CHAPTER FOURTEEN
vampires will never hurt you

WHEN THE CAR PULLS TO A STOP in the parking lot in front of her high school, Violet doesn't immediately get out. Students milling about peer into the tinted windows of the familiar sedan (halfway through the school year and one might assume they'd be a little more accustomed to the positively gleaming car containing a coldblooded girl made monster by privilege and madness, but they still continued to stare, like the hopeless little pigeons they were), but give up once they realise there's no way to see what's going on in there from the outside. Paying them no heed, Violet's fingers fly over the keyboard of her phone with the fury of a hurricane. If Luka could see her, he'd cock his head, twinkle in his soft-sun eyes, and ask: where's the fire, Vi? And, in response, she'd shoot him a rude gesture with her hand she'd learnt from one of his friends who works behind the counter of the skate shop that might send her mother into an agitated verbal coronary. For a moment, there's a blanket of static silence, permeated by the rumbling purr of the sedan's smooth engine, the sticky smack of gum being gnashed viciously between Violet's teeth as she jams her thumbs against the buttons of her phone.

In the rearview mirror, Aaron tries to catch her eye, but to no avail. Violet keeps texting. The driver fights the eminent eye-roll. Typical teenager. Granted, there hasn't been a day that Violet's been this attached to her phone, so much so that she's ignoring how her knee's bouncing with an impatient, agitated energy. There's no decrypting the micro-expressions pulling at her features like strings attached to her face. A sharp tug sends her eyebrow arching for a nanosecond, another makes a corner of her lips twitch ever-so-slightly, but, as always, her face smoothed back into the marble mask of sharp-eyed indifference, so quickly and so efficiently you'd begin to question whether you'd imagined it at all.

Her phone buzzes once more with a text.

Paul: nope. not going to school today. you should come over tonight btw. there's a bonfire, and there will be food. a lot of it. kit says she misses you

Violet scoffs, earning herself a surreptitious glance from Aaron in the rearview mirror. Something had shifted between them. Two nights ago, Paul had come running to her house in the middle of the night just because she'd been spooked. They'd talked all night. About everything that mattered and all the nothings that could've been. Until she'd forgotten about her mother and the glowing yellow eyes in the dark, until Violet's eyelids had grown heavy with exhaustion, until her mind had stopped its racing, until time melted into nothing and the shadows fell away from the corners of her eyes and she hadn't realised until much later, when the sun rose and soaked her hardwood floors in rum-coloured rays, when the left side of her bed was vacant of Paul's heat and the covers had been pulled up to her chin, that, in the growing rift of what she should feel and what she didn't, a light had been switched on.

What she realised was this: she wasn't scared anymore. And she didn't know if it was because she wasn't alone at the time, or because of Paul, specifically, but she knew something had changed and she didn't understand it. She didn't know if she liked the change or not. That's what's been bothering her for a good part of the week since he'd left her in her room, climbed out the window and disappeared into the dark. That's the new itch in the back of her head, sitting right beside the voice that'd been muted each time she thought of the boy-wolf with his molten eyes and heat-kissed skin and the perpetual scowl etched on his chiselled features.

Violet: we just saw each other at the skate park yesterday.

Violet: but i'll come.

Violet: for kit. and the food.

Paul: yeah you keep telling yourself that

Violet: hush. why're you not going to school today?

Paul: cause i dont want to

A sharp knock on the window snaps Violet's attention out of the conversation, just as she's about to hit send on her response (a casual, "bullshit") to Paul's suspiciously vague answer. Finally, she tears her eyes off the screen of her phone and meets Aaron's curious gaze in the rearview mirror. Lips twisting in impatience, she rolls her eyes and winds down the window, only to reveal Jacob Black's face beaming sunnily down at her.

"Hey, Violet!" Jacob says, the cheer in his voice causing Violet to wince, and as he leans forward with his arms folded on the window sill and ducks his head into the car through the window, Violet's expression darkens with irritation. It's one thing to catch her completely by surprise, but it's even worse when it's someone whose skin she knows can't be sliced open by the knives under her sleeves. She keeps them within reach anyway, just incase Jacob decides this invasion of her personal space isn't complete without trying to climb into the car through the open window. Unlikely that that would be his next move, however, considering his powerful shoulders seem to swallow up the edges of the window, his big head and body blocking all the light slanting into the car.

It's as she's pinning him with one of her signature deadpan looks that the wild thought creeps into her subliminal thoughts: Paul has better arms...

Immediately, a wave of repulsion roils through her, and she shakes it off by flicking Jacob a callous look.

"Can I help you, Jacob?" Violet drawls, tapping her nails—freshly painted black last night—against the arm rest. She cocks her head. "Oh, wait. I don't care."

It doesn't matter that he's practically Paul's brother-in-arms. She doesn't know Jacob. Barely knows any of the other werewolves besides Kit and Paul, even. She's still warming up to the idea of getting closer to any of them. Considering they're all so... loose-limbed and touchy-feely with everyone... so warm from the inside out, it's a little overwhelming to her, especially since she's grown up making herself a stranger to affection, and after Luka's death, had completely cut it out of her life.

—YOU'VE ALREADY FORGOTTEN—

Livvy.

Violet's heart aches at the name. A reminder. A time gone by.

All except Livvy.

—THIS IS WHY YOU DON'T LET ANYONE CLOSE. THEY ALL LEAVE ONE WAY OR ANOTHER. LUKA, LIVVY, THEY'RE SOLID PROOF OF YOUR CURSE—

Unable to stand the small space anymore, Violet slants a flat look at Jacob, to which he leans back, rocking back on his heels as he crosses his arms over his chest, black shirt pulling taut over his muscles, but leans back, rocking back on his heels as he crosses his arms over his chest, black shirt pulling taut over his muscles, but Violet snatches her skateboard off the floor, slings her backpack over her shoulder and shoves the door open with jerky movements, missing clipping Jacob in the hip by a hair's breadth, and steps out. She hardly hears Aaron drive off under the blood rushing in her ears.

Despite her manifest animosity, though, Jacob merely snickers, like her teeth had bounced clean off his impenetrable skin. "Oh, man, I missed that. Everyone's been so stressed out lately ever since that day in the woods—" he slants her a surreptitious smirk, an impish gleam in his eyes— "especially Paul, but you don't care, do you?"

Despite the persistent curiosity parroting, "Paul? What about Paul? Paul? What about Paul? Tell me about Paul!" in her head, Violet shoves down the concern and flicks her fingers at him. "Children should be seen, not heard."

Amusement lights up Jacob's expression as Violet starts pushing past him, albeit, instead of being deterred by her cold shoulder, he jogs backwards, still staying in front of her. Eventually, he halts before a sleek motorcycle resting before the steps leading to the entrance of the school. A handful of students turn to look at the odd sight. A mismatched pair of misfits. A boy who clearly didn't go here, and a girl who clearly didn't want to. They stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the crowd.

"What do you think you're doing?" Violet scowls.

"Why," Jacob says, shrugging, "I'm talking to a friend."

Just as Violet's about to form a retort about how he's hardly a friend, a sharp, "hey!" cuts across the parking lot, and Jacob's expression instantly sours, the smile fading from his lips, the easy slack of his shoulders replaced by an agitated tension as he bristled.

Violet turns.

Only to find a girl with dark hair storming on a warpath towards them. On her heels, a boy with auburn hair and pale skin strolls up to them, keeping a clear distance, albeit still hovering by the girl's side protectively, as he regards Jacob with unadulterated distaste. His eyes flicker over to Violet for the briefest of moments before he does a double-take, forehead creasing as he pins her with a searching look. Violet purses her lips.

"Bella," Jacob says, curtly. "Charlie said you left town."

"To visit my mom," Bella says, confusion scrawled across the twist of her lips. "Why?"

The boy lingering at her side scoffs. "He's checking to see if you're still human."

Bella's eyes flash as she snaps her head to him. "Edward!" She hisses, side-eyeing Violet, who merely cocked her head. Between the three—Edward, Bella and Jacob—Violet had no business in whatever mess they'd tangled themselves in. But sh couldn't ignore the gut feeling urging her to stay, to listen.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Edward lifts a brow. "Relax, she knows. She's a part of this too. Violet, right? Your brother was taken by Victoria four years ago. I read about you in the papers."

A deep ache staked through her chest. All the air knocked out of her lungs. Taken. Not murdered. Edward said taken. Nobody had believed her when she'd insisted Luka was still out there, somewhere, rather than buried in the empty grave, a mere memory, just another set of bones to lay to rest, even if there was no body to show for it. But Edward knew her side of the story. And he didn't even know her. But out of all the people in the world, how could he? Unless...

A darkness thundered over Jacob's expression as he growls, "look, I'm here to warn you—"

Edward scoffs again. Violet narrows her eyes. Pale skin, strange colouration of his eyes, such an unnatural yellow... His chest isn't moving. No regular expansion and relaxation of the ribs... Almost as if he wasn't breathing...

"—If your kind come on our land again..."

And suddenly it all dawned on her. Violet's gaze snaps up to meet Edward's, features hardening, lips pulling back in a snarl. In all the years she's spent away from Forks, Violet had done a lot of digging on monsters. Vampires and werewolves, to be more specific. Each bore the littlest difference in features that distinguished monster from human. Vampires were the easiest at first glance. All one had to do was know where to look, and then look closer. Judging by Edward's mirthful smirk and mock salute—congratulations, you've got me—Violet's hunch was right.

"Wait, what?"

Edward's expression collapsed. Jacob's face blanked.

"You didn't tell her?" Jacob asked, brows furrowing.

Edward shook his head in warning. "Just leave it alone, Jacob."

Perplexed, Bella shot a look between the two boys. "Tell me what?" There's a hurt buried deep in her voice, a dissonant quality, and it thunderstorms over her head in a way that would've ticked off Violet's father. Too much vulnerability always turned him away.

"Emmet and Paul had a misunderstanding—"

Alarm shot through Violet as Paul's name caught on her ears.

"Stop there," Violet commanded, eyes blazing ice and fire. Bella flinched from the iron thorns in Violet's tone. "What happened to Paul?"

He's not at school. He's been texting her all morning. The phone in her hand grew hot. Something happened to him. Was he hurt? Did this Emmet person-thing-vampire hurt him? Violet knew Paul would never tell her, but that didn't stop her mind from racing through all the possibilities, all the worst-case scenarios that might've transpired. Under the knife-bright heat of Violet's demanding glare, Edward winced. Good. It was about time someone gave her answers.

"He's fine," Jacob said, in an attempt to reassure Violet. "Tired, maybe, but he's got all his limbs and his hair's still pretty."

Violet rolled her eyes. "Right."

Jacob smirked. "You alright there? Seem a little bit... concerned."

Pointedly ignoring him, Violet hugged her skateboard tighter to her chest, tugged lightly on the strings of her black hoodie as she dug the nail of her thumb into the side of her index finger, lifting her chin indignantly. "Okay. Whatever. Just wanted to be sure. I'll take my leave now."

Before anyone could call her out on her bullshit, Violet turned sharply on her heels and strode off, a mantra banging around her skull—I don't care, I don't care, I don't care—as she fought down the wave of immense relief flooding her veins. A glitch in the matrix, is all this is.

Or is it?

☾

FAR AWAY, SOMEWHERE IN THE DEPTHS OF DIRTY AND DEVOURING SEATTLE, a boy with sun-gold hair lies curled up in foetal position in the shower stall of a dilapidated motel room, the freezing sting of the shower spray boring down on his marble skin. It doesn't hurt. It should hurt. Even though he's stripped from the waist-up, even as the water pressure drills into his back as he rests his head against the cracked wall, he doesn't feel anything. Hasn't felt a thing since he'd been turned. Everything is wrong. Everything inside him is asleep and awake all at once. He doesn't feel the cold, but he hears every shift in the winds, every exhale and every bitter groan of the rotting floorboards. Outside, the motel's illuminated NO VACANCY sign flickers and buzzes, humming with electricity. It pricks and pinches his eardrums. Through the wall, he hears the systematic thump of hearts beating both in tandem and out of sync from the room next door. He hears them all. All except his own.

"Boy," a muffled voice slices through the closed door to the bathroom.

Hers, too.

With a jerk of his wrist, Luka Korchak shuts the water off and lifts his dripping head. The faucet shudders from the force, but doesn't break off. He's learnt how to control his newfound strength. He's learnt a lot of things since his heart stopped. He doesn't need to breathe, but he draws in a shuddering breath anyway, dread trickling through his . His lungs inflate, but nothing changes. No relief. Nothing. It's been getting more and more difficult to distinguish feeling from feeling as the years trickled by, as time sliced through the sky, bleeding night into day, as all the earthly measurements of its passage lost its meaning. He has eternity where his pulse once sat, a dead bird laid to rest. Its wings had stopped beating when his sister's scream became the last human thing he heard before the darkness took him.

"Boy," the voice calls—a woman's—the only other voice he's heard in years—her's—much closer this time, much more impatiently. Boy. She never even bothered learning his name. Says it's too personal. Says names have power. And yet, he kept hers locked in his head. He's always been just boy, or you, or fledgeling to her.

Raking a hand through his wet hair, smoothing it away from his pallid face, Luka turns. The door is open and Victoria looms by the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest, ruby-red lips (blood or lipstick? It's hard to tell sometimes. Sometimes, the only distinction he can make is with the different smells. Today, it seems, her mouth is vibrant with both) twisted in distaste as she eyes his diminished state. Pathetic. Her disapproving stare feels like a thousand cuts against his skin.

"Come," Victoria commanded, snapping her fingers in his face as she tossed a towel and a black shirt at him. "Don't make me wait. There's someone I'd like you to meet."

"What's their name?" Luka asked, voice low, a mere whisper, raspy with misuse.

Irritation flickered in Victoria's red eyes. Her lip curled. "That's not important. Quick. Get changed."

A surge of defiance erupted at the base of his gut, fanned with the flames of a black anger staking through his flesh. Luka shut his eyes. His grip on the faucet tightened, the veins and sinew on the back of his hand pulling taut. A plaintive crack siphoned through the silence. "What's their name?" He asked, again, raising his voice just the slightest bit. If his heart was still beating, he'd feel it pounding against his ribs. For now, though, all he feels is a phantom chill running down his spine. He'd stood up to Victoria before, albeit, rarely. She'd always put him back in his place. Time and time again, he'd be kicked back down. She'd remind him that she was his maker. She'd remind him that she held the power in her hands. There was a lot she held over him. And he resented her for that. Resented her for setting him free, yet keeping him in chains. But there was nothing he could do about it.

Something malicious flashed in Victoria's expression.

Luka's eyes flashed open. His sharp stare met Victoria's in the bathroom mirror.

Silence hung between them, a deadweight on a fraying thread, seconds away from snapping.

"Riley," Victoria said, stiffly.

Luka didn't have to, but he let out a slow, shaky exhale. Riley. He didn't know anyone named Riley. It was a stupid sentiment, but Luka collected the names of everyone Victoria turned. Just incase he knew them. In all the people Victoria had recruited, though, Luka only searched for one. One, whose name he prayed to every god, every speck of the universe that would listen, he wouldn't hear come out of Victoria's mouth. Ever.

If Victoria noticed the tension bleeding out of Luka's body, she didn't mention it. Instead, she tapped a sharp nail against her wrist, a smirk spreading across her lips, cold and slow and the most horrible thing he'd ever seen. "Time's ticking, fledgeling." In a flash, she surges forward, seizing him by the jaw and slamming him against the wall, nails digging into his skin. If he could bruise, his face would've been a massive blemish. But he could only feel the bones of his jaw clicking, shuddering with tension. She could crush his jaw if he so much as breathed wrong. Victoria cocks her head, something vicious glinting in her eyes.

"Don't ever pull that shit with me again," Victoria hissed, baring her teeth, her razor-sharp canines gleaming in the garish bathroom lighting. "You wouldn't want precious little Violet getting hurt, wouldn't you?"

☾

IN THE MIDST OF SETTING HER ROMEO AND JULIET ESSAY ON FIRE, Violet spots Edward making a beeline towards her just as the paper (and its bright red F—probably because her entire essay had been about how the real tragedy was that Mercutio's death was an act of homophobia rather than about the actual question) begins to burn. She'd skipped Geography and Spanish because she was bored and decided practicing kick-flips down the eight-stair was more valuable use of her time. Halfway, she'd contemplated making a run for Sage's house, but ended up sitting at the bottom of the stairs, taking a breather, when she'd gotten tired from practicing skateboard tricks in the parking lot.

"Violet," Edward says, lips pursing as he stares down at her, eyeing her lighter warily.

Fishing a fresh carton of cigarettes out of her backpack, which lay at her feet, Violet pulled one out, clipping it between her teeth, and offered the pack to Edward, who wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"No, thank you, I don't smoke," Edward says, shaking his head as he watched her light her cigarette on the flames swallowing up her essay. The paper curled, browned, and flaked off as the light breezed swept the ash away, but it didn't stop burning. Edward clicked his tongue against his teeth, tugged at the sleeves of his leather jacket. "You know—"

"If you're going to say smoking kills, I'd advise you not to," Violet cut him off, exhaling a plume of smoke in his general direction. "I don't care if your father's a doctor. So's mine. You're not special. Unless you can tell me where Victoria took my brother, you can make yourself scarce."

Edward chuckles. "Fair enough. But I'm not at liberty to say anything about Victoria. Carlisle—my father thinks you and Bella don't need the added stress."

"But you do know," Violet said, narrowing her eyes, jabbing her cigarette at Edward. He knew something. There was information she could extract from him. Precious information she'd been searching for since she was thirteen. Since she'd promised herself that she would excavate the truth, and, in the same vein, find Luka, and she wouldn't rest until she'd achieved both of those things or she was dead. "You know where that woman is holding my brother prisoner. You didn't deny it."

Edward shifted in discomfort, but his words cut clear and concise. "I have to admit, I don't know a lot. Only pieces. Even then, I'm under strict instruction not to disclose anything. For the very reason that I know you're going to throw yourself head-first into whatever lead you get out of me, and it'd be even more difficult to protect you if you're going to sneak around us and get out there in... It doesn't matter. We don't need you running around doing whatever you please. Your friend, Kit, wouldn't be too happy with you if you got hurt, would she?"

Violet flicked Edward a frosty glare. "What's your point?"

Edward smiled. "Are you hungry? I didn't see you at lunch today. Would you like to discuss this over food?"

Letting go of the last remnants of her essay when the flames began to scorch her fingers, Violet arched a brow. "You have a girlfriend, and you don't eat human food. What do you want?"

Edward shook his head. "I just wanted to talk. I'll pay."

"Don't talk to me like I need charity," Violet sneered, tapping her cigarette against the edge of the step, dislodging a chunk of cherry ash. "Whatever you wish to say, you say it now. You have thirty seconds before you lose my interest."

Annoyance pinched Edward's features. He blew out an exasperated breath as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"I know what you think of us," Edward said, solemnly. "Of vampires. I know that you think we're the real threat here because of what the wolves have said about us, and because of what happened to your brother. But I assure you, we're not all malicious—"

"Here's the thing," Violet interjected, rising to her feet, causing Edward to back up a couple steps. At the mention of Luka, something inside her had snapped. It didn't matter that they both believed the same thing. She didn't care for the pain he was about to bring up. She tapped a few buttons on her phone and brought it to her ear. With a smirk and a mock salute, Violet set one foot on her skateboard, slung her bag over her shoulder, and said, "unless you know how to get my brother back, I don't care. I don't care if vampires can be good. I don't care if you're different from Victoria. Where your morals lie doesn't matter to me. As far as I know, you're of no use to me if you won't tell me what you know about my brother."

And then, just as the ringing stopped and the recipient picked up, Violet zipped away, putting distance between herself and school, leaving Edward and his half-hearted efforts to change her mind on his kind behind in the dust.

"It's me," Violet said, one arm stretched out, fingertips tracing the wind billowing at her back. She tossed her cigarette into a ditch without so much as a look over her shoulder. A woman pushing her baby on a stroller shot her a disapproving look. Adrenaline rushing to her head, Violet kicked off the ground, gaining speed on the road. Away, away, away. "Where are you?"

"Tillicum skatepark," was all Sage said, in the background, past the wind whistling in Violet's ears and the roar of her skateboard's wheels tearing against the tarmac, she could hear the metallic thunk of a set of trucks hitting a railing. "I'm filming a line for Kit. Why?"

Seems like Kit had skipped school, too.

"Meet me at Nino's in ten minutes."

"Only if you're paying," Sage sniffed. "I'm on a budget."

Violet scoffed. "You know, I'm offended you even have to state those terms." Sage knew how much Violet loved spending her father's money. Especially if it was on things that weren't for herself.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll tell—"

"Is that Vi?" A beat. A shuffle in the background of the other end of the line. Kit's sunny voice bursting through the speaker: "Hi, Vi! I miss you!"

Violet smiled. "Miss you too, tiny. See you at Nino's. I gotta go. I gotta bomb a hill and I don't want to completely wipe out, so..."

"Okay! Bye! Miss you!"

"SHUT UP ALREADY, KIT," Sage hollered in the background, cackling.

Violet hung up first.

☾

IN VIOLET'S OPINION, Nino's wasn't the best pizza the world had to offer, but it was Sage's favourite pizza joint in town, so Violet didn't care, and Kit was happy to tag along as long as they ordered a large pepperoni pizza for her.

"Your pizza should be done shortly," a waitress said, a plastic smile plastered on her glossy lips as she set down three milkshakes on the table (a chocolate, a peanut butter, and a vanilla). Violet tapped her fingernails against the edge of the stained table as she sipped on her vanilla milkshake, peering out the grimy glass window, smudged with fingerprints and questionable stains, as she waited for Sage and Kit to arrive. Amidst the miasma of pizza oil and other strange scents soaking the air within the pizza diner, the hum of conversation grew louder and louder, even though there weren't many patrons.

"Milkshakes? So thoughtful," Sage said, collapsing into the seat opposite Violet and sliding the peanut butter milkshake over to her side. Her skateboard fell to the ground with a loud clatter. Sage kicked it under the table.

Beaming, Kit slid into the booth beside Violet, tucking a renegade strand of hair behind her ear. Like Violet, she clipped her skateboard between her knees, one hand reaching for her chocolate milkshake, and the other, playing with one of the trucks on her skateboard. Without warning, Kit pulled Violet into a bone-crushing one-armed hug. Violet winced, but she leant her head against Kit's.

"You know we saw each other yesterday, right?" Violet said once she was released and could feel the blood rush back into her arms, narrowing her eyes at Kit, albeit, she didn't bother wiping the ghost of a grin hanging onto her lips.

"I know," Kit whined, crossing her arms and propping her elbows against the edge of the table, pouting, "but I hardly see you anymore. It's so unfair. I've got soccer practice almost every day of the week, and I'm so busy with the... wolf stuff..." her voice dropped into a low whisper, casting her gaze around for eavesdroppers. "Even frickin' Paul gets to hang out with you more than I do now. And you guys, like, never used to get along at all."

Sage smirked, a devilish glint in her earth-brown eyes. "They're real tight now, aren't they?"

Violet scoffed. "I wouldn't say that. He's... not that horrible."

Features bursting with triumph, Sage slapped both hands against the table and jabbed an accusatory finger at Violet's face. "I knew it! Don't you dare ask me what I mean, because we all know that 'not that horrible' is essentially high praise coming from you."

Groaning, Violet waved Sage off. "I've got better things to discuss with you two than Paul."

Sage shrugged. "Hey, I might not care for the straights, but I care about you, so if things go well in that department—"

"First off," Violet interjected, "I'm not straight. Second, as I was saying—"

"Wait," Kit said, slowly, abject mortification and disgust melting away the confusion on her face. "You like my brother?"

"Jeez, Kit," Sage snickered, stirring her milkshake with her paper straw. "How are you so slow—"

"No! Dammit," Violet growled, throwing a sachet of sugar at Kit and a packet of ketchup Sage. Kit caught hers before it hit her face, but Sage could only yelp in surprise as she got pegged in the cheek. "Nobody interrupt me starting now. Listen. Jacob was at my school today. He was looking for Edward and Bella and he said something about a treaty line." Violet pinned Kit with a searching look. "What's that all about?"

Kit sighed. "We were hunting down Victoria. The vampires were trying to catch her on their side of the land, while the pack was chasing after her on our side. It's so weird, y'know, working with vampires with all the beef between our kind and theirs. Paul and Emmett—one of the vampires—got into it when Emmett crossed the line to try to catch Victoria. He's fine, though. The reason why he didn't go to school today was because we had a Chemistry quiz and he didn't study for it. He's such a baby. I was out there and I'm tired too, but I ended up going to school anyway."

"How long have you guys been hunting Victoria?" Violet frowned.

Kit shrugged. "You know Bella, right? She moved to Forks, like, a couple years ago, and she started dating that really weird guy—"

"Edward," Violet said, filling in the blanks.

Sage blinked. "Who?"

"One of the Cullens," Violet said, leaning forward, fire in the pit of her stomach. "He's a vampire. Here's another thing: he knows Luka wasn't murdered. He said to me, today, Your brother was taken by Victoria four years ago. He didn't say killed."

"Same difference," Kit said, a gentle sadness swimming in her soft eyes. She lay a hand over the back of Violet's, and entwined their fingers. "It's likely he's not human anymore. I'm sorry, Vi. That's just the way it is with them. They don't take in humans if they don't have intent on turning them."

"I know," Violet said, even though her insides felt like they were being put through the meat grinder. She hadn't known. Some part of her had hoped... well, she didn't know what she'd hoped for, exactly, since she did see him get bitten, and a bite meant that there was no chance of a person staying human. But she'd hoped, and now that reality had come crashing down on her, it hurt. When you've been numb for years, holding onto some fragment of an illusion, what else is there to feel besides pain? And now the illusion had to dissolve. "I know," Violet said, again, the fire in her gut snuffing out. "But that means he's out there, right? That means I'll get him back."

In the moment, Kit looked so sad Violet thought the girl might cry. And she didn't like it. She knew that look.

"I don't know," Kit said, sighing. "I'd love to be optimistic about this, but I'm afraid we've got little to no chance of even finding where she's keeping him. As it is, we're too busy watching your house and Bella's, since you're both the most obvious targets. Our resources are stretched too thin. I'm so sorry, Vi."

"It's not your fault," Violet said, squeezing Kit's fingers ion reassurance, but her words were coarse and they bit into her own throat.

"Well, fuck that," Sage declared, thumping her fist against the table with a judge's conviction, a determined expression blazing her features. In her deep scowl, a fire burned, fierce and messianic. "There's gotta be a way. What if we look for him ourselves?"

"As much as I appreciate your optimism," Violet drawled, "how would we even start? I don't know how I'm going to track Victoria down on my own. Even the wolves and the vampires can't catch her. There aren't enough clues in the world—"

"You're Violet fucking Korchak," Sage snapped. "Have you forgotten? You don't need a reason. You always get answers. Remember that time you sniffed out the bitch who cut Kit's hair back in middle school? Kit didn't want to tell us who it was, and I was out sick that day, but you rocked up to our school anyway and cornered Janice fucking Taylor in the bathroom and made her cut off her own hair before everyone else figured it out? And you didn't even go to our school! Where's that cutthroat bitch Violet gone?"

—SHE'S STILL HERE. SHE'S STILL MONSTROUS—

A pensive look spread over Violet's features. There weren't any clues out in the open, and as far as the police knew, this case had gone cold four years ago, but she knew where her first starting point would be. "Maybe."

—OUT-MONSTER THE MONSTER, PUT THE WORLD ON STRINGS—

Kit perked up. "I wanna help. I'm only on patrol duty with Jared on Mondays, Thursdays, and Sundays. I can make time."

"So you know you're not alone," Sage said, arching a brow. "What're we gonna do?"

Violet cocked her head. We're going to bully the shit out of Edward Cullen until he agrees to tell me what he knows, is what we're going to do. As the waitress came by to lay three pizzas on the table, a plan began to form. Violet's silence was deafening. Lists began to run in her head. Dots were being connected. The puzzle hadn't come together yet, but Violet knew where to find her pieces. Kit and Sage exchanged a glance.

"I see that scheming face, baby," Sage hummed, flicking a dreadlock over her shoulder, at the same time Kit asked, "What're you thinking?"

"I'm thinking," Violet began, procuring a purple sharpie and a piece of lined paper from the bottom of her backpack and scribbled down the words: PHASE ONE. She tapped the tip of the marker against the table. "We start with getting answers from Carlisle Cullen's family. Then we can start working from what we get out of them."

AUTHOR'S NOTE.
listen......... the plan seems a lot underdeveloped because it is. but you all know violet. you know she's smart. you know she gets things done. you know she'll have everything planned down to the finest details. and we'll find out the bigger picture in the next chapter where things Get Good