The Pull
Warning: This is long as fuckkkkk.
Actually, it was even longer, but I reached Tumblr’s limit so this is turning into a series with multiple parts!I’ve got a serious creative writing overflow right now, and I yearn to write, haha. As always, English is not my first language, so there will be some mistakes I apologize in advance! I’d love to get some feedback or requests that I can write. I also plan to write for the other guards too! Enjoy xoxo
The leather seat was cold against your back, the chill seeping through your clothes and settling into your bones. Or perhaps it wasn’t the seat at all perhaps it was the icy dread that had taken residence in your chest, spreading through your veins like frost across a winter window.
Your fingers gripped the edge of the seat, knuckles white, as Alice took another sharp turn. The stolen car because of course it was stolen, though that seemed almost laughably insignificant now hugged the curve of the narrow Italian road with a screech of tires. The countryside blurred past the window in streaks of gold and green ancient olive groves, terracotta rooftops, cypress trees standing like dark sentinels against the afternoon sky.
It should have been beautiful.
It wasn’t.
Twenty four hours. That’s all it had taken for your entire understanding of reality to shatter like glass under a hammer.
Vampires were real.
The thought still didn’t feel real, even as you turned it over in your mind for the hundredth time. Vampires. Not the stuff of movies and Halloween costumes and goth kids with too much eyeliner. Real. Edward Cullen the brooding, Pale boy from Forks High School who always looked vaguely distrest was a vampire. So were his siblings the tall, blonde one who looked like she’d stepped out of a shampoo commercial, the big one who never stopped grinning, the smaller blond one who looked perpetually annoyed, and Alice.
Alice, who sat in the driver’s seat now, her pixie cut hair perfectly styled despite the chaos, her small hands gripping the steering wheel with inhuman precision as she wove through traffic like she was playing a video game. Alice, who could see the future. Who had seen something that made her insist no, demand that you come on this absolutely insane mission.
And Dr. Cullen. Sweet, kind Dr. Cullen who’d stitched you up that time you’d sliced your hand open. A vampire. His wife too, with her kind eyes and warm smile.
All of them.
The word still felt strange in your mouth, impossible and heavy. You’d spent the entire car ride first the frantic drive to the airport, then the endless flight across the Atlantic, and now this breakneck race through Tuscany trying to wrap your mind around it. Trying to make it make sense.
It didn’t.
And now Edward, the vampire who’d started all of this, wanted to kill himself.
Because he thought Bella was dead.
Bella, who was very much alive and sitting in the passenger seat, her face pale and drawn, her fingers twisted together in her lap. Bella, who’d been a shell of a person for months after Edward left her. Who’d screamed herself awake every night. Who’d sought out danger like an addict seeking a fix, just to hear his voice in her head.
Edward, who’d abandoned her in the woods like she was nothing. Who’d left her vulnerable while a red headed vampire, because apparently there were more of them, just roaming around hunted her like prey.
And now Bella was ready to throw herself into the lion’s den to save him.
You didn’t understand it. Didn’t understand any of it.
If it was up to you, Edward Cullen could march into the Italian sunlight and sparkle himself to death in front of vampire royalty because apparently that was a thing too, and you wouldn’t shed a single tear.
But it wasn’t up to you.
Nothing was up to you.
You were just… here. Dragged along for reasons Alice refused to explain, no matter how many times you asked. And you had asked. On the plane, you’d asked at least a dozen times. “Why do I need to come?” “What does this have to do with me?” “Alice, please, just tell me what you saw.”
But she’d just looked at you with those strange golden eyes, really, like a cat’s eyes catching light and said, “You need to be there. Trust me.”
Trust.
The word felt hollow now, rattling around in your chest like a dried seed in a gourd.
“Alina”
Alice’s voice cut through your spiraling thoughts like a knife. Sharp. Urgent. You jerked your attention forward and saw her eyes flick to the rearview mirror, meeting yours for just a fraction of a second.
There was something in those eyes. Something you’d never seen before.
Fear.
Alice was afraid.
The realization sent a fresh wave of ice through your veins.
“Listen to me very carefully,” she said, her voice low and fast as she whipped the wheel to the left, overtaking a small Fiat with what couldn’t have been more than inches to spare. The driver laid on the horn, the sound angry and prolonged, but Alice didn’t even flinch. Her eyes stayed fixed on the road, her jaw set. “When we get there, you stay close to me. Within arm’s reach at all times. Do you understand?”
You leaned forward slightly, your heart already beginning to race. “Alice”
“Do you understand?” she repeated, harder this time.
“Yes,” you whispered.
“Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t look at them if you can help it. Don’t draw attention to yourself.” She took a breath, unnecessary for her but somehow emphasized. “Just do exactly as I say and try not to get noticed.”
The words settled over you like a shroud.
“Why?” The question burst out of you before you could stop it, louder and sharper than you intended. Your voice cracked slightly. “Why do I even have to go with you if it’s so dangerous? Alice, this is insane you said yourself it’s dangerous, so why?”
“Bella,” Alice cut you off, her attention already shifting away. “We’re almost there. The moment we arrive, we run. Straight for the clock tower. No hesitation. Do you understand?”
Bella nodded, her face somehow even paler than before.
You sat back hard against the seat, frustration and fear warring in your chest, making it hard to breathe. No one was going to answer you. No one was going to explain. You were just expected to follow along, to trust, to walk into danger for reasons no one would share.
Like a lamb being led to slaughter.
The city of Volterra rose before you like something out of a medieval painting. Ancient stone walls, weathered by centuries, climbed the hillside in irregular curves. Terracotta roofs huddled together within the walls, and at the highest point, a tower rose against the blue sky, the clock tower, you realized. The hands were approaching noon, the sun climbing higher, brighter.
It should have been beautiful. Romantic, even. The kind of place you’d want to visit on vacation, to wander the narrow streets and eat gelato and take photographs.
Instead, it looked like a fortress.
A trap.
The streets were packed with people as Alice navigated into the city, all of them dressed in strange red cloaks, laughing and chattering in rapid Italian. Some kind of festival, you realized dimly. They filled the narrow roads, moving in rivers of crimson.
Alice didn’t slow down.
“Hold on,” she muttered.
The car lurched forward, scattering people, and then Alice was slamming on the brakes. The car screeched to a stop at an angle, half on the sidewalk, completely illegal and completely blocking traffic.
She didn’t care.
“Now!” she said, and Bella was already out of the car, moving. “Run!”
Your hands fumbled with the seatbelt, your fingers clumsy with adrenaline. By the time you got the door open and stumbled out, Bella was already several paces ahead, weaving through the crowd of red cloaked festivalgoers.
Your shoes completely inappropriate for running, you realized now slapped against the cobblestones as you dodged between people. The crowd was thick, the festivalgoers laughing and drinking, and you had to push past them, muttering apologies in English that no one understood.
Alice urged you to run faster but you couldn’t keep up she promptly threw you in her cold hard arms zooming to the Palaza withe you
Your lungs burned. Your legs ached. You felt dizzy. You’d never been athletic, and certainly not built for sprinting through medieval Italian cities.
The narrow street opened suddenly into a plaza, and there it was the clock tower, massive and imposing.
And at the base of the tower, partially hidden in shadow, stood a pair of massive wooden doors.
Alice reached them, leting go, stumbling to a stop beside her, gasping for breath. Your chest heaving, a stitch burning in your side.
Alice didn’t wait. She placed her small, delicate hands against the ancient oak doors doors that must have weighed hundreds of pounds, that must have been locked and bolted and she pushed.
The sound was like a gunshot.
The wood splintered. The lock shattered. The doors burst inward with a groan of protesting metal and wood, swinging open to reveal darkness beyond.
Alice was already moving inside, pulling you with her. “Come on,” she hissed at you.
You didn’t think. You just followed, stumbling through the broken doorway into shadow.
The temperature dropped immediately. The sounds of the festival cut off as if someone had closed a door which, you supposed, someone had. The darkness was absolute for a moment, and then your eyes began to adjust.
You were in a stone hallway. Ancient stone, the kind that had stood for centuries, maybe longer. The walls were decorate elegantly in dark colours with, and the air smelled of warmth and age.
Alice moved forward without hesitation, her hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling her along. You followed, your footsteps echoing too loudly in the enclosed space.
Your heart hammered against your ribs.
And waiting there, as if they’d been expecting you because of course they had been were four figures.
No.
Two figures as well as Bella and Edward.
Edward stood in the center of the corridor, shirtless, his marble pale chest catching the torchlight. He looked surprised, his gold eyes widening as he saw you, as he saw Alice.
His brows furrowed in confusion, his gaze locking onto you for a moment too long. As if he couldn’t understand why you were there. As if your presence was wrong somehow, unexpected in whatever future Alice had shown him.
Alice said, smooth and almost cheerful, tinged with amusement. “Come on, guys. There are ladies present you wouldn’t want to make a scene.”
You looked at the two other figures
One was massive. Taller even than Emmett which you hadn’t thought possible with shoulders that seemed to fill the corridor. His skin was pale as marble, smooth and perfect and utterly inhuman. His hair was dark, cropped short, and his face might have been handsome if not for the expression he wore.
And his eyes.
Red.
Deep, vivid crimson, like fresh blood.
The Cullens had golden eyes. Warm amber, like honey in sunlight. You wondered why maybe it was like human eye colour…
His eyes made you uneasy
And he was staring at you.
Not just looking. Staring. His gaze was fixed on you with an intensity that made your stomach drop, made your instincts scream at you to run, to hide, to do anything but stand there. His lips curved into a slow grin, and there was something in it, something hungry and lustful and predatory all at once.
Like a cat that had just spotted a mouse.
Your mouth went dry, heart beat picking up
But it was the other one the second figure who made the world tilt beneath your feet.
He was tall but leaner and a bit smaller than the giant, built like a god you thought long lines and controlled grace. His hair was dirty blond, styled in a way that seemed artfully careless, though you suspected nothing about him was careless. His features were sharp and aristocratic high cheekbones, a straight nose, a strong jaw, lips that were full and curved in a way that might have been sensual if everything else about him wasn’t so clearly dangerous.
He was beautiful.
Devastatingly, impossibly beautiful, like a Renaissance sculpture come to life. Like something that shouldn’t exist in the real world.
And you felt it.
That pull.
It hit you like a physical blow, stealing the air from your lungs. Like someone had wrapped a rope around your chest and yanked, trying to drag you toward him. Your feet actually shifted forward a step before you caught yourself, before you managed to lock your knees.
What the hell?
You’d never felt anything like it. It was magnetic. Irresistible. And wrong so wrong.
Your heart lurched in your chest, your pulse suddenly too fast, too loud. You could hear it in your ears, feel it in your throat.
And he noticed.
His head turned, slowly, deliberately, until his gaze found yours.
And locked.
His eyes were black.
Not brown. Not dark. Black. Pitch black, like pools of ink, like endless voids. There was no iris, no distinction between pupil and anything else. Just black, fathomless and hungry.
They fixed on you with an intensity that made your knees weak, made your breath stutter in your chest.
And he growled.
Low. Quiet. A sound that rumbled from deep in his chest like distant thunder.
Every instinct in your body every primal, ancient part of your brain that remembered what it meant to be prey screamed at you.
Run.
But you couldn’t move.
Your legs wouldn’t work. You were frozen, pinned under that terrible gaze like a butterfly under glass.
Your hand shot out blindly, grabbing for Alice who was looking at Edward with uneas, finding the fabric of her jacket and clutching it like a lifeline. You tried to step behind her, to hide behind her small frame, even though you knew it wouldn’t make a difference.
If he wanted you, she couldn’t stop him.
The giant chuckled, the sound deep and amused, echoing slightly in the corridor. “Interesting,” he said, his accent faintly European French, maybe? “Another human. This keeps getting better and better.”
His red eyes glittered with amusement, still fixed on you.
“Enough.”
The new voice was sharp and cold, cutting through the tension like a blade.
Everyone’s attention shifted even the blond vampire’s gaze finally released you, and you gasped as if you’d been held underwater.
A girl stood at the end of the corridor.
with pale blonde hair and delicate features. She wore a dark cloak, the fabric expensive looking, and her face was angelic. Innocent.
Porcelain perfect.
But the way Edward stiffened, the way Bella went somehow even paler, the way Alice’s grip on your arm tightened almost painfully
You knew
This girl was dangerous.
More dangerous than the others, maybe. Despite her size. Despite her appearance.
“Aro is expecting us,” the girl said, her voice soft and sweet, almost musical. It made your skin crawl. “He wants to know what’s taking so long.”
“Jane,” Edward said, and the single word was heavy with dread.
Jane tilted her head slightly, a small smile playing at her lips. Then she turned, her cloak swirling around her, and began walking deeper into the corridor.
“Just do as she says,” Edward muttered, his voice tight. He reached for Bella’s hand, and she took it immediately, clutching at him like he was her anchor.
They followed Jane without another word.
Alice tugged you forward, and you stumbled after her on legs that felt like jelly.
Which meant the other two fell into step behind you.
Your skin prickled with awareness. You could feel them back there. The blond one and the giant close. Too close. The air itself seemed to hum with their presence, charged like the atmosphere before a lightning strike.
You wanted to look back. Desperately. You wanted to see where he was, how close, what he was doing.
But you didn’t dare.
The corridor stretched on, silent except for footsteps on stone. Your breathing sounded too loud in your ears, too fast. You tried to calm it, but your body wouldn’t obey.
Torches lined the walls at regular intervals, their flames casting dancing shadows that seemed to reach for you.
The ceiling arched high above, disappearing into darkness.
How far underground were you?
The corridor turned, and turned again, a labyrinth of ancient stone. You tried to memorize the path left, then right, then straight but you knew it was useless. You’d never find your way out alone.
And then you saw it an elevator.
It was old, ornate, the kind of cage elevator you’d see in old European buildings or vintage hotels. Wrought iron worked into elaborate patterns, polished until it gleamed in the torchlight.
Jane reached it first and pulled open the gate with a metallic screech. She stepped inside, and Edward and Bella followed immediately.
Alice moved forward, her grip tight on your arm, pulling you along with her toward the ornate elevator. Your feet moved automatically, one in front of the other, even though every instinct screamed at you to resist, to pull away, to run.
But where would you run to? You were underground, in a labyrinth of ancient stone corridors, surrounded by vampires. There was nowhere to go.
“Wait.”
The single word cut through the air like a blade.
Jane’s hand came up, small and delicate and pale as porcelain. The gesture was almost casual, but Alice stopped immediately, as if she’d hit an invisible wall.
“It appears,” Jane said, her voice sweet and musical, echoing slightly in the stone corridor, “that the elevator is too small for us all.”
You looked at the elevator. Really looked at it.
It wasn’t small. The wrought iron cage was spacious, elegant, clearly designed to accommodate multiple people. It could easily fit six, maybe seven people comfortably.
This was deliberate.
Your stomach twisted with dread.
“Demetri,” Jane continued, her cherubic face turning slightly, her gaze sliding past you to focus on something, someone, behind you. “Stay behind with the other human. Make sure she doesn’t run.”
Demetri.
So that was his name.
The name seemed to echo in your mind, settling there like a stone dropping into dark water. Demetri. The blond vampire who’d been staring at you with those pitch black, hungry eyes. The one who made that inexplicable pull in your chest intensify until you could barely breathe.
Your heart dropped into your stomach, your pulse suddenly deafening in your ears.
“I will inform Aro that you’ll be following shortly,” Jane added, her tone pleasant, as if she were discussing dinner plans rather than separating you from the only people who might protect you.
“Alice…” you started, your voice cracking, desperation bleeding through.
But Alice’s hand tightened on your arm, her fingers pressing into your skin hard enough to bruise. Cutting you off. Silencing you.
You looked at her desperately, pleadingly, your eyes wide and probably wild with fear. Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me alone with him.
Her golden eyes met yours, and you saw it all there in that brief moment apology, worry, fear. She knew what she was doing. She knew what this meant. And she was doing it anyway.
But she didn’t fight it. Didn’t argue. Didn’t try to negotiate or insist that you come with them.
She just… let go of your arm.
And stepped into the elevator.
The sense of betrayal that flooded through you was almost physical, a sharp pain in your chest that made it hard to breathe.
Edward was looking at you too, his expression conflicted, his jaw tight with tension. His golden eyes darted from your face to something behind you, to Demetri, you realized, and his brows furrowed deeply, as if he were seeing something that troubled him. Something that made him uneasy.
But he said nothing.
He didn’t protest. Didn’t object. Didn’t offer to stay behind in your place or insist that you come with them.
He just stood there, one arm around Bella, and watched as Jane pulled the gate closed.
The metal clanged shut with a sound that felt horribly final.
The elevator began to descend with a mechanical whir and the grinding of old gears, the cage disappearing slowly into the darkness below.
Taking Alice and Edward and Bella with it.
Leaving you behind.
And they were gone.
For a single, frozen moment, there was only silence.
The kind of silence that pressed against your eardrums, that made you acutely aware of every small sound. The distant drip of water somewhere in the stone corridors. The faint crackle of the torches on the walls.
And your own heartbeat.
Fast. Too fast. Hammering against your ribs like it was trying to escape your chest.
You could hear your breathing, too. Shallow and quick, barely pulling in enough air, making you feel lightheaded.
And then…
Wind.
A gust of cold air, sudden and sharp, there and gone in an instant.
And suddenly he was in front of you.
You gasped, the sound embarrassingly loud in the quiet corridor, and stumbled backward on instinct.
Demetri stood inches away.
Only Inches.
Up close, he was even more devastating than before. The torchlight played across his features like he’d been specifically designed to be displayed in flickering firelight. It highlighted the sharp cut of his cheekbones, the strong, defined line of his jaw, the fullness of his lips, lips that were curved in a slight smirk, amused by your reaction.
His skin was smooth and pale and utterly flawless, like marble carved by a master’s hand. Not a single imperfection, not a pore or a freckle or any sign that he’d ever been human at all.
Beautiful.
Impossibly, inhumanly beautiful in a way that made something in your chest ache.
And tall. God, he was tall. He towered over you, his frame blocking out most of the light from the torches behind him, casting you in his shadow. His shoulders were broad, his build lean but powerful, every line of him radiating controlled strength and predatory grace.
But it was his eyes that held you captive.
Still black. Still endless.
Still hungry.
They roamed over your face slowly, deliberately, tracing the curve of your cheek, the line of your jaw, the shape of your lips. As if he were memorizing every detail. As if you were something fascinating, something rare and precious that he wanted to understand completely.
Or devour.
You couldn’t tell which.
Maybe both.
“It’s rude to back away, darling,” he said, and his voice…
God, his voice.
It was deep and rich, smooth like aged whiskey, with a faint accent you couldn’t quite place. Mediterranean, maybe, but old. Ancient. The kind of accent that had softened and shifted and evolved over centuries, picking up influences from a dozen different languages and places.
The sound of it resonated in your chest, made your pulse spike even higher, made heat coil low in your belly despite the bone deep terror coursing through you.
You opened your mouth to respond, to say something, but nothing came out. Your voice had abandoned you entirely, fled somewhere your mind couldn’t reach. Your tongue felt thick and useless in your mouth.
His lips curved into a slow smirk, clearly amused by your silence. By your fear. By the way you were frozen in his grasp like a cornered animal.
He liked it, you realized with a jolt of horror. He enjoyed this. The power. The control. Your fear.
“Tell me,” he said, and this time his voice changed. Became harder. Commanding. Authoritative. The kind of voice that didn’t ask but demanded, that expected immediate obedience and wouldn’t tolerate anything less. “What’s your name?”
The question bypassed your brain entirely, shot straight past any conscious thought or decision, and went directly to your mouth.
But you clamped your lips shut, pressing them together hard, forcing the answer back down.
Alice’s words echoed in your mind Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t look at them if you can help it.
You’d already failed at the second part, you couldn’t not look at him, not when he was right there, filling your entire field of vision, but you could still manage the first.
You didn’t answer.
His smirk faded slightly. His eyes narrowed, just a fraction, and something dangerous flickered in those black depths.
He stepped closer.
Impossibly closer, eliminating what little space had remained between you. You could feel the cold radiating off him now, seeping through your clothes, making you shiver. He was like standing near an open freezer, all that unnatural chill that reminded you he wasn’t human, wasn’t alive, not in any way that mattered.
“I believe I asked you a question,” he said, his voice dropping lower, taking on an edge that made your survival instincts scream. “Now. Answer. Me.”
The command in his voice was overwhelming, undeniable. It wrapped around you like chains, pulling at something deep inside you that wanted desperately to obey, to please, to give him whatever he wanted.
“A…Alina,” you stammered, the name tumbling out before you could stop it, barely recognizing your own voice. It sounded small and frightened and broken.
“Alina,” he repeated slowly, thoughtfully, as if testing the weight of it.
The way he said it made it sound like something precious. Something beautiful and rare. He rolled each letter on his tongue as if tasting it, savoring it, testing the shape and sound of your name in his mouth.
His smirk returned, widening into something that might have been a smile if it wasn’t so predatory. If it didn’t make him look like a wolf that had just caught the scent of wounded prey.
“Alina,” he said again, and this time it sounded like a purr.
And then he moved again.
That same impossible speed, that same gust of cold wind that announced his movement, and suddenly he was behind you.
Your entire body locked up, every muscle going rigid with tension and fear.
You couldn’t see him anymore, but you felt him. God, you felt him. The cold presence of him at your back, so close that you could feel the chill radiating from his body through your clothes, seeping into your skin. Close enough that if you leaned back even slightly, if you lost your balance for even a second, you’d be touching him.
Pressed against that hard, cold, marble body.
His hand came up, and you felt his fingers, cold, so impossibly cold, brush against your hair.
The touch was feather light, almost gentle, but it made electricity shoot down your spine.
He lifted a strand of your hair, slowly, carefully, as if it were made of the finest silk and might break if he wasn’t cautious. You felt the faint tug at your scalp as he separated it from the rest, raising it.
And then you heard him inhale.
Deeply.
Deliberately.
A long, slow breath, as if he were breathing you in, drawing your scent deep into his lungs and savoring it like fine wine.
“You smell exquisite, Alina,” he whispered, his voice low and intimate, meant only for you. His breath, cold, unnecessary, a mockery of human habit, brushed against your ear, making you shudder.
A small sound escaped your throat before you could stop it. A whimper, high and frightened and entirely involuntary.
You wanted to be strong. Wanted to be brave. Wanted to face this with dignity.
But you were terrified.
Your entire body shivered, trembling like a leaf in a storm, and you hated yourself for it. Hated that your body was responding to him, to his proximity, to his voice, to his touch, even as your mind screamed at you to run, to fight, to do anything but stand there frozen.
That pull was still there. Stronger now. Overwhelming.
It made you want to lean back into him. Made you want to turn around and press yourself against that cold chest and…
No.
God damn it, what the hell was happening to you?
This wasn’t normal. This couldn’t be normal. You didn’t know this person, this thing, and yet your body was reacting like… like…
You didn’t even have words for it.
“Tell me, Alina,” Demetri continued, his voice a purr that seemed to vibrate through your bones, resonating in your chest. His fingers still held that strand of your hair, twirling it slowly between his fingers, playing with it. “What’s a sweet thing like you doing in a place like this?”
And with that, he pulled.
Not hard enough to hurt, but firmly enough to make your head tilt back, to make you lean against him. Your back pressed against his chest, and it was exactly as you’d feared, hard as marble, cold as ice, utterly unyielding. Like leaning against a statue.
A statue that was holding you captive.
“I…I don’t know,” you gasped out, your voice shaking. “Alice didn’t tell me.”
You felt him go still behind you.
The change was immediate and terrifying. The playful, almost teasing quality that had been in his voice vanished, replaced by something colder. Harder.
He was angry.
You’d said something wrong, though you had no idea what.
The silence stretched for a long, horrible moment, and you didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe.
And then…
Ding.
The sound of the elevator returning, the mechanical whir of gears and the rattle of the cage rising back up the shaft.
Someone must have pressed the button to call it back up. To summon it.
Relief flooded through you so intensely you felt dizzy with it.
Demetri released your hair and stepped away, the cold presence at your back disappearing. You nearly stumbled without him there, your legs weak and unsteady.
He moved in front of you again with that impossible speed, positioning himself between you and the elevator as it arrived with a final clank.
The gate opened.
The cage was empty.
Demetri turned to look at you, his expression unreadable now, carefully blank. He gestured toward the elevator with one hand, the movement graceful and courteous, like a gentleman inviting a lady to enter.
As if he hadn’t just been holding you against him. As if he hadn’t just terrified you.
“After you,” he said, his voice once again smooth and controlled.
You didn’t move.
Couldn’t move.
He raised one eyebrow expectantly.
You forced your legs to work, forced yourself to take one shaking step forward, then another. You walked into the elevator on legs that felt like they might give out at any moment, your hands trembling as you gripped the ornate iron railing inside.
Demetri followed, stepping in behind you, and pulled the gate closed with a metallic clang that echoed in the shaft.
The elevator began to descend.
For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the grinding of gears, the creak of old metal, and that faint opera music drifting up from below.
You kept your eyes fixed forward, staring at the stone wall passing by through the gaps in the cage, trying desperately not to think about how small this space was. How trapped you were.
“You’re afraid,” Demetri said suddenly, breaking the silence. It wasn’t a question.
You didn’t answer. Didn’t trust your voice.
“You should be,” he continued, and there was something almost… approving in his tone. “Fear is wise. It keeps prey alive.”
The word prey made your blood run cold.
“I’m not…” you started, then stopped, because what could you say? That you weren’t prey? When everything about this situation screamed that you were exactly that?
“You’re not what?” he pressed, and you could hear the amusement in his voice now. He was enjoying this. Enjoying your fear, your helplessness.
“I’m not just… I’m a person,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.
There was a pause. And then, unexpectedly, he laughed. It was a soft sound, rich and genuine, and somehow that made it worse.
“Yes,” he said amused, and suddenly he was closer, you could feel him right behind you again, his presence overwhelming in the confined space. “You are Prey, my Prey.”
The possessiveness in those words made you shiver.
“I don’t belong to you,” you whispered, even though you knew it was pointless to argue.
“Don’t you?” His voice was right by your ear now, intimate and dark. “We’ll see about that, cara mia.”
The elevator shuddered to a stop, and you nearly sobbed with relief
The gate opened, and you practically fled from the cage, desperate for space, for air, for anything but that suffocating closeness.
Down here, it was significantly darker than above. No more windows. No more natural light filtering in from the world outside, no more warm, earthy tones of sun baked stone and terracotta.
Just torches and shadows.
The corridor stretched before you, impossibly long, lined with more of those ever-burning torches that cast dancing shadows on the walls. The ceiling arched high overhead, disappearing into darkness. The stones beneath your feet were worn smooth, polished by countless footsteps over countless centuries.
How deep underground were you?
How far from the surface, from sunlight, from safety?
The longer you walked, the more your unease grew, expanding in your chest until it felt like you couldn’t breathe properly. Every step took you deeper into this place, further from any hope of escape.
You felt again like a lamb being led to slaughter, walking docilely toward your own doom.
You shivered, partly from fear and partly from the cold. It was freezing down here, the chill seeping into your bones, making your fingers numb.
And suddenly, you weren’t cold anymore.
Weight settled over your shoulders, heavy, warm, soft. A cloak, you realized dimly. A thick, dark cloak had been draped around you, the fabric so dark it was nearly black, the interior lined with fur that felt impossibly soft and luxurious against your skin. Like a runway piece.
The warmth was immediate and blissful.
You looked up, startled, and found Demetri watching you. He’d moved beside you at some point, silent as a ghost, and had placed his own cloak around your shoulders.
The gesture was… unexpected. Almost kind.
It confused you.
“Thank you,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You pulled the cloak tighter around yourself, grateful for the warmth even as you wondered at his motive. “But won’t you be cold without it?”
The words were out before you could think about them.
His expression changed immediately.
His brows furrowed, his jaw tightening, and anger flashed in those black eyes. Real anger, sharp and sudden.
“Did you just ask me if I would become cold?” he said, his voice low and dangerous.
You flinched. “Y…yes, I…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…”
You didn’t get to finish.
His hand shot out, fingers gripping your chin and forcing your head up, forcing you to look directly into his eyes. His hold was firm, unbreakable, his cold fingers pressing into your skin.
“Are you even aware of what we are?” he demanded, his voice hard.
“Yes,” you whispered, your heart racing again. “Alice told me on the plane here.”
“On the plane?” He repeated the words slowly, as if testing them. As if they meant something significant.
His eyes searched yours for a long moment, something calculating flickering in their depths.
And then he moved.
His hand shifted from your chin to your arm, gripping it firmly, and then he was pulling you forward. Not walking, running. Moving at that impossible inhuman speed that made the corridor blur around you, made your stomach lurch with disorientation.
You stumbled, your feet barely keeping up, and then you weren’t walking at all, he was half dragging, half carrying you, moving so fast the torches became streaks of light.
And then, suddenly, you stopped.
Two massive double doors loomed before you, easily twice your height, made of dark wood carved with intricate designs that might have been beautiful if you weren’t so terrified.
Demetri didn’t slow down.
He hit the doors with his shoulder, and they burst open with a thunderous boom that echoed through the chamber beyond.
And the sight that greeted you stole what little breath you had left.
The room was one of the most marvelous spaces you had ever seen.
It reminded you of the Vatican, not that you’d ever been, but you’d seen pictures. That same overwhelming grandeur, that same sense of ancient power and wealth and importance.
The ceiling soared overhead, painted with elaborate frescoes that depicted scenes you couldn’t quite make out in the flickering torchlight. Marble columns rose at intervals, supporting the vaulted ceiling. The floor was polished stone, reflecting the light like dark water.
And at the far end of the chamber, raised on a dais, stood three thrones.
Not chairs. Thrones. Massive, ornate, carved from stone and cushioned with rich fabrics in deep crimsons and golds. The kind of thrones kings would sit on. Emperors.
One of the thrones was empty.
Standing in front of the one in the middle, as if he’d been pacing, was a figure in dark robes.
He turned as the doors burst open, and his face lit up with delighted interest.
The vampire had long black hair that fell past his shoulders, his face pale and ageless, his eyes a deep, unsettling crimson. He wore robes, actual robes, like something from a Renaissance painting, in black and deep burgundy. He looked… eager. Excited. There was something childlike in his expression, something unsettling in the way he smiled, wide and genuine.
Sitting behind him were the other two. One with hair as white as snow, stern and disapproving, his posture rigid and formal. And another with wheat colored hair, looking almost bored, as if this interruption was mildly inconvenient at best.
These were the kings.
The vampire royalty Alice had mentioned.
The Volturi.
Demetri marched right up to the raven haired king, his hand still gripping your arm, pulling you along with him. You stumbled trying to keep up, your legs shaking, and your eyes darted around wildly, trying to take everything in.
Alice was there, standing near Edward and Bella. All three of them turned as you entered, their expressions varying degrees of worry and shock.
Edward’s eyes widened slightly, his jaw tightening.
Alice looked… guilty. And afraid.
Bella just stared at you, her face pale, her eyes wide with something that looked like horror.
The giant vampire, Felix, you remembered his name now, was leaning against one of the columns, and his red eyes found you immediately. That same predatory grin spread across his face, like he was delighted by this new development.
And Jane stood near the thrones, beside a boy who looked remarkably similar to her. They both looked about eighteen, though something about their eyes suggested they were far, far older. Both pale and angelically beautiful and utterly terrifying.
Demetri stopped before the raven haired king and extended his hand.
The king’s eyes lit up, actually lit up, like a child being offered a present. He practically bounced forward and placed his hand in Demetri’s, his palm pressing against Demetri’s palm.
For a moment, nothing happened.
And then the king’s eyes glazed over slightly, his focus turning inward, as if he were watching something only he could see.
What the hell…?
How could this situation get any more weird? How was any of this possible to begin with?
The king’s eyes cleared, and he released Demetri’s hand. For a moment, he was completely still.
And then he threw his head back and laughed.
The sound echoed through the chamber, high and delighted, almost manic in its joy.
“Ahhhh,” he exclaimed loudly, his voice carrying through the vast space. “What a lovely surprise!”
He spun around, his robes swirling dramatically, and spread his arms wide as if addressing an audience.
“Our dear Demetri has found his mate!” he announced, his voice full of genuine delight. “Isn’t that marvelous?”
The word hit you like a physical blow.
Mate.
You looked at Alice, your eyes finding her across the chamber.
The look on your face could probably be described as complete and utter devastation. Betrayal. Horror.
Understanding crashed over you like a wave.
She’d known.
Alice had known.
That’s why she’d insisted you come. That’s why she’d refused to explain, why she’d dragged you, no, kidnapped you, to Italy without telling you why.
Because she’d seen this.
She’d seen that this vampire, this monster, was apparently your “mate,” whatever the hell that meant.
And she’d brought you here anyway.
Rage exploded in your chest, hot and sudden, burning away the fear and replacing it with something fiercer.
“You fucking cunt,” it burst out of you before you could stop yourself, the words loud and harsh in the sudden silence.
Everyone in the chamber froze.
“How could you do this?” you shouted, your voice cracking, shaking with fury and fear and betrayal. “You selfish bitch! You dragged me, no, you kidnapped me into this situation, telling me nothing, leaving me alone here with Dracula over there, and for what? So you would have an easier time here? To use me as some kind of… of bargaining chip?”
“I…” Alice started, but you cut her off.
“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Your voice rose higher, becoming almost a scream, tears streaming down your face now, hot and angry. “You ruined my life!”
The last words came out as a broken sob.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Alice had averted her gaze, staring at the floor, unable to meet your eyes.
Edward looked stricken, guilt written across his features.
And the raven haired king was watching you with undisguised fascination, that unsettling smile still on his face.
“Alina,” he said, interrupting the charged silence, his voice gentle and pleasant and completely wrong.
You looked at him, and something about that smile made your skin crawl. It was like a mask, you realized. Pretty and pleasant on the surface, but with nothing genuine behind it. Nothing warm or kind or human.
“I believe our dear Alina has had quite the journey here, haven’t you?” He tilted his head slightly, that smile never wavering. “Such strong emotions. Such fire.”
“Aro…” Edward tried to interrupt, his voice tight with tension.
But Aro held up one pale hand, silencing him without even looking at him.
“Alec,” he said, addressing the young man standing near Jane. “Why don’t you bring Alina to the gardens, hmm? Let’s deal with this… issue,” he gestured vaguely toward Edward and Bella, “first, before we properly introduce ourselves to miss Alina.”
How did he know your name? You hadn’t told him. Demetri must have…
No, wait. When Demetri touched his hand, something had happened. Aro had seen something, learned something.
He’d read Demetri’s mind.
Or memories.
Or whatever the hell that was.
Alec stepped forward, moving with that same liquid grace all the vampires had. He looked young, maybe eighteen, with hazel brown hair and features that would have been beautiful if his eyes weren’t that same unsettling crimson.
“Come,” he said simply, his voice soft and oddly gentle.
You didn’t move.
Couldn’t move.
Demetri’s hand tightened on your arm, you’d almost forgotten he was still holding you, and he leaned down slightly, his lips near your ear.
“Go with him,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding. “I’ll come find you soon.”
The promise in those words made you shiver.
But you didn’t have a choice.
You never really had a choice.
Alec approached and gestured for you to follow him toward a door you hadn’t noticed before, set into the wall behind one of the columns.
You walked on numb legs, Demetri finally releasing your arm.
As you passed Alice, you couldn’t help yourself. You looked at her one more time.
She still wouldn’t meet your eyes.
And somehow, that hurt worse than anything else.
You walked slightly behind Alec, your steps hesitant and unsteady, your mind still reeling from everything that had just happened.
To your surprise, he seemed… gentle.
Almost kind, even. Not like the giant, Felix, with his predatory grin and hungry eyes. Not like Jane, with her cherubic face that somehow made her more terrifying, not less.
Alec didn’t try to talk to you. Didn’t fill the silence with meaningless pleasantries or threats. He simply walked, his pace measured and unhurried, as if he understood that you needed time. Space. Room to breathe.
You were grateful for it.
The tears came silently, hot tracks down your cheeks that you didn’t bother to wipe away. Your vision blurred, but you kept walking, kept following the pale figure ahead of you through the endless corridors.
And Alec said nothing.
Didn’t comment on the fact that you were crying. Didn’t mock you for your weakness. Didn’t play on your fear the way you suspected the others might have.
He just… walked.
After what seemed like a relatively short walk compared to the other endless corridors you’d been dragged through, you came to a stop in front of a large wooden door. It was old, the wood dark and weathered, carved with intricate patterns that reminded you of everything else in this place, ancient and beautiful and wrong.
Behind it was a gate, ornate metalwork that gleamed in the torchlight. Copper, you realized. Or maybe bronze. The metal was worked into elaborate swirling patterns, vines and flowers and shapes you couldn’t quite identify.
Alec pushed the gate open, and it swung silently on well oiled hinges.
And beyond…
Your breath caught.
It was one of the biggest gardens you had ever seen.
No, not a garden. A park.
That would be more fitting. The space was vast, impossibly vast for something underground, though you could see the sky above, dark with evening, stars beginning to appear.
Were you still underground? Had you come back to the surface?
You couldn’t tell anymore. Couldn’t orient yourself in this maze of stone and shadow.
Tall walls surrounded the space, sandy colored brick that looked ancient, weathered by time. Large trees grew at intervals, their branches spreading wide overhead. You recognized some, oak and cypress, but others were unfamiliar, their leaves strange shapes and their bark unusual textures.
Ponds dotted the landscape, their surfaces reflecting the darkening sky like mirrors. Statues stood at intervals along the paths, marble figures in classical poses, gods and goddesses and creatures from myth.
A spring bubbled somewhere nearby, the sound of running water peaceful and incongruous with the nightmare you were living.
Red stone paths curved through the space with mathematical precision, each turn and angle deliberate, designed. They wove between flower beds that even in the dim light were breathtaking.
Roses. So many roses. Red and white and pink and yellow, their blooms full and perfect despite the season. And other flowers too, varieties you recognized and many you didn’t. The scent was overwhelming, sweet and heady, filling your lungs with every breath.
It was beautiful.
Horrifyingly, impossibly beautiful.
You stood there, frozen, taking it all in. Your mind couldn’t quite process it. Couldn’t reconcile this peaceful, lovely space with the terror of the throne room, with Demetri’s cold hands and Aro’s unsettling smile.
You didn’t realize you’d stopped walking until you noticed Alec was several steps ahead, standing on the path, waiting.
Watching you with those red eyes that glowed faintly in the growing darkness.
You tried to remember the way you’d come. Left, then right, then left again? Or was it right, left, right? The corridors had all looked the same, endless stone and torchlight, and you’d been too upset to pay attention.
But would you get far even if you did remember? Probably not. They were vampires. They could move with impossible speed. You’d seen it. Felt it when Demetri had dragged you through the corridors.
Running would be pointless.
Still, your mind catalogued the information anyway, some survival instinct refusing to give up even when logic said it was hopeless.
Alec stood there, patient, not rushing you. After a long moment, you forced your feet to move, to catch up with him.
He led you deeper into the garden, following one of those red stone paths. It curved gently between flower beds and around trees, past statues that seemed to watch you with blank stone eyes.
You saw the pond before you reached it. It was larger than the others, its surface rippling slightly in the evening breeze. And on that surface…
Ducks
Actual ducks, paddling peacefully, occasionally dipping their heads under the water to search for food. Their soft quacking sounds filled the air, normal and mundane and completely surreal in this place.
Alec stopped beside a bench near the pond’s edge. It was made of the same red stone as the paths, worn smooth by time and weather. He gestured for you to sit, a graceful, courteous movement.
You sat, your legs grateful for the rest. They’d been shaking for so long you’d almost stopped noticing.
Alec moved to sit beside you, but he left distance between you. A respectful distance. More space than Demetri had given you, more than seemed necessary if he wanted to keep you from running.
For some reason, Alec seemed to be the only one who understood your fear. Who was trying, in his own way, to give you room. Space to breathe. The only one not actively trying to trigger your terror even more than it already was.
You looked at the ducks, watching them glide across the water’s surface, chatting to each other in their duck language. One dove under, and you watched the ripples spread outward in perfect circles.
“How old are you, Alina?”
Alec’s voice was soft, non threatening. A simple question.
You looked at him, studying his profile in the dim light. He looked young, barely older than you, with that same ageless quality all the vampires seemed to have. Beautiful and terrible and frozen in time.
“Sixteen,”
you mumbled quietly, your voice hoarse from crying.
His expression shifted slightly. Something that might have been surprise, or concern, or something else you couldn’t identify.
“That’s quite young.” He paused, then continued, “My sister and I are eighteen. I believe you met Jane before.”
So they were siblings. Twins, given how they were the same age.
You nodded, not sure what to say to that.
The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just… heavy. Weighted with everything unsaid, everything you didn’t understand.
“Alec…” you started, then hesitated.
He turned to look at you, giving you his full attention.
“Why were Alice and Edward so…” you searched for the right word, “afraid of Jane’s presence?”
A smile curved his lips. Not the gentle expression he’d worn before, but something else. Something with an edge to it. Almost sinister.
He chuckled, low and amused.
“Because of her gift.”
Gift.
You turned the word over in your mind. Was that what they called it? Was that like Aro, the way he’d read Demetri’s thoughts through touch? Like Alice, seeing the future?
“What do you mean by gift?” you asked.
He looked at you for a long moment, and you saw conflict flicker across his features. As if he were weighing something, deciding how much to tell you.
“I must say,” he said slowly, his tone taking on something almost bitter, “for someone as gentle and respectful of human life as the Cullens like to paint themselves, the vegetarians have really done you dirty.”
Vegetarians? What did that mean?
“I think,” he continued, “it would be better to have this conversation with Aro. He can explain things better than I can. More… thoroughly.”
But you latched onto the word he’d used. “Vegetarian? What do you mean by that?”
Alec was quiet for a moment, then said simply, “The Cullens don’t consume human blood. Instead, they feast off animals. We call them vegetarians because of that.”
The words hung in the air between you.
Human blood.
Animals.
And with that, you were reminded, viscerally and unavoidably, of what Alec was. What they all were.
Vampires.
Creatures that drank blood to survive.
The Cullens drank animal blood. These vampires, the ones with red eyes instead of gold, they drank…
You went silent, your mind reeling. How had you been conversing so casually with Alec, knowing what he was? What he did?
The ducks suddenly seemed very far away, their peaceful quacking distant and dreamlike.
“Do you think…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, “do you think Aro will hurt me? For my outburst?”
You’d called Alice a cunt. Had screamed at her in front of everyone. In front of the vampire kings.
Alec chuckled again, but this time it sounded almost… reassuring?
“No, Alina. I think Aro is also displeased with what the Cullens have done to you.” He paused, then added, “Although I would advise you to be courteous with Aro. Trust me when I say he doesn’t want to hurt you. It’s best if you trust him. He can make this whole thing as pleasant for you as possible.”
You nodded slowly, not asking any more questions. Your mind was too full, too overwhelmed to process anything else.
The silence returned, and you sat there watching the ducks, trying not to think about blood and hunting and the cold hands that had held you.
Alec suddenly turned his head, his posture changing slightly, becoming alert. As if he’d heard something you couldn’t.
“Well, Alina,” he said, standing gracefully, “it was lovely chatting with you. But I believe dinner is ready.” A pause, and something in his tone shifted. “Demetri should be here any second. Please excuse me.”
He took a step away, then stopped, looking back at you over his shoulder.
“And Alina… don’t try to run.”
It wasn’t a threat. It was almost… kind. A warning, maybe. A piece of advice.
And then he was gone.
Just… gone.
Vanished between one blink and the next, as if he’d never been there at all.
You stared at the spot where he’d stood, your mind struggling to understand. How was
that possible? Where did he go? Could he teleport?
The garden suddenly felt very empty. Very quiet.
And then you saw him.
In the corner of your vision, a figure appeared. Walking toward you along one of the red
stone paths, moving with that predatory grace you recognized.
Demetri.
Something in your chest pulled tight.
You wanted to run. Wanted to run to him, to throw yourself into his arms and cry into his chest and feel those cold hands hold you safe. The pull was overwhelming, undeniable, a physical ache that made your hands shake.
But you also wanted to run away. To flee, to escape, to put as much distance as possible between yourself and this creature who made you feel things you didn’t understand. Things that terrified you almost as much as he did.
The two desires warred in your chest, tearing you in opposite directions, leaving you frozen on the bench.
He came to a stop in front of you, looking down with those black eyes that seemed to
see straight through you.
“Come, love,” he said, his voice soft, almost gentle. The endearment rolled off his tongue like honey. “Aro would like to talk to you. To give you the explanation you deserve, and answer your questions.”
You stood up slowly, your legs unsteady, and took his offered hand.
His fingers closed around yours, cold and strong, and that pull in your chest eased slightly at the contact. As if touching him was what you’d needed all along.
Defeat washed over you like a wave.
You couldn’t fight this. Whatever this was, this bond or connection or curse, you
couldn’t fight it.
“Demetri…” you said as he began to lead you back toward the gate.
“Yes, amore mio?”. Another endearment, foreign and beautiful and terrifying.
“Please don’t walk so fast.” Your voice came out small, weak. “I think I feel a bit unwell.”
He slowed immediately, his grip on your hand tightening slightly, concerned. “Are you alright?”
But you weren’t alright.
The world was tilting strangely. The garden around you blurred at the edges, the colors bleeding together. Your legs felt distant, disconnected from your body.
