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The hours passed slowly in the Cullen house, and when dusk was only minutes away, Nate and Alice finally stepped out of the room. Alice walked beside him, but something in her posture had changed. Her expression was more withdrawn, a stark contrast to the vivacity and natural lightness she usually carried. It wasn't fear, nor doubt, but a quiet tension that made her seem stiller, more focused, as if she were holding herself together from within.
During those last hours, Nate had told her everything in whispers barely audible, leaning close enough that only she could hear, making sure not a single member of the family caught details they weren't meant to know. He explained his plans, the orders he had already given the Romanians, and the need to leave that same night. He told her that at dawn they would already be in Seattle, searching for more traces of Riley's scent.
At first, Nate had expected an objection. He thought Alice would refuse to leave so soon—that the idea of abandoning her family after only a few days together would be too painful, that she would ask to wait, even if just for one more night.
But she didn't protest.
Alice wanted to catch the murderer of Nate's grandmother with a determination as firm as his own. And she knew very well that if she refused, he would still go. And the thought of Nate traveling alone with the Romanians and the newborns was something she could not allow. Especially now that Vladimir had found the children of the moon. With those beings interfering in her visions, Alice would have no peace knowing he was far from her, beyond her sight, unsure of what might happen to him at any moment. Even knowing Nate's power and skill—even with full confidence in him—the uncertainty was a wound impossible to ignore.
As they walked together out of the room, Nate's brow furrowed slightly. Not in annoyance, but because he understood exactly what she was sacrificing by following him without a single objection. Silently, without speaking, he made himself a promise. That was when all of this was over—when there were no enemies, no threats, no shadows lurking—he would dedicate eternity to repaying her that he would use every fragment of his strength and his time to give her a life that would eclipse any sacrifice she was making now. That her happiness would be something so vast, it would leave no room for nostalgia or regret.
With that silent resolve accompanying each step, they moved toward the front of the house. But there they found something that made them pause for a moment.
Carlisle, arms crossed, waited in the living room; the family surrounded him almost as a solid wall of silent support. When he saw Nate and Alice approach, he spoke in a measured voice, leaving no room for objection:
"I discussed it with the rest of the family. We'll follow you at a respectful distance… at least close enough to help if anything happens."
Alice's eyes softened for a second, moved by the concern the family was offering her. It was a small but sincere gesture: she held onto Nate's hand a little tighter.
Nate, however, frowned. The word follow sounded like an intrusion and like an unnecessary risk to all of his preparations. With his eyes fixed on Carlisle, he responded more coldly and seriously than usual:
"No. You will all stay here. If even one of you shows up, it will destroy whatever goodwill is left with the Quileutes… they'll see it as me going back on my word, or worse—an ambush."
A tense murmur passed through the room; glances crossed, and the air held the sense of one final attempt to persuade him. Emmett stepped forward, ready to argue that no one was going to let family go alone.
Nate also stepped forward, but his expression shifted: now there was irritation in it.
Emmett stopped, taking a step back at the intensity of Nate's gaze.
Nate raised his voice slightly—not shouting, just firmer:
"I told you I would handle the situation, and I have. I've already done the hardest part, which was getting them to listen. Now you only need to stay out of it. None of you will interfere."
The room fell silent under the weight of his words. Then Nate lowered his voice to almost a whisper, and the warning that followed carried the cold force of a promise:
"And I advise you not to follow us, thinking I won't notice. I give you my word: I will incapacitate you on the spot long enough that it will take hours before you can walk again."
Rosalie and Jasper stepped back at that; they knew Nate's capabilities far too well to take those words lightly.
Carlisle and Esme did not look intimidated—instead, their expressions softened into something like resignation and worry, as if they already knew that no amount of reasoning would change his decision.
Edward exhaled sharply, annoyed, and rushed upstairs to his room.
Emmett remained still. For a moment, he tried to reason how one could incapacitate a vampire—until an image formed in his mind: Nate's claws moving with precision, limbs severed… and being unable to stop it. The thought shook him.
No one said it aloud, but the possibility lingered for a moment in the room.
Nate looked at them in silence, calmly, making it clear he was not joking.
Until Alice squeezed his arm, silently asking him not to be too harsh.
Nate exhaled and, with effort to ease the tension, managed a brief smile—almost an apology. His voice softened:
"Trust us. We'll be back before you realize it… Please, wait for us."
That quiet, contained plea had more effect than the threat.
Carlisle's shoulders lowered, and he looked toward Esme, searching for her consent. She met his gaze with tenderness and concern; Carlisle nodded, yielding to the trust the two were showing.
"I understand… Just, please, don't take too long. If we see you don't return… even if it means fighting you, I promise we'll go after you."
Nate studied him for a second. He didn't know whether to feel irritation at his stubbornness or a quiet respect for his devotion. His shoulders relaxed slightly. Even for him, it was difficult to imagine a scenario where he would have to fight Carlisle or Esme. Though he knew with absolute certainty he could defeat them in seconds, he couldn't help but sympathize with them. They were good people. Loving. Compassionate. They reminded him too much of his own parents… of the life he had lost.
He looked Carlisle in the eyes and nodded. It was a small gesture, almost imperceptible, but full of meaning. Internally, Nate hoped he would never be forced to threaten that man again.
With that final acknowledgment, no one else could argue further. The room settled into a dense, resigned silence. It did not break. Everyone understood the agreement without another word.
Alice, feeling time begin to move too quickly, gently tugged Nate's hand, urging him onward before night fully fell. Nate began walking with her toward the door—until he suddenly stopped. His gaze lifted toward the attic, as if he could see through the wood with nothing but a glance. He spoke naturally, knowing full well the vampire in the attic could hear him perfectly:
"After we leave, it will be safe for you to go as well, Alistair… I'm sure we'll meet again soon."
His tone was so neutral, so casual, that it raised no suspicion. The Cullens took it as a polite farewell.
Without waiting for a response—not even a shift of movement above—Nate and Alice vanished in the span of a blink. The door opened and closed with the wind. Their figures were already running among the trees, disappearing into the forest.
At a certain distance, while they continued moving without slowing their pace, Nate turned his head slightly. His senses confirmed it before his sight did: Alistair slipped out of the attic like a shadow and shot north at full speed.
It didn't surprise him that Alistair left without saying goodbye. Nor that he took less than a second to flee. Alice, who had noticed as well, pursed her lips as they ran:
"I think that's the only part of your plan I don't approve of… Alistair may be… peculiar… but he's still Carlisle's friend. I don't think he'll be thrilled when he finds out you kidnapped him. Especially since the only thing Carlisle asked when he asked you to bring him was that you didn't threaten him."
Nate let out a heavy sigh, almost resigned.
"I'm not exactly happy about it either. But it's the most practical option. Carlisle doesn't know any other tracker… and you know how it would've gone. He would've tried to persuade him. And Alistair wouldn't have listened. He didn't even let me talk to him."
Alice nodded slightly. She had been there. She had felt Nate slip out the window during the hours they were supposedly alone. She had heard the irritated silence with which Alistair had thrown him out of the attic before he could even form a sentence.
"I'll let him go as soon as we find Riley," Nate continued, his expression now more serious. "Then I'll apologize to him. And to Carlisle. I'm sure there will be a way to make it right."
Alice wasn't so sure. But she was certain that this was, unfortunately, the most efficient option. Still, she couldn't help the small stab of guilt at the thought of what awaited the tracker once Stefan and the newborns intercepted him. They would not be gentle. They didn't know how to be.
The forest around them began to blur from the speed. Shadows stretched. The air grew colder.
Within minutes, Nate heard the sound of a river—the invisible but immovable border between Cullen territory and Quileute land. They stopped at the water's edge, both silhouettes made of tension, calculation, and nonexistent breathing.
Nate studied the place carefully. The dim light filtered through the clouds told him only a few minutes remained.
He exhaled slowly and leaned against a tree. Alice remained beside him, silent.
They waited.
And the forest darkened with them.
................................................................
They remained at the riverbank, motionless, in a silence as cold as the water rushing at their feet. Light dissolved second by second; the day was being devoured by a dimness that made everything sharper and, at the same time, more threatening.
Nate stood so still he seemed carved from stone. In any other situation, his arms would have been around Alice, but now he forced himself to keep a distance. He needed to project more than calm: authority. Control. So that when the Quileutes arrived, they would not doubt for even a moment who was in command.
Alice watched him silently. She understood that coldness perfectly, and yet, it still hurt. For an instant, as the anxiety of their impending confrontation made her thoughts wander, the question of what they would do if the newborns were delayed crossed her mind—only to be dismissed just as quickly. Speaking unnecessarily right now was far too dangerous.
Instead, in a soft voice —the tone of someone speaking to distract themselves— she tilted her head and asked, more curious than judging:
"Are you at peace with this? How are you going to handle it?"
Nate, who had had his eyes closed just moments ago, opened them slowly before answering. His voice came out low, tense, as if he were speaking to himself:
"No… It doesn't bother me to intimidate or hurt those who deserve it. But these wolves… most of them are innocent. I even feel some empathy for them. It's a shame our interests collide… But I don't have the time to handle this the ideal way. If I want to end this quickly, I have to be decisive. I do feel sorry for them, truly… but I can't afford to be compassionate right now. I just hope we can settle this with words. And if not…"
His eyes hardened.
"…then I hope I won't have to hurt them too much."
Alice looked at him for a few seconds, seeing the conflict in his eyes; slowly, she took his hand in a gesture of support. Nate offered her a tired smile that lasted only an instant before his expression shifted sharply.
He let go of her hand and took two steps toward the river.
They had arrived.
Footfalls sounded on the opposite bank. Many. Heavy. The ground vibrated. Huge shadows emerged from the forest: glowing eyes, breaths that came out more vapor than sound, muscles tensed and ready to lunge. The growling of the pack filled the air.
Alice stood firm.
Nate, unwavering.
He stepped forward once more, almost as if expecting a reaction. His eyes moved over each wolf, and seeing them so keenly attuned to his every movement, so ready to respond to any step he took, he understood something clearly.
They feared him.
His voice came strong and steady, not needing to rise much to cut through the sound of water and growling:
"None of you has the courage to speak to me as a human?"
The response was a burst of snarls. Hostility. Warning.
Until one moved.
The largest one. Reddish-brown fur.
Jacob.
He retreated into the shadows and, after a few seconds, emerged walking in human form. There was none of the familiar warmth from the past in his expression.
For a moment, a brief pang of melancholy struck Nate's chest. But it vanished instantly when he saw the open hostility in Jacob's eyes.
Nate raised his voice again, his tone deliberately colder than the last time:
"I've already said everything I needed to say to you, Jacob. Now I want to speak to your alpha."
Jacob did not look away. Slowly, he turned his head toward the pack. Several wolves stepped forward just enough to make it clear who they supported.
Then Jacob turned his gaze back to Nate's eyes. His voice came deep, almost ceremonial:
"You, one of the cold ones against whom my people have fought for generations, have asked to speak with our alpha. And here he is. My name is Jacob Black, a direct descendant of Ephraim Black. The rightful Alpha of the Quileutes stands before you."