╭─────── ♱ · 𓆩🤍𓆪 · ♱ ─╮
.·:*¨༺𝐄𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭༻¨*:·.
☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩ ʙʟᴜᴇ ᴇʏᴇs, sᴛʀᴀᴡʙᴇʀʀʏ ᴘᴇʀғᴜᴍᴇ
( 𝘕𝘦𝘸 𝘔𝘰𝘰𝘯 )
@LILLYOFTHEVAIIEY
╰─ ♱ · 𓆩🤍𓆪 · ♱ ──────────╯

(Significant changes in this a/u, the werewolves don't stink to vampires. They just have an animalistic and woodsy scent. And their blood is still appealing to vampires who hunt animals—just less so than human blood. Also, vampires can eat human food, it simply makes them feel sick. But they can stomach it, it won't sustain them though.)

𝓣he morning in Emily's kitchen moved at a strange, stifled rhythm—like the whole room was breathing around Embry but he wasn't part of it. The air was thick with the quiet hum of the fridge, the faint ticking of the wall clock above the spice rack, and the slow clink of silverware that no one really had the appetite to use. Outside the windows, rain drizzled in a soft, constant hush, beading on the panes and bleeding the world in gray.

Embry sat at the head of the table, spine curved slightly forward, his hand cupping the side of his face with his elbow planted on the wood. His knuckles rested against his temple like they were the only thing holding him up. He looked like he was physically here but his mind had wandered far, far away. His plate sat untouched in front of him, the food cooling by the minute—rubbery scrambled eggs, stiff bacon, a single slice of toast gone soft with steam. It had been perfectly made. Emily had even sprinkled a little pepper on the eggs the way she knew he liked it. But it might as well have been plastic for how little Embry reacted.

His lips were parted just slightly. His breathing steady, but shallow. His eyes didn't move. Didn't blink. They were fixed, as they had been for nearly a half hour, on a dark knot in the wood grain of the table. A tiny imperfection that his gaze clung to like it might anchor him from falling into the whirlwind in his mind. His brow was faintly furrowed, not in frustration—but in grief. In confusion. Like he was trying to solve a problem too complicated for language. Too emotional for reason. Too real for denial.

Across the table, Jacob leaned on one elbow, absentmindedly stabbing his pancakes until they fell apart in shredded little pieces. His plate was barely touched, his appetite just as absent as Embry's. Every few minutes, his gaze would flick toward Embry, then quickly away—like if he looked too long, something might break. In his hand, he twisted the handle of his fork until it squeaked against the ceramic.

Sam sat beside Embry, quiet and sturdy as a stone wall. He held his coffee mug with both hands, the steam curling slowly beneath his chin, going unnoticed. He'd been watching Embry all morning—like maybe if he stared long enough, he could figure out what to say. But there were no words to fill this silence. Nothing could fix what had unraveled last night.

Jared sat diagonally from Embry, orange juice in front of him, his knee bouncing subtly under the table. He'd tried making a joke earlier, just something light to lift the weight in the room. But it had fallen flat, and now he just sipped silently, eyes unfocused, chewing the inside of his cheek.

Paul, who never could keep quiet, hadn't said a single thing since breakfast started. He hadn't even cracked a grin. His arms were folded, and every now and then his leg would jitter against the floor, nervous energy with nowhere to go. Once, he looked like he was about to speak—then saw Embry still staring, silent, motionless—and just shook his head and went back to brooding.

And Emily—gentle, mother-hearted Emily—hovered by the stove. Her hands wiped the same clean dish over and over, just to give them something to do. She didn't ask him to eat. Didn't nudge him. She just kept the kitchen warm and the coffee fresh, waiting for someone to say something.

But no one did.

No one dared say the word—Vampire. Cold one.

Because Luna Mae was still her, in his mind atleast. Still Embry's. And no one knew what the hell to do with that. They don't know how to voice their opinion on it, because they couldn't quite comprehend it themselves. I mean, was Luna Mae still her? If the imprint hadn't broken? But would it? Technically she did die. Sam had been racking his brain on the subject for the majority of the night.

And that was the terrifying part.

No one at the table knew what the hell to do with it all. They didn't know how to say it—how to wrap their mouths around the shape of something so impossible. Because they couldn't comprehend it themselves.

Sam had spent most of the night turning it over in his mind, dissecting it like a wound he couldn't close. Racking his brain over the stories the elders used to tell him, anything that may provide an answer to his question. But there was nothing, this had never happened before.

Technically, she had died. And the imprint—the soul-bond between wolf and imprint—was supposed to break when the imprint died. That was what they understood. That was what logic said. And yet... Embry still felt it. Still suffered. Still looked at her like nothing had changed. But also like everything had changed. Like he couldn't breathe without her, and now he wasn't sure he should.

Sam had seen the moment it happened.

When the wolves stepped into that clearing and all of them froze like time had fractured. When Luna Mae lifted her head from the deer carcass, blood on her mouth, the sun glinting off skin that shimmered like ice. When Embry's mind fractured with a thousand memories at once—flashes of her laughter, her warmth, her scent, her kiss—and all of it tangled into the horrifying present of what she had become.

And the imprint still didn't break.

Sam didn't know what that meant.

Were imprints bound to souls, not bodies? Did cold ones even have souls? Had the transformation spared the connection? Or was this something else entirely—something new, dangerous, and utterly unnatural?

The rest of the pack had been just as shaken. Paul, who scoffed at anything that even hinted at emotion, had looked downright spooked. Jared had gone silent. Jacob hadn't stopped glancing at Embry since they got back, like he was waiting for him to fall apart all over again.

Because how were they supposed to treat Luna Mae now?

Was she still Luna Mae? Or just something wearing her face?

But the worst part was—they all saw it. In that clearing. The way her eyes softened when she looked at the wolves. The flicker of confusion, then familiarity. The way her feeding slowed, like some part of her recognized the danger but didn't fear it—as if she knew they couldn't-or wouldn't, harm her.

As if she felt it.

Which meant most of all: the imprint hadn't let go.

Which meant, on some level—some terrifying, cosmic level—that she was still Luna.

Embry sat motionless for what felt like hours, his head resting heavily in his hand as his gaze remained locked on the worn grain of the kitchen table. Around him, the room held a brittle silence—the kind that presses on your skin and fills your lungs with unease.

Sam, Paul, Jared, Jacob, and Emily exchanged subtle glances, their eyes drawn again and again to Embry's still figure, struggling to understand the storm roiling behind those tired eyes. No one dared break the silence.

Then, as if shaking himself free from some distant fog, Embry's eyes suddenly snapped up. The shock of color and clarity startled the others. His gaze was steady, cold even, but beneath it was a desperate calm that unsettled the room.

"I want your permission to go see her," he said to Sam, his voice quiet but unwavering, the weight of the request hanging heavy in the air.

The words landed like a thunderclap.

Paul was the first to react, as always. His body tensed and lurched forward in the chair, voice sharp with disbelief. "No way, Embry. You don't understand what you're asking."

Jared nodded firmly, his hands pressed flat on the table as though bracing himself against a storm. "I'm with Paul on this. She could be dangerous—more dangerous than you realize."

But Embry's jaw clenched, the muscles tight beneath his skin, and he held his ground. "She won't hurt me. I know her."

Paul scoffed, disbelief and frustration coloring his words. "You knew her. Past tense. Back when she was human. Before this... this thing she's become."

Embry's head snapped toward Paul, and the room seemed to freeze as the fire behind his eyes ignited. It wasn't anger—not quite—but it was something sharp and raw, a fierce protective instinct that took them all off guard. His gaze held Paul's unflinchingly as he said, "No. I know her."

There was a quiet intensity in that moment—one that felt too heavy for words. Paul leaned back, surprised and perhaps a little wary. Jared blinked, unsettled by the unexpected strength in Embry's voice. Jacob shifted uneasily in his chair. Even Sam's normally calm demeanor tightened ever so slightly, sensing the rising tension.

Sam's eyes flicked toward Emily, who sat quietly, watching the exchange. Without hesitation, she rose from the table and slipped out of the room, the soft click of the door marking a shift in the atmosphere. The remaining group sat in silence, the air thick with unspoken questions and fears.

Sam leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his voice steady but firm, the tone of a leader weighing a difficult decision. "You're asking me to let you walk up to a cold one—alone. Someone who's barely in control of herself. Do you understand the risk?"

Embry nodded slowly, the tension in his hands visible as they gripped the table's edge. "I have to," he said, voice low but steady. "I can't breathe without seeing her. Five weeks ago, I buried her in my heart. I told myself she was gone for good. But last night... last night I saw her. I felt her. She's still Luna Mae. Still mine."

He paused, swallowing hard, emotions roiling beneath his composed exterior. "You all felt it. The imprint never broke. That means something. It means she's still her. Even if her heart doesn't beat anymore."

The room was deathly silent, every eye locked on Embry. His voice softened, barely a whisper now. "If she wanted to hurt me or anyone else, she would've. But she didn't. She was hunting animals, not people. When she looked at us, she didn't flinch. She didn't attack. She was... cautious."

Sam's expression darkened as he mulled over the weight of Embry's words, eyes narrowing slightly in contemplation. The others watched, knowing this decision would ripple through their lives in ways none of them fully understood yet.

Finally, Sam leaned back, the breath slow but measured, as the unspoken question lingered: what comes next, when the impossible is suddenly real?

Embry's gaze held steady, unwavering. "She's still mine. And I need to see her." His voice held a pleading edge, his eyes wide as he stared at Sam.

Sam's gaze hardened, cutting through the tension like a blade. After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice firm and non-negotiable. "Fine. But you're taking Paul with you."

The words hit the room like a shockwave.

Embry and Paul both blurted out, "WHAT?!" in perfect unison, eyes wide with disbelief.

Embry was the first to recover, turning to Paul with a scowl. "Why him?"

Paul crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, why me—wait, what do you mean why me?"

Embry smirked, his tone sharp as a whip. "Because you're an ass!"

Paul's eyes narrowed but a smirk tugged at his lips. "Hey now, you little shit, I made sure you ate when you were in your little depressive episode!"

Embry rolled his eyes, slapping the table with a smirk. "Oh, you mean mourning? What, you want a fucking medal?!"

The whole table stifled laughs, except Paul, who just shook his head.

Embry leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a mock thoughtful expression. "Seriously though Sam, why Paul? Why not Jacob or Jared? They're way more level-headed."

Paul's eyes flashed indignantly. "Hey! I can be level-headed."

The whole table turned to him, eyebrows raised, exchanging glances loaded with silent disbelief. Jared smirked, Jacob gave a subtle shake of his head, and even Sam's lips twitched into a knowing grin.

Paul cleared his throat, undeterred. "What? I'm serious. I'm calm. I'm collected." He tapped his chest dramatically. "Level-headed, right here."

Embry couldn't help but laugh, nudging Paul's shoulder. "Yeah, right. The guy who tried to set me on fire just to wake me up yesterday?"

Paul shot him a mock glare. "That was necessary. You'd be eating dirt if it wasn't for me."

Jared chuckled, shaking his head. "You're both hopeless."

Sam's voice cut in with amused finality. "Alright, enough. You're going. And Paul's going. End of story."

Embry groaned but leaned forward, already bracing himself for the inevitable chaos of taking Paul along. "This is going to be a disaster."

Paul grinned, nudging him back. "You love it."

────୨ৎ────

                     Saturday arrived cloaked in gray, the kind of overcast chill that used to make Luna Mae want to stay in bed wrapped in fleece and flannel, listening to rain rattle the windows. But now, she didn't feel the cold. Not truly. The wind outside stirred the trees, but she didn't flinch. Her skin didn't prickle, her teeth didn't chatter. It was like watching a storm from behind glass, removed from the world even as it continued spinning around her.

She sat curled in her bedroom armchair, legs pulled beneath her, a blanket tossed over her lap more out of habit than need. Her eyes were fixed on the window, where pine trees swayed gently, their spines coated in dew. Fog rolled in off the cliffs, ghosting over rooftops and winding through the coastal brush. It should have felt like home. But it didn't. Not anymore.

It was quiet. No footsteps. No heartbeats. No distractions.

Her father had lingered in the hallway this morning, freshly shaven and holding a half-full coffee mug, trying to hide the worry in his eyes.

"I can stay," he'd said gently, voice creased with exhaustion. "Just say the word, Lu."

But she had shaken her head. Smiled. Lied. "I'm okay, Dad. I promise."

And he'd believed her, because he needed to.

Margaret had been harder to read. She'd offered to stay too, but there was something taut in her jaw, something in the way her fingers tightened around the keys in her palm that told Luna what she needed to know. She hadn't wanted to be stuck here in this house, watching a girl who looked like Luna Mae move around like a stranger. So Luna let her go. Gave her what she wanted. It was easier that way.

Now it was just her. And Nova.

The vampire sat at the foot of the bed, cross-legged in one of Luna's old oversized flannels, flipping through a battered pre-calc textbook like it was a tabloid. Her long fingers toyed with the corners of the pages. Her hair was pulled up into a messy twist, and she looked effortlessly beautiful, timeless and out of place.

"Trig identities," she muttered, flipping the book upside down and wrinkling her nose. "I don't look forward to this part."

Luna blinked. "Wait... you're coming with me?"

Nova shrugged, casual. "Of course. Did you think I'd throw the lion into the lamb's den without another lion to watch her back?"

That made Luna smile. Small. Real. But it faded almost as fast as it came.

Because she wasn't sure what she was walking back into.

School. Her friends. Teachers. Familiar hallways that would now smell like blood and nerves and warm skin. Like lambs for the slaughter.

Would they all look the same? Would they look at her and see something different, something off? Would they look into her eyes and see what she was trying so desperately to hide?

And then there was Embry.

She hadn't been able to stop thinking about him. Not since she'd stepped foot back into this town. Even now, sitting in the stillness of her childhood bedroom, she could conjure the memory of him. The way he smiled when he was trying not to. That crooked grin that had melted her spine. The low rasp of his voice. The way he used to look at her like she was sunlight.

She hadn't seen him since returning. And maybe that was for the best. Because what would she say? Hi, I died, and now I can hear your heartbeat from a mile away? That I crave the blood under your skin and dream of you even when I try not to?

It's not like she could tell him, but one thing about Embry Call was that Luna Mae was never good at hiding anything from him.

Her throat burned suddenly, a dry, gnawing pull that made her wince. The hunger never went away—not fully. Not even after a hunt. But it was worse when she thought about him. As if thinking about those closest to her made it even harder to control her thirst.

Nova looked up at her, sensing the shift. "You alright?"

Luna nodded quickly. "Yeah. Just... school. I'm dreading it."

Nova grinned and kicked her feet up onto the mattress. "Don't worry, sunshine. We've got this. Together."

Luna tried to smile back. But the weight in her chest didn't ease.

Because the truth was, she wasn't afraid of school.

She was afraid of seeing him. And what that might do to her heart.

If she still had one.

A sharp knock echoed through the quiet house, slicing through the thick silence like a blade. Nova snapped her head toward Luna, eyes narrowing with alertness. "Who are you expecting?" she asked, voice low and tense.

Luna shook her head slowly, confusion flickering across her pale face. "No one," she whispered.

Without another word, both girls moved with fluid grace toward the bathroom. Luna reached for a small black case on the counter, opening it carefully to reveal a pair of blue contact lenses. She slipped them in, blinking until the color settled, muting the bright red glow of her vampiric eyes. Nova followed suit, pulling out her own set—greenish brown contacts that erased the unnatural crimson and made her look human enough to pass unnoticed.

They moved silently down the stairs, their footsteps soft against the worn wooden floor. As they approached the front door, Nova held up a hand, motioning for Luna to stop. She pressed her ear against the door, her eyes narrowing in concentration. After a moment, she whispered, "Two heartbeats. Fast. Nervous."

Luna stepped forward cautiously and peered through the peephole, her breath catching for a moment before she exhaled. "It's Embry... and his friend Paul," she said quietly.

Nova's eyes flicked to Luna's face, gauging her. "Do you need me?"

Luna shook her head firmly. "No. Not for Embry. I can control it." Her voice was steady, but beneath it simmered a quiet tension.

Nova gave a small nod of respect. "Alright. I'm right here if you need me."

Luna took a deep breath, steeling herself, then reached for the door handle.

Luna Mae took a shaky breath, her fingers tightening briefly around the cool brass doorknob before she turned it and pulled the door open. For a moment, she just stood there, forcing a smile onto her lips—a soft, tentative curve that barely touched her eyes.

"Hey," she said, voice a little too light, a bit awkward, like someone trying to act casual after a long absence.

From the other side, Embry's eyes locked onto her immediately. She looked... normal. So human. The bright red of her eyes from the other night was gone, replaced by clear, deep blue that reminded him of the ocean. Her curly brown hair framed her face softly, and the pale skin was flawless—no bruises, no marks. But still those beautiful freckles. She wore a simple sweater and jeans, nothing out of place, nothing to hint at what she really was now.

Paul stood a little behind Embry, scanning her with a mix of curiosity and suspicion, but even he had to admit she looked like any other girl who'd been away for a while and just come home.

Embry swallowed hard, still not quite believing she was actually here—alive—standing in front of him. Or if she wasn't.

The girl he thought he'd lost forever, who haunted his dreams and whispered through his memories, was right there. And yet, something was different. Something beneath the surface he couldn't quite place. But for now, all he saw was Luna Mae.

Embry stood frozen in the doorway for a moment, his mouth dry, heart thudding in his chest. The sight of her—so close, so unchanged and yet completely different—tangled every thought in his head. She looked so normal. So Luna. And he had no idea what to say.

"Hi," he finally said, his voice hoarse and quiet, like the word caught in his throat.

Luna shifted in the doorway. She blinked and glanced past him to Paul, then back to Embry, her expression tightening slightly. "Um... what're you doing here, Em?" Her voice wasn't unkind, just guarded. Wary. "And... with Paul?"

The question wasn't really about Paul. Not fully. It was about him, about Embry. About why he, of all people, had shown up on her doorstep—after everything.

After the breakup.

Embry hesitated, lips parting like he didn't quite know how to begin. "Because... I thought you were dead."

Luna's jaw tensed, her fingers tightening on the edge of the doorframe. Her voice cracked out sharper than she intended: "So you thought I was dead and then felt guilty about breaking up with me?" Her eyes narrowed, blue irises shining too brightly under the porch light. "And now you're—"

"Luna, please shut up," Embry said suddenly. It wasn't a mean tone, more pleading than anything—desperate even.

The words dropped like stone between them.

She fell silent, stunned, blinking in shock. Her mouth parted, the air thick between them.

He was breathing hard, eyes glassy. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay," he said, his voice barely a whisper now, ragged at the edges. "A-are you...okay?" His voice broke softly, his eyes never leaving her own.

She swallowed the lump rising in her throat, chest tightening painfully. "I'm fine," she said, softly but firmly. "Really."

He stepped forward an inch, his gaze still on hers. "Are you sure?"

She swore she could see the slightest bristle of tears straining at the corner of his eyes. And so Luna gave a quick nod, trying not to meet his eyes fully, afraid she'd unravel. Afraid he might see everything she was barely holding back. Her control. Her hunger. Her grief. Her guilt.

And that if she saw how broken he looked, that she'd crumble with him.

But she was surprised, too. Surprised that despite the familiar thud of his heartbeat—so loud it was almost melodic—it didn't send her spiraling. It still smelled sweet, yes, appetizing in the way food might. But it wasn't unbearable. It wasn't consuming. Not like her father's blood had been. Or her step mom's. Or the way Tahlia had smelled—like vanilla and heat, sharp enough to sting her throat that it made her mouth go dry at an instant.

With Embry, it was... muted. Manageable.

And Paul's scent, behind him, was even duller. She could recognize the blood pulsing beneath his skin, but it didn't claw at her insides.

Still, she kept her distance. Perhaps it was because she had just fed a few hours prior, that's what she wrote it off as atleast.

"I appreciate you coming," Luna said quietly, wrapping her arms around herself. "But you don't have to worry about me."

Embry didn't respond right away. He just kept looking at her like he didn't believe what he was seeing. Like she might vanish again if he blinked.

And in that pause, Paul—who had been silent so far—shifted his weight and muttered under his breath, "Well, this isn't awkward at all."

Neither of them looked away from each other.

"Look," she said, her tone sharper than she meant, "I don't want you to act like I was missing, okay? I hate that everyone's treating me like I'm some... fragile porcelain doll that's going to break if they look at me wrong."

Embry's brows lifted just slightly as Luna broke the silence, her arms still tightly wrapped around herself, her voice edged in something that wasn't quite anger—but close. Desperation maybe. A plea buried beneath bravado.

She paused, swallowed hard, her jaw clenching. Her eyes flicked between Embry and Paul, her voice growing softer, more brittle with each word. "So just—I don't know—be normal. I need that. Normal."

Embry exhaled slowly, like the wind had been knocked out of him.

Normal. That word felt like a loaded weapon now.

Because how could he be normal when she'd died in his mind? When he'd mourned her, dreamed of her, screamed her name into the forest at night until his voice went hoarse? How could he be normal when her eyes, even behind the contacts, shimmered just a little too brightly, and her skin glowed like marble under the porch light?

But he saw it now—the weight behind her words. The tension in her shoulders. The fear she was hiding behind bravado. She didn't want pity. Or questions. She just wanted to feel like Luna Mae again. The girl who used to sing along off-key to her favorite songs in the car. The one who once dared him to jump into the freezing ocean and then shrieked louder than he did when they hit the water. The girl he used to kiss senseless, and dreamed of at night.

She wanted to forget—for just a moment—that she was something else now.

Embry gave a slow, careful nod. "Okay," he said quietly. "Normal."

Luna's shoulders loosened just a little, her breath leaving her in a shaky sigh. She didn't smile, not really—but something in her eyes softened.

Luna shifted awkwardly on her feet, glancing over her shoulder into the dim hallway behind her before turning her eyes back to Embry. She offered a half-hearted smile, the kind that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Well," she said, tucking a loose curl behind her ear, "I'd invite you in, but... my parents aren't home so..."

Embry nodded quickly, stepping back like he'd just remembered the rules of politeness. "Right. Yeah. Okay. No worries."

A silence fell between them again—thick and heavy like fog. Neither of them moved. Luna's fingers twitched at her side, like she wanted to say something more but couldn't figure out what. Embry opened his mouth for a second, then closed it again, his jaw clenching.

Finally, she gave a little smack of her lips and took a step back. "Bye, Embry."

He looked at her for a beat longer than he should've. "Bye, Luna."

The door shut with a soft click.

Embry stood there, staring at the grain of the wood for a moment, his throat tight, heart beating loud in his ears.

Beside him, Paul let out a dramatic breath and turned toward the street with wide eyes.

"That's fucking freaky," he muttered, mouth still hanging open.

Embry blinked and looked at him.

Paul waved a hand toward the closed door. "I mean she looks exactly the same. Like exactly. Same voice, same little eyebrow twitch when she gets uncomfortable—same Luna. Except, you know... cold one."

Embry didn't respond. He just shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking down the driveway, shoulders tense, gaze fixed ahead.

Paul followed after a beat, muttering under his breath, "I mean, I don't know what I expected. Fangs and bats and a coffin in the living room? That was worse. That was... confusing."

Paul didn't pick up on Embry's silence, too caught up in his own whirling thoughts as they walked down the quiet sidewalk.

"She smelled normal," Paul said, brows furrowed like he was trying to solve a puzzle. "Like strawberry perfume or shampoo or something. Not like a cold one's supposed to, right? That's not just me, right?"

Embry's jaw flexed.

"And her eyes," Paul went on, gesturing vaguely as if that would help, "I mean, they were blue, dude. Blue. Like, okay, maybe a little too blue—contacts, probably—but still. That was not what I expected. Like at all. And she had that little nervous hand twitch thing she always does, I saw it in your visions—"

"—Hey, Paul," Embry interrupted flatly.

Paul looked over. "Hm?"

Embry's eyes were still straight ahead. His voice wasn't aggressive but laced with warning. "Shut up."

Paul blinked, mouth still half-open—then smacked it closed with an audible clap of his lips, wide-eyed. "Right," he muttered "mkay, spicy Embry."

Another glare.

"Right okay—Shutting up now." Paul smirked.

They walked in silence for a few paces, Embry's hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie, knuckles white.

Paul glanced sideways at him but thought better of speaking again. He didn't know what it felt like to lose someone and then find them again—only different. He didn't know what it felt like to still be tethered to a girl who wasn't quite alive anymore, but whose presence still made your heart lurch and your lungs forget to breathe.

They moved through the woods in silence, the dense trees whispering in the late afternoon breeze. A fine mist hung over the forest floor, and their footsteps crunched softly over pine needles and damp earth. Embry walked ahead, hands jammed in his hoodie pockets, his head low and his expression unreadable. His entire body radiated a kind of quiet pressure—like a storm banked behind his ribs.

Paul trailed a few steps behind, shoving his hands into his jacket and glancing around like the trees themselves might start whispering. He cleared his throat once. Thought about saying something. Thought better of it.

Instead, he found a pinecone half-buried beneath some moss and nudged it with the toe of his boot. It rolled forward a few feet.

He kicked it again. A little harder this time. It thunked against a tree root.

When Embry didn't react, Paul sighed and sent the pinecone flying with a more enthusiastic kick, muttering under his breath as it arced off into the underbrush.

"Just gonna lose my damn mind back here," he mumbled, nearly tripping on another pinecone and kicking that one too. "Cool cool. Totally normal. Walk through the Twilight Zone with Mr. Doom-and-Gloom and a pine-scented soccer ball. Everything's fine."

Embry didn't so much as turn around. He just kept walking, his pace steady, silent. He let out a breath, that sounded very annoyed.

Paul quirked his eyebrow and mocked Embry, letting out an exaggerated annoyed breath as he punted the third pinecone so hard it vanished into a thicket.

"Man," Paul grumbled, "this is why I don't do feelings." He said it as if the word feelings was something icky.

Paul continued kicking pinecones like they'd personally wronged him, muttering to himself, occasionally glancing up at Embry's hunched back as they trudged toward Sam's. The silence hung thick, awkward, like that one time he walked in on Jared sobbing at a dog food commercial.

"You know," Paul finally piped up, side-stepping a root, "I'm not saying this walk is emotionally stunted or anything, but I've had more meaningful conversations with tree bark."

Embry didn't even look back. "Then talk to the tree bark."

Paul grinned like a kid who just found out recess got extended. "Oh, look! The corpse speaks."

Embry snorted under his breath, then muttered, "You're the one that kept narrating your kicks like it was the damn World Cup."

Paul puffed out his chest and fake-announced to the trees, "And here comes Paul Lahote with a stunning right foot—he's a beast, folks! And ooh! Another clean strike to the unsuspecting conifer!" He kicked another pinecone and it ricocheted off a tree trunk, narrowly missing Embry's shoulder.

Embry paused just long enough to give him a flat look. "You hit me with one of those and I swear to God, I'll bury you so deep in these woods even Sam won't be able to dig you up."

Paul grinned, eyes bright. "There he is! That's the emotionally constipated asshole we all know and love."

Embry kept walking, but the edge in his posture dulled just slightly. His voice was lower now, less sharp. "Maybe it wasn't her."

Paul blinked. "Huh?"

Embry kicked at the dirt. "The cold one. From the woods. Maybe... maybe it wasn't Luna Mae. Maybe it just looked like her."

Paul slowed a bit, raising his brows. "Okay. Man. You've officially lost it."

"I'm serious," Embry snapped, though his voice trembled slightly, betraying the desperation buried beneath his sarcasm. "She looked normal. She talked normal. Hell, she even smelled normal. Maybe it's some... I don't know, some other vampire that just—looked like her."

Paul narrowed his eyes. "She looked normal? What does that even mean? You think vampires don't own mirrors?"

Embry stopped abruptly and spun around. "She didn't look dead, okay? No blood, no dark circles, no 'I drink o-negative for breakfast' vibes."

"First of all, She'd definitely be a o-positive girl." Paul raised his hands. "And bro. The Cullens look normal too. You think Edward strolls around Forks High in a black cloak hissing at garlic bread?"

Embry flinched like the name physically stung him, then looked away, jaw tightening.

Paul let out a slow breath and rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, I get it. I really do. You see the girl you love again, and your brain short-circuits. But come on, Embry. You heard her. That wasn't Luna the human. That was Luna the bloodsucker. There was no heartbeat. I know it sucks but—"

"Don't say it like that," Embry said quietly.

Paul blinked. "Say what?"

"Bloodsucker. Like she's—like she's a monster."

Paul's mouth opened, then closed again. He studied his friend's face for a moment, then sighed. "Okay. Fine. Maybe that wasn't fair. But that doesn't change what she is now. And if it is her—and I'm still betting it is—then we've got a whole different problem on our hands."

Embry's eyes dropped to the forest floor. "I just... I need to know for sure."

Paul snorted. "Know for sure? How exactly do you plan on doing that? Gonna ask her to take a blood test?"

Embry shrugged, unbothered. "I'll think of something."

Paul raised a brow. "Uh huh. That's comforting."

They walked another few steps before Embry suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes sparking like a fuse had just lit inside his brain.

Paul spotted it immediately. "No. Nope. I don't like that look."

Embry grinned. "It's a good idea, I swear—"

"Uh-uh, no, no, no," Paul said quickly, already turning on his heel and walking in the opposite direction. "Don't even say it. I want zero part in whatever criminally insane scheme you're cooking up."

Embry jogged after him. "C'mon, just hear me out—"

"No!" Paul snapped over his shoulder. "Ask Jacob or something! I can't be your accomplice, man. Sam'll catch wind of it and then it's all over. You know he'll do that alpha voice thingy and I'll crumble like a damn graham cracker."

Embry laughed. "You're being dramatic."

"I am not! You ever try resisting Sam when he gets all 'I command you' and growly? It's like my bones physically try to fold themselves into the earth. I hate it. Makes me feel like a puppy putting my head in the dirt."

Embry smirked, but his tone was casual. "You kinda are a puppy. Childish like one."

Paul wheeled around. "Say that again, I dare you."

Embry held up his hands. "Relax. I meant in an affectionate way."

Paul gave him a long, suspicious glare. "You're lucky I tolerate you, Call."

Embry just grinned, that sly, plotting spark still glowing in his eyes.

Paul groaned and rubbed at his face. "Shit. You're actually gonna do something stupid, aren't you?"

Embry shrugged again. "Probably. But it might work."

"Might Call, key word: might." Paul deadpanned.