A/N This is NOT a translation, I do not own Twilight or MCU this is purely for entertainment purposes. I use AI as a tool on my text after I have completed the writing of the chapter it helps out with wording, grammar and pacing. So the ideas the direction of the story the dialogue all me.
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-_-
We pulled into the parking lot of the local diner, the beach long gone. Bella claimed the middle seat of the Chevy while I took the passenger side, and Jen slid behind the wheel. She was a far more competent driver than Bella, who had a tendency to be uncoordinated in just about every aspect of life.
"Huh. Dad's here?" I muttered, spotting Charlie's cruiser parked out front.
As we stepped inside, we found him seated alone at an empty booth. He looked sad and exhausted, shoulders slumped over a half-empty coffee cup.
We slid in across from him. Bella spoke first. "Is everything okay?"
"Oh, hey. Didn't see you come in." Charlie let out a long, tired sigh, rubbing a hand over his face.
"Something happen at work?" I asked.
"Yeah. Leighton—you might remember him, he played Santa one winter when you kids were little. We found his body later today. Some kind of animal attack."
Another heavy sigh escaped him.
"Animal attack?" Jen asked, brow furrowing in confusion.
"Yeah, this ain't like Arizona. Here, that's the most we usually get." Charlie's gaze drifted to the window, then back to us. "Stay clear of the woods for the time being, will you? It'd make your old man real happy."
He fixed Bella and me with that quiet, worried look he always got when he was trying not to scare us.
"Yeah, will do," I replied automatically. But my mind was already racing—gears turning fast.
The James coven was already in Forks.
After filling our bellies with burgers, fries, and milkshakes, we all headed back home—Charlie following right behind in his cruiser.
We piled into the living room. Bella popped some popcorn while we settled in to watch a movie. It didn't take long for Charlie to doze off on the sofa, soft snores mixing with the soundtrack. Jen trailed Bella upstairs to her room, the two of them giggling and whispering like conspirators.
Left alone, I dragged myself to bed, exhausted from the long day. A stupid, happy smile stayed plastered on my face as I drifted off.
-_-
I was jolted awake in the middle of the night by Jen launching herself onto the bed—right on top of me. Not the fun kind. She'd completely forgotten about my cast and injuries, landing with full force and sending a sharp spike of pain through my ribs.
I yelped in protest.
"Oh my god, sorry! Sorry! I completely forgot!" she whispered frantically, scrambling off me in a panic. Her hands hovered uncertainly, like she wasn't sure whether to touch me or back away entirely.
"It's alright," I muttered, nursing my aching ribs with my good hand.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, still groggy.
"I fly back tomorrow." She glanced at the clock—2:00 a.m. sharp. "Well… today, technically. So I thought maybe you wanted to, you know…"
A faint groan echoed from downstairs—the old house settling, nothing more. I froze, then quickly clapped my good hand over her mouth anyway.
She went still under my palm. I exhaled slowly. "Charlie would kill me if he found you here," I whispered, heart hammering.
Jen's eyes sparkled with that minx-like mischief, completely undeterred. She peeled my hand away just enough to lean in close, lips brushing my ear.
"Oh come on," she breathed, voice barely audible. "You're really telling me you didn't enjoy our little private time at the beach?"
Her gaze flicked down, then back up, wicked and teasing.
"Come on… I want to fuck."
She whispered the last part so quietly it was almost soundless, the words shaped more by her lips than any real sound—pure temptation.
I tried to protest, grasping for reason. "We don't have condoms," I whispered.
I barely got the words out before she pulled a small packet from the pocket of her pyjama bottoms and held it up triumphantly.
"Come on, I need this," she tempted, voice low and pleading. "It's been two months. Please."
"Charlie will hear us 100%," I shot back. "The walls are paper-thin, and he's got policeman hearing."
She couldn't find fault in that argument. A light grumble escaped her, frustrated but not defeated. Then her gaze slid past me to the window—and I saw the exact moment a plan sparked behind her eyes.
I followed her line of sight: the big tree branch hovering just an arm's reach from the sill. My heart dropped like a stone.
"Nope. Out of the question," I said firmly.
"Come on, please, babe," she whined, arms snaking around me, fingers brushing teasingly toward my crotch. "I know you want this just as much as I do."
I glanced back at the window. The more blood rushed south, the less the fear mattered. The vampires had probably had their fill with Leighton—no animal attacks tonight, right? Still, it was reckless. I opened my mouth to argue again. "The animal att—"
"You can stop thinking about the animal attack," she interrupted, pulling Bella's can of bear spray from behind her back and holding it up like a trophy. "Look."
I blinked. "Wait—how long have you had that?"
She shrugged, a sly grin creeping back. "Bella slipped it to me earlier when we were talking upstairs. Said something about 'just in case you two idiots decide to get creative.' I wasn't planning on dragging you outside… but now that you mentioned the woods…" Her eyes flicked to the tree branch again, wheels clearly turning. "No noise for Charlie, fresh air, total privacy. And protection from anything that might actually show up. Perfect, right?"
My heart thudded harder—not just from want anymore. The plan was insane, but she made it sound almost reasonable. Well, except for one tiny, world-shattering detail: bear spray wouldn't do a damn thing to a vampire.
But telling Jen any of that? Not an option. Not tonight. Not ever, if I could help it.
Still, her eyes were bright with excitement, and the heat wasn't fading.
I let out a long breath. "Alright. Let's do it."
"Yess!" she hissed triumphantly, planting a quick, excited peck on my lips before darting to the window. She eased it open with care, the old frame giving only a faint creak.
She swung one leg over the sill first, testing the roof's slope with her foot.
Once she was fully out, she turned back, reaching both hands toward me.
"Your turn, babe. Easy does it."
I hesitated at the window, staring down at the drop. The roof wasn't steep, but with my right arm locked in plaster from elbow to knuckles, balance was going to be a nightmare.
Jen caught my look and softened her grin. "I've got you. Come on"
I gripped the sill with my good hand.
She braced my hips from outside as I maneuvered the cast through the opening.
We shuffled sideways along the roof, slow steps.
We reached the maple branch overhanging the edge.
It looked thick and steady—like a natural walkway. All we had to do was step onto it while gripping the branch above for balance.
Easy in theory.
The only hard part was the first step: crossing the gap from roof edge to tree bark.
Jen went first.
She gripped the upper branch with both hands, swung one foot out, tested the bark with her weight.
It held.
She stepped fully onto it, weight shifting smooth, then glanced back.
"See? Solid. Your turn."
I followed suit, with Jen helping me stay balanced by holding onto me.
We carefully made it down the maple tree. Finally on solid ground, I could let out the breath I'd been holding.
Jen grinned in the moonlight, tugging my good hand toward the tree line.
The forest edged right up to the backyard—dark pines and thick underbrush. We walked just far enough from the house to feel safe, the ground softening underfoot with pine needles and moss.
Once the house lights were hidden behind trunks and branches, the tension snapped.
Jen turned to me, eyes gleaming. No words—just her fingers hooking into my shirt, pulling me down for a hard, hungry kiss. My good hand found her waist; the cast stayed useless at my side.
It didn't take long for clothes to come off. Shirt first, then hers—tossed aside. Jeans, underwear, everything shed in quick, impatient movements. We spread them out on the ground like a makeshift blanket: soft enough to cushion the needles, thick enough to keep the chill off our skin.
Jen pushed me down first—gentle but insistent, mindful of the cast this time.
I hit the makeshift bed on my back, breath catching.
She followed, straddling my hips, knees sinking into the moss on either side.
Moonlight traced the sharp lines of her body.
The world narrowed to her weight, her heat, the urgent roll of her hips against mine.
Fingers dug into shoulders, thighs, skin.
Breaths turned ragged mixing with the soft rustle of leaves overhead.
Then stillness.
Jen collapsed beside me, head on my good shoulder.
She traced lazy circles on my chest with a fingertip, grinning sleepy and satisfied.
"Worth the tree climb?" she murmured.
I laughed, low and winded.
"Every damn second."
But the high couldn't last forever.
We'd been out here maybe an hour.
Charlie could wake up for a glass of water, notice the empty rooms, or just sense something off the way parents sometimes do.
We couldn't push our luck.
Jen sighed, rolling off me with a reluctant stretch.
She propped herself on one elbow, moonlight catching the lazy smile still lingering on her lips.
"Already thinking about the getaway, huh?"
"Yeah," I admitted, sitting up slowly. My cast ached from the awkward angle I'd held it in. "Better get back before he starts wandering the house."
She nodded, no argument this time.
We gathered our clothes from the pine-needle blanket—shaking them out, brushing off bits of moss and bark.
We dressed fast, fingers fumbling in the cold, pulling shirts over heads and zipping jeans with hurried jerks.
Jen tucked a stray lock behind her ear, giving me a quick, satisfied smile.
"Ready?" she whispered.
Before I could answer, a rustle cut through the quiet.
Leaves shifted. A branch snapped once.
I froze, ears straining.
Jen noticed my tension and went still too, eyes flicking toward the sound.
I didn't wait to find out what it was.
I grabbed her with my good arm and started pulling us back toward the house.
Two steps.
Maybe three.
Then I stopped dead.
Right between us and the backyard, blocking the path like she'd been waiting a woman with hair a bright orange like living fire. Pale skin glowing almost luminous in the moonlight.
Victoria.
She tilted her head, lips curving into a slow, predatory smile.
"Already going back?" Her voice was velvety smooth, almost musical, but it made my skin crawl. "Here we thought we could join in on the fun."
Panic hit hard, chest-crushing panic.
My heart slammed so loud I was sure she could hear it.
Jen stiffened under my arm, breath catching.
She didn't know what Victoria was.
Victoria took one lazy step forward, bare feet silent on the moss.
She inhaled slowly, nostrils flaring like she was tasting the air.
"Fresh," she purred.
Jen pressed closer to me, voice barely a whisper.
"Who the hell is that?"
I didn't answer.
No time.
I spun us around, ready to bolt the opposite way—deeper into the woods, anywhere but here.
But two more figures already waited in the shadows ahead, blocking the path like they'd been expecting us.
Laurent and James.
Blonde hair pulled tight in a ponytail, the same crimson predatory eyes, the same unnaturally pale, dead skin.
James stood motionless, gaze locked on me with cold amusement.
Laurent looked nothing like the tall, dark-skinned actor from the movies. Instead he was just as pale as the others, a head shorter than James, compact, dark slicked-back hair, lazy red eyes scanning us the way a cat watches cornered mice.
"Victoria," Laurent said, voice smooth with a thick French accent, "look what you've done. You've scared them."
He sounded amused.
The three began to close in—slow, deliberate steps—encircling us from every side.
No gaps. No escape.
Jen's breathing went shallow beside me, fear spiking sharp and real.
She didn't know what they were.
To her they were just three strangers—dangerous, creepy, probably armed.
I shifted, shoving her fully behind me, one step back from the tightening circle.
My cast arm hung useless; good hand balled into a fist.
They were one step away now.
Jen moved first.
She yanked the bear spray from her pocket and unloaded the whole can in a wide, frantic sweep—straight into their faces.
The three recoiled hard.
Hisses of disgust, hands clawing at eyes.
Jen didn't hesitate.
She grabbed my good wrist in a vise grip and ran—dragging me after her through the trees.
Branches slapped our faces, roots snagged our feet.
Like we had a chance.
Seeing her like this made my heart twist in shame. Unlike her, I knew they were only playing with us.
But Jen—she ran with all her might.
Behind us, Victoria snarled, already shaking off the spray, fury twisting her face.
She lunged forward to chase—
But James's hand snapped out, catching her arm in an effortless grip.
"Come on, darling," he said, voice calm and silky. "Let them go."
James's gaze tracked us into the darkness, lips curving in a slow, satisfied smile.
"The night is still young," he murmured.
"The hunt has just begun."