Twilight The Stranger's Gaze

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After Stefan and Vladimir vanished like a wisp of air, the house was left steeped in a thick, almost unreal silence. It was as if each wall still held a distant echo of their voices, vibrating in the corners. Nate remained standing, staring at the closed door, feeling his thoughts swirl over each other like leaves in a storm.

Behind him, Alice didn't take long to approach. Her steps barely made the polished floor creak, but her breathing—which was usually an imperceptible whisper—was tense, restrained. Nate turned just in time to meet her eyes: they weren't their usual warm gold. They were black as coal, so dark they seemed to swallow the light in the room.

Alice stopped just a step away, so close he could almost feel the vibrating energy of her contained thirst. Her gaze moved from one of Nate's eyes to the other, as if searching for a crack in his resolve.

"Do you trust them?" she finally asked, her voice soft but trembling with a note of barely disguised anxiety.

Nate let out a brief, humorless laugh. He ran a hand over the back of his neck, dropping his gaze for a moment before meeting hers again, unblinking.

"No," he answered honestly, letting his shoulders drop. "For all I know… they themselves could have killed my parents."

Alice tilted her head slightly, a strand of hair falling across her cheek as her brow furrowed in concern. She took a step toward him, crossing her arms slowly.

"Then… why play along with them, Nate?"

He took a deep breath, walking over to the window and pulling the curtain aside a bit to look out at the street, where everything was calm under the D.C. night. His reflection stared back at him, tired but resolute.

"The fact that they knew about the knife… and the journal…" Nate closed the curtain with a firm gesture, turning back to Alice with narrowed eyes. "That's reason enough to think that, at least for now, they're telling the truth."

Silence settled between them for a moment as Alice lowered her gaze, looking particularly uncertain—a rarity for her.

"So… you're going to join their coven?" she blurted out, and although she tried to sound neutral, the question came out wrapped in a tense breath, almost like a plea.

Nate watched her in silence for a few seconds. He took in all of her: her eyes darkened by thirst, the faint shimmer on her skin, the tension in her shoulders betraying that she was ready to argue if needed. Finally, he sighed, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.

"No, Alice," he said calmly, taking her face in his hands, feeling her cold skin burning against his palms. "First: if I ever wanted to turn, it would be better to do it with you and the Cullens. You all know how to handle it, you have ideals similar to mine, you wouldn't let me lose my mind… not like those two."

Alice swallowed, even though she didn't need to. She closed her eyes for a moment under his touch, as if she wanted to absorb every word and believe them.

Nate continued, lowering his hands to her shoulders to hold her firmly.

"Second: if I join the Romanians, I put a giant target on my back. What does that mean? It means the entire Volturi guard would come straight for me… and I have no interest in spending every night hiding from a monarchy that's been hunting people like them for centuries."

Alice opened her eyes, and for a second, they seemed to shine with something beyond hunger: fear. She clenched her jaw, her fingers gripping the fabric of Nate's shirt.

"The Volturi…?" she murmured, her voice almost trembling.

"Yes," Nate replied, not looking away. "If I wanted to be part of a power, I'd rather turn and approach the Volturi directly. At least there I'd have the chance to do something from the inside, build influence with time, patience… But that's not my life, Alice."

His words fell heavy between them, as if the name "Volturi" floated in the room, leaving a cold trail. Alice took in a breath, a slight tremor running through her shoulders as she searched his gaze.

"So… you don't want… to leave," she said in a very low voice, almost as if she needed to hear it again.

Nate shook his head, pulling her closer until their foreheads touched.

"I don't want to leave," he repeated, his voice almost a whisper. "I like the life I have now, with you, with my grandma, with Bella and Jacob. I have… good things back in Forks. Things worth not being a pawn in someone else's war."

Alice let out a sigh that broke halfway through, as if releasing weeks of pent-up tension. Her black eyes shone with a fierce glint of relief, mixed with the thirst still pulsing in her veins.

Without another word, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him, a touch that started soft but tightened as her fingers hooked behind his neck. Nate felt the edge of her desire mixed with the thirst burning inside her. It was he who, gently, pulled away first, holding her firmly to calm her.

"You should go hunt," he said in a rough whisper, noticing how her breathing stopped every time she got too close to his neck. "Take advantage now that we know those two aren't enemies. Go, come back with a clear head."

Alice nodded, though her pupils stayed locked on his pulse for a second longer before blinking to refocus. Her lips curved into a thin, determined line.

"I'll be back in a few hours," she promised, her voice filled with a calm that was more for him than for herself.

Nate nodded, lowering his hands from her shoulders to intertwine his fingers with hers for a moment longer.

"I'll wait for you," he said, almost like a vow. "I'm not leaving the house. In the meantime… I'm going to read the last journal entry one more time. I'll map out the plan."

Alice let out a soft, humorless laugh and stood on tiptoe to brush his lips once more before stepping back with a slight shiver of restraint. Her eyes, black as the night, held his for the last time before she turned toward the door.

And then she was gone, blending into the dimness like a whisper of cold wind.

When the door closed, Nate stood staring at the empty space, letting the silence wrap around him. Then he walked over to the table, where his father's journal was waiting.

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Nate stayed in the living room after Alice left, the distant murmur of traffic blending with the ticking of the clock. He held the journal in his hands, going over names of dark bars and dusty streets, looking for clues between the lines of old ink.

But exhaustion dragged at him, heavy as lead in his veins, and finally, he got up, walking with tired steps toward the bedroom. He placed the journal on the nightstand before letting himself fall onto the bed, the mattress giving a soft sigh under his weight.

When he closed his eyes, the darkness swallowed him quickly…

The dream began with the crunch of gravel under tires, illuminated by headlights cutting through the darkness of the deserted road.

His parents' car pulled over to the side, smoke rising, the pale moon hanging in the sky like a dead eye. Nate was there, but he wasn't part of them, an observer trapped behind an invisible glass, unable to scream, unable to move.

He saw his father open the door, stepping out cautiously as he closed it softly. He looked at the engine, murmuring something to his wife, who also stepped out of the vehicle, hugging herself as her dark hair moved with the cold breeze.

From the shadows, two yellow eyes lit up like lanterns, glowing with an ancient hunger.

The wolf stepped out from between the trees: enormous, dark-furred, moving with an impossible stealth for its size, muscles rippling under its skin like taut ropes.

Richard saw it.

For a moment, he seemed to try to speak to it, raising a trembling hand in a hesitant gesture. "Wait… I…"

But the words died as the wolf leapt.

The impact was brutal, a dull thud as Richard's body fell backward onto the asphalt. The wolf pounced on him, claws digging into his shoulders as its jaws closed around his throat.

Richard's scream broke into a wet gurgle, his hands pushing against the beast, his legs kicking against the ground as blood stained his lips. The wolf tore his throat out with a savage jerk, splattering red across the asphalt, the car's lights reflecting the dark shine of the blood as it mixed with the dust.

Richard's eyes opened with a final spasm, searching for something, searching for someone, as his mouth moved without sound before going empty, lifeless.

His mother saw it all.

She staggered back, hands trembling, letting out a scream that choked in her own throat. She stepped back once, then again, before her knees buckled and she fell onto the asphalt with a dull thud.

A strangled cry escaped her throat as her body began to convulse, her hands hitting the ground, clawing at the pavement as her back arched violently. Her eyes rolled back, foam mixed with blood escaping her lips as each convulsion bent her like a broken doll.

Her cry turned into a short whimper.

And then, nothing.

She went still, a final spasm running through her legs before they lay limp, her eyes open to the sky, seeing nothing.

From the trees, hooded figures in red robes began to emerge, forming a circle around the bloodied bodies, their soft laughter breaking the silence. One of them raised a hand, pointing with a thin, pale finger toward where Nate stood, even though he knew they couldn't see him.

The wolf lifted its head from Richard's remains, blood dripping from its muzzle.

It shook its head, like a dog shaking off water, sending a trail of dark droplets that splattered onto the boots of the hooded figures. Then, its yellow eyes focused on Nate, piercing him with that gaze that seemed to see straight into the depths of him.

Nate felt the world stop, the air freezing in his lungs, unable to blink as that beast stared at him, his chest pounding with a primal terror.

And then he felt it.

Two hands landed on his shoulders, pulling him backward.

One was small, with delicate fingers that trembled just slightly, leaving a comforting warmth that spread across his back like a whisper.

The other was large, with rough skin, its grip firm and heavy, holding him with a strength that allowed no resistance.

Before he could turn, before he could tear his gaze away from the wolf's yellow eyes, he was dragged backward into a darkness so dense it felt like it was closing in on his chest.

The last sound before everything went black was the echo of the hooded figures' laughter, mixed with the frantic beating of his own heart.

And he woke up.