(Thomas POV)
The silence that followed my words stretched thin and sharp as a blade. Even Aro, ever the picture of poise, hesitated—his eyes flicking between me and Jane, weighing something behind that polite smile.
Then he laughed, soft and brittle, the sound bouncing strangely off the stone. "How endlessly delightful you are, Thomas," he said. "Every word you speak lands like a story I've heard before."
He took a step forward, fingers steepled, his voice dropping low. "Do you know, once—long ago—I read of creatures born of flame and hunger, hidden in the mountains east of Indus? Beings the old tongues called Rakshasa."
His words caught the attention of every vampire in the room. Even Caius, who'd been leaning back with impatience, straightened slightly.
"They were said to walk in mortal skins—of man or beast," Aro continued, almost wistful now. "They carried the fire of gods in their blood, and when provoked, that fire devoured all before it. They were neither human nor immortal… only wrath given flesh."
He turned his head slightly, his gaze settling on me again. "Carlisle and I once dismissed such tales as superstition, but now…" He trailed off, studying my expression.
I didn't move. Didn't confirm or deny.
Aro's smile returned—slower this time, without its earlier warmth. "Yes. I think perhaps I've grown old enough to believe in monsters again."
Jane stiffened beside him, but before she could speak, Aro placed a delicate hand on her shoulder—gentle, but firm. "My dear, I think our guest has made his point. Let us not provoke old fires that prefer to sleep. After all, no law has been broken here."
Her lips parted like she wanted to argue, but his look silenced her.
Off to the side, I caught Felix's face. His expression was tight, jaw flexing, crimson eyes flicking between Jane and Aro. There was something almost protective in it—the faintest ache of loyalty, or something closer to love. But it was twisted by anger at her humiliation.
When Aro turned away, Felix's hand curled into a fist at his side. His glare found me for just a moment, and I could tell—he blamed me for it.
Aro clapped his hands once, as though the tension hadn't just threatened to crack the air in two. "Well!" he said brightly. "I believe we've reached an understanding, haven't we?"
Caius made a low noise of displeasure but didn't speak. Marcus, of course, remained as impassive as marble.
Aro gestured toward us. "You are free to go, my friends. Carry our goodwill back to Carlisle. Do give him my warmest regards—and tell him I envy his luck once again."
Edythe bowed her head slightly, cautious but composed. "We will."
Aro's gaze lingered on me one last time. "You may all wait outside for the new moon to rise. That should give you plenty of time to start your journey home."
We turned toward the exit, the click of our steps echoing through the chamber. As we passed the row of guards, I felt Felix's stare on my back—a cold weight that promised our paths would cross again.
And when I risked one glance over my shoulder, Jane was still watching me too—her small, cruel smile returned, but her eyes no longer burned with triumph.
Now, they burned with hate.
Edythe tugged at my arm, urging me forward. "Hurry," she whispered, her tone low but urgent. "Heidi will be arriving soon with her... catch of the day. Bella doesn't need to see what true vampires are capable of."
I hesitated for just a heartbeat, listening.
Footsteps. Dozens of them — too heavy, too steady to be guards. Human voices, hushed and oblivious, drifting closer through the corridors behind us. The sound hit harder than I expected.
Those people were walking to their deaths.
My fists clenched before I could stop them. Every instinct screamed at me to turn back — to do something.
But I could already feel Edythe's fear through her grip. She was right. Any delay, any sign of defiance now, would doom all of us.
So, I forced myself to move.
Each step away from that sound felt heavier, like I was dragging the weight of their voices behind me. I didn't look back — couldn't.
Because if I did, I might not keep walking.
The guard left us in what appeared to be a waiting room. In fact, it was the very same room I had seen when Alec entered the throne room and I had been correct, the woman stationed there was human.
I was grateful for the light classical music playing over the speakers while we waited for the sun to go down. The melody was gentle, almost cheerful, and that made it worse. Edward and Bella sat so close together they could have shared one seat. Alice paced a few feet away, her phone pressed to her ear — no doubt speaking with Jasper.
And then, finally, I let myself look at the one person I'd been avoiding. Not because I didn't want to see her, but because I knew that once I did, I wouldn't be able to think of anything else.
Edythe.
I sat and pulled her into my lap. My arms wrapped around her, holding her to my chest with more strength than I'd ever used before. I felt her melt against me, her head settling on my shoulder. Neither of us spoke. For a long while, it was enough just to exist together, breathing the same still air.
After about an hour, the receptionist made her rounds, asking softly if we required anything. I didn't hear how the others answered, but both Edythe and I waved her off.
I couldn't summon much pity for her — there was no way she didn't know what she was part of — but I didn't care enough to say anything either.
Eventually, Edythe and I began to talk. Small things at first, the details we'd skipped over in phone calls: nights alone, half-remembered dreams (obviously mine only), the tiny, ordinary pieces of living that had kept us both moving.
It felt strange, almost wrong, to be happy — to laugh quietly, to feel her cold fingers tracing idle patterns against my wrist — when somewhere less than thirty feet away, dozens of people had just died.
A little over an hour later, some guards escorted us back through the twisting corridors. The air aboveground had shifted — darker now, cool with the early breath of night. The festival had ended hours ago, leaving only scraps of red cloth caught in the gutters and the faint scent of wine clinging to the stones.
Alice led the way, silent and sharp-eyed, scanning every shadow as we emerged into the alley. She didn't relax until we reached the small square where she'd left the car Edythe told me they had borrowed to get here from Florence.
I laughed when I saw the yellow Porsche parked against the curb, a fine layer of dust dulling its shine. The same one that had caused my driver to despair as he lost out on five hundred dollars. I should have known.
Alice exhaled through her nose, muttering something that sounded very much like a curse in Italian before striding over to retrieve her luggage from the trunk — after Edythe convinced her that the car was too risky to drive back to where they had stol—borrowed it from.
I waited near the mouth of the alley, my pack slung across one shoulder. The leather was still scuffed from my run down the mountain — the weight of it a reminder that I hadn't set it down since Nepal.
Once we all had our luggage, we made for the city outskirts, keeping an eye out for any available transportation.
Much to my surprise, a compact sedan pulled up, headlights washing over the cracked cobblestones. When the driver stepped out, I almost laughed.
"Marco," I said.
His face split into a grin. "Ah, the big American! Do you have any more deals you'd like to make? I was hoping to find a passenger so the trip back to town isn't a loss."
His gaze flicked over our group — Edward and Bella clinging to each other, Alice and Edythe with their luggage, and me standing there looking far too calm for the hour. "You look like people who want to be anywhere but here," he said.
"You could say that."
He nodded once, already moving to open the car doors. "Then you're lucky I couldn't find another passenger. Where to this time?"
Alice called over, tossing him a folded stack of euros. "Florence," she said. "And drive like your life depends on it."
Marco's grin widened. "It very well might! I have a date tonight — and if I miss another one, my lady will be most displeased with me."
He slid behind the wheel, the car humming to life again.
Edythe brushed past me, touching my arm as she moved toward the back seat. "Come on," she murmured. "Let's go home."
I gave the dark streets one last glance — Volterra sleeping under its ancient stones, the echo of bells still ringing faintly in my ears — and followed her into the car.