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The tension hung in the air, thick as the mist swirling above the river. It wasn't true silence, but a forced stillness—taut, as if the entire forest were holding its breath. Each inhalation was short, sharp; every muscle poised to snap in any direction. Fear moved through the lupine bodies like electricity running along a single wire. No one could explain it. They only felt it. Deep. Primal. Etched into the bones.
Jacob felt it too. Even with the river as the only barrier between him and Nate, terror crept along his spine, a cold shiver that numbed his back. But he breathed deeply. He knew that fear wasn't his. He didn't fear Nate. He had lost to him before, yes, but that memory didn't fill him with terror—only frustration with himself. With his own weakness. With his inability to protect.
He set his jaw and forced his gaze toward his pack.
They were all motionless.
Sam. Embry. Quil. Even Paul, who never backed down, had his hackles up and his head low, as if an invisible predator hovered above them. Small, barely perceptible whimpers escaped from one or two. It was almost shameful to hear these sounds from wolves trained to fight to the death.
Jacob followed the invisible current of panic.
He found it.
Seth and Leah stood at the back of the group. Their bodies did not move, as if their muscles had crystallized. Their eyes were wide, glassy—caught on something that wasn't there… something that had already happened. They looked like deer faced with the lights of an oncoming vehicle. And in their heads, their memories were spilling into the rest of the pack uncontrollably.
The fight.
The inhuman speed.
The devastating force.
Nate blocking, dodging, destroying. One against three. And winning.
Jacob felt the suffocating echo of Seth when Nate had grabbed him by the throat as if he were nothing. The desperation. The lack of air. The certainty of dying. And the reflection of his own alpha, unable to do anything to prevent it.
Powerlessness was the thing that hurt most.
And that powerlessness was now burning like fire in the veins of every wolf present.
Meanwhile, Nate did not blink. His gaze was fixed solely on Jared. No distraction, no doubt. His muscles trembled under his skin—taut, poised to unleash. It was like watching a storm focused into a single body. And the thought—dark, sharp, dangerous—was already there: eliminate the threat. Kill every wolf. Clean the ground. Protect Alice. Let nothing hurt her.
If he started now, while everyone was paralyzed, the risk would be even smaller.
With slow movements, he took the first step.
One more, and there would be no turning back.
Then a hand rested on his arm.
Alice.
Nate stopped.
She looked at him, serene on the outside, but something deeper vibrated beneath that calm. It was something Nate had not expected to see reflected in her. Fear. Not of the wolves. Of him.
That look pierced him. It disarmed him. It stopped him.
Alice's voice was barely a whisper—warm, steady, almost a lullaby that held a whole world gently:
"It was only a growl, Nate. Nothing more. They didn't hurt me. I'm fine. I'm okay."
That tone was the rope that pulled him back from the edge of the cliff.
A low, still-furious grunt escaped his chest, but it was more controlled. His shoulders lowered slowly. His jaw stopped trembling. It wasn't calm; it was restrained.
Jacob saw the opening. He breathed. He recovered his center. And he turned his head to Jared. His voice came clear, firm, decisive. Allowing no response.
"Back, Jared. You have no voice here."
Jared growled—an abrasive sound, full of rage and humiliation. But the Alpha's order seared into his mind like a brand. It was inescapable. Irrefutable. His paws moved back stiffly, muscles quivering with frustration. His head and tail dropped. There was no fight left in him against that voice.
Seth and Leah immediately moved to his sides, not only to accompany him…but to make sure he didn't do something else stupid.
The forest did not move.
The river continued flowing, indifferent, whispering among the stones.
Nate began to breathe—slow, deep—with his eyes fixed on Jacob. Each inhalation was a prop, an attempt to keep calm, but the anger remained, crouched. All this talk, all this caution, all the measures he had taken were only to avoid hurting the Quileutes… and yet they had bared their fangs at his mate, the only person he had left.
Nate's gaze turned cold. Although Alice had asked him to calm down, he didn't want things to go on without consequence. He had to make this a lesson, a reminder that no matter how safe or strong they believed themselves to be, there were lines not to be crossed.
With a small leap, he crossed the river. The movement was so fluid that the wolves didn't react until Nate was already in front of Jacob. Jacob stepped back instinctively, muscles taut, ready to shift. But Nate gave him no chance.
"I wanted to do this another way," he said, his voice like the edge of a blade. "But I see you don't even have the authority to keep a rabid dog quiet. The choice is yours, Jacob. Either you step aside and we return to the treaty, or you put your pack at risk for a whim."
Jacob paled. The fury no longer burned in Nate's eyes; in its place was a coldness that felt far worse. There was no doubt or hesitation in his tone. Every word sounded like a sentence, and Jacob understood that a wrong reply could ignite a fight right there.
Still, he mustered his courage.
"Stop doing that," he answered, voice steady though the tremor in his hands betrayed him. "Stop underestimating us. You may be stronger than I thought… You may be able to take me or some of my pack… but we're not as weak as you think. No matter how strong you are, you can't take on all of us."
The echo of his words spread through the trees, as if the forest itself held its breath, waiting to see who would take the next step.
Nate looked at him without blinking. His gaze was icy, but his tone softened just a fraction, barely tempered.
"I'm not underestimating you," he said slowly. "You're overestimating yourself. Neither you, nor I, nor anyone is invincible. You want to protect the humans? Fine. But why drive away the only group of vampires who share that same goal? The only possible allies you have against the unknown? What will happen tomorrow if someone comes with a power you can't fight—someone who decides Forks will be their new playground?"
Without waiting for a response, he shoved him hard; Jacob staggered back a few steps, muscles tensed. Nate took another step forward and shoved him again.
"What will happen when someone comes who has no remorse about destroying you or your pack because of your arrogance?" he added, his voice edged with restrained menace.
Jacob didn't raise his hands; his fists tightened in fury. The pack, shaken by the tension, snapped back to awareness and began to growl—an instinctive answer to the challenge. From the other side of the river, Alice called out, worried: "Nate, what are you doing…?"
Nate cut her off with another shove, now flanked by two wolves that stepped beside Jacob as a silent warning. His words, sharp as blades, fell on Jacob like burning stones.
"Is that what you want? For your people to die because of your arrogance? For innocents to suffer because of your bad decisions? It's the Cullens today—but what will you do when someone comes who can truly crush you?"
His gaze hardened, a mixture of anger and something colder—resolve.
"I have the power to end you right now… and yet I have the wisdom not to charge blindly at anyone who provokes me. I watch my steps. I plan my moves. I gather more strength, and I underestimate no one… because I have people depending on me."
Jacob couldn't hold back any longer. His voice exploded, each word vibrating with fury.
"That's what you say—and then you tell us to bow our heads? You claim you're not imposing yourself, but you have the arrogance to come alone in front of an entire pack, like you're taking a walk in the park, like we're no threat at all—and I'm the arrogant one?"
He shoved Nate back, his hands slamming against the vampire's chest—but Nate didn't move an inch. The difference in strength was obvious. The wolves advanced, growling louder, anger rolling through the air.
Then Paul, unable to bear the humiliation any longer, lunged straight at Nate's head.
Nate barely had to react. With a single swipe, he deflected Paul midair, sending him crashing into another wolf that had leapt a second later. The impact echoed through the forest like thunder. Jacob saw it—and didn't hesitate. His body trembled, bones twisting, muscles swelling, and with an earth-shaking roar, the transformation consumed him.
The forest erupted into chaos.
The wolves lunged as one—a storm of fur and fangs closing in on Nate from every direction. He narrowed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Every breath was a command; every exhale, an anchor. If he lost control, even for a second, they would tear him apart.
He moved.
Fast. Precise. Lethal.
He dodged a bite that grazed his neck and blocked another with his forearm, twisting it aside. The wolf tumbled across the ground before Nate's spinning kick slammed it against a tree. He turned just in time to intercept another leap, grabbing the attacker by the back and hurling it into its packmates.
There were too many. Far too many.
But the space was wide, and the wolves were large—that was his advantage. Not all could attack at once. Nate moved with surgical precision, calculating each angle, letting the wolves crash into each other. His body was a blur—a shadow dancing between the river's silver reflections and the snapping jaws that closed within inches of his skin.
Each hit rang out with a mix of flesh, bone, and fury.
The air smelled of wet earth and adrenaline.
From the opposite bank, Alice watched, wide-eyed. She crouched, ready to intervene—until Nate turned his head slightly and raised a hand, commanding her not to move. He couldn't afford a distraction. If Alice joined the fight, he could no longer hold back. He'd have to kill.
The conflict was consuming him. Nate had never felt such pressure. His body was a whirlwind, but the wolves were relentless, coordinated, nearly perfect in their attacks. Though his speed exceeded any human reaction, the sheer weight and number began to take their toll. His clothes were nothing but shreds now. A claw tore open his sleeve, another sliced his pants, and he needed all his focus to keep their talons from reaching his skin. Sam, seizing a momentary lapse, leapt and ripped off Nate's jacket in a perfectly measured strike.
Nate growled.
He accelerated.
His feet barely touched the ground. The world blurred into motion. Each dodge, each blow, was a reflex sharpened by fury. Using Paul's body as a shield to block Jacob's charge, Nate caught something in his peripheral vision that froze his blood: Jared, by the riverbank, had turned toward Alice. He was crouched, fur bristling, jaws wide. He was about to leap.
Time fractured.
Nate didn't think. He simply moved.
He vaulted over Seth, dodging his fangs by inches; Leah, fast as lightning, managed to slash him across the back—the first wound anyone had inflicted on him since his transformation. Nate barely felt it. His body burned, fueled by a rage that erased all pain.
His movements turned wild, unpredictable—jumps that tore through the air, impossible spins, sweeps that scattered leaves. He struck Embry in the ribs, used the momentum to kick Quil, and forced his way forward like a storm tearing through trees.
And in a blink, he was back by the river.
Alice stepped back, water splashing beneath her boots. Jared was already midair, lunging for her, when something stopped him with a violent jerk. A hand had caught one of his hind legs—arresting his leap completely.
Silence fell all at once.
Nate held him, arm taut, water running around his feet, his gaze blazing with icy fire. Jared's front paws splashed weakly in the shallows. In the pack's shared mind, a single image flashed through them all: Nate ripping the limb away in one brutal pull.
The vampire's voice came out low, measured, yet so charged with fury that the air seemed to vibrate with it.
"You should've stayed back, dog."
And with a deafening crack, he slammed Jared into the ground.
The sound of the breaking bone rose even above the roar of the river. Jared whimpered, trying to move, but Nate didn't stop. He increased the pressure, his fingers sinking into flesh until the wolf let out a high, piercing cry. The others couldn't take it any longer—they rushed him in a desperate wave.
Nate spun with impossible strength, using Jared like a club. The wolf's body smashed into the oncoming attackers, knocking them down with a wet, heavy thud. The impact of flesh against flesh thundered like the burst of a storm.
Howls filled the forest.
Jacob, seeing his friend thrown again and again against his brothers, roared with such force that the ground itself trembled. His mental command cracked like a whip: "Back!"
The pack stopped instantly. They formed a wide circle, panting, hackles raised, eyes burning with fury and helplessness.
Nate, breathing deeply, still held Jared by the leg. The wolf whimpered, trying to stand. When Nate saw no one else move, he released him. Jared dropped to the ground, staggering, barely conscious. He tried to rise one last time…
But Nate stepped forward and struck him hard on the forehead with an open palm.
The body collapsed. Completely unconscious.
Silence fell—absolute and final.
Only the river kept running, indifferent.