Late at night, foggy. The cold wind gently slams against the glass window, startling me as I sit up on the wrinkled blanket from tossing and turning. This is the umpteenth time I've dreamt of those beautiful deep green eyes gradually turning a dramatic red. At the foot of the bed, old yellowed pages suddenly seem influenced by some force, flipping rapidly. I watch in a daze as each page reveals a memory—about accidentally living in the Twilight world, surviving, observing, enduring hardships while always being by...Victoria's side.

Vic.

Victoria.

She must be so angry with me for leaving so long.

I'm dazed as the old book works its magic. The wind flings open the glass window, a beam of light enveloping the small room. When it fades, the bed is empty.

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Forks, 20XX...

Fog shrouds the sky, air thick with dampness. Months have passed since James's death—and since I crossed over. On the night Bella was attacked, I appeared outside the old ballet studio. I saw Victoria. Those red eyes blazed with fury, the color of death. I wanted to run after her, explain everything...but she slipped into the night with Laurent.

Since then, she's seemed to be leading me on—letting me chase, letting me call—but I never did. Not at the school dance, nor the woods, nor the cliff where she hid to find an opportunity to kill Bella.

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Seattle nights feel more comfortable than Forks' damp gloom. Wandering at midnight, I feel dozens of chilling eyes on my back. This tells me I'm on the right track. Victoria is nearby, recruiting a new army of newborn vampires.