CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
the kids from yesterday

THIS IS HOW A PERSON DIES:

Violet can see the end before it begins, and it makes her want to scream, but she doesn't, because Violet Korchak doesn't lose her cool. In fact, she's buried the urge, one-by-one, and all the screams inside her have accumulated like leviathans straining against her skin, desperate and hungering to break free. So it comes to her in pieces. Bits and pieces. Broken shards of a mirror scintillating the past onto the walls, bloodied glass embedded like jewels in her knuckles—this part's all in her head, really, because if she can't hurt herself to get the screams out of her body, then she can imagine it. But the first piece comes to her sooner than she can anticipate.

When Violet emerged from the bathroom, showered and changed into a set of pajamas, towelling her hair dry, the lights in her bedroom were off, but she thought nothing of it. All she wanted to do was lie down and forget about tonight. Her stomach growled, and she thought about going downstairs to sneak a snack from the pantry, but thought against it. If her father was working late, he'd see her, and she didn't want to see him. At least, not for awhile as she tried to configure her thoughts around this recent development.

Absently, she reached for the light switch. She was pretty sure she'd turned the lights on when she came into her bedroom after the whole ordeal with her father, but she'd been in such a muddled state of shock that everything else that came after had been a massive blur in her memory.

Until she looked up and froze in place.

A pair of glowing red eyes glowered back at her from somewhere in the corner of her bedroom. Violet could make out a silhouette, just barely discernible from the dark.

Fear was a steel hand plunging her head in a bucket of icy water, and an involuntary shudder ran down her spine. Her skin prickled, and every primal instinct in her screamed for her to run.

Instinctively, her fingers sought out the knives beneath her sleeves, but found nothing but scored flesh. Her stomach plummeted and her heartbeat rang in her ears.

The figure began to move, and Violet took a step back before stopping herself. If this was Victoria come to collect what was due, Violet had every faith in Alice's prophecy not coming true. And if that was the case, if Alice was wrong, and if the vision was susceptible to change, then Violet wouldn't go down so easy. Even if Victoria could end her in the blink of an eye. She wouldn't die on her knees. She wouldn't give that monster the pleasure of her suffering. But then the figure stepped closer, footfalls disquietingly noiseless against the hardwood floor, and the shadows began to fall away. Violet saw blonde hair, and her breath stalled and the world around her warped as her heart stopped.

"Luka?"

☾

THE SECOND PIECE comes to her the next night when she's just ruminating over the first. This time, she does not fantasise about blood and pain, but there is, undeniably, a rotting wound that hasn't scarred over yet.

She knows he's just standing there. At the mouth of her room, leaning with one shoulder propped against the doorframe. His arms are crossed over his chest and he looks small and pathetic and Violet doesn't want to look at him. While she sat at her desk, on her laptop, looking up vampire lore, doing her due diligence to prepare herself for anything, Luka's sketchbook under her elbow like some kind of lucky talisman to ward off any evil, she could feel Paul's presence. The afternoon sun soaking onto the polished floorboards was a rum-dark glare, and she could see Paul's face in periphery. His expression set in that stone-faced stoicism she could reprint by memory. And he was just watching her. How long he'd been standing there, she couldn't tell, but he was hovering, and there was a threshold he seemed hesitant to cross over.

Truth is, she's afraid. Afraid of what? She's not entirely sure. (Of course, they were never really anything in the first place. She liked him, albeit, too much, and he liked her too. But they hadn't established exclusivity or anything, so if he didn't want anything serious, it wasn't his fault.)

And he's waiting for an answer she won't give. Partially because she kind of wants him to be miserable, and partially because she doesn't know what to say. It takes a lot to render Violet Korchak speechless. This seems to be an exception.

Outside, thunder cracks against the sky, and Violet jumps, her knee dashing against the underside of her desk. Everything on it shudders. Paul's gaze snags on the silver stake rocking violently beside her computer.

Lightning lashes against the sky, illuminating Violet's dark room for a moment, and the memory comes to her in a flash. Red eyes. Blonde hair. Luka, his presence cold and unnervingly still. A boy captured by time, immortalised in the waking afterlife. Violet had tried to speak, but the only sound that'd come out of her mouth was a rush of breath that she hadn't known she'd been holding in. She had a feeling. Before she could see for herself, she'd known. If Victoria hadn't killed Luka—well, she had, but not in the traditional sense—then she'd had to have made him into something else. If not for the weariness in his eyes, Luka hadn't aged one second, and if not for the way he'd fallen to his knees in front of her, at her feet, a quiet plea, she wouldn't have known that he was merely a puppet on strings, and had no intention of hurting her unless Victoria made him.

It'd been him who'd brought her the stake, after all. Not that first night that she'd seen him, but the next, because she'd asked, because he still loved her, because nothing had changed, and yet, everything had.

"What are you gonna do?" Luka had asked her, when he'd laid the stake in her hands. His cold fingers had brushed against hers, and she felt it down to her spine.

"Kill her," Violet had said, the resolve in her tone sharper than the tip of the stake. Kill her. For taking everything from me. Now, it's my turn.

The last time Paul was in her room, he'd looked at her like she was some kind of freak, like the scars on her skin made her into something mangled and broken and damned, like he didn't know her at all. And Violet gets it.

Now, his expression is carefully blank as his eyes barely meet hers.

Violet figures she should break the silence before things get even weirder. Before they can waste any more time.

"Did you tell anyone?"

Something electric flickers in his eyes. "No."

Violet nods stiffly, relief flooding her veins. "Good."

"Does my sister know?"

"No." Violet's voice is quiet but firm. Still, Paul hovers, unsure whether this is an invitation to enter or not. He doesn't make to step into the room, and it feels like someone is holding their breath, treading on eggshells. "Only Sage knows. She saw them before. On accident."

Paul purses his lips. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Thanks," Violet says, the relief, though instant, still not placating the thundering in her chest.

"No," Paul says, his voice rough with unchained emotion. "I'm not helping you in the slightest by keeping this to myself, so don't thank me. But it's not my place to say anything, so I'll honour that."

Violet looks away.

"I'm not going to sit back and watch you die."

Defiance flares in her chest. She wants to say, you don't have to. Instead, she stands up, crosses the room, and tugs him in by the hand, closes the door behind her, and says, "I know."

Paul frowns, and Violet squeezes his calloused fingers in reassurance. Tomorrow, Luka had told her, Victoria was going to bring her army of newborns. They were going to sack the city, ravage the land and the blood flowing from the top of the mountains like a carmine river would mark their territory. That was the vision. But Alice's vision was stronger still in Violet's head. Killing Luka didn't guarantee Victoria's death. In fact, it only served to inhibit Violet's goal. But the point was, they wouldn't know for sure what would happen tomorrow, but they knew about now.

And when Paul bent down to kiss Violet, she pressed her mouth against his gently.

☾

IN THE MORNING, the third piece rose with the sun, winking in the light creeping in through the blinds, and Paul was still there when Violet blinked awake, his body a warm hearth rather than a furnace, his arm thrown around her waist. Still groggy, she turned around and burrowed her face in the crook of his neck. His hold tightened around her, but he didn't stir.

Today was D-Day. Violet didn't want to think about it yet, though, and so, she crept a hand under his shirt and traced slow circles against the muscular planes of Paul's back. He'd stayed the whole night, never leaving her side once. They hadn't done anything else except talk, which was nice. She'd told him everything. About the stake, about the vampires, about the vision, and about Luka. Paul had listened attentively, and said nothing except to assuage the fears that rose like the tides inside her. But the point was, he'd stayed, and the wound hadn't quite closed up yet, but there was the warmth and it felt like some kind of salve had been smoothed over it.

☾

ONE OF THE MANY THINGS VIOLET IS CERTAIN OF is that she bleeds red as any mortal being. But in a darker corner of her subliminal thoughts loiters the horrid notion that it could be just another one of her hallucinations. That all that red might be a false illusion. Some sort of cruel trick her mind might play as if to say: you think you're one of them but your flesh reeks of diabolic sin. Cut her open, and what bleeds from her split skin might be ectoplasm, dark matter, the stuff of monsters. They're already in her head, who's to say they haven't spread through her veins?

As she stands with Bella on the top of the mountain, Seth in wolf form prowling back and forth, standing guard, Violet can't think of anything else but the blood. The iron voice in her head is quiet. It'd been quiet since this morning. Dressed in a leather jacket and ripped jeans, Violet curses her lack of preparation. It's cold up here. She hadn't counted on the terrain, and the climate that came with it. Inside the pockets of her leather jackets, two things weigh her down. First, she touches a hand to Luka's sketchbook. She didn't know why, but it was some kind of protective charm.

The silver stake is cold in her hands. She'd had it blessed yesterday, in a church—the only church that she'd been able to locate in Forks—accompanied by Kit, Jared, and Sage. Rosalie's reminder—you'd be dead before you could even try—reverberated in her head, but Violet knew that this was it. If anything, this was going to give her the leg-up.

"What's that?" Bella asks, frowning.

Violet wants to stick her with a cold look, one that says, go away, since Bella's mostly the reason why this entire thing's going down, anyway. But they're both human and they're both anxious and they have everything to lose. So, instead, she melts a little, and says, "an advantage."

She turns it over carefully, considering the shape of it. A finger traces its flat end, down the unblemished side of it, to the tapered edge, where the tip pricks the pad of her finger, drawing a bead of blood. It's enough. Violet didn't have the speed or the reflexes of any of the monsters she'd been surrounded by, but she had the gumption. She had the revenge plan, and she wanted the blood. It's enough.

Had she been afraid when she'd faced Victoria in the woods? Of course she had. Nightmares aren't any less terrifying when faced in the context of reality. But the underlying anger had overruled the immobilising fear. Anger at everything she had ever lost at the vampire's hands. Anger at her father, for sending her away when she needed to stay most. Anger at herself, for letting her composure slip, even for the briefest moment. Anger at the universe, for ripping everything away from her, resulting in the unforgivable but necessary sacrifices she'd had to make, the people she'd had to hurt and will hurt a thousand times over if it meant getting back to Forks. All her life she'd been haunted by monsters who've been stronger, poisoned by the darkness clinging nefariously to her brain, labelled mad, labelled unpredictable, labelled cowardly. Now that the opportunity was presenting itself, what other choice did she have but to take it?

Each time violence is enacted, there is an echo. With every action, a reaction. Every bad deed that is done feeds your shadow. A lie lends it lips. Violence makes it grow limbs. A killing gives it darkness. The darker your shadow, the more malicious your retribution. And you'll just keep feeding it, nurturing it into corporeal form. Bit by bit, you will unstitch your shadow from your feet. Until it is full and hungry and heavy with darkness. And then it will come for you.

Violet would've missed the white wolf—which blended in with all the snow—if it hadn't come right up to her and nosed her in the shoulder. In seconds, the wolf had shrunk down into the shape of a human, and Kit stood in front of Violet, wearing a fearful expression on her face. These days, the stress ate away at Kit, and even though the wolves couldn't age, she looked ten years older.

"Where's Sage?" Kit asked, frantically searching the vicinity for their friend.

"She's peeing," Violet said, pointing out the bush that Sage had wandered behind when she complained about her bursting bladder, and, true enough, Sage stuck her hand up above the leaves and threw Kit a wave. "Can you not smell that?"

Kit's features twisted. "I guess I'm just really frazzled today. I don't know. Anyway, my brother—"

"Is right here," Paul said, coming up behind Violet. Immediately, Violet pivoted and threw her arms around him. Paul returned the embrace with equal fervour.

"Don't you dare die," Violet snarled.

"I won't," Paul said, letting out a breathy laugh. "You just shout, okay, if you see anything you don't like."

"Paul, Kit," Jacob called, emerging from the tent, a tightness written across his expression. "We gotta go. Seth will take care of the girls."

"And I'm staying here with Bella," Edward said. 

Paul turned on Edward, a menacing look thundering across his face. "You don't take your eyes off them. If anything happens to Vi or Sage, I will break your white ass and scatter the pieces in different oceans. Understood?"

Behind Violet, Sage choked on a laugh as Edward nodded stiffly.

In a blink, in the place where Kit and Paul once stood, a white and grey wolf shook the snow off their fur, their tails swishing powerfully. Sage pressed her forehead against Kit's, and Kit nuzzled Sage until the girl fell over. Glancing over her shoulder, Kit shot her friends one last lingering look. Violet's expression softened, and she smiled. They didn't have to say it. They both already knew.

"Be safe," Violet murmured, knowing both Kit and Paul could hear her.

And then, they were gone, surging through the underbrush, down the side of the hill where they'd meet their adversaries on the field.

"So," Sage said, brushing the snow off the top of a rock and sitting down on it. "I brought binoculars. You think we're high enough to see what's up?"

"Before that can happen," Edward said, frowning as his piercing stare drilled through Violet, "we need to talk about your brother, and what you've told him."

Violet's gaze hardened. "He's not on her side. That's all you need to know."

Edward shook his head. "I believe you. But Alice told me she's had a change in vision. The future's malleable, and we don't have a lot of time to get into that, but all I know is that, this time, there is a chance that he'll make it out of this in one piece."

A tension Violet hadn't known she'd been harbouring in her chest seemed to pop like a balloon, puffing out in a cloudy exhale. She was going to get her brother back. For good, this time.

☾

PAINT A PICTURE OF A BATTLE and Violet saw alarms blaring, guns blazing, explosions rocking the ground, flares bleeding the sky red as the blood gushing down the sides of the hill, bodies mutilated across a war-torn no-man's-land. Never once would she have known what fangs looked like locked around the neck of a person—no, not a person, but a caricature—or what it'd look like when a vampire splintered to pieces in a shower of frozen flesh and dark, congealed blood, like a marble statue that'd been applied too much pressure to.

"So gross," Violet said, handing the binoculars back to Sage, lips curling in disdain. She'd tried looking out for Paul and Kit, but amidst the frenzied mass of bloodthirsty vampires and the chaos of the battle, she couldn't isolate a body from another, and the wolves merely blended together, moving too fast to keep track of.

"So sick," Sage said, mouth agape in equal parts mirth and awe, unable to take her eyes off the bloodbath in the field. Not taking the binoculars away from her line of vision, Sage winced. "Oh, that is... Yeah, he's dead. Definitely shish-kebabed, I'll tell ya that."

Behind them, Seth huffed, pacing around listlessly. He'd been on high alert ever since the battle started, but since then, the boredom had started to leak in to muddy his attentiveness.

"—he's good," Edward said, a far-away look in his eyes. Letting out a tense breath, Bella seemed to relax visibly, seemingly knowing who Edward was talking about. According to Bella, he'd been reading the minds of everyone they knew on that battle-field, and was giving a live report so that Bella wouldn't be kept in the dark.

Sage, however, had found an outcropping of rock atop the hill that gave them a sliver of a view—just barely, but something sufficient to hang onto—and had been passing the binoculars between herself and Violet for a good part of the battle. Although they were freezing out here in the open, they refused to get in the tent, partially because they didn't want to be sitting ducks when some newborn vampire came prowling up their blind-spots. And, so, they huddled together like soldiers in foxholes to conserve some body heat. It didn't work, but they'd look stupid if they changed their stance now.

Before Violet could ask about her friends, Edward gave her a reassuring nod. "They're alright. A little banged up, but they're fighting. Oh—" Edward grimaced— "I think Paul just felt me poking around his brain."

"Don't distract him," Violet hissed, slanting Edward and annoyed glower, but the vampire paid her no attention, instead, closing his eyes to focus better. Sage pulled a face.

Out of the blue, Edward's eyes snapped open, and a troubled look twisted his convoluted expression. Alarm crossed his features, and his eyes seemed to widen double.

"Someone's hurt?" Bella asked, worry marring the lines of her composure. She'd been a ball of anxiety this entire time, and while Violet had years of experience holding onto some semblance of cool, even if it was merely a facade, and while Sage had found other ways to distract herself from the terrifying reality of what they were facing, Bella hadn't found a coping mechanism. Or, her entire gimmick was to tear herself to shreds internally like a worrisome housewife wringing her hands by the window waiting for the boys to come home from the war.

"She's close," he warned, his voice tinged with urgency. "I can hear her thoughts."

Heart lurching, Violet shot to her feet, as did Sage, who automatically gripped Violet's hand.

Beside them, Seth was practically vibrating at the thought of something useful to do, his restless energy now electric and awake, a live-wire threatening to electrocute anyone who came in contact with him. Violet frowned. Seth was only fifteen. To put things into perspective, the boy was Wren's age, and it didn't matter if he was a wolf armed with teeth and invincibility, he was still a kid, and sending children to fight an adult's battles would always be a pill Violet couldn't stomach.

"Seth, go," Edward barked, and this time, the sense of urgency in his tone, and Seth's eagerness to hunt down the threat as he bound up the boulders, unleashed something primal in Violet.

Sage held on tight, but Violet's vice grip threatened to pulverise Sage's bones. Still, the latter didn't complain. She just let Violet cling onto her, like she was the last straw. Bella darted closer to Edward, and Edward oriented himself so he'd put himself between her and any immediate threat.

—WHERE ARE YOU, LITTLE VIOLET? WHY SO SCARED, SHRINKING VIOLET?—

"Luka," Violet said, panic seeping into her tone, just barely bubbling above the surface into hysteria, "where's Luka? Can you get a location on my brother? Edward, if you don't tell me where he is now, I will scream, and Victoria will find us and she will kill us, and then Paul will kill you."

But Edward ignored Violet.

"She knew you weren't there. She caught my scent," Edward muttered, shifting around, eyes darting about the vicinity. "She knew you'd be with me."

"She found us," Bella said, despair whisking the flame of hope out of her tone.

Edward's eyes narrowed as his gaze latched onto a thicket of snow-coated trees. "She's not alone."

Sage frowned. "Wha—"

Something cut her off as she began to ask a question, and, in a rustle of shrubbery, Sage had vanished, like she'd been snatched from where she stood and disappeared. Only one set of footprints were left in the snow.

Violet began to yell Sage's name, but the same thing stopped her.

A cold hand clamped over Violet's shoulder. Adrenaline shot through her veins like lightning, and fear lashed down her spine. Before she could even react, Violet felt her feet go out from under her and then nothing but the wind. In a blink, she wasn't on the ground anymore. Instead, she was dangling from a branch in a pine tree, the snow shaken off the needly leaves, the branch swaying precariously under her weight but not giving. Below her, the world tilted, and Violet felt the onset of the vertigo twist her stomach into knots. She'd been ambivalent towards heights since she could remember, but now, she heard nothing but her heart thundering in her chest, could feel nothing but her pulse throbbing painfully between her teeth and her knees lock up as her legs turned to jello. It was a long fall down from here, where she could see the tops of the trees and the snow falling from the thick, grey clouds. Squeezing her eyes shut, Violet opened her mouth to scream for Paul, but her kidnapper seemed to see three steps ahead and pressed a finger against her mouth.

"Shhh. Don't talk, don't talk," a familiar voice hissed. "I already hid Sage in a different location, so she'll be fine for now. And you gotta calm down, kid, I can practically hear your heartbeat from across town."

Violet's eyes flashed open. Luka. It was Luka. Standing on the branch below hers in one piece, his leather jacket untouched and his skin unblemished. Unhurt. Relief poured down her chest like an avalanche. Immediately, her heart slowed and a sense of calm washed over her. She could breathe a little easier then.

"Idiot." Violet snapped, slapping his chest with more force than necessary (although that did nothing to leave an impression), "why couldn't you have warned me first? I almost got a heart attack."

"You're fine," Luka said, his eyes gleaming with that impish look, and for a second, it was like they were children again and still warm. "You've always been the tougher one. But I need you to stay here and not draw attention to yourself. Victoria's currently fixated on Bella and Edward, so you're out of range for now, in this safe place, but once she's done with them, she'll definitely come for you."

Before Luka could leave, Violet grasped the sleeve of his jacket. Narrowing her eyes, she hissed, "Hey, you may save me from Victoria by depositing me up here, but you can't save me from a broken neck if I fall out. Or if I freeze."

To which Luka merely plucked her fingers off his sleeve without effort and said, nonchalantly, "simple solution. Hang tight, don't fall. Now, be quiet. See ya!"

Swearing viciously, Violet reached for Luka again as he darted off to join the fray, but her fingers closed around thin air. Glowering murderously after him, Violet could do nothing but do as Luka said. Hang tight. Digging her heels into the trunk of the tree, Violet smouldered, her rage roiling off her in waves. Maybe Alice's new vision was wrong. Maybe she would kill him after all.

Violet let out an explosive sigh, wishing she was closer to Sage so she would have some semblance of company to keep her sanity. Right now, she was already wearing herself down. Wondering if Luka was going to be alright. She only had Edward's word to go by, and she didn't know if she really trusted him at all, even though he had no reason to lie to her. Unless...

No, she couldn't afford to think like that. Not now. Not in the middle of this.

And so, Violet clenched her jaw and filtered through every single physics equation she knew to keep herself from turning into an anxious mess. There was nothing more humiliating and untimely than to come apart at the seams under the heat. Especially since she was so high up, and she had no way to climb down.

It felt like hours before Violet was violently jerked out of her own head again when she heard the crunch of snow under someone's boots. Her hands were moving before she could even think. Fingers closing around the silver stake, Violet felt the world come into jarring focus.

Violet looked down.

Her heart stopped.

Bright red hair blossoming among the sheet of white snow blanketing the ground like a bloodstain, Victoria trudged around the area, a smirk playing on her lips. It seemed odd to Violet. Victoria was a vampire. She could come at her without even blinking an eye. Luka had been soundless and fast as a speedster in a comic book when he'd come for Violet. Without a doubt, Victoria had the same ability, too.

And then it hit Violet.

She wanted her to hear. She wanted Violet to know she was coming. Like a cat and mouse game. Victoria was toying with her prey.

Clutching the blessed stake to her chest, Violet watched as Victoria prowled amidst the underbrush, stalking her like a lion in the prairie now. And, up here, Violet was a sitting duck waiting to be eaten alive.

"Violet," Victoria sang, lips pulled back in a mirthful snarl, sharp fangs flashing in the light. "Oh, Vio-let, why don't you come out here? Come out, little flower. Come to me, my shrinking Violet. You know, I put off fighting Edward and his sweet little thing just to come look for you. I even left them with one of my newborns. Riley. And heavens knows how long they've got around him. He's a sweet guy, but he's a little stupid. You'd make such a fine replacement. You should know all about my James. The poor thing. Edward and Bella got him killed, and they spared not a single thought for me, the widowed vampire they left behind. That's right. I put off avenging my mate's death to see you, and you won't even be a good little girl for me and let me see how big you've gotten since I ate your brother. How heartbreaking is that?"

Bitch, Violet thought, vehemently, hatred bubbling up her chest like a brewing poison, but she held still, didn't dare move a muscle. Every creak of the branch made her cringe, and every rustle of leaves made her heart lurch. She knew Victoria could hear her. But she was just out of reach. And if Luka could climb a tree as proficiently as he had, so could Victoria. Safe place, my ass.

Victoria inhaled, as though trying to smell her, untwine her distinct scent from the jammed-up pungency of the forest the way a desperate radioman might be searching for the right thread of frequency to pull on in a terrible tangle of different sounds. A chilling reminder of who was predator and who was their prey. Fear sliced Violet's heart to shreds, scraping along her bones as Victoria slowly pivoted—the smirk on her blood red lips a testament to her flair for dramatics—and then looked up. Right at Violet.

Violet didn't wait. She disappeared the silver stake back into the folds of her jacket.

A jarring mental clarity rushed at her with startling speed, and, in that moment, she knew what she had to do.

☾

LUKA COULDN'T HELP HIMSELF.

As much as he wanted to enjoy the view of Victoria getting eviscerated by the vampires and wolves—preferably by Sam, as some sort of poetic justice—he knew she wouldn't be found amidst the main skirmish. And Luka knew the plan. Violet had told him, that night, when he'd come to her for the first time since he'd turned. The first time he'd allowed her to see him. He'd come to her on his knees as though searching for salvation, like her forgiveness was on the other side of the gates to Jerusalem. He hadn't needed to. It had only been for a sliver of a second before her expression neutralised and she'd mustered up the will to speak to him, but he'd seen it—she'd been just as scared of him as she was afraid of the other monsters. But as long as she would be out of harm's way

Around Luka, the sounds of slaughter drew near with every step and there was nothing but absolute pandemonium. A young teenage boy had his arms around a wolf, and was squeezing so hard he heard the crunch of bones breaking. Another yellow-eyed vampire wrapped her arms around a newborn vampire's neck and the shatter of stone reverberated across the field. A body came crashing down a stack of boulders, its clothes shredded as though by nails. Everywhere he looked, the living and the dead were at each other's throats, and Luka moved among them like a ghost, almost unnoticed, shedding opponents and ducking out of the way to let them target another of Victoria's army.

Wolves snarled, and the newborns roared with anger, sent into the spiral of mania from their bloodlust. They needed something to feed on, and there was a buffet of warm-blooded beasts ready for the taking. But Luka knew better than to think warm-blooded equated to weakness.

A scream pierced through the air.

Violet's.

Panic jerked through his body and Luka snapped into action.

But before he could move, a wolf bore down on him, phasing into a boy with copper skin and eyes like gunmetal. "You're Vi's brother. She told me about you, how you're not on their side. I'm coming with you."

"I'm not on anyone's side but Violet's," Luka said, frowning as he gave the boy a glancing once-over. "Who're you?"

The boy blinked, blanking in the moment. "Paul. I'm Violet's... friend."

"Okay, Paul," Luka said, scratching the back of his neck. "Follow my lead. We're going to run an ambush."

Paul nodded, and phased back into wolf form. The transformations must take a lot out of him, but Paul didn't be fazed one bit, and his focus was laser-sharp, unfaltering. Luka was impressed.

Violet screamed again, this time, the sound shattering the atmosphere, and Paul visibly flinched.

They both pivoted towards the direction of the hills.

In that split second, Luka's mind seemed to detach from his body. He was so focused on Violet that one moment he was standing in the middle of the battle, and the next, he'd crossed the field and shot up the hill into the snow, where the snowfall had begun to thicken into a foggy blizzard, limiting visibility. But he saw them. Through the thicket of trees, he saw them, he smelled the blood, the sharp tang of it filling the air, almost tantalising enough to make him go blind, and the rage inside him blistered.

"Victoria!" Luka growled, standing by the edge of the tree line, "don't you dare touch my sister!"

"Or what?" Victoria smirked, eyeing Luka triumphantly. When she turned around, Luka saw nothing but red. "You'll kill me?"

She had Violet. She had Violet, was all Luka could think, then. She had Violet, in a chokehold and she was bleeding. A good distance behind Victoria, the brown wolf paced frustratedly, and Luka could smell Paul's fury. His growls permeated the howling winds like an undercurrent.

But Violet was still alive. Still kicking. Literally. No matter how tight Victoria held her, and despite the three gashes slashed across her cheek, blood pouring down her neck, as though Victoria had scratched her across the face, Violet was fighting, thrashing with all her might, teeth gnashing like a feral animal, hands clamped over the arm Victoria had wrested around her shoulders, fingers staking into Victoria's frozen skin, clawing for purchase. Luka would've smiled if Violet wasn't in such a precarious position of getting her neck cruelly snapped.

"I should've known," Victoria said, shaking her head, her features twisting in disdain. "You're soft. You're pathetic. You've always been pathetic. Riley might be stupid, but at least he's not as shameful as you. You care about a life that you'd left behind—a life that no longer cares for you. You should be grateful. I gave you something that so many people would kill for. I gave you power. I made you a god. And this is how you repay me?"

"You made me into a monster," Luka snarled, anger slicing up his innards as he took tentative steps towards her. "You snatched me from my life. You did this to me. Don't forget that."

"Ah, ah, ah," Victoria warned, and then she held up a finger to stop him in his tracks, giving Violet a tight jerk. Victoria's smile—that infuriating smile, one that spoke of triumphs, like she knew she had the upper hand—morphed into something darker. "You try anything, and I'll break her. It'll be so easy—"

"Get fucked, you stupid bitch!" Violet shrieked, and beat her fists into Victoria's sides, kicking at her shins. "Your man probably killed himself knowing he was attached to you!"

Alarm flickered through Luka, but before he could tell Violet to, please, for the love of God, shut up, Victoria tightened her hold around Violet as a warning, and Luka heard Violet's breath catch like Victoria was now cutting off her air supply.

"You're a bold little thing for something so weak," Victoria cooed in Violet's ear, her tone poisonous, and the wind knocked out of Luka's frozen lungs.

"Victoria," Luka said, extending a hand, his voice cracking, "please. Let her go. You can do whatever you want to me. I'm the one you want to kill. Hell, I'll keep that Bella girl alive for you to take apart. I'll deliver her to you and kidnap Edward myself. Just... let go of my sister. Give her back to me. Please. I'm begging you."

"Sounds tempting," Victoria hummed, cocking her head. "I don't think so."

"Victoria—"

"I said to you once," Victoria snarled, "you don't cross me, your sister gets to live. But I see you now, boy. I—"

With a livid roar that seemed to reverb for miles, Paul launched himself at Victoria. In a flurry of teeth and fur, he'd knocked Victoria over, and in her shock, she'd released Violet.

Luka screamed, "RUN, VI, RUN!"

And the flashback hit him like a sack of bricks. Of a night, years ago, when it'd been just the two of them facing Victoria with no hope. Of a night, years ago, where he'd screamed for her to run. Just like now.

The present came rushing back to Luka, and he jerked into motion. Victoria charged at Paul, fury tearing up her pretty features, but a flash of bright silver seemed to distract her. Violet stood by Paul's side, and Victoria switched courses, gunning for Violet instead. But Luka was there before Victoria could even touch her.

As Luka clamped both hands over Victoria's head and, with a jerk of his arms, twisted, Violet drove the silver stake up into Victoria's heart.

And Victoria plunged her hand through Violet's chest.

AUTHOR'S NOTE.
yall cant kill me for this i warned u i left Easter Eggs n shit for foreshadowing from the Start