#dankfic

Everyone can see the mischief when it comes alive in Edward's green eyes.

The humor is loud on his face too. It adorns the corner of his mouth with a crooked smirk.

We all follow Edward and his gang with our eyes as they complete the trail to their cars.

They post up against their vehicles and begin tossing their backpacks inside.

Tanya removes her cotton-candy pink, bomber coat and throws it in the passenger's seat of Edward's Volvo.

I suspect she's removed it because it restricts her mobility and she's prepared to go toe-to-toe with any of the girls from Mike's side that tries anything funny.

Edward leans against his silver automobile and arches an eyebrow in Mike's direction.

He's waiting for Mike to make his approach.

His arm snakes around Tanya's waist, pulling and tucking her into his side.

I try to swallow the log in my throat but Mike starts walking across the lot and Jessica pulls me with them as she follows.

We stop a few feet away from the Clearcut Gang.

Our eyes lock onto theirs as a dangerous circuit jolts between the two groups.

They don't react to our presence.

It's their space and we are in it, but they make us understand we do not bother them.

Tanya squints her gaze at all of the females, sending each of us a threat without opening her mouth.

When nobody checks her for her twisted up face she scoffs and curls her lips even more.

They are coated fire-truck red but lined with a chestnut brown. She did not blend the different colors so the contrasting hues cause her lips to pop against her silky skin.

Strawberry blonde curls bounce in her face but she forcefully swipes them away.

Tanya is ferociously beautiful up close and it's one of the most intimidating things about her.

Edward tilts his head slightly, naturally he is the first to speak, his voice ladled with boredom. "What do you want, Newton?"

The deep, rich sound that vibrates from within his throat causes my eyes to widen.

I have never been this close to him or any of them for that matter.

He is so much more appealing now that I am standing a few feet away from him.

The clipped glances I catch from time to time don't do his extraordinary features justice.

His hair is a sun-kissed bronze.

It's messy and unkempt, falling over his head in many different directions. The vivid color stands out against his smooth, ivory skin.

Despite his pale pallor, I can see the ghostly trail of freckles that splatter across his nose.

His eyes are a forestry green, underneath eyelashes so long and thick it appears as if he is always looking out from under them.

His facial structure is sharp and prominent, cut at angles that make him both boyish and masculine.

His lips are full and pink, and his nose slightly crooked.

Everything about him is attractive, from the way that he laughs with his eyes to the way his clothes lay against his toned body.

"The bag I got from y'all yesterday was short, Cullen."

Mike's voice is clipped and his expression is vexed.

Anyone else would be intimidated by his display but Edward is unfazed and it shows in the way he shrugs his shoulders so dismissively.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

It's pretty evident that he does know what Mike is talking about.

The smug look behind his neutral mask is not hard to miss. It's not like he's trying to conceal it.

Even Tanya's lips are coated with amusement, as she looks Mike up and down.

Jessica and her friends do not like this, especially because they have a huge audience.

They don't want to look like fools, but Edward and his gang continue to snicker as more moments without a resolution flit by.

"Look, I'm not here to go back and forth with you."

Mike's threat makes my breath sputter like a locomotive.

It's heavy and loaded like a gun, yet Edward seems to be the one holding the ammo.

Regardless, Mike pulls the baggie of weed out of his hoodie pocket and flings it to the ground beside Edward's feet.

"I just want you to give me my money back because I don't want this shit."

Edward untangles his arm from around Tanya's torso and she moves to the side to get out of his way.

He stands a little straighter but he still doesn't react very much.

He's irritated now though.

I can see the ire when it swells in his gaze.

He doesn't give the discarded bag of weed any of his attention. His eyes remain on Mike but his mouth stays shut.

"You ripped me off." Mike snaps, taking another step forward.

"Jasper."

Edward turns his head slightly, peering at his blonde-haired friend.

"How much dank did you give him?"

The boy named Jasper has a collage of gold running through the curls that sit upon his head.

They're all different shades, from sunlight-yellow to honey-amber.

His eyes are violet colored and almond shaped. He shares a striking resemblance with his sister Rosalie.

They are twins but of different genders. It doesn't make him look more feminine, or her more masculine.

There is a beautiful balance between both of them.

They too, along with Edward and Tanya, are undeniably attractive.

"He gave me fifty and I gave him 3.5 grams."

Jasper's voice is husky and tinted with a southern drawl which makes me wonder where his family came from.

"Jazz said he gave you what you paid for."

Edward says, looking at Mike pointedly.

"You ever think … maybe that's what you guy's money is worth to us?"

Edward grins but it's meant to be a taunt.

It's now extremely clear that he already knew about Jasper giving Mike a skimpy bag of weed, and it's also extremely clear he has no intention of giving Mike his money back.

This realization causes Mike's entire face to go red.

"He didn't give me 3.5 grams and he knows it."

Mike counters, flashing Jasper a scowl that he stares back at with the blankest expression of nothingness.

"Are you calling my boy a liar?"

Edward asks, watching the way Mike fumes. The crooked grin on his face travels upwards and settles behind his irises.

"Just give him his damn money back."

Jessica snaps angrily, which tickles Edward but triggers Tanya.

He has to catch her by her arm to keep her from running up on Jessica in retaliation.

When she is back at his side, he glances at her with humor but also with a sternness.

She understands the message he sends and she drops her intention to pounce.

Her baby blue eyes stay locked and loaded on Jessica's, narrowing as her fingers flex at her side, like she's itching to snatch somebody up.

"This is between Edward and Newton." She states. "Don't make this between me and you, Stanley."

Jessica isn't brave enough to object a second time.

She drags her eyes to Mike who huffs and squares his shoulders.

His eyes smolder and he tries with all of his might to keep his voice even and clipped. All of his annoyance however, hangs onto his next slew of words like a sticky coating.

"Just give me my money back." He takes Jessica's demand from before but aims it directly at Jasper.

The violet-eyed boy still doesn't react.

His attention darts onto Tyler Crowley for the briefest of moments before landing back onto Mike with a new finalty.

"I don't have shit for you, bro."

The atmosphere gets thick.

It feels like both groups are standing and staring at each other for hours before someone finally makes a move.

I'm not sure what exactly triggers Mike but he is the first person to throw a blow.

He catches Edward off guard, hitting his nose so hard that he stumbles backwards from the force of the impact. Blood begins to fall from both of his nostrils, pouring down his face in uneven drips.

I hear the gasps of surprise from the people around us, but the noise from everyone else is quickly silenced by the boom of the two boys colliding with each other.

I only get to catch a brief glimpse of Mike's face after being forced onto the ground because Edward's fists are covering it with powerful punches.

The blow that Mike threw looks incredibly futile compared to the blows Edward throws in return. He fights like it's something he's used to doing, something he doesn't even have to think about anymore.

He moves with lightning-fast precision and he doesn't break a sweat.

Even when Mike's arms are flailed helplessly at his side … Edward continues to hit him.

At this point, the crowd is shouting and cheering in excitement.

Jessica steps towards the quarrel as if she intends on trying to break it up, but Tanya matches her steps and shakes her head.

Without uttering a single word, she indicates that if Jessica gets involved, it's not going to end well for her.

Still intimidated from earlier, Jessica takes the warning and steps back with the rest of us who can do nothing but watch as Mike struggles to throw Edward's body off of him.

My heart is racing because I've never actually been this close to a fist fight. I've seen many at school, but they've never been personal to me.

I don't know where I get my voice.

It has been stuck somewhere in the back of my throat ever since Edward flashed that devilish smile, but somehow, I am able to recover it from its hiding spot.

"Edward...STOP!"

I scream loudly, desperately, but not daring to get remotely closer to where they are scrambling.

"You have to stop. Please STOP!"

As if my voice breaks him out of the rage, Edward actually stops hitting Mike and looks up at me. Our gazes lock in that instant.

Immediately, I am completely and utterly captivated by him and I can't make myself look away.

I can see the darkness leaking out of the holes that Mike has poked against his armor.

Everything about Edward is dangerous and risky.

In that single second, his eyes show me the truth.

The reality is, if he wanted to truly hurt Mike, he could do so easily and without much effort. Edward was going to allow Mike to walk away from this situation today untouched.

He only waited around to appease him with a conversation for the theatrics and because he probably had nothing better to do at the moment.

He probably never even took this beef with Mike seriously, but after Mike hit him in the face all of that control he had over himself before was gone.

"Edward, watch out!" Tanya's high-pitched voice pulls both of us out of the haze.

This is when Mike successfully breaks free of Edward's entrapment and forces him onto the wet pavement.

He is able to get a few more good hits in before the school's security guard makes his way through the horde of rioting students to stop the fight.

When the two are pulled away from each other, it is not hard to tell who got the upper hand.

Their faces are distinctly different.

Mike's left eye is already swollen shut and turning purple, his top lip is fat and split in the center, his entire face is reddened with angry welts, and there is a huge knot beginning to form on his forehead.

Edward, on the other hand, is almost totally unscathed. The left side of his jaw is swollen and there is dried blood underneath his nose but nothing more than that.

"I knew it was a bad idea to let these Clearcut kids into our schools."

Officer Harry Clearwater says disapprovingly, standing in between Edward and Mike as he hones his walkie-talkie.

"All you kids ever do is start trouble around here."

"Excuse me?"

Tanya exclaims, raising her voice as her frustration skyrockets. Harry has offended her and her appalled expression warps into an indignant scowl.

"We're the ones who were attacked!"

"That's a lie!" Mike counters. His claim is quite believable, even though he is actually lying through his teeth. "They tried to jump us."

The opposing claims start a chaotic argument between the members of Edward's crew and Mike's ego-wounded friends.

Everyone is yelling over each other to get their word in.

Harry's head snaps from left to right to hear both stories, but the crowd behind us is still jumping around and rooting rambunctiously.

Edward is oddly the only person who does not defend himself.

"I'm tired of this nonsense you Clearcut kids keep causing. Everywhere you guys go, the trouble seems to follow…"

"We were standing over here minding our own damn business."

Tanya explains loudly. The disrespectful attitude she gives makes it hard for Harry to want to take her side.

"This idiot is the one who brought his band of followers over to stir up some trouble."

"All I wanted to do was talk."

Mike says this as earnestly as he can, causing the security guard to nod his head with understanding and pity.

Tanya's mouth drops in awe as she watches the officer drink in his story.

All of this has to do with reputation and the side of the town you come from.

Edward and his gang are on the unlucky end and Mike is using his "Golden Boy" card to his advantage.

"Ask Bella Swan, her dad is the police chief. She'd never lie about something like this."

Officer Clearwater's eyes turn towards me and I instantly shrink back.

I do not like being put on the spot. It makes me extremely uncomfortable.

I am not Mike Netwon's friend.

Before yesterday, he never even offered me a second glance in the hallway. The way his expectancy rests on his face is unsettling, as if it should be common sense for me to want to be on his side.

"Is it true Bella?"

Officer Clearwater asks carefully, glancing down at me with appraising eyes. He looks leveled and understanding, completely opposite from how he looked when Tanya tried to plead her case to him.

"Did Edward and his friends start the fight or not?"

I am struck without my voice for a few seconds.

Tanya's piercing eyes lay upon mine.

They are fueled with a hatred I've never seen before.

I note how she says a lot of things with her eyes. The expression I am peering into tells me she thinks I'm weak, small.

Mike looks at me with impatience, his swollen face swallowed with irritation.

Everyone else is looking at me with similar expressions. They're all curious and waiting to see what I'll say.

Edward is the only one who has this unique sort of look on his face.

His brows are furrowed, his lips are pursed, and his head is tilted just marginally in my direction.

He's looking at me with a wry expectancy, as if he knows I'm going to lie on him.

He's looking at me like he knows exactly who I am, like he can see my internal struggle, like it disgusts him.

"Bella?"

Harry nudges my shoulder lightly. My gaze drops from Edward's and meets his dull one instead. "

Are you going to answer the question?"

I look down into my hands, shaking my head regretfully. "Not."

"What?" He asks incredulously, stepping forward to hear me more clearly.

I sigh to myself because I am disturbed I have to say it again.

I don't dare look at Mike's face, any of his friends, or anyone that's in the crowd. It feels harder to get it out of my mouth the second time around.

"We approached them. An argument broke out. Mike threw the first punch."

"I see."

It is clear to see Harry did not want to hear me admit the truth.

He would much rather me give him a reasonable excuse to send the Clearcut kids back to their town for good, than a reason to condemn some of our own.

"I guess we'll settle this matter tomorrow morning."

No one says anything else to me on the way back across the lot.

I'm scanning the black top for Angela's car because I'm dying to sink into her red, leather seats and hide away.

Our classmates are pissed at me.

They are fuming with anger and with very good reason. I don't know why I didn't just lie and tell everybody what they wanted to hear.

It would have been a hell of a lot easier than dealing with the cold shoulders, insulting whispers, and strange stares I'll be getting for the next couple of weeks.

But it was the way Edward had looked at me...

I find Angela sitting inside of her car.

She'd been watching everything go down through her rearview mirror.

She tries not to look at me in any weird way but I know she's wondering why I stood up for Edward and his gang.

Before I take the passenger's seat, I look back across the lot one final time.

Edward is not the one I find staring at me like I would have expected.

He is over to the side with Tanya. She's touching his face with her soft fingers, caressing his sore spots with concern and affection.

The person that is looking my way happens to be his sister, Alice Cullen.

She is an adorably petite, little-thing with onyx black hair. It's delicate, and wavy, and falls to her shoulders freely.

All of Alice's features are soft, pretty, almost elf-like.

She has deep green eyes that mirror Edward's but they are not nearly as intense.

There is something inside of them though.

There's a glint that shows itself to me when her lips tug into a small smile.

I am confused but even though it is brief, I know her smile is meant for me.

he states, the antagonizing tone returning but now layered with a weary disappointment.

"You walk through life thinking the truth sets everyone free. For us, the truth just gives the police a reason to ask more questions. Your little moment of bravery yesterday just made our lives harder, not easier. That's a luxury only a chief's daughter gets to afford."

The accusation stung, partly because I know it is true.

I shrink back against the door.

He pulls up to the curb of my pristine, porch-lit house, the car idling. I don't ask him how he knew exactly where I live.

I know he has his way of finding out certain things in this town.

"Go inside. Go tuck yourself in your frilly, warm bed."

He commands, his voice flat.

"And forget you were ever in The Clearcut."

The cloudy, morning light creeps through a small crack in the hand-embroidered curtain that hangs over my window.

It's still dark in my bedroom so I continue to lay underneath the blankets and pretend like I don't have to get ready for school in an hour.

I shut my eyes again but my brain doesn't turn off because I can hear Charlie rummaging around in the kitchen right below my room.

He probably just got home from work not too long ago.

Ever since I was a kid, Charlie has worked around the clock, both day and night. I got used to only seeing him at certain parts of the day.

He sticks to a strict routine when he's at home since he works so much. He's a predictable person through and through.

Right now, he's pulling out a pot so he can make us a big batch of rolled oats.

He does this every morning, topping his with slices of peaches and mine with greek yogurt.

It's one of the only things we do together as a "family" so I always act grateful to receive my morning oatmeal from him, even if I don't have a taste for it.

And today, I don't have a taste for anything…

I just want to lay in bed and try to forget about the stupid choice I made yesterday.

Neither, Mike and his friends or the Clearcut Gang, could give two hoots about me.

After much reflection, I realized neither party would have ever gone out on a limb for me.

I only told the truth because I felt it was the right thing to do at that moment, but I never considered what would be the practical thing to do.

I mean, Mike and Edward already had lingering tension before their fight so it didn't matter who took the blame yesterday.

They still weren't going to like each other once it was all said and done and they STILL were going to have beef.

Even if I'd lied on the Clearcut Gang, they wouldn't have retaliated or come after me. They've always been above petty disputes because they have to be selective about the things they give a reaction.

Mike's crew, on the other hand, will definitely come after me.

They will probably troll me until the day we graduate.

They ARE petty like that.

They're bullies that know they can get away with it, and they are also easily insulted.

My phone chirps beside my bed to alert me to a message I have received. I already know who it's from because Angela is the only contact approved to send messages through at this time.

I enter my code and go to our text thread. The wish that I would have left my phone on the nightstand is immediate because the first thing I see is a screenshot from Jessica Stanley's Facebook page.

She made a slew of angry and ambiguous posts throughout the night.

This is a common tactic of hers once she's gained a new enemy… the classic sneak-diss.

I read through a flurry of statuses that kind of sound like they are directed towards someone specific without saying any names.

The last one, which was posted at 7:00 this morning, reads as follows: 

"It's always the lamest, ugliest bitches willing to do ANYTHING to gain clout off me and my man's name."

My tongue suddenly feels thick and my stomach very full.

I toss my phone somewhere on the bed and it bounces off of the mattress, landing on the carpeted floor with a soft thud.

Just as I reach down to retrieve it, the sound of Charlie's voice wafts up the staircase and invites me down for breakfast.

I pick up my phone and I pick up my face.

I go to my bathroom to make sure my expression carries none of my concerns. I don't want Charlie to pick up on anything.

He's the type of father that becomes suffocating when he's trying to help, so I keep most of my personal issues to myself.

He never understands my perspective when I attempt to allow him into my head anyway.

Certain things, we just don't agree on.

I decide I look composed enough to pass as simply being tired.

The corners of my eyes sting because somewhere deep inside I really want to take a moment to cry. Everything escalated so quickly in the last couple of days that I didn't even get a chance to plan my reaction.

Now, I am feeling overwhelmed.

I'm feeling intimidated by the prospect of facing Jessica Stanley's wrath.

I managed to be invisible and out of the way up until now.

Even though I'm here at home, I still feel exposed, like all of my classmate's eyes are riveted on me the way they were in the parking lot.

"Good morning."

Charlie says, raising his eyes from the newspaper he clutches in one hand. The other hand holds his spoon steady and near his lips. I watch him blow carefully before eating a hefty scoop of oats.

"If you'd taken any longer, your breakfast would have gotten cold."

"Good morning." I reply, heading to the fridge to pour myself a cup of black cold brew.

"I just got home. Another long night."

He alternates between eating his oatmeal, skimming the paper, and watching me with his attentive eyes.

"There was a burglary at the Cheney's residence I had to check out."

His voice is flat but his frustration is unmistakable.

I survey the exhaustion that weaves into his facial features. His cheekbones aren't as high as they used to be and the light doesn't reach his eyes. His bushy brows rest knitted together in strain, indelibly stamping his expression with consternation.

"Do you have any leads yet?" I ask casually, pulling out my seat crosswise from him. This is usually what our small-talk is about.

Charlie and I don't have a close, personal relationship.

He got custody of me when I was three years old. My mother lost her life to heroin a short time afterwards, so he really is the only parental figure I can truly remember.

I know I had a mother once, but I don't remember how it feels to have a mother.

Charlie and I spend most of our days like this.

We talk over the dinner table during a meal. We don't get too deep; we linger on the surface.

Charlie only hovers when he senses something is bothering me. Otherwise, he prefers to remain uninvolved and focused on his work.

"I can't be too sure…" He trails off vaguely. Charlie keeps the details of his professional life evasive enough so I cannot interfere. I watch him intently as he chews his last few slices of peaches, leaving only vanilla oats remaining inside of his bowl. He stares past my face and continues to eat, lost somewhere within his thoughts. He only realizes he failed to finish his sentence when the sound of my spoon clanging against the bowl grabs his attention. "But I believe those Clearcut kids had something to do with it."

My slight interest begins to grow after he mentions The Clearcut. I immediately picture Edward's crooked smile.

"What makes you believe they're the ones responsible?"

Charlie looks at me closely, pointedly.

"I know it's not one of our own going around burglarizing our neighborhoods. Those people from Clearcut have a way of life, Bella. They're not used to having nice things of their own so they take things from others instead."

His response makes my eyes widen. It's difficult for me to picture Tanya in her cotton-candy, pink coat assisting in a home invasion.

I try to envision all of the intriguing faces I'd been so close to yesterday.

The deviousness within their expressions had been unquestionable. It made me wonder if they were truly capable of being the criminals everyone else already thought they were.

"I'm making it my mission to take them down THIS year." He declares quietly to himself, displaying a fortitude that seems to live deep in his soul. "I'm sick and tired of the moral pollution they spread throughout our neighborhoods. Forks is a safe and respectable town. Always has been … always will be."

"You don't know if the Clearcut kids did it for sure though."

My statement comes out as an accusation but I don't intend to say it that way. It catches me off guard just as much as it does Charlie.

His flat, brown eyes begin to gleam with suspicion and I can see his questions as they form and grow in his mind.

My attention falls back down to my bowl, which is starting to cool and cause my oatmeal to stick together unpleasantly.

After a few moments of silence, Charlie speaks again.

"I heard about what happened at school yesterday."

"Of course you did." I deflate as the words leave my mouth.

I am irritated by his admittance so I have to work to keep my tone even.

Charlie likes to keep tabs on me around town, especially at school where he expects me to always be on my best behavior.

He is strict because he believes I am a reflection of him, and he wants the town to feel like it is protected by a man they can trust.

I also suspect a big part of him is fearful if he doesn't keep a close eye on me I might end up like my mother, but he never willingly talks about Renee so it's only my assumption.

I pretend to miss the disapproval that has woven together Charlie's stern face, pushing the oats aimlessly around my bowl.

He clears his throat gruffly and pushes away from the table, carrying his dirty dishes over to the sink. I watch his back as he rinses them with cool water, ridding them of their crumbs and food residue.

He stands straight and tall but his suspicions from before are heavy and they appear to weigh him down as they rest on his tired shoulders.

"I'm just making sure you're doing what you're supposed to do, Bella."

He offers me an explanation that I did not ask for, as if his good intentions are supposed to negate the feeling of having my privacy invaded.

"I don't want you seeking out the wrong type of friends because you are feeling lonely. Harry said you were hanging around those football boys. Is that true?"

"Yes and no." I say, deciding that there is no point in lying.

Charlie already knows the truth and probably exaggerated parts of it.

The school's security guard, Harry Clearwater, is one of his closest friends. There's not a Friday evening he isn't glued in front of the television with Charlie, throwing back brewskis and Rolaids to offset the grease from the fried fish.

I've talked to them both about treating me like a child and allowing me some space to breathe. They've mostly just disregarded my requests or given me a lecture about knowing what's best for me.

Harry also has a daughter and she's about my age too, living on The Reservation with her mother Sue, who happens to be Harry's estranged wife.

I've never gotten to hang out with his daughter personally because he explained she chose to go down the wrong path early in life.

He and Charlie never went too far in detail about it, but I know I have a special place in his heart because of the strained relationship he has with her.

"I am partners with Jessica Stanley for a biology project and Mike Newton is her boyfriend. Honestly, I just ended up being in the wrong place at the wrong time when I tried to stop her after school and go over our project together."

"You know…"

Charlie trails off, bringing me to watch his thoughtful expression. There's something there in his eyes that I can't quite put my finger on.

It makes my stomach twist with butterflies.

I find myself not wanting to hear what he has to say next but his thought continues.

"You don't have to feel bad for those Clearcut kids. And they're not cool, they're not hip, they're not the type of people you want to call friends. Stay away from them, Bella. I doubt any of them even know what a real friend is and you deserve better than that. You know that, right?"

I nod because this is the part where I'm supposed to.

Compliance is the only thing that keeps Charlie from watching me like a hawk and I can't afford that.

Not Now.

The silence in the car changes shape.

It's no longer awkward or tense — it's charged.

Heavy.

Focused.

The kind of silence that fills a room right before something breaks. Jasper and Alice aren't paying attention to me anymore. Their fear is too loud, too consuming.

Their eyes stay locked on the road ahead: the blur of passing cars, the harsh glow of highway lights, the looming green signs that mark how far we are from anything familiar.

Then the exit appears.

THE CLEARCUT

White letters on a green sign. A warning disguised as a direction.

Jasper takes it without hesitation.

I hold my breath as the car merges onto the narrow bridge that leads into a place I've only ever heard about in whispers. A place I never thought I'd see.

The moment we leave the highway, the world changes.

Darkness swallows everything, and not a metaphorical darkness — literal. There are no streetlights. None. The only illumination comes from Jasper's high beams cutting through the black.

The houses are barely visible, just vague shapes swallowed by shadow. We move too fast for me to take in more than impressions: small houses, cramped lots, overgrown yards. No gardens. No trees. No signs of care.

Just survival.

A wave of sadness hits me — sharp and unexpected. People live here. People actually grow up here and call this place home.

The car gradually slows.

We turn down a narrow street marked "NO THRU TRAFFIC."

The road dead‑ends at a white‑brick house sitting alone on a patch of land, separated from its neighbors by a rotting picket fence and a wall of overgrown brush. It's the only house on the block that looks… fortified.

Three cars are already in the driveway — one of them Emmett's massive jeep. Jasper parks at the curb.

I stare at the house, trying to memorize every detail for Charlie. Loud music is coming from inside, every word vibrating clearly out of the speakers. Why have they raised the volume so high? The entire street must be able to hear the blaring noise.

The front door is wide open. Emmett and Rosalie stand on the porch, leaning against the railing. Their facial features are arranged with an undeniable uneasiness, but it's over something far more complex than the wrath of their neighbors.

They can't see me through the tinted windows.

Thank God.

I haven't prepared myself for their reactions. The altercation between Forks and The Clearcut is still fresh, so they are probably still upset. I have nobody to back me up here. No friends, no security guard, no Charlie. If they decide to gang up on me, I'll be ridiculously outmatched.

My fear charges and multiplies as Jasper tugs the key from the ignition. He and Alice remain silent. I wait for them to speak, to say something, anything.

If they don't soon, I'm going to burst.

"Are we gonna go in?" Jasper asks finally, tilting his head toward Alice. The question is for her. Only her. I'm not included.

He's trying to pretend I don't exist and it's completely unfair.

"We can't just leave Bella in the car, Jasper," Alice says, her voice soft but firm.

"We can't take her in either." Jasper retorts evenly. His voice is level, but the irritation is palpable. "Carlisle's gonna be livid. I don't wanna hear his fucking mouth."

"Well, I'm not leaving her."

Jasper stares at her — long, silent, searching. Something passes between them that I can't decipher. Then he gives up. He gets out of the car and slams the door hard enough to make me flinch. He stalks past Emmett and Rosalie without acknowledging them.

"Don't worry about Jasper," Alice says lightly. "I swear he has a mood disorder."

It's not funny.

But it's not hard to believe either.

"What's going to happen now?" I ask, my voice dry and thin.

"You're going to have to come in with me," she says quietly.

I shift uncomfortably. That house is filled with people who already dislike me. People who might hate me, people who could hurt me. They'll all treat me the same way Jasper did, like I am an inconvenience, but they all won't be passive-aggressive. Some of them are big personalities, and will have no problem making me understand this was a huge, monumental mistake.

Alice looks like she wants to reassure me, but she knows she can't.

"Just keep quiet, okay?" she says instead. "I'll explain everything."

With that, Alice opens her car door. The world tilts and suddenly becomes a ballerina dancer, spinning around me tauntingly. I follow her because I don't have a choice.

The moment my foot hits the ground, I feel it — I am not welcome here.

Rosalie and Emmett are the first two people who spot me. Their eyes flicker between Alice and myself, a silent verdict passing between them. Emmett looks confused and maybe even a little amused. Rosalie, on the other hand, is beyond angry. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and though she isn't openly glaring, there's a glare inside her eyes that threatens me before her words get the chance to.

"What the fuck is she doing here?" To my horror, her eyes land directly on mine.

I freeze. My voice disappears. Her hostility hits me like a physical force — a wave that knocks the air out of my lungs. All I can do is look at her dumbly, my eyes locked on her beautifully ferocious face.

"She's with me, Rose." Alice says rather bluntly, wrapping her hand around mine to offer some comfort. "Come on, Bella."

Rosalie's eyes widen, then narrow into a scowl so vicious it could cut glass.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Alice?" she hisses through her teeth.

Emmett has to wrap his arm around her waist to keep her contained. Her whole body vibrates with anger. She locks her teeth together again, grinding them so hard I know it must be painful.

"She's not going in there."

"She can't stay outside," Alice says, her voice small but steady.

"Take her back where she belongs," Rosalie snaps, her gaze slicing into me.

She doesn't bother hiding her disgust. This is her territory. Not mine.

Rosalie, you know I can't do that right now," Alice pleads, glancing at Emmett for support.

He looks torn — worried for both of them, annoyed by the situation, probably wishing I would disappear.

"Just let them pass," Emmett murmurs into Rosalie's neck, rubbing her shoulders. She softens by a fraction, but her eyes never leave us.

Alice pulls open the screen door.

And I step into the next stage of discomfort.

Tanya and Edward are the first people I see.

They're sprawled across a sleek leather couch like they own the air around them. Tanya is pressed against Edward's chest, her back molded to him, his face buried in her tangled blonde hair. He looks asleep — impossibly — despite the music blasting loud enough to rattle the floorboards.

Their clothes are shamelessly discarded around the room. A pair of pants in front of the television, a shirt beside the couch, and Tanya's dress abandoned by the front door.

The articles are so carelessly strewn it's like a tornado ripped them straight from their bodies. My cheeks flush with intense heat as I slowly begin to understand this scene.

Edward's upper body is bare, his pale skin glowing faintly under the dim lights. Midnight‑blue basketball shorts trimmed in gold hang low on his hips. I try to remember which NBA team wears those colors, but my brain short‑circuits when I look at Tanya.

She's wearing a white ribbed tank top — too small, too thin, clinging to her like a second skin. She isn't wearing a bra. Her nipples and the heart‑shaped rings through them are visible through the fabric. The blanket thrown over their lower halves is too short to cover anything. One of her ass cheeks is fully exposed, and she doesn't seem remotely bothered.

Alice doesn't react; she pays their compromising position no mind.

Tanya turns her head toward the sound of us entering, blue eyes landing on me with lazy amusement.

"Really?" she says, eyebrows lifting. "You kidnapped the wannabe? Couldn't you have brought someone more interesting?"

Her smirk slices through me. I look away, pretending to study the massive TV embedded in the wall — anything to avoid her gaze.

Inside, the house is nothing like the outside.

There are plush white carpets, dark maroon walls, and sleek black furniture. The three-piece leather sectional, two recliners, and love seat are all positioned perfectly for viewing the large television. The massive entertainment center holds three game consoles: a Nintendo Switch, an Xbox One, and a PlayStation 5. An Apple computer and an expensive beat box are stationed in the corner, looking close to brand new. What truly catches my eye is the exquisite artwork craftily plastered along the walls. I try not to let the astonishment show.

How they managed to obtain all of this is beyond me, but I have no doubt they did it illegally.

Tanya shifts, her moving disturbing Edward's shallow slumber. He stretches and wakes up, slowly dragging a hand through his bed-ridden hair. There's a tinted daze in his emerald eyes. His attention focuses on Alice first, but my awkward shifting alerts him to my presence, and his head cocks in my direction.

"You brought the chief's daughter?" His brows knit together.

A twitch at the corner of his mouth sends a shiver down my spine. His gaze rakes over me — slow, assessing, sharp.