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Riley POV: A few months ago
The world had shrunk to the wet sound of his own uneven footsteps and the uncomfortable sensation of pressure releasing upward from the stump where an arm used to be. Riley ran without a clear direction, stumbling over roots black as claws and branches that felt like hands trying to stop him. He didn't know how much time had passed since he'd escaped—seconds, maybe minutes—but each one dragged out like an eternity lodged in his chest.
The beastly roar behind him still thundered in his head.
That sound wasn't normal.
It wasn't anything he had ever seen before.
When he finally stopped hearing rhythmic footsteps striking the ground, Riley let himself collapse behind a fallen trunk, breathing harshly. He didn't need air, yet his body trembled anyway, as if he were still human. He looked at his wound for the first time; the torn skin revealed a jagged edge, like broken marble ripped from some statue he might have once seen.
Victoria wouldn't like this.
There was no doubt.
Without an arm, he was useless. He couldn't fight; he couldn't protect; there was no way to control the newborns without all his strength. He couldn't even be sure he could take care of his beloved like this. He tried to swallow, but his throat refused to obey.
"My arm… I have to get it back… I have to go back for it…"
The night air carried a scent he had never smelled before: a fierce mix of damp forest and something else… something animal, but far too powerful to be merely that. The scent of the monsters who had attacked him.
Riley felt a shiver that didn't belong to a vampire.
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Days passed—two, three, maybe four—while he wandered along the forest's edge, always returning to the same spot, always staring between the trees toward the place where he had lost his arm, always turning back before daring to step in.
It was ridiculous.
It was humiliating.
But every time he tried to get close, that smell returned.
And the memory alone—the crack of his own torn skin as his arm was ripped away—was enough to paralyze him.
He didn't understand what those creatures were.
Victoria had been clear: only vampires can truly harm other vampires.
But then… how could he explain what had happened to him?
Were they werewolves?
Like in the stories? … Impossible.
But he had no other answer.
On the fifth night since his escape, Riley stood at the forest border, his fingers rigid against his pants, eyes fixed on the darkness that hid his lost limb. The wolf scent was fainter this time, almost distant.
"I just need to find it… return to Victoria… I've been gone too many days… she needs me…"
But the farther he walked toward the point where his body insisted the missing part should be, the stronger they became. That thick, violent, unmistakable smell seeped through the trees like a tangible warning, as if the forest itself tried to push him back.
Riley stopped cold when a howl tore through the night.
It wasn't the distant lament of an ordinary wolf.
It was deeper.
More aware.
Much closer.
His body reacted before his mind: he stepped back, then again, stumbling awkwardly over wet roots as instinct screamed at him to run. That those creatures could burst from the underbrush at any moment, hurl themselves at him, and finish what they had started.
Not even when he was human had he felt fear like this.
He sought refuge among the denser trees, where the darkness closed around him like a shell. There he stayed, motionless for hours that turned into days, unable to gather the courage to return for what was his… and unable to head to Seattle, where Victoria awaited him.
The resentment over his loss tried to rise in his chest, but it was crushed almost instantly by the uncertainty gnawing at him from within. And, absurd as it sounded, he was grateful Victoria wasn't in front of him right now. He wasn't sure he had fulfilled his role. He hadn't killed this Bella girl or the Winter boy. He had barely managed to strike the old woman living with the boy, and to fling Bella's father aside… but when he'd fled the house, they had all still been breathing.
Had he been enough of a distraction?
Had he truly managed to split the Cullens the way Victoria intended?
He had no way of knowing.
But that wasn't what worried him the most—and another thought had been circling his mind for hours…
Five days had passed.
Five whole days.
And Victoria hadn't sent anyone to look for him.
Riley clenched his teeth until he heard the faint crack of lifeless enamel. Frustration tasted like rusted metal.
Were they still waiting for the perfect moment to ambush the Cullens in Seattle?
Or…?
The second possibility cut through him like frozen steel.
What if Victoria had failed?
What if the Cullens had destroyed the newborn army?
Worry consumed him from within, a hollow fire that granted no rest and no comfort. There was no way to know what was happening while he remained trapped in the forest's shadows. But he couldn't leave. Not without his arm. Not while he was nothing more than dead weight to Victoria.
He stayed there, listening to the silence broken only by howls growing ever more distant, feeling the night thicken around him.
And then, for the first time since it all began, Riley admitted something he hadn't dared to say aloud:
He was completely alone.
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With no real way to measure time, Riley guessed that a little more than a week had passed while he hid in that forest. The idea of recovering his arm had abandoned him completely. Now he only felt trapped. He didn't want to return to Seattle, where a disappointed Victoria—or worse, a dead one—might be waiting. But he couldn't stay there either, where every minute carried the constant doubt of whether this would be the day the wolves finally found him.
He stayed high up in the treetops, the only place he knew those creatures couldn't reach him. He remained so still that he seemed to have merged with the forest, turned into just another branch, accompanied only by the thoughts that devoured him second by second. He stayed there for hours, even when the dull sunlight filtered through endless clouds, faintly lit the surroundings.
Then he heard a sound that snapped him instantly out of his stupor: footsteps.
For a moment, fear froze him completely. He thought the wolves had finally found him. But then a familiar, warm scent hit his nose: human blood. Fresh.
The impulse to leap down almost made him lose his balance.
He waited several more seconds, tense, watching from above as the footsteps drew nearer. When he finally saw him—a hiker walking along the trail with the carefree ease of humans—Riley felt luck might finally be turning in his favor. He hadn't fed in for far too long. But a far more valuable idea sparked in his mind.
Information.
Moving through the branches, he followed from above, waiting for the precise moment when the man would be completely off guard. Even though he knew a human couldn't outrun him, in the past weeks, he had learned never to underestimate anything.
When the hiker passed beneath the tree where Riley waited, he didn't hesitate. He dropped onto him in one quick, silent motion, grabbed him by the neck with his only hand, and dragged him into the shadows, making sure the man couldn't see his face.
The hiker let out a sharp, panicked gasp.
Riley spoke in an icy whisper that brushed the man's ear:
"Where are you from?"
For a moment, the man hesitated, not understanding what was happening, until he finally parted his lips slowly:
"Forks…" he answered, his voice broken with fear.
A dark smile curved across Riley's face.
"Cullen. What do you know about them? Have they returned to town?"
The hiker swallowed with difficulty, frozen by the unyielding grip.
"You mean the doctor? I don't know what you want, but he's a good man…"
Riley squeezed harder, irritated.
"I won't repeat myself. Are they in town?!"
"Yes, yes, they are!" the man blurted out desperately. "He—he treated me two days ago at the Forks hospital…"
Riley went completely still.
The words hit him like a bucket of ice water, each one piercing him with a clarity that left him frozen in absolute silence.
Riley ran from the place with every ounce of speed he could muster. He didn't even think about feeding on the man; he left him behind, trembling and confused, unable to understand what had just happened. Urgency consumed him completely, pushing him forward as if something invisible dragged him.
He ran north with no destination, moving faster than his own mind could keep up, as if speed alone could drown out the thoughts chasing him.
The hiker's words bit into him harder than any wolf:
Dr Cullen… treated me two days ago.
Alive.
Present.
Active.
If they were alive, if they were working in a hospital as if nothing had happened… then the most terrifying possibility forced its way into his mind:
Victoria could be dead.
The thought settled in his head with a dangerous weight. A slow poison. With every step he took, every tree he left behind, every breath he didn't need, that possibility grew until it became his only thought.
He ran.
And kept running.
It didn't matter if someone saw him; he couldn't stop. The need to flee from that intangible truth, from that fear eating through his chest, was stronger than any caution.
He ran to leave the forest behind.
He ran, trying to outrun the scent of the wolves, his own uselessness, his failure.
He ran, trying to outrun the image of Victoria falling, surrounded by the Cullens, destroyed before she even realized it.
He ran because it was the only thing he could do.
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Before he realized it, Riley had run so far that nothing around him looked familiar anymore. He only knew he was in a clearing, perhaps near the border, where the snow covered everything in a cold, silent white. Thirst was consuming him, but his mind wouldn't allow him to seek relief. He let himself fall onto his back in the snow, motionless, his red eyes—tired, almost dim, something completely unnatural for his kind—staring up at a blank, white sky.
In his mind, only Victoria's face remained.
How she had chosen him.
How he had fallen in love with her from the very first moment she turned him.
How he had believed, completely and unquestionably, that they would spend eternity together.
And now… he was lying in the middle of nowhere. Incomplete.
Without even the courage to find out whether his mate had abandoned him… or if she was dead.
Riley didn't know which of the two thoughts broke his heart more.
The only thing he knew was that he wasn't strong enough to face either one.
Whatever the reason, in that moment, Riley wanted nothing more than to die. He starved himself on purpose. Sought the farthest place he could find and waited… waited until somehow the thirst finished him.
During the first days, the fantasy of seeking out the Cullens and confronting them directly—maybe taking one of them with him before he died—tempted him more than once. But it was only that: a fantasy. With one arm and his newborn strength fading more each day, he had no chance. If anything, he preferred to die here, far away, leaving the Cullens with the uncertainty that someday he might come for them.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
The thirst demanded that he get up, hunt, and find blood.
But the image of Victoria walking away, leaving him behind, was stronger than any instinct.
He squeezed his eyes even tighter, feeling useless.
Weak.
A failure.
He regretted not being strong enough for Victoria.
He regretted not even having the will to form a new army and avenge her against the Cullens.
He regretted lacking the courage to find out what had become of his beloved… because he feared the answer would be devastating, one he couldn't bear.
Finally, he dug his rigid fingers into the snow, clinging to that absolute cold with the hope that the suffering would end soon and he could, at last, die.
And then, just when despair had fully wrapped around him, a soft and silky voice cut through the silence:
"What are you doing, young man?"