16. GOOD ENOUGH
LEAH CLEARWATER
IT HAD BEEN WEEKS SINCE THE TAPES were stolen, and the weight of that loss still hung over us, thick and suffocating. But as much as I wanted to focus on the mission—on finding the tapes, on uncovering who had done it and why—my thoughts kept circling back to Ethan.
The mansion was as quiet as it ever was, the kind of silence that made the creaks of the old structure feel like whispers of a past we couldn't escape. I was standing by the window in the library, looking out at the mist that clung to the trees, the chill of the air seeping through the glass. London felt a world away, and the isolation of this place had started to gnaw at me.
I should've been paying attention. I should've been more present. But my mind had been preoccupied with everything except Ethan. And that, more than anything, gnawed at me now.
When I had first arrived at the Khotler Mansion, I had kept my distance from him. I told myself it was for his own good. He was a vampire—one who had been alive for centuries, whose heart no longer beat. He had no need for a werewolf like me. And yet, every time I looked at him, I felt the pull. The imprinting.
It was something I had never believed in, something I had always dismissed as a myth. Until it happened to me. Until Ethan. The connection was undeniable, like a force that had tethered us together, and it terrified me. But what terrified me even more was how I had treated him since.
I had been distant. Cold, even. I kept him at arm's length, pushing him away when all I wanted was to pull him closer. Every time he looked at me with those golden, soulful eyes, I felt a mix of guilt and longing. Guilt for not being able to let go of my own insecurities, and longing for something I couldn't have—something I wasn't sure I deserved.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. The others had been focused on the investigation, but I knew I couldn't ignore this any longer. I had to face Ethan. I had to stop running from the truth, from what I felt.
I left the library, moving through the halls of the mansion with purpose. The house was quiet, almost too quiet, and the weight of the silence pressed in on me as I made my way to the room where I knew Ethan would be.
Ethan was exactly where I expected him to be—sitting in the conservatory at the far end of the mansion, surrounded by the muted light filtering through the glass panes. The room smelled faintly of damp earth and old wood, the remnants of a garden that had long since withered away. He was perched on the edge of a weathered chair, one leg crossed over the other, a book resting in his hands.
He didn't look up as I entered, though I knew he'd heard me. He always did.
For a moment, I stood in the doorway, unsure of what to say. I had spent so much time avoiding him, so much energy convincing myself that keeping my distance was the right thing to do. But now, standing here, I felt like a coward.
"Ethan," I said softly, my voice barely breaking the quiet of the room.
He looked up then, his golden eyes meeting mine. There was no judgment in his gaze, no anger or resentment, only a quiet patience that made my chest ache. He closed the book and set it aside, leaning back in the chair as he studied me.
"Leah," he said, his voice calm and steady. "How are you doing today?"
I flinched at the formality of his tone, though I knew I deserved it. I had been the one to create this distance between us, and now I had to be the one to bridge it.
I took a hesitant step forward, the weight of his gaze making my heart race. "I've been... better," I admitted, my voice quieter than I intended. "But that's not why I'm here."
Ethan tilted his head slightly, his expression remaining unreadable. "Then why are you here?"
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to hold his gaze. "To apologize," I said, the words tumbling out faster than I expected. "For how I've treated you. For how I've been acting since I got here."
His brow furrowed slightly, but he didn't say anything, waiting for me to continue.
"I've been distant," I said, stepping further into the room. "Cold. I've been pushing you away when I had no right to. And I told myself it was for your sake, but the truth is... I was scared. I am scared."
Ethan leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "Scared of what?"
"Of this," I said, gesturing between us. "Of what this means. Of what it's doing to me. You're a vampire, Ethan. You've lived for centuries. You've seen and done things I can't even imagine. And me? I'm just... I'm just Leah. A werewolf. The first female shape-shifter in Quileute history and yet..."
I paused, my voice faltering as the weight of my own insecurities threatened to choke me. "And yet, I feel like I'm not enough. Not for you. Not for this."
Ethan's expression softened, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He stood then, his movements fluid and effortless, and closed the distance between us. When he stopped, he was close enough that I could feel the coolness of his presence, the faint scent of pine and earth that seemed to cling to him.
"Leah," he said, his voice low and steady, "you are more than enough."
I opened my mouth to argue, to protest, but he held up a hand, silencing me with a look that was both gentle and firm.
"You think I don't understand what this is doing to you?" he continued, his golden eyes locking onto mine. "You think I haven't noticed the way you've been struggling since the moment you walked through those doors? I know you're scared. I can feel it every time you look at me."
I flinched at his words, but he didn't stop.
"And yet, you're here," he said, his voice softening. "You're standing in front of me, telling me the truth, even though it terrifies you. That takes courage, Leah. More courage than you give yourself credit for."
I felt a lump form in my throat, my chest tightening with the weight of his words. "I just... I don't know how to do this," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know how to be what you need.”
Ethan's gaze softened even further, and he reached out, his hand hovering just above my cheek. "And what do you think I need?" he asked, his tone gentle but probing.
I hesitated, unsure of how to answer. "Someone... someone who's not me," I said finally, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.
Ethan shook his head, a quiet laugh escaping him. "Leah, you couldn't be more wrong."
His hand finally made contact, his cool fingers brushing against my skin. The touch sent a shiver down my spine, but it wasn't unpleasant. It was grounding, reassuring.
"What I need," he said, his voice barely above a whisper now, "is someone who challenges me. Someone who doesn't let me get away with hiding behind centuries of experience. Someone who makes me feel alive in a way I haven't in a very, very long time."
I stared at him, my breath catching in my throat. "You... you really mean that?"
He smiled then, a small, genuine smile that lit up his face in a way I hadn't seen before. "I do," he said simply. "And I'm willing to wait as long as it takes for you to believe it, too."
The lump in my throat grew, and I felt my eyes sting with unshed tears. "Ethan, I'm sorry," I said again, my voice breaking. "I've been so unfair to you."
He shook his head, his hand dropping to his side. "You don't have to apologise, Leah. I understand why you've been hesitant. But you don't have to face this alone. Whatever this is—whatever we are—we'll figure it out together."
His words settled over me like a balm, soothing the raw edges of my fear and doubt. For the first time since arriving at the mansion, I felt a flicker of hope, a sense of possibility that hadn't been there before.
I nodded, swallowing hard as I tried to find my voice. "Okay," I said finally, the word feeling heavier than it should. "Together."
Ethan's smile widened, and he stepped back, giving me the space I hadn't realized I needed. "Together," he echoed.
For a moment, we stood there in silence, the weight of our conversation hanging in the air. But it wasn't oppressive. It was something else entirely. Something... lighter.
And for the first time in weeks, I felt like I could breathe again.
"You know, Ethan," I said, breaking the silence. "There's one good thing about this."
"And what's that?" He asked, his voice filled with quiet curiosity.
I allowed a small smile to tug at my lips, the tension in my chest easing just a fraction. "I don't feel anything for Sam anymore."
Ethan raised an eyebrow, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and amusement. "Sam?" he asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.
I nodded, a mixture of relief and defiance rising in me. "Yeah. Sam." The name tasted strange now, like something distant, faded. "For so long, I thought I'd never be free of him. Of what he did. Of what I felt for him. But now... it's like he's just a shadow. A memory that doesn't hurt anymore."
Ethan regarded me with a quiet intensity, his golden eyes searching mine. "And you think that's because of... this?" He gestured between us, his voice careful, as if he didn't want to presume too much.
I hesitated, the question pulling at something deep inside me. "I don't know," I admitted. "Maybe. Or maybe I've just finally started to let go. But whatever it is, it feels... good. Like I'm not carrying that weight anymore."
He nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving mine. "That's a powerful thing, Leah. Letting go of the past. It's not easy, but it's necessary."
I crossed my arms, leaning back slightly as I studied him. "You sound like you've had some experience with that."
A faint smile tugged at his lips, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "More than I'd care to admit," he said softly. "Centuries give you plenty of time to accumulate regrets. And even more time to learn how to live with them."
There was something in his voice—something raw and unguarded—that made my chest tighten. I had spent so much time thinking of Ethan as this untouchable, otherworldly being, but in that moment, he felt... human. Vulnerable, even.
I stepped closer, the space between us shrinking until I could feel the faint coolness of his presence again. "I don't want to live with regrets," I said quietly, the words coming out more as a confession than a statement. "Not anymore."
Ethan's gaze softened, and he reached out, his hand brushing against mine. The touch was tentative, almost hesitant, as if he were afraid I might pull away. But I didn't. Instead, I let his fingers intertwine with mine, the connection sending a strange warmth through me despite his cool skin.
"Then don't," he said simply. "Let's not waste time on what we can't change. Let's focus on what we have now. On what we can build together."
The sincerity in his voice caught me off guard, and for a moment, I couldn't find the words to respond. But I didn't need to. The bond between us—the imprinting, the connection I had fought so hard to deny—spoke louder than any words ever could.
I squeezed his hand, a small smile breaking through the storm of emotions swirling inside me. "Together," I said again, the word feeling more certain this time.
Ethan's smile widened, his eyes brightening in a way that made my heart skip a beat. "Together," he echoed, his voice filled with quiet determination.
For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt like I wasn't alone. The tapes were still missing, the world was still as chaotic and uncertain as ever, but here, in this moment, with Ethan by my side, I felt something I hadn't in a long time.
Hope.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Simon and Alana approaching us.
Ethan's golden gaze shifted as Simon and Alana approached, their presence commanding even in the soft light of the conservatory. Simon's tall, imposing frame moved with the effortless grace that only centuries of existence could grant. His sharp features were set in a neutral expression, though his sunglow golden eyes seemed to take in everything at once. Beside him, Alana was the perfect counterbalance—elegant and poised, her ethereal beauty somehow managing to soften the intensity of her husband's presence.
"Interrupting something, are we?" Simon's deep voice carried a hint of amusement, though his sharp eyes flicked to where Ethan's hand still held mine.
I instinctively stiffened, ready to pull away, but Ethan tightened his grip ever so slightly, grounding me. "Dad," he said calmly, his tone even. "Mum. What brings you here?"
It was weird thing hearing a vampire, who looked like he was in his early twenties— referring to the young couple as 'Mum' or 'Dad' or any relations. I knew that Alana was his biological mother but Simon wasn't, not by blood. Ethan had explained it once: Simon had turned Alana centuries ago, and Ethan had been born long before that, a human life before his transformation. The tangled web of their family dynamics was something I still struggled to wrap my head around.
Alana stepped forward, her expression serene but her eyes sharp as they flicked between me and Ethan. "I knew you two would still be here."
"What's going on?" I asked, trying to steady my voice under Alana's honey gold gaze. There was something about her presence that always put me on edge—not in a bad way, exactly, but in the way someone might feel standing before a force of nature.
"We're just happy to see you both talking," Simon explained. "Alana's been worrying..."
Alana shot Simon a quick, pointed look that said don't speak for me, but her expression softened when she turned back to us. "I wouldn't say worrying," she corrected, her voice smooth and melodic. "Concerned, perhaps. It's no secret the two of you have been... navigating some challenges."
I felt a flush rise to my cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and irritation. I didn't like the idea of being the subject of their concern, especially when I was already struggling to sort out my own feelings.
"We're fine," Ethan said, his voice calm but firm. "Leah and I are working through things. There's no need for concern."
Simon raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a half-smile. "If you say so. But you know we're here if you need us. The tapes, the investigation—it's a lot for anyone, even without... personal complications."
Ethan's jaw tightened slightly, but he didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he gave a small nod. "We appreciate it."
Alana stepped closer, her gaze settling on me. There was a warmth there, but also a piercing clarity, as though she could see straight through me. "Leah," she said softly, "I know how overwhelming this all must feel. Being here, in this world, with us—it's not easy. But you're stronger than you realize."
I blinked, caught off guard by her words. "I... thank you," I managed, unsure of what else to say.
Alana's lips curved into a gentle smile. "You'll find your way. Both of you will. Just don't be afraid to lean on each other. It's not a weakness to need someone."
Her words settled over me like a balm, soothing the lingering tension in my chest. I nodded, glancing at Ethan, who gave me a reassuring squeeze of my hand. I may not be good enough for the wolves but I was good enough for them. And that was something I need to remember.
Suddenly, Joseph appeared, sprinting towards us with a look of concern etched onto his pallid features.
"We must hide Leah," he proclaimed urgently.
"Why?" Simon inquired.
"The Volturi are on their way."
The room fell into a stunned silence. The Volturi. The name alone carried a weight that could crush even the strongest resolve. Ethan's grip on my hand tightened, his calm demeanor giving way to a flicker of unease. Simon's expression hardened, his sharp features sharpening further, while Alana's serene mask faltered ever so slightly.
"The Volturi?" Simon's voice was low and measured, but there was no mistaking the tension in it. "Why would they be coming here?"
Joseph, the ever-watchful sentinel of the mansion, glanced between us, his face pale. "I'm not sure but they're definitely coming here?"
Ethan did told me that Joseph was a tracker as well as a telepathic vampire who could sense abilities from other people— both humans and vampires alike.
"All of them?" Alana's voice quivered with trepidation.
"Not all," Joseph replied, his head shaking. "Just four."
"That's not too terrible," Ethan attempted to sound nonchalant.
Simon silenced him with a raised hand. "Who are the four?" he probed.
"Jane, Alec, Felix, and Demetri," Joseph disclosed.
The air in the conservatory seemed to grow colder at the mention of their names. Even I, someone who had only heard of the Volturi in stories, could feel the weight of those names. Jane and Alec—the twin terrors, wielders of pain and sensory deprivation. Felix, the enforcer, a brute of unmatched strength. And Demetri, the tracker, said to be the best in the world.
Simon's jaw tightened, his sharp features betraying the calculations running through his mind. Alana stepped closer to him, her expression a mask of calm, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of worry.
"And Gabriel is aware of their arrival?" Simon questioned.
"I told him immediately, and he's getting everyone."
Simon nodded, his golden eyes narrowing in thought. "Good. We'll need to prepare." He turned to Alana, his voice firm.
"We're not fighting, Simon," Joseph said. "Gabriel has told me that we are to avoid confrontation at all costs. The Volturi are not here for a battle. If they were, they would have sent more than four."
Simon frowned, his jaw tightening further. "That doesn't mean we should let our guard down. Their presence here is a threat in itself. Why would they send Jane and Alec if not to intimidate?"
"Look, all I know is that they're coming and I don't know why."
Alana's mind raced with questions as she whispered to herself, "When?"
Joseph's eyes remained fixed, but a veil seemed to cover them, leaving them blank. His mouth was a thin line, and he spoke with a monotone voice, "Not long, little more than an hour."
Worry crept into his voice as Ethan asked, "Where's Rhona? Gabriel and Helena? Violet? Ingram?"
Joseph's face twitched as he replied, "They're sorting out the upstairs, trying to get rid of the wet dog smell." He turned to Leah and raised his right hand, "No offence."
I grimaced, "None taken."
Joseph's face almost fell into a pity state and said, "Hey, remember, they don't know about this, okay?"
I nodded.
The air was thick with tension, each person processing the news in their own way. Ethan's hand remained firmly clasped around mine, though I could feel the subtle shift in his demeanor. His usual calm was slipping, replaced by an edge of urgency. I could sense the weight of the situation pressing down on him, on all of us.
"Helena's getting the hidden room," Joseph told me, his golden poppy eyes looking at me.
nodded quickly, though my mind was racing. A hidden room? My thoughts swirled as I tried to make sense of everything. The Volturi were coming, and they were probably coming for me. That had to be it. The weight of that realization hit me harder than I expected, like a physical blow. I could feel the panic creeping in, but I pushed it down, forcing myself to focus on the immediate reality.
Ethan's grip on my hand tightened, his thumb brushing across my skin in a soothing motion. "We'll keep you safe," he said, his voice low and steady, but there was a flicker of concern behind his eyes.
I wanted to believe him. I needed to believe him. But the idea of facing the Volturi, even just four of them, made my stomach twist in knots. I remembered the confrontation when we were defending the Cullens and the other vampires. The Volturi were not to be trifled with. They were the law of the vampire world, ruthless, powerful, and unyielding.
"Helena's hidden room will be the safest place for you," Joseph continued, his gaze unwavering. "It's secure, and no one will be able to find you there. But we need to move quickly. Once they arrive, things will get... complicated."
I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breathing. "How do you know they're coming for me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Joseph's expression softened, just a little, though the tension still clung to him. "I don't know for sure. But they've been keeping an eye on you. The Volturi don't make moves like this without a reason. And when they do, it's rarely a good one."
The room felt colder, the air heavier with the weight of those words. I glanced at Alana and Simon, both of whom were silent, their faces unreadable. Alana's golden eyes met mine, a flicker of something passing through them—concern, perhaps, but also something else. Understanding.
"Leah," she said softly, her voice like a balm against the rising panic inside me. "You don't have to face this alone. We're here for you. All of us."
I nodded, trying to absorb her words, but the knot in my stomach tightened. The Volturi were coming, and there was nothing we could do to stop it.
Ethan's hand slid down my arm, his fingers brushing against mine before he gently pulled me closer. "We'll get you to safety," he repeated, his voice resolute. "And we'll figure this out. Together."
I wanted to believe him. I had to.
Joseph turned, his movements quick and efficient. "We don't have much time. We need to get Leah to the hidden room now." His voice was clipped, his urgency clear.
Simon and Alana exchanged a glance, and Simon gave a small nod. "We'll stay behind, make sure the house is secure. You two go."
Ethan didn't hesitate. He led me toward the back of the conservatory, his pace quick but steady, his hand still firmly holding mine. I could feel his tension, his unease, but he didn't show it. He was focused, determined.
As we moved through the mansion, I couldn't shake the feeling that everything was shifting, that the ground beneath us was about to crack open. The Volturi were coming. And whatever their reasons, I knew they wouldn't stop until they had what they wanted.
We arrived at the living room where I saw Helena by the empty fireplace. Gabriel was there too, close to the front door and Ingram and Violet were standing by the windows, their eyes scanning the surroundings with a sharp, calculating gaze. The atmosphere was thick with tension, the kind that could only be felt when something dangerous was on the horizon.
Helena looked up as we entered, her expression calm but her eyes betraying the concern she was trying to hide. She motioned for me to follow her, her voice steady but urgent. "This way," she said, guiding me towards the fireplace.
She moved swiftly, her footsteps quiet on the polished floor, leading me toward the fireplace. I followed her closely, my heart racing as we approached what appeared to be an ordinary feature of the room. But as we neared, I saw the subtle shift in her movements, a flick of her wrist, and the fireplace slid open with a soft hiss. Behind it was a narrow, hidden passage, dimly lit by a few lanterns that hung along the walls.
"Stay close," Helena murmured, her voice low but steady. "This will take us to the safest room in the house."
I nodded, though my mind was still spinning. The Volturi were coming. I had no idea what they wanted with me, but the very thought of facing them, especially after hearing about their infamous enforcers, sent a chill down my spine. I could feel Ethan's presence beside me, his hand still tightly gripping mine, offering a silent but steadying reassurance.
As we entered the passage, the door closed quietly behind us, and the flickering light cast long shadows on the stone walls. Helena led the way, her pace quick but controlled, navigating the twisting corridors with ease. Ethan and I followed, my thoughts racing as I tried to process everything that had happened in such a short amount of time.
"How do you know about this room?" I asked quietly, my voice echoing slightly in the narrow space.
Helena glanced over her shoulder, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp. "It's a precaution. For situations like this," she replied, her tone betraying a hint of something deeper, something that made me wonder just how many times they'd had to use it before. "The Volturi are not easy to avoid, but this room has been designed to keep us hidden, no matter what."
I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breath. The weight of her words hung in the air, thick with the unspoken knowledge of how dangerous this situation truly was.
As we continued down the passage, I could feel the tension in Ethan's hand, the way his grip tightened every time the walls seemed to close in around us. He was doing his best to remain calm, but I knew this wasn't just about protecting me—this was personal for him. The Volturi had a history with his family, with him, and I could feel the undercurrent of that history in every step we took.
Finally, Helena stopped in front of a heavy wooden door, its surface intricately carved with symbols I didn't recognize. She pushed it open, revealing a small, dimly lit room beyond. It was simple, with stone walls and a single, low bed covered in soft blankets. There were shelves along one wall, filled with books and various items I couldn't make out in the dim light.
"This is it," Helena said, stepping aside to let us in. "You'll be safe here until we know more about what the Volturi want. We'll keep watch from outside."
Ethan hesitated for a moment, his eyes meeting mine. There was an unspoken question there, a silent promise that he would stay with me. But before he could say anything, Helena spoke again, her voice firm but gentle.
"You'll be fine. We'll make sure of it. But you need to stay here, and stay hidden. No one can know you're here—not even the Volturi."
I nodded, though the anxiety bubbling in my chest didn't ease. "What if they find me?"
Helena's gaze softened, but there was a sharpness in her eyes that told me she wasn't going to sugarcoat the situation. "If they find you, we'll deal with it. But we need to be prepared. Stay here, stay calm, and we'll do everything we can to keep you safe."
Ethan turned to me, his hand gently cupping my face. His golden eyes held mine, steady and unflinching, though I could see the worry lurking beneath the surface. "I'm not leaving you," he said quietly, his voice low but resolute.
"Ethan, I don't think this is a good idea," Helena said softly.
Ethan's eyes locked with Helena's, his jaw tightening in silent defiance. "I'm not leaving her," he repeated, his voice unwavering. His fingers gently brushed the side of my face, offering a brief moment of comfort before he turned back to Helena. "I'll stay with her. We're stronger together."
Helena didn't seem surprised by his response, but there was a quiet tension in her gaze. "Ethan, I understand your desire to protect her. But this situation is different. The Volturi don't play by the same rules. They don't care about your strength or your loyalty. If they find you both, it'll only make things worse."
I could feel the weight of the words in the air, heavy and undeniable. The Volturi were ruthless. They were the law, and they had no qualms about destroying anyone who crossed them. I had no idea why they were coming for me, but the idea of facing them—let alone facing them with Ethan—was terrifying.
But it was a part of me that wanted Ethan to go with his family.
The tension in the hidden room was palpable, thick with the weight of impending danger. I could feel it pressing against my chest, making it hard to breathe. Ethan stood by my side, his golden gaze unwavering as he focused on the situation, but his hand still held mine with a reassuring grip. The warmth of his touch was the only thing grounding me in this moment.
Helena's words echoed in my mind, her warning about the Volturi ringing louder than ever. If they find you, we'll deal with it. The idea of facing them, of being caught in their grasp, was terrifying. But even more than that, the thought of being separated from Ethan, of him facing them without me, felt like something I couldn't bear.
But as I looked at him now, I saw the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between wanting to protect me and knowing that staying here, in this room, might be the safest option. The tension between us was thick, like an invisible thread tugging us in different directions.
"Please," I whispered, my voice trembling slightly. "I don't want you to stay if it's too dangerous."
Ethan's eyes softened, his thumb brushing across the back of my hand in a comforting gesture. "I'm not leaving you, Leah. Not now. Not when you need me."
Helena's sharp gaze flicked between us, sensing the undercurrent of our conversation. "Ethan, you're not helping her by staying here. You'll only make it harder for everyone. The Volturi are ruthless, and if they find you both—"
"I'm not leaving her."
I placed my hand on his chest. "Ethan," I said softly, my voice trembling but firm. "I need you to be safe too. If something happens to you because of me... I couldn't live with that."
His jaw tightened, his golden eyes searching mine for a long moment. The defiance in his expression wavered, replaced by something deeper—fear, love, and an overwhelming need to protect me. He exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging slightly as if the weight of the situation had finally settled on him.
Helena stepped closer, her voice gentler now. "Ethan, you can protect her better by staying out of sight, ready to act if necessary. But if you're here and they find you both, it'll be harder to fight or negotiate. Please, trust us."
Ethan's gaze flicked to Helena, then back to me. I could see the struggle in his eyes, the war between his instincts and logic. Finally, he nodded, though it seemed to take every ounce of his willpower. "Fine," he said quietly, his voice rough with emotion. "But if anything happens—"
"Nothing will happen," Helena interrupted firmly. "We'll keep her safe."
Ethan turned back to me, his hand cupping my face once more. "I'll be close," he promised, his voice barely above a whisper. "If anything happens, if you need me, I'll be here in an instant."
I nodded, my throat tight with emotion. "I know."
He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead before stepping back. The loss of his touch felt like a cold wind cutting through me, but I forced myself to stay strong. He lingered for a moment longer, his gaze locked on mine, before turning and following Helena out of the room.
As the door closed behind them, the hidden room seemed to grow quieter, the flickering lantern light casting long shadows on the walls. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to steady my breathing. The silence was deafening, the weight of the situation pressing down on me like a physical force.
The Volturi were coming.
And I was alone.
