broken one?”

“No,” he said, voice quieter now. “You’re a locked one. There’s a difference.”

She looked back at him. “You won’t like what’s inside.”

He stepped closer. Not touching, not yet, but invading anyway. “I’m not afraid of damage. I’m made of it.”

His scent hit her next, earth and heat and wildness. Not cologne. Not chemistry. Just him. She kept her hands steady, refusing to react. “I’m not impressed by muscles or jawlines, Paul,” she said flatly. “I’ve loved beautiful things. They lie the best.”

That pulled something out of him. Not laughter. Not anger. Just… interest. “No one’s ever said that to me before.”

“Probably because they wanted something from you.”

He grinned. “And you don’t?”

“I want peace.”

“Well, sweetheart,” he said, voice low and amused, “then you shouldn’t be in my house.”

She gave him a long look. “And yet I’m safer here than anywhere else.”

That shut him up for a second.

And there it was, shift.

A flash of awareness between them. 

He wanted to chase her. She wasn’t running. 

He wanted to impress her. She wasn’t watching. 

He wanted to intimidate her. She was already broken and still standing.

Bella looked at him seriously then. “So, about the plan.”

Paul blinked, recalibrating. “Right. The plan.”

“So. I am the bait and the distraction, that’s final.”

Paul didn’t answer. He was still watching her. Not the way other men watched her. Not hungry, not soft. Curious. Like he was cataloging her edges. Waiting to see if she cut.

Then… The front door slammed open.

“Bells!”

Jacob’s voice came in too loud, too fast, full of heat and panic. He crossed the room in seconds and stopped just short of grabbing her. His eyes flicked from her face to Paul’s, then back again.

“Are you okay? He didn’t touch you, did he?”

Bella blinked at him. Not because of the question, but because of how quickly he needed to make himself the hero.

“I’m fine,” she said gently. “Paul and I were just talking.”

“Talking,” Jacob repeated, eyes still hard on Paul, like he was holding himself back from launching over the table.

Paul leaned against the counter, utterly relaxed. If anything, he looked amused.

Bella slipped her arm through Jacob’s before the tension could crack wide open. “Will you take me home?”

Jacob blinked. The question, the soft smile, it disarmed him. He nodded, glancing at Paul like he’d won something.

Bella didn’t miss the way Paul’s expression shifted as they walked toward the door. Not anger. Not jealousy.

Recognition.

He knew what she was doing. He knew she was playing a part. And she knew that he knew.

She paused for half a breath at the threshold and looked back. Their eyes locked. She didn’t smile.

He didn’t blink.

Then she turned and let Jacob lead her out, letting his arm rest heavy over her shoulder. It used to comfort her. Now it just felt… too warm. Too tight.

Too much like a claim she hadn’t given.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

Bella’s POV

The scent of garlic and rosemary filled the kitchen, curling through the air like memory and warmth. Bella stirred the pot slowly, watching the sauce bubble, then slid the roast into the oven. Her hands moved with focus, steady, precise. It had been weeks since she’d cooked anything more than toast or microwaved leftovers. Now, she wanted this to be good. Really good.

Charlie shuffled in, pausing in the doorway like he wasn’t sure if he’d stepped into the right house. “Something smells… amazing.”

Bella glanced over her shoulder. “It’s real food, can you believe it?”

He blinked at her, setting down his jacket and taking in the kitchen, clean, busy, alive. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you like this,” he said gently, his eyes searching hers.

Bella gave a soft smile. “Me neither.”

Dinner was quiet, but comfortable. Charlie cleared his plate, praised the roast, and didn’t ask too many questions. That was his way. And she was grateful for it.

….

The next morning, she caught Angela before homeroom. “Hey,” Bella said, sliding into the seat beside her. “Do you have a minute?”

Angela looked up from her planner, surprised, and then cautiously hopeful. “Of course.”

“I talked to my teachers,” Bella said. “They’re letting me make up work. But I’m… way behind. I was wondering if you’d help me?”

Angela’s face broke into a smile, warm and genuine. “Yes. I will. And Bella… I’m really glad you’re trying.”

So was Bella. Trying meant feeling. Feeling meant she wasn’t frozen anymore.

…

The bonfire crackled, painting shadows across the sand. Bella sat on a driftwood log, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, the smoke curling through her hair. The pack was scattered around the flames, laughing, bickering, eating in the chaotic, half-wild way she was getting used to.

Jacob dropped beside her with two sodas. “You okay?”

She nodded, accepting the drink but not his closeness. “Yeah. Just tired.”

He frowned. “You’ve been busy lately.”

“School,” she said simply. “Trying to catch up.”

Jacob shifted, clearly wanting more, more time, more answers, more of her. She offered a faint smile, but her body stayed just an inch out of reach.

Before he could press, Paul sauntered into the firelight, his presence cutting through the noise like a blade. His eyes landed on her instantly, and he didn’t look away. “Thought I told you not to leave shit at my door,” he said, voice low and dry.

Bella blinked. “You mean dinner?”

“You call that dinner?” he smirked. “Could’ve used more salt.”

She rolled her eyes. “Next time I’ll add cyanide.”

Someone nearby snorted, but the tension between them didn’t ease. If anything, it thickened.

Jacob stiffened beside her. “You went to his place?”

Bella stood before either of them could turn it into a contest. She walked a few steps toward the trees. Paul followed. Of course he did.

“You got something to say, Lahote?” she asked without turning.

He stopped a breath behind her. Close enough that she could feel the heat rolling off his skin, his voice low in her ear. “Yeah. I want to know what game you’re playing.”

She turned then, chin lifted. “I’m not playing. I’m trying to live.”

He tilted his head, studying her. “You weren’t living before.”

“No,” she agreed. “But I’m getting there. And here’s the thing, you can snarl and tease all you want, but I see through you, Paul.”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” she said, stepping closer. “You act like the world bends around your charm, like you don’t care, but you do. You care when people lie. When they hide. So here’s some truth for you: I’m grateful to you. For being real. For calling me out. You didn’t treat me like glass, and maybe I needed that.”

Paul’s eyes darkened. The air between them shimmered with heat. “You think you can handle real?” he asked, voice lower now, more gravel than words. “Because I don’t come with filters, Swan. I’m not nice. I don’t do soft. You want honesty, you better be ready for teeth.”

Bella didn’t flinch. “Then show me teeth. But stop pretending you don’t care. You want something from me? Earn it. Not with games. Not with charm. With the truth. With whatever the hell is underneath that cocky grin and wolf swagger.”

For a long second, they just stood there, two storms poised to crash.

Then Paul’s lips curled, not quite a smile. “You’re not what I expected.”

“And you’re not who I thought you were,” she whispered.

The distance between them was still there. But it was no longer a void. It was a line charged with something that neither of them could ignore.

…

“Are you seeing this?” Embry muttered, nudging Jared with his elbow.

Jared followed Embry’s gaze toward the trees, where Paul and Bella stood too close, locked in some kind of low, electric exchange.

“Oh, I’m seeing it,” Jared said, cracking open a soda. “And so is Jake.”

Jacob sat stiffly on the edge of the circle, his jaw clenched so tightly Embry could hear the grind of his teeth from three feet away.

“What the hell is going on with him?” Jacob snapped. “Why’s she even talking to Paul?”

Embry shrugged. “Why wouldn’t she? He’s not exactly subtle, and she’s not exactly running.”

“She doesn’t know him,” Jacob growled. “She doesn’t know what he’s like.”

“She knows enough,” Leah said from behind them, her arms crossed, gaze sharp. “She knows he doesn’t lie to her face. That counts for something.”

Jacob turned on her. “Don’t start, Leah.”

“I’m not starting anything,” she said coolly. “I’m telling you what I see. You don’t like it? Not my problem.”

“You think she wants him?” Jacob asked, voice strained.

Leah didn’t flinch. “I think she wants honesty. And I think Paul, as screwed up as he is, gives her more of that than you have.”

The fire cracked between them, loud and sudden. “You don’t know anything about what Bella and I have,” Jacob said, low and bitter.

“I know what it looks like when someone stops needing you,” Leah said quietly. “And I know what it feels like when you want something to work so badly, you pretend not to notice that it’s already over.”

Embry glanced between them, tension drawing tight across his shoulders.

“She’s smiling again,” Jared said, softer now. “Bella. I didn’t think we’d see that for a while. Doesn’t matter why, or who. It just… matters.”

Jacob stared into the fire, unmoving.

And out in the trees, Paul was still standing far too close, his voice too low for them to hear, but his eyes never left hers. And Bella wasn’t backing down.

….

Paul emerged from the tree line with that unmistakable swagger, shoulders loose, smirk carved into his face like he’d just won something. His eyes flicked directly to Jacob, and for a split second, the grin deepened.

He said nothing. Just walked over, cracked open a drink, and leaned against a log like the entire forest hadn’t just watched him stalk Bella like prey and get under her skin with terrifying ease.

Jacob stood abruptly, fists clenched, every muscle in his arms pulled tight.

Paul took a long sip and raised a brow. “Something bothering you, Black?”

“You’re playing with fire,” Jacob growled.

Paul’s smile widened. “Yeah. I like fire.”

Sam cleared his throat sharply, his voice low with warning. “Paul.”

Paul didn’t look away. “What? We’re all friends here.”

Jacob took a step forward, and Embry instinctively rose, hand out, ready to intercept.

Leah exhaled through her nose, tired, unimpressed. She stood and peeled off from the group, glancing once at Paul, then Jacob, before heading toward the edge of the clearing where Bella stood alone, staring at the flames like they held answers no one else could give her.

“Mind if I join?” Leah asked, her tone more neutral than usual.

Bella blinked, then nodded.

Leah stood beside her in silence for a moment, arms crossed, the firelight dancing in her sharp eyes. “You’re changing,” she said finally.

Bella looked over, surprised. “Is that a bad thing?”

Leah shook her head. “No. Just… new. Unexpected. You’ve got a spine now.”

“I always had one,” Bella said, a little sharper than she intended.

Leah actually smirked. “Yeah, but now you’re using it.”

They were quiet again, the fire popping softly behind them.

“He’s dangerous, you know,” Leah said, nodding toward Paul. “Hot-headed. Reckless. He’ll chew you up if you let him.”

“I’m not letting him do anything,” Bella said. “I see him. That’s the difference. I’m not blinded this time.”

Leah studied her. “You really don’t care that he’s hot, do you?”

Bella shook her head. “I care that he doesn’t lie. I care that he sees me, not as someone to fix, or protect, or own. Just… me.”

Leah’s expression softened. “Well, damn. Maybe there’s hope for both of you after all.”

Bella smiled faintly. “Maybe.”

Behind them, Paul laughed, low, lazy, and sharp enough to draw blood. Jacob stormed off into the trees, and Sam didn’t stop him.

Leah and Bella didn’t move. Leah stayed quiet for a long beat after Bella’s last words. Then, she spoke, softer than Bella had ever heard her. “You know what, Swan? I think I’m gonna take a page from your book.”

Bella turned toward her, brows lifting. “What do you mean?”

Leah’s gaze stayed fixed on the fire. “I’ve spent so long being angry. Holding it all in. Pretending like I didn’t care. But watching you, how you’re starting to live again, speak the truth, even if it pisses people off… it kind of made me realize how much I’ve been lying to myself.”

She looked down, jaw tightening. “About Sam. About all that shit. I said I was over it. Said it didn’t hurt anymore. But it still does. And maybe it always will, but I don’t have to let it own me. Not anymore.”

Bella didn’t speak, she just nodded, her chest aching in quiet solidarity.

Leah gave a wry smile. “You make a terrible martyr, Swan. But you might make a decent survivor.”

And with that, she turned and walked back toward the others, shoulders straighter than before.

…

Later That Night — Jacob’s Porch

The porch creaked beneath Bella’s feet as she stepped up to the front door of the Black house. The night air was cool, tinged with salt and pine. She could hear the ocean murmuring softly beyond the trees.

Jacob opened the door before she knocked, as if he’d been waiting. “Hey,” he said, his voice low, guarded.

“Hey.” She folded her arms, nervous.

He stepped aside to let her in, but she didn’t move. “I won’t stay long.”

Jake frowned. “Something wrong?”

Bella took a deep breath. “I think it’s time we stop pretending.”

His entire frame went rigid. “Pretending?”

“That this thing between us is more than it is.” She swallowed hard. “You’re… safe. Familiar. I love you, Jake. But I love you like a brother. Like someone I could grow old with, if I wanted numb and easy.”

He looked away, jaw clenched. “Is this about Paul?”

“No. God, no. Nothing’s happening there.” She stepped closer. “But with you, it feels like I’m supposed to feel more. And I don’t. And I won’t lie to you to protect you from the truth.”

Jacob’s eyes burned with the need to argue, but he didn’t. “I wanted to be enough for you,” he said after a long pause, voice thick.

“You are,” she whispered. “Just not in the way you want.”

Silence stretched between them. Then Jacob nodded, once. Like a soldier accepting a wound.

Bella turned, walked down the steps, and didn’t look back.

Chapter Text

Chapter Six – Trial Run

Paul’s POV

Paul leaned over the ridgeline map, fingers gliding across the terrain markers without truly seeing them. His body moved with muscle memory, his thoughts already on the trial ahead. Or rather, on her.

Sam and Jared were posted up on either side of the table, tension thick in the air, but not from the plan. Not entirely.

“You good?” Jared asked, way too casually.

Paul didn’t look up. “Planning a kill. I’m always good.”

Jared smirked. “Right. And this kill wouldn’t happen to be over five foot three, sharp-tongued, and completely unimpressed with your tough guy act?”

Paul’s eyes flicked up. “You’re an idiot.”

“And you’re obsessed,” Jared shot back, grin widening. “You’ve got that face. The Paul Lahote Special. Like you’re either gonna fight someone or… do something way less PG.”

Sam raised an eyebrow but didn’t intervene. Not yet.

Jared pressed on, relentless. “You never hang back on patrol. But now? If Bella so much as sighs, you’re in a tree watching her like you’re auditioning for Romeo and Juliet. What’s next? You start writing poetry in the margins of your mission notes?”

Paul muttered, “I hate you.”

“Sure you do.” Jared leaned closer. “Just don’t hate me because I called it first.”

Sam finally cut in, calm and quiet. “Jared’s got a point, though. If you’re catching feelings, you need to be honest about it. Especially with yourself.”

Paul scoffed. “This isn’t about feelings. It’s about strategy. She’s a human, a fragile one, and she’s willing to act as bait. That puts her in my line of responsibility.”

Jared snorted. “Right. You suddenly believe in responsibility. The guy who once forgot to show up to patrol because he was busy punching a tree over a bad dream.”

Sam leaned in. “If it is more, you should know. The imprint can hit hard, and fast. It doesn’t always wait until you’re ready.”

Paul froze.

Jared blinked. “Whoa, wait. You don’t think…?”

“I don’t think,” Paul bit out. “There’s nothing to think about. It hasn’t happened. End of story.”

Sam’s voice was quieter now, but firmer. “Just… be aware. If this is the start of something more, don’t lie to yourself about it. Or her.”

Paul said nothing.

And then Bella stepped into the clearing.

—

She didn’t look like bait. She looked… steady. Hood pulled up against the wind, chin set. Paul tracked her every movement before he even meant to.

Sam gave her a brief nod. “You ready?”

“Let’s go,” Bella said. No hesitation.

They moved as one, Jared and Sam circling wide, Paul staying closest, shadowing Bella’s path through the pines. The woods were quiet, leaves slick with earlier rain, but Paul wasn’t listening for Victoria.

He was listening for her. “You’ve been quiet lately,” he murmured once they hit the central trail. “Missed your usual complaining.”

“I’m saving my breath for not dying,” Bella said, not missing a beat.

Paul smirked. “Nice. Very heroic.”

“I try.”

They didn’t talk again until they hit the drop site. Bella stood in the center, adjusting her stance. Her pulse was up, but her face didn’t show it.

“You don’t have to do this,” Paul said, softer now.

“I want to.” She looked at him. “Even if I didn’t, I would. For them. For Charlie.”

“But not for him?” he asked, before he could stop himself.

Her gaze didn’t waver. “Not anymore.”

Before he could respond, she stumbled, hard. Her wrist caught a sharp edge of bark, and blood welled fast and bright. She hissed, holding it to her chest.

Paul was at her side in an instant, grip firm but careful. “Let me see.”

Bella winced but didn’t resist as he uncurled her fingers. And when he watched closely he could see a silvery glint clinging to the blood, barely visible, trickling out and with the sent of leech.

Jared appeared with the first-aid kit, whistling low. “Yikes. Tree bark’s a bitch.”

While he cleaned the wound, Paul crouched nearby, staring too long.

Jared glanced at him, then at Bella, then grinned. “You know, this is kind of romantic in a weird wilderness trauma way. You bleeding, Paul hovering like a stalker wolf… Love’s in the air.”

“Shut up,” Paul growled.

But Bella, Bella didn’t flinch. She smiled, just barely. “You’re not denying it.”

Paul gave her a long look. “You said you wished none of this supernatural crap ever touched your life.”

“I did.”

“But?”

She tilted her head. “I’m revising.”

“Oh yeah?”

Bella held his gaze. “Nothing supernatural… except you.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was thick with tension, maybe confusion. Definitely something neither of them wanted to name.

Jared cleared his throat. “Wow. Okay. That was a moment. I feel like I need to go journal about this.”

Sam stepped into view with a dry look. “Focus.”

But Paul didn’t hear them. Not really.

Because for the first time in a long time, someone had looked straight at him, gruff, growling, hard-to-love him, and didn’t flinch.

Didn’t run.

Didn’t ask him to be anyone else.

And that, more than any imprint, felt dangerous.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

The woods were quiet now, unnaturally so, as the last shadow of their trial run drifted away.

Bella sat on a fallen log, her wrist bandaged but still aching. The air smelled like damp earth and adrenaline. Paul stood several feet away, arms crossed, breathing hard, watching her like he couldn’t decide if she was a threat or a wound.

Neither of them spoke at first. The silence was a third presence between them, heavy and stifling.

Until Paul broke it. “You flinched,” he said roughly, his voice more gravel than words.

Bella looked up, chin tilted. “And?”

“And if you don’t trust me, you’ll get yourself killed.”

She scoffed. “You think I flinched because of you?”

His jaw ticked. “You sure as hell didn’t flinch for the tree.”

“You think everything is about you.” She stood now, facing him. “I flinched because this whole damn plan rides on me being bait, on me surviving while you all circle like wolves, hoping she bites down hard enough to give you a kill shot. So yeah, I flinched.”

Paul took a step forward, eyes sparking. “That’s the deal, Swan. You wanted to prove you weren’t some breakable leech-lover anymore? This is it.”

“And you think calling me that still gets a rise out of me?” she snapped. “You think I care what insults you used to throw when I was too numb to answer back?”

His mouth twisted into something between a sneer and a smile. “Guess you’ve got some fire in you after all.”

Bella’s voice dropped, dangerous and low. “Oh, you like that, huh? That I’m not just some grieving shell now? You want me to fight you, Paul? Is that what gets you off?”

He didn’t flinch, he grinned. “Better than that sparkle-toy who made you sit quiet and small while he pretended to be your knight.”

The air went still. Bella’s fists clenched at her sides. “Don’t.”

“Why not?” Paul advanced again. “You think I don’t see it? The way you still talk about him like he left something sacred behind. But here you are, trying to come back to life, and who’s actually here watching your back?”

She laughed, sharp and cold. “Is that what this is? You watching my back? Or are you just looking for another way to feed your ego?”

That struck. His eyes darkened. “You think I want this?” he growled. “You think I asked for any of it?”

“Oh no, you poor thing,” she threw back. “You didn’t imprint. Must suck, huh? To want someone without the magical wolf stamp of approval?”

His face twisted. “You think I care about imprinting?”

“You should,” she said, quieter now, cutting deeper. “Because if it had happened, at least one of us would’ve had a damn answer.”

Silence.

And then Paul laughed, a humorless, broken sound. “Yeah, well maybe the universe took one look at us and said hell no.”

Bella stepped closer, chest heaving. “Maybe. Or maybe it just knew I wouldn’t accept a love I didn’t choose.”

He stared at her. “You really believe that?”

“I have to.”

He was breathing hard now, like he was holding back the shift by a thread. “You want raw? Here’s raw. I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s not magic. It’s not fate. It’s me. Wanting you. Every time you talk back. Every time you don’t fall for my shit. Every time you stare at me like you see through the teeth and into something worth saving. And that…” he stabbed a finger toward her chest, “…terrifies me.”

Bella’s voice trembled, but she held her ground. “Good. Because I want honest. I want flawed, messy, hungry, real. I don’t want you to kiss me because some bond told you to. I want you to kiss me because you have to. Because you can’t not.”

His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist, not hard, but with the control of a man trying not to lose it. Her breath caught, and he took a step into her space, crowding it, crowding her. His voice dropped to a snarl. “You want honest? You want raw? Then don’t pretend you don’t feel it too.”

“I feel plenty,” she whispered, chest heaving. “But I want real, not charm. Not games. You. Not the show.”

He growled low in his throat. “This is me.”

And then he kissed her like the dam inside him had finally shattered.

His mouth crashed onto hers, claiming, not asking. It was heat and bruises and breath stolen right out of her lungs. He bit her bottom lip, just enough to make her gasp, and when she did, he deepened it, dragging her in with him. One hand cupped the back of her neck, the other anchoring her hip, as though he’d drown if he didn’t touch her. His body pressed against hers, all heat and muscle and wolf barely leashed.

Bella made a sound, half resistance, half need, and her fingers fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer. It wasn’t tender. It wasn’t sweet.

It was war.

His teeth grazed her jaw as he broke from her lips, kissing down to her throat, possessive, reverent, hungry. Her skin burned under his mouth. Her knees buckled, and he caught her with a savage chuckle against her collarbone. “I’ve been trying not to want you,” he breathed against her pulse, voice ragged. “But you keep looking at me like I’m worth more than teeth and temper.”

“You are,” she whispered, breathless.

He stopped, panting hard. Their foreheads pressed together, and for a moment, they just stood there, tethered by that brutal, electric truth. “I’ll keep choosing you,” he rasped. “Day after day. Imprint or not. Because this? This isn’t magic. This is me.”

Bella’s eyes met his, dark and alive. “I don’t want forever, Paul. I want you, raw, loyal, animal, honest. I don’t care if it ends.” She touched his cheek, gentle and firm. “When it ends, I’ll rise from it. Because you didn’t break me. You lit the fire.” Her voice dropped, fierce and quiet. “You made me a phoenix.”

Paul stared at her like she’d just torn him apart and stitched him back together.

And for the first time, he didn’t have a smart-ass response, but he looked proud of how much she had fought to stand up and be herself again. And this new woman, standing tall and meeting him on his turf, this woman was worth fighting for.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

The air in Sam’s living room was heavy, like the pressure before a storm. Bella sat near the fireplace, palms pressed together tightly in her lap. Paul stood just behind her, arms crossed, eyes hard. The rest of the pack circled the room, some standing, some pacing, all tense.

Sam’s voice cut through it. Calm. Direct. “Victoria’s getting closer. Every day. She’s circling, testing us. It’s time to end this.”

“How?” Embry asked, brow furrowed.

Sam exchanged a look with Jared, then nodded toward Paul.

“We set a trap,” Paul said. “We use Bella to draw her out.”

For a second, no one spoke. And then Jacob exploded. “You what?” His voice cracked. “You planned this? Without even telling me?”

Sam’s gaze didn’t waver. “It had to be airtight. We couldn’t risk word getting out too early.”

“You mean you didn’t want me to stop you.” Jacob turned to Bella, stricken. “Did you know?”

She stood slowly, her expression steady but sad. “Yes, I volunteered and run a test trial.”

“You’re not doing this,” Jacob said, voice rising. “You don’t have to. You shouldn’t even be here, Bella.”

“She should be exactly here,” Paul said flatly. “She’s the reason Victoria’s still hunting. She deserves a say.”

Jacob rounded on him, voice sharp. “Don’t pretend this is about giving her power. You’ve wanted a fight since day one.”

“And you’ve wanted to lock her in a damn tower,” Paul snapped. “At least I trust her to stand on her own feet.”

“Stop,” Bella said, her voice cutting through the clash. She stepped between them, eyes burning. “This isn’t about you two. This is about me. My life. My choice.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Jacob asked, quieter now, but no less intense. “I just… I just don’t want to lose you.”

Her voice softened, but didn’t waver. “I know. But hiding isn’t life. I’m done being hunted. I’m done watching people get hurt.”

“She volunteered and that is final,” Sam said quietly, backing her.

“We’ve been tracking Victoria’s patterns,” Jared added. “She keeps circling the forest near the cliffs. We’ve mapped her path, Bella’s scent will be the lure.”

“The rest of us will be positioned nearby,” Sam continued. “We’ll wait until she’s close, then strike. Bella won’t be alone for more than a minute.”

“You can’t promise that,” Jacob said. “You can’t guarantee she walks away from this.”

“No,” Bella agreed. “But I’ll walk into it anyway. On my terms.”

The room went quiet. Embry shifted uncomfortably. Jared looked away. 

Only Leah spoke.“Just make sure she’s walking at all when it’s over,” she said coldly. But her eyes lingered on Bella longer than usual, sharp, assessing, maybe even a little impressed.

Bella nodded once. “That’s the plan.”

…

Later that night, Bella slipped out onto the back porch of Sam’s house. The air was cool and heavy with salt from the ocean. Fog rolled in through the trees, softening the world into shadows. She wrapped her arms around herself, drawing in a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

She wasn’t surprised when Jacob joined her a few minutes later. He didn’t say anything right away. Just leaned against the railing beside her, hands in his pockets, looking out into the dark. “I remember when you used to run from rain,” he said eventually, his voice quiet. “Now you’re walking straight into a storm.”

Bella let out a soft breath that might’ve been a laugh. “Guess I’m done running.”

He nodded slowly, jaw working like he was chewing on something he couldn’t quite swallow. “I hate this.”

“I know.”

“I hate that she wants you. I hate that you’re in danger. I hate that Paul’s the one you trust to have your back.” His voice cracked a little at that last part. “But mostly I just hate that I didn’t see this coming.”

She turned to face him. “Jake…”

“I know,” he said, cutting her off, not harshly but gently, like he couldn’t take hearing it out loud. “I know you’re not mine. I think I knew that even when I pretended you were.”

Bella’s throat tightened. “You’re still one of the best parts of my life.”

“And you’re the part I’ll never forget.” He offered a sad, lopsided smile. “That’s the real kicker.”

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. His fingers lingered for a second longer than they should have, then fell away.

“I’m proud of you,” he said. “For doing this. For not hiding.”

Bella blinked hard. “Thank you.”

Jake shoved his hands deeper into his jacket pockets, then looked out into the trees again. “Are you staying here tonight?”

She hesitated. “No. Paul’s place.”

He closed his eyes for a second, then nodded once. “Yeah. I figured.”

“I need to be with him,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I know.” He stepped back, gave her one last look, something between heartbreak and acceptance, and then turned and walked into the night.

…

Bella stood at Paul’s door, heart thudding against her ribs like it knew what she was about to do before she fully did. When he opened it, barefoot and shirtless in a pair of low-slung joggers, the sight of him stole the breath from her throat.

He said nothing, just stepped aside.

She walked in slowly, her hands in her jacket pockets like she wasn’t sure whether to touch or be held. He watched her with those unreadable, molten eyes, waiting.

“I didn’t want to be alone tonight,” she said quietly, not turning around.

Paul closed the door behind her. “You’re not.”

She turned to face him, and something in his expression shifted. The tension was there, yes, but so was something softer. Something terrified. Like maybe he knew too. That this might be the last time.

“I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

He crossed the room in two strides, cupping her face with rough, warm hands. “Don’t be scared alone.” He kissed her forehead, her temple, then leaned his own against hers. “Stay with me tonight.”

“I wasn’t planning to leave.”

When she kissed him, it wasn’t tentative. It was desperate. Determined. Like she wanted to memorize the shape of his mouth before morning. Paul responded in kind—his mouth hot and unyielding against hers, his hands already at her hips, sliding under her shirt like he needed her skin now. Not later. Not after. Now.

He backed her into the wall beside the couch, his lips trailing down her jaw, over the curve of her neck. His voice was a low rasp, brushing against her skin like velvet over flame. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop.”

She pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. “I don’t want you to stop. I want this. I want you. No imprint. No prophecy. Just… you.”

That broke something in him. His mouth crashed back into hers, deeper this time, all heat and hunger. His hands lifted her, lifted her, like she weighed nothing, and she wrapped her legs around him instinctively as he carried her to the couch.

Clothes disappeared between kisses, between gasps. Her jacket fell first, then her shirt, her bra. His mouth never stopped moving—over her collarbone, her breasts, her ribs. She arched beneath him, trembling from the weight of his touch. He kissed her like worship and possession all at once. And when his mouth moved lower, Bella let out a sound she didn’t know she could make, half-moan, half-prayer.

He looked up from where he knelt between her thighs, eyes blazing, voice like smoke. “You still sure?”

Her response was a whispered, breathless, “Yes. God, yes.”

Then he touched her, slowly, deliberately, like he had all the time in the world to learn her. His fingers, his mouth, the low sounds he made when she moaned for him, it was all too much, and not enough. Her body arched toward his, desperate and aching. Her skin was flushed, trembling, alive in ways it hadn’t been in what felt like years.

And when he finally pressed into her, the stretch of him, the way he filled her, it knocked the air out of her lungs.

They moved together like fire catching wind, hot, consuming, rising. His hands gripped her thighs, her hips, her face like he couldn’t choose where to anchor himself. Like he needed all of her at once.

“Look at me,” he said roughly, panting. “Don’t you dare look away.”

She did. And the look on his face, fierce, reverent, raw, was more intimate than anything his body was doing to hers.

Every thrust pushed her closer to the edge. Every sound he made, every whispered curse, every reverent “fuck, Bella” drove her higher. Until she shattered beneath him with a cry that felt like surrender and reclamation all at once.

He followed, gasping her name like it was the only thing that mattered. Like she was the only thing that ever mattered.

After, they lay tangled together on the bed, naked, sweat-slick, breathless.

Paul’s fingers traced slow, grounding circles along her spine. “You’d better come back to me.”

She turned her face into his neck and whispered, “I will.”

“You promise?”

Bella closed her eyes, breathing in his scent like it was the only thing tethering her to earth. “I always rise from the ashes. Remember?”

His arms tightened around her, and he kissed her temple like he could seal her soul there.

They didn’t sleep much. But in that quiet, endless night, they weren’t afraid.

They were theirs.