DAWN: A NEW TWILIGHT

The rain had finally eased, but the sky still pressed gray and low, like the weight of something unspoken. Bella stood near the edge of the parking lot, her arms folded tight over her chest as she watched Edward move toward his car—alone, fast, and deliberate.

She stepped into his path before she could talk herself out of it.

"Edward."

He stopped like he'd already known she would.

Students nearby looked up from their conversations. Jessica's head tilted with open curiosity. Mike Newton glanced over, and Ben whispered something that made him smirk.

Edward's eyes swept the crowd, then landed back on Bella. There was something unreadable behind them—something sharp and shadowed.

"Not here," he said quietly.

Then he turned, and Bella followed.

They crossed the lot without another word, the click of her boots swallowed by damp pavement and pine needles. He didn't look back. She didn't falter. They moved past the last rusting fence post and into the trees.

The forest swallowed them whole.

It was darker here, quieter. Moss climbed tree trunks like old secrets, and the air was cool and damp with mist. Edward didn't speak until they were well beyond sight of the school—until it felt like another world entirely.

When he finally stopped, his shoulders were stiff.

"You're not going to let this go," he said.

"No," Bella answered simply.

He turned toward her. His face was calm, but his jaw was clenched—too tightly. His eyes searched hers, trying to measure something. Fear, maybe. But she gave him none.

"You've already guessed," he said. "You just want me to say it."

She nodded. "I deserve the truth."

He was silent for a beat, then another.

"Out loud?" he asked, voice a quiet rasp.

"Yes."

The word came like a dare.

His eyes darkened. Not with anger—but with resolve.

"Vampire."

It fell from his lips like ash, as if even saying it hurt.

The wind stirred, cool and thin. The trees around them seemed to lean in closer.

Bella didn't flinch.

He watched her, expression unreadable, almost… pained. She wasn't screaming. She wasn't backing away. It unnerved him more than any reaction might have.

"I knew it," she said softly, as if the word simply confirmed what her heart had already accepted.

"You don't know what that means," he told her. "Not really."

"I know you've never hurt me."

Edward's face twisted. "You think that matters?"

She stepped closer. "You saved me. In Port Angeles. You didn't have to."

"I wanted to kill you that day," he snapped, the words jagged with restraint. "The scent of your blood—it was like drowning. Like fire."

His hands were shaking now, barely.

"I've killed before, Bella. Don't pretend I'm safe."

"You are," she said, her voice a whisper. "To me, you are."

He moved before she could blink, faster than her eyes could track. One second, he was still; the next, he was inches from her, close enough that his breath ghosted against her cheek—cold and wrong and yet somehow familiar.

"I'm not the hero here," he whispered. "I'm the monster."

Bella's heartbeat thundered in her ears, but she didn't pull away. Didn't so much as sway.

"If you were," she said quietly, "I'd already be dead."

A long silence stretched between them. The wind moved again. Somewhere high above, a raven let out a low, singular cry.

Edward looked at her like she was both salvation and a cliff's edge.

And for the first time, Bella saw him not as beautiful or tragic—but terrifying. Not because of what he was.

But because of how badly he didn't want to be.