ACT II   ▬▬▬▬ a promise

Paul let the tears run freely from his eyes as he sat on the gravelled ground outside the Black's residence, the sharp stones digging into the palms of his hands, grounding him in a reality he didn't want to accept.

The air was thick with death and pain, and he could still smell the fire — it clung to Jared's clothes, to his skin, to the memories he was trying so desperately to silence.

Jared had been the first to arrive at the diner. He'd seen the flames swallowing the building whole, devouring everything in their path. His charred skin had healed, barely, but the image of pulling Hailey's limp body from the wreckage was branded into his mind. And once he shifted, the boys saw it too — every blister, every scream, every second he relived. A memory etched into his soul, a burn that no amount of time would ever truly heal.

Paul's fingers clawed at the roots of his cropped hair, tugging with a desperation that bordered on madness. His entire body trembled from the unbearable emptiness that had taken root in his chest. His imprint — his anchor, his purpose — was dead. His Hailey, the girl who had tamed the fire in him, who had seen past the anger and the rage — she was gone. Just like that. The bond between them screamed in silence, frayed and twisted, but still there, like a phantom limb refusing to accept the loss.

The pack was in shambles, torn apart by grief and disbelief. People were angry, heartbroken — looking for someone to blame, something to hold onto. Paul had the thoughts — dangerous, dark thoughts — of shifting, running north through the forest until his legs gave out, until he reached the Canadian border and threw himself from the highest cliff he could find. He could feel the wind already, rushing against him, numbing the ache in his chest. But Sam knew. Sam always knew. He was probably inside right now, keeping one eye on the house and one on Paul, waiting, knowing the thoughts that must be circling through his mind like vultures.

Embry approached quietly, his usual ease now weighed down with sorrow. He sniffled once, trying to hold himself together, then sat beside Paul and squeezed his shoulder gently, offering silent support. The silence that stretched between them was unbearable — a thick, heavy thing that neither of them wanted to break. But eventually, Embry did.

"Hailey's aunt is in there..." he said softly, voice tight, eyes rimmed red. "She's not dead. She can't be. It's Hailey..." His voice cracked, and he shook his head, dragging tired, trembling hands down his face. "She's strong. Stronger than any of us. She'll pull through... she has to."

Paul's eyes snapped upward, bloodshot and burning. "Her body is cold, her heart has stopped. Hailey is dead, she's not coming back." His voice cracked around the words, thick with rage and grief, each syllable choking on the truth he wished wasn't real.

Embry didn't say anything. He just nodded, lips pressed into a thin line. He knew better than to argue, better than to deny the reality Paul had accepted. But still, he needed to believe. He needed to believe she was somehow still out there, breathing, waiting to wake up. She was his best friend. The one who always knew what to say, who never let him fall too far. She couldn't be dead. Not her. Not Hailey.

But Paul felt it — the emptiness, the silence where there used to be warmth. And yet, the pull of the imprint remained. It was quieter now, frayed at the edges, but still there. A bond not even death could sever. A tightly bound rope tethering him to her memory, to the ghost of a future they would never have.

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The funeral was huge. People showed up in numbers, many from forks — all from the reservation. Some who barely knew her, others who hadn't seen her in years, all packed around the grave like the cold might knock them over if they didn't hold each other up. She was buried beside her father, the two reunited in the earth. Everyone was quiet, eyes red. No one really knew what to say — what could they? Grief was thick in the air, like a fog that wouldn't clear no matter how hard the sun tried to break through.

Patrols sucked. Her scent still lingered in the woods like she'd just passed through — warm, sweet, familiar. Like the forest hadn't figured out she was gone. And Paul — Paul felt like something vital had been ripped out of him and left to burn. There was this hollow space inside him, like a hole where his heart used to be, and it burned every time he breathed. Like maybe he'd never stop bleeding from it.

Everyone in the pack felt it. His pain. His anger. It rolled off him like heat, and most of them had gotten caught in it one way or another. Arguments. Fights. Just... silence. And yeah, they'd seen loss before. It came with the territory. But Hailey wasn't supposed to be one of them. Hailey Omega was bright, stubborn, impossible — a fire you couldn't put out. Until someone did.

Sam handled it differently. He didn't cry or lash out. He just disappeared into the woods for hours, sometimes all night. He'd patrol around the Omega place like something might show up, like he was waiting for someone who was never coming back. Then he'd come home before dawn, crawl into bed with Emily, hold her close just to make sure she was still warm. Still there. Then he'd get up and do it all over again.

Leah barely left Hailey's grave. She talked sometimes, quietly, more to herself than anyone else. Other times, she just sat there in silence, like she was waiting for Hailey to say something back. The pack wasn't the same anymore. It was like a switch had been flipped — everything duller, quieter. Even Seth had stopped smiling. He used to be the light, the kid who kept people laughing. Now he spent most of his time making bracelets, tying them to the trees around her grave like little offerings, like maybe they'd keep her spirit close.

When winter came, Leah didn't stop visiting. Snow would fall around her and she'd stay there, kneeling at the headstone like time meant nothing. Sam came one morning, his boots crunching over the frost. He stood behind her, voice low and rough. "Leah."

She didn't move.

"They're coming. We have to go."

She knew who he meant. Newborns. Victoria's army. The vampires building in numbers, all because of her. The same bloodsucking leech that kicked this all off. The ones that — in the end — were the reason Hailey was dead.

Leah pressed her hands into the frozen soil, took a deep breath, and pushed herself to her feet. Her chest ached, but the ache was turning into something else. Hot. Focused. Angry.

She walked past Sam without saying a word, something inside her snapping loose. That familiar fire started to spread in her veins, her skin heating until it couldn't hold her anymore. Her clothes tore, muscles shifted, bones reshaped, and suddenly — her wolf was there.

This was it.

This was where it ended.