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starbluekindo · 2 months ago

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Vampire Vic x Werewolf reader

Fun plot point is that its like forbidden lovers (you know vampires and werewolves hate eachother bla bla bla) and so the reader and Vic try to keep that shit hidden from the public because they both have high standing within their supernatural community

so i was really excited writing this, but i was also a little unsure about what to do and how to do it since i've never written anything like this (and it wasn't as easy as i thought it would be), BUT if you - and the other readers- like this i can try to turn it into a small series.

warnings: au, a little angst i guess, mentions of blood, mentions of the boys (butcher more specifically), dead humans, a little homophobic and sexist if you squint, reader just wanting to love victoria in peace - i don't think i forgot anything.

the night was restless. the full moon shone high in the sky, its lights bathing the dense forest that separated the werewolf and vampire territories. you patrolled the borders with your pack, but a dark foreboding grew in your chest.

something wasn't right.

the silence was too dense, suffocating. the night seemed to announce that something bad was coming - and bloody hell, you always feared the worst. suddenly, the silence was broken by a high-pitched scream, unmistakably human.

and then, the smell of blood hit you like a punch.

“vampire” you heard one of your companions spit in disgust and then a large giant wolf ran past you quickly, not bothering to ask your permission or wait for the rest of the group.

“fuck! follow him!” that would be a bloodshed. you knew the temperament of your group, especially butcher's - he never respected your authority.

when you came to clarity, the scenario unfolding before your eyes was a nightmare. one of the vampires, practically a child, had crossed the border to hunt, something unthinkable. three human bodies lay on the ground, brutally torn apart, blood still running through the dry leaves. butcher had his claws stuck in the vampire's neck, trying to rip his head off.

“release him, butcher” you ordered when you saw what he was trying to do, that would only make the situation even worse and put your pack in a war with the vampires. "now".

"he crossed the damn border and killed under our noses!" he roared, his eyes blazing with anger. “this is an insult, a declaration of war!”

“war will start if you don't release this vampire now” your voice was firm, the situation wasn't the best but you knew that acting on impulse would only make everything worse.

your hands shook. this couldn't be happening. you knew that if this was exposed, the fragile peace between vampires and werewolves would shatter. and worse, it would put victoria—and the relationship you shared—at risk. your eyes fixed on the vampire, the invader, as the chaos in your mind screamed for control. how did this happen?

“summon the council and don’t let this get out of here, that’s an order.”

the pack meeting was called hastily, with only the closest and most trusted members — the upper echelon, the wolves with experience and power to influence the direction of leadership. the small group was gathered in a circle, under the shelter of tall trees that blocked the light of the full moon, with the smell of damp earth in the air. the atmosphere was tense, heavy with the expectation of action.

you were in the center of the circle, feeling the heavy gazes on you. everyone was waiting for a decision. the massacre on the border had deeply shaken the trust among the wolves, and now, everyone wanted justice.

butcher, as always, was the first to break the silence.

"there's nothing to discuss here," he began, his voice firm and full of hate. "that bastard crossed the border and killed humans. we already know what has to be done." he crossed his arms, his muscles bulging with pent-up fury, and his eyes glittered with mischief. "we want his head."

a murmur of agreement passed through the others present. one of the older wolves, known for his coldness and prudence, took the floor soon after.

"butcher is right. we can't ignore this. if we don't take action now, we will look weak. this isn't just an offense — it's a breach of the treaty. it's a direct affront."

you felt the weight of those words. i knew the situation was delicate, that tensions between vampires and werewolves were always a powder keg ready to explode. but at the same time, you knew that giving in to demands for revenge would only bring more blood and a conflict that could be devastating for both sides.

“i understand what you’re saying,” you began, keeping your voice controlled even as the pressure grew by the second. "but taking his head won't solve the problem. it'll just burn everything down."

butcher took a step forward, his eyes fixed on yours, as if he was waiting for that answer. "burn everything down?" he growled. "do you think this place isn't already on fire? they've already crossed the line. they've already killed innocent people. and you want to let it go? we need to act with strength, show that we are not weak!”

you took a deep breath, feeling the heat of butcher's fury radiate. "i know you're angry. i am too. but we need to be strategic. if we kill this vampire now, we will be declaring war. are you prepared for that? a war that could end us all?"

butcher laughed, a short, bitter sound. "and since when have we been afraid of a good war? let them come. let's cut each of them down and see if they're still as brave without their fucking fangs." his eyes glittered with the desire for violence, and you knew he was ready to dive head first into any conflict that came his way. “or are you afraid of hurting someone in particular?”

butcher's insinuations did not go unnoticed. some of those present exchanged quick glances with each other, and you felt your stomach sink. he was playing dirty, planting seeds of doubt about your loyalty.

“this has nothing to do with fear,” you snapped, voice firmer. “this is about survival. if we act without thinking, we will all pay the bill.”

another member, a woman with sharp eyes and known for her wit, intervened. "so what's the plan? are we just going to let this go? how are we going to explain to the humans what happened? and more importantly, how are we going to keep the pack under control? they're demanding an answer. if you don't do anything, you're going to lose the support from many.”

she was right, and you knew it. the pack was restless, on the verge of revolt. they needed action, justice. but the justice they sought was immediate and brutal, something that would only worsen the situation. you needed a solution, and fast.

“i’m not saying there won’t be consequences,” you replied, aware of the eyes fixed on you. "but let's do this the right way. i'll talk to victoria. she has control over her territory, and we'll make sure this vampire is punished — their way. if he crossed the line, they'll take care of it. but let's not we will be the ones to ignite this war."

butcher let out a short, sarcastic laugh. "do you really think you can trust them? that they'll take care of this? don't fool yourself. she'll protect him. this vampire will come out unscathed, and we'll look foolish— weak."

“that’s not going to happen,” you said, more to yourself than him. “if there is no justice, then we will reconsider. but until then, we need to remain calm.”

you needed to see her

hours later, you met victoria in the secret hideaway where you always meet, away from any prying eyes. but today, the environment carried a suffocating weight. victoria was already waiting, dressed in her usual elegant attire, the usual coldness in her eyes. but you knew something was out of place. she looked paler than usual, her lips tight.

“this is going to spread, and fast,” you begin, voice hard and controlled, but anger bubbling beneath the surface. "one of yours invaded our territory, victoria. he broke the treaty and killed humans. if this isn't resolved immediately, there will be no going back."

victoria stares at you, but doesn't back down. she crosses her arms, maintaining a rigid posture, while her mind works overtime. “i did not authorize this attack.” she said calmly, so calmly that it bothered you.

“but it happened” you replied through gritted teeth, taking a step closer to the brunette “and innocent people were hurt… do you realize the seriousness of the situation?”

“no one needs to know what really happened”

"this isn't simple, vicky!" the anger finally escapes your voice, the words sharp as knives. "you think you can just hide the shit that happens in your territory and everything will work itself out? if my pack finds out that i let this go without fighting back… it will be the end of me. the end of us.”

you see the pain flash in her eyes, but only for an instant. victoria approaches you, her cold fingers gently touching your hand in an attempt to calm the growing storm inside you. "i promise you," she says, her voice softer, almost pleading. "i'll make sure this never happens again. but you need to trust me, like you always have."

your hands shake, not just from anger, but from a deep sadness that nestled in his chest. the weight of what you are — vampire and werewolf, enemy races — felt unbearable now. the fear of losing victoria, the only person who truly understood you, was suffocating.

"if this goes wrong..." you whisper, voice almost breaking, "there are no more secrets. everyone will know what we are. who we are."

victoria stops, her eyes fixed on yours. “then i’ll make it work. i won’t lose you.”

the tension between you remained, an invisible wall, built by years of hatred between your races, but now reinforced by the fear of losing each other. silence hovered, thick as the dark clouds that gathered in the sky. the weight of victoria's words echoed in your mind, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something bigger was lurking, something that even she couldn't control.

“it’s not just my pack we have to worry about,” you said, turning your face to the sky, smelling the approaching rain. "other packs are already watching. if they see the slightest sign of weakness, they will attack. and if that happens..." you hesitated, swallowing the lump in your throat. "i'll have to choose."

victoria remained silent, her face impassive, but you knew she understood the gravity of what was being said. the choice between her and your family, between love and duty to your people, was a decision victoria never wanted you to face. but now, it seemed inevitable.

“hey, look at me” her hands cupped your face, making you look at her again “i’ll fix the situation… just trust me, please darling”

you wanted, you really wanted to believe that it would be resolved, but even if your promise was kept, you knew that the trust between the races would be broken. however, you didn't say anything, just tilted your head and let the brunette's lips meet yours in a passionate kiss full of care and longing.

back on their home turf, things are also tense. the pack leaders questioned your decision not to retaliate immediately. suspicious gazes follow you every step. you feel the weight of the silent betrayal, the secret you carry in your heart.

that night, alone under the starry sky, you look at the full moon. the silver glow brings comfort, but today, it seemed like just another reminder of the gulf that separated you and victoria.

the feeling that your relationship was hanging by a thread is almost suffocating. how long until someone finds out? how long until this falls apart?

you were a good leader, at least you considered yourself one, but at that moment you didn't want to have that weight on your shoulders. you wanted to have victoria, you wanted to love her and be loved in return.

honestly, your desires seemed more distant and impossible every day.

#victoria neuman #victoria neuman x reader #answered asks #supernatural au #the boys #yeah i was a little inspired by twilight

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aurora-by-jacqui-natla · 1 year ago

Text

11. THE NOMADS

"HELLO THERE, LITTLE ONE," HE GREETED me with a warm smile, extending his hand towards me. His towering figure loomed over me, much like Siobhan and Liam. His rugged face was adorned with a thick layer of stubble, and his lips curved upwards in a friendly manner. Although his approach was amiable, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance when he referred to me as 'little one'. However, I knew he didn't mean any harm by it. I shook his hand and returned his smile.

"My name is Garrett," he introduced himself. "And what might your name be?"

"I'm Violet," I replied, "Violet Khotler from the British Coven."

"Ah, the British Coven," Garrett tilted his head, "I must say, I wasn't a fan of the first British invasion, and the second one is even worse."

"I haven't been a vampire for very long," I admitted nervously, "so I'm not sure if I can fully understand."

Garrett smirked, "So, how long have you been a vampire?"

I shrugged my shoulders, "It's been a while."

"So, you're like a baby vampire then?" he teased.

I folded my arms, "I wouldn't say that. I'm seventeen."

"And I'm the President of the United States," Garrett quipped, causing me to chuckle. He joined in on the laughter, "I'm just kidding, of course. The Volturi would have my head if I were."

"Now that I agreed. How long have you been a vampire?"

"Around two hundred years," he answered. "I was born during the American Revolution, in New England. I willingly fought for the colonies' right to self-govern. I was what people would call a true believer in the American dream.

"I got transformed around 1780, during the war. I was transformed by accident in the aftermath of the battle. I was with an isolated group of ten soldiers when a vampire attacked us, knocking me unconscious. I woke up three days later as a fully-fledged vampire. I'm always curious and willing to investigate a mystery, and after my transformation, I strove to understand what had happened to me."

"And did you find out who did it?"

"No," Garrett shook his head, looking at the ground. "And it seems like I'll never know."

Then, he turned his head to me. "What about you? How did you get turned?"

"I ran away from home," I began. "Bunch of bikers showed up and a vampire named Victoria came out of nowhere and saved me from them." I sighed sadly. "Or I thought she was saving me."

"I got a feeling there's more to that."

"She made an army of newborns with one goal: to kill Bella." I turned my head to him. "Bella was human at the time. I don't recall the whole reason for it but it got something to do with Edward killing her mate."

Garrett nodded. "I understand. She lost her mate and she wants justice."

"I wouldn't say justice," I disagreed. "Revenge, yes. Then, the wolves showed up and killed the newborns. Except for me, unknowingly thanks to my invisibility."

"Hey, that's useful."

"Then, I saw the Volturi. Well, the Volturi guards to be precise." I clarified myself. "And after they left, Carlisle took me to the British Coven and they became my family ever since."

"At least your story got some kind of a happy ending," Garrett said and began to walk away. "Well, nice to meet you, kid. I'm going with Kate to hunt."

"Okay," I replied and he walked towards the Denali Coven.

As I scanned the room, my eyes landed on Bella. She was leaning against the wall, her arms folded tightly across her chest. Her golden eyes were scanning the area, taking in every detail. I couldn't help but feel drawn to her, so I walked over and stood beside her.

"Hey," I said softly, causing her to turn her head towards me. "You okay?"

Bella let out a deep sigh before answering. "Well, aside from the Volturi coming to kill us and not knowing where Alice and Jasper are, I'm fine. At least for now."

My heart sank at her words, and I couldn't help but fidget with my sleeves. "Sorry I asked," I muttered.

"It's not your fault," she replied, her voice heavy with worry. "I wonder why Irina wanted to come this way before she discovered Renesmee."

"Maybe she wanted to make amends with you at the wedding," I suggested. "I mean, she did it with me, and I'm thinking it might have been the same reason."

Bella nodded thoughtfully, her eyes scanning the room once again. "I can't believe they all came to stand as witnesses."

"We're defending you all," I reminded her. "Especially Renesmee."

As I spoke those words, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. We were all here, standing together, ready to fight for what we believed in. And no matter what happened, we would do everything in our power to protect each other.

"Words cannot express the depth of our gratitude," Bella spoke with a hint of emotion in her voice. Her gaze shifted towards the red-eyed vampires, their thirst for human blood adding a layer of complexity to the situation. The nomads that Rosalie and Emmett sent were unpredictable, but it was Peter who had fought alongside Jasper as a newborn that made things even more challenging.

With a nod towards the cowboy-belt kid, Bella continued, "And then there's Jacob." Suddenly, a putrid scent filled the air, as if a dog had just taken a dip in a muddy lake. I turned my head to the right and saw Jacob approaching us, his presence almost unbearable.

"Jacob," I said, my nose wrinkling in disgust. "You're in dire need of a shower."

"I'm not that bad," Jacob chuckled, his carefree attitude not matching his pungent odour.

I turned to Bella, hoping she could confirm my olfactory distress. "You smell it too, right?"

Bella nodded, her nose scrunching up in agreement. "Yeah, Jake. You definitely need a shower."

I gestured towards her, relieved to have someone else on my side. "See? Even Bella agrees."

Jacob sighed, his eyes scanning the room filled with vampires. "There sure are a lot of red eyes around here."

I couldn't help but interject. "And golden eyes, don't forget about us."

I chuckled to myself, amused by my own joke. Jacob and Bella looked at me, perplexed by my sudden outburst.

"What's so funny?" Jacob asked, his confusion evident.

"I was just thinking of that Tina Turner song when I said 'golden eyes'," I admitted.

"You mean the James Bond movie?" Jacob asked, trying to keep up.

"Yeah, that one," I confirmed.

Bella's tone turned serious, interrupting our banter. "Jake, they agreed not to hunt in the area."

I noticed Amun's hateful glare towards Jacob, and I couldn't help but wonder if he knew what Jacob truly was.

Jacob shrugged, his nonchalant attitude returning. "They'll feed somewhere."

"How many of the Quileutes have been transformed?" Bella inquired, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"Thus far, about seven," he responded, his voice laced with a hint of uncertainty. "But I anticipate that number to increase soon."

My mind was reeling with confusion. "What do you mean?" I asked, my voice trembling with bewilderment.

Jacob's eyes flickered with a fierce intensity as he began to explain the intricacies of their tribe's unique instinct called phasing. It was a power that was only activated when a member of their tribe encountered the scent of vampires and sensed the need for protection. There was no set age for the gene to activate, only the number of members required to counter the approaching vampires.

"We used to believe that only males could phase," Jacob continued, his voice tinged with surprise. "But then Leah Clearwater phased, and she's a direct descendant of the spirit chiefs."

My mind was blown. "So that means Seth...?" I trailed off, my eyes widening with excitement.

"Is also a direct descendant of the spirit chiefs," Jacob confirmed, his chest swelling with pride.

I couldn't help but feel envious of their rich heritage. "That sounds amazing," I murmured, my voice filled with longing. "I wish I knew my family tree."

Jacob's hand landed on my shoulder, his eyes filled with a sense of comfort. "You will someday," he assured me.

Suddenly, Jacob's face turned stern, and his gaze shifted to the side. "Make that the eighth one," he muttered before racing out of the house.

As Bella and Edward discussed the arrival of the last witness, I began to interview the cowboy Peter, eager to uncover the secrets of the nomads.

Peter was a wanderlust vampire, traversing the vast expanse of North America with his beloved mate, Charlotte. Theirs was a bond forged in the fires of passion and strengthened by the trials of nomadic life. It was during their time in the Mexican coven, under the leadership of the fearsome vampire Maria, that Peter met Jasper. The two became fast friends, brothers in arms, and their bond was unbreakable. Jasper's mate, Alice, was also drawn into their circle of trust, and the four of them were inseparable.

Peter's transformation occurred in the roaring twenties, a time of great change and upheaval. Charlotte followed suit five years later, her transformation a result of Maria's insatiable thirst for power. She was but a pawn in Maria's game, a mere tool to be used and discarded. But Peter would not stand for it. He and Jasper hatched a daring plan to rescue Charlotte from the clutches of the evil coven, and they succeeded. It was a turning point in their lives, a moment of triumph that would forever bind them together.

Years passed, and Jasper and Alice eventually parted ways with Peter and Charlotte. But fate had other plans for them. When the Volturi threatened the Cullens' very existence, Jasper knew that he had to act. He suggested that they seek out Peter and Charlotte, who could testify against the Volturi's accusations. And so it was that Alice and Jasper found their old friends and brought them to Forks.

The Cullens were wary of Peter and Charlotte at first, unsure of what to make of these two nomadic vampires. But as they learned more about their past and their struggles, they began to see them in a new light. Unlike the Denali coven, who had reacted with fear and hostility to Renesmee, the Cullens were more open-minded. They had never encountered an immortal child before, and they were willing to listen to Peter and Charlotte's testimony.

As I delved deeper into the mysterious world of the Cullens, I stumbled upon a fascinating tale of two nomads. The first, Mary, hailed from the rugged shores of Nova Scotia and underwent her transformation at the tender age of 28. Despite befriending the Cullen family, Mary's values on human life differed greatly from theirs, leading her to wander alone and rarely keep in touch with her acquaintances. It was only when Emmett and Rosalie sought her out and sent her to Forks, citing a family crisis, that Mary's path crossed with that of another nomadic vampire, Randall.

Randall, born in sunny California in 1945, was transformed in 1963 and had always considered Carlisle a close friend. Like Mary, he was summoned to Forks by the Cullens, with little explanation beyond the urgent need for his assistance. It was during his journey to the Cullen abode that Randall encountered Mary, and the two formed an unlikely bond as they made their way to the family's doorstep.

As I immersed myself in the details of their stories, my senses were suddenly heightened by the sound of footsteps echoing from the attic above. Intrigued, I made my way towards the source of the noise, eager to uncover the secrets that lay hidden within the walls of the Cullen house.

I ascended the stairs, my golden eyes scanning the room, searching for any sign of the intruder who had dared to enter the attic uninvited. My mind raced with the thought that perhaps the Volturi had sent someone to harm Renesmee. But I would not let that happen. I would protect her at all costs.

Suddenly, my gaze fell upon a thin string dangling from the square-shaped door. Without hesitation, I leapt up and grabbed hold of it, pulling it down with all my might. The door creaked open, revealing a ladder that carefully lowered to the ground. I climbed up, my movements silent and swift.

As I entered the attic, I activated my invisibility, blending seamlessly into the shadows. The room was filled with boxes, piled high and covered in a thick layer of dust. I moved slowly, cautiously, my senses on high alert.

And then I saw him. A figure standing among the boxes, his red eyes scanning the room with a sense of purpose. He was tall, at least six foot two, with blonde hair that fell to his neck and a beard that covered his pale face. He looked to be in his twenties, with a slender build and a sense of danger that hung about him like a cloak.

He wore a black leather trench coat, the fur on the collar and armholes worn and frayed. Underneath, he had on a dark grey hoodie, ripped and tattered, and a pair of dark jeans that hung loosely on his frame. His boots were scuffed and worn, and his hands were covered in fingerless woolly black gloves.

He reminded me of a homeless man, the kind you might see on the streets, but there was something about him that set him apart. Something that made my skin crawl and my heart race. I knew that he was here for a reason, and that reason was not a good one. But I would not let him harm Renesmee. Not on my watch.

He stood there, gazing out the window with a pensive expression etched on his face. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, a chaotic whirlwind of emotions that he couldn't seem to shake off. He let out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Why did Carlisle have to drag me into this?" he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with sadness. He shook his head in disbelief, his eyes narrowing in frustration. "Some friend he turned out to be."

He wasn't supposed to be here, not in the attic, not with the Volturi. He wasn't one of them, he didn't belong here. And yet, here he was, trapped in this endless cycle of duty and obligation.

Suddenly, he turned his head towards me, his eyes blazing with confusion. He took a step forward, his movements slow and deliberate. He looked down at the ground, his arms folded tightly across his chest.

"The whole purpose of me being in the attic is to be alone," he said, his voice low and measured. "So why am I sensing I'm not alone?"

I froze, unsure of what to say. He was gifted, like Joseph, and I didn't know if he was speaking to me or if he was just talking to himself. Maybe it was best if I didn't answer him.

He moved back to the window and sat down, his eyes fixed on the horizon. I watched him for a moment, unsure of what to do. He was lost in his own thoughts, a prisoner of his own mind. And I couldn't help but wonder if he would ever find his way back.

"I never wanted to be here," he muttered under his breath, his words dripping with disdain.

The sound of his voice was like nails on a chalkboard to me. I could feel my anger rising, my blood boiling with fury. I couldn't stand the thought of someone so callous and indifferent in the face of danger.

Without a second thought, I shed my invisibility and marched towards him, my eyes blazing with fury. I could feel the heat of my anger radiating off of me like a furnace.

"What is wrong with you?!" I bellowed, my voice echoing through the empty room. The vampire jumped, startled by my sudden appearance. His eyes flicked up to meet mine, and I could see the red glow of his irises in the dim light.

"My friend's family is in danger, and all you can do is complain about being here?!" I continued, my voice rising with each word.

The vampire looked at me, his expression unreadable. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice low and apologetic. "I just...I don't have much hope left."

I scoffed, my eyes narrowing in disbelief. "That's no excuse," I spat. "You should be doing everything in your power to help us, not dragging us down with your negativity."

The vampire looked at me, his eyes flashing with anger. "You don't understand," he growled. "I've been on the run for centuries. I've seen things you couldn't even imagine. And now I'm on Aro's list. Do you have any idea what that means?"

I rolled my eyes, my patience wearing thin. "Of course I know what it means," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "The Volturi are dangerous. But that's no reason to give up hope."

The vampire glared at me, his lips curling into a sneer. "Don't joke about them," he warned.

I raised an eyebrow, my expression incredulous. "Am I laughing?" I asked.

The vampire smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Well, if the witch can," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

I felt my anger flare up again, hotter than before. "Say that again," I hissed, my voice low and dangerous.

The vampire looked at me, his eyes widening in surprise. "If the witch can," he repeated, his voice taunting.

That was all it took. In an instant, my hair was floating around me like a halo of darkness, my eyes glowing with a fierce purple light. My fists clenched, crackling with energy.

And then I charged.

I lunged at him with the fury of a storm, my movements precise and powerful. He dodged my initial attack, slipping to the side with surprising agility. But I didn't relent. I pursued him relentlessly, our clash echoing through the attic as we grappled and exchanged blows.

He countered with speed and skill, blocking my strikes and launching his own in return. Each blow reverberated with force, shaking the boxes and rattling the dusty room. We were locked in a dance of combat, each of us pushing the other to the limit.

I managed to land a solid hit on his chest, knocking him back against a stack of boxes. But he recovered quickly, retaliating with a swift kick that grazed my side. The pain fueled my determination, and I pressed on with renewed vigor.

We circled each other, eyes locked in fierce determination. He lunged at me again, aiming for my throat, but I sidestepped and countered with a roundhouse kick to his ribs. He staggered but didn't falter, his resilience matching my own.

As our fight continued, the attic seemed to shrink around us, the air thick with tension and exertion. Neither of us would yield, both driven by our own motivations and histories. It was a battle not just of strength, but of wills.

In a sudden burst of energy, I seized an opening and tackled him to the ground, pinning him beneath me. His struggles were futile against my grip, and I held him down with a firm resolve.

"Take it back! TAKE IT BACK!" I demanded, my voice echoing through the attic.

He grunted in defiance, his eyes blazing with defiance. "Don't think just 'cause you're a girl, I'm gonna take it easy on you!"

I pressed my advantage, locking his arms behind his back with unyielding force. He winced in pain, but I didn't relent. I had to make him understand the gravity of his words, the impact they had on our precarious situation.

The struggle continued, a battle of strength and endurance in the dimly lit attic. Our conflict mirrored the larger tensions brewing beyond these walls, each of us a microcosm of the forces at play in our world of shadows and secrets.

Then, I felt someone pulling me back, away from him. Looking up, I briefly saw Ingram's face, realized he was the one holding me. And weirdly, I didn't feel as much anger as I had a few minutes ago. Instead, it made me feel comforted. His presence, strong and steady, was a stark contrast to the chaos I had just been enveloped in. It felt as if a wave of calm had washed over me, cooling the fiery rage that had been consuming me.

"Violet!" Simon's voice cut through the air, sharp and clear, and I raised my head to see him looking at me with concern etched into his features. But I didn't think it was for me. "Why are you attacking Alistair?" His voice held a mix of confusion and disapproval, making me pause.

I glared at Simon for a second, my eyes blazing with residual anger, before turning my attention back to the nomad who had been named Alistair. I removed myself from him, my body trembling with adrenaline, and felt the tension drain slightly as I stepped away.

"Hi, Simon," Alistair said with a groan, pushing himself up from the floor and dusting off his clothes. "Long time no see." His casual demeanor seemed out of place given the intensity of the moment.

As he got up from the floor, I spotted Gabriel, Joseph, and Carlisle coming up the stairs. Their arrival brought a renewed sense of urgency and clarity to my racing mind as I remembered Simon's story about how he became a vampire. And then, I remembered the name of the vampire who turned him.

That was Alistair. The realization hit me like a cold splash of water, and a fresh wave of confusion and anger washed over me.

"Alistair, Violet," Carlisle greeted us calmly, strolling towards our direction with his usual composed demeanor. "What's the commotion? What's the matter?" His voice was soothing, a beacon of stability in the storm of emotions.

"I sensed some wild energy up there," Joseph chimed in, pointing to the attic, his expression a mix of curiosity and mild amusement.

"She nearly took me out," Alistair retorted, rubbing his neck and giving me a look that was somewhere between annoyance and grudging respect.

"Oh, come on," I interjected, rolling my eyes. "I didn't almost kill you. It was just a heated disagreement." My words came out more defensively than I intended, but I couldn't help it.

"Why were you both up there?" Ingram inquired, although his question was more for me than it was for him.

"You know me, Ingram," Alistair replied with a sigh. "I prefer solitude." His tone was weary, as if he had explained this many times before.

So Alistair and Ingram knew each other? And Simon, too? Well, that made sense since Simon was part of the coven and, meeting with the other nomads, Ingram was one of them too. The pieces of the puzzle were starting to fit together, but it only raised more questions. Gabriel turned to me, his gaze expectant.

"I heard his footsteps and thought he was a Volturi guard," I explained, gesturing to the nomad. "And he called me a witch, so I had to defend myself." My voice was steady, but inside, I was still simmering.

"I didn't call you a witch," Alistair conceded, his tone softer. "I said 'if the witch fits.'" His attempt at humor fell flat, but it took the edge off my anger slightly.

My right hand glowed again, a sign of my lingering agitation, and Ingram was still holding me, easing my tension. His touch was a grounding force, reminding me that I was not alone.

"I can't believe you got your butt kicked," Joseph chuckled, shaking his head and glancing at the nomad with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. His light-hearted comment broke the tension further, and I found myself almost smiling.

"Come meet everyone, Alistair," Simon invited warmly, extending a hand of reconciliation.

Alistair shook his head, his expression serious. "If it comes down to a fight, I won't stand against the Volturi." Then, his crimson eyes locked onto mine with a fierce intensity. "But she will." His words were heavy with implication, and I felt a shiver run down my spine.

Ayla's voice echoed in my mind, filled with anxiety. "But what if they come for us anyway? What if we have to fight?" Her concern mirrored my own fears.

"It won't come to that," Carlisle reassured him, his voice steady and calm. His confidence was reassuring, but I couldn't shake the unease that lingered in the back of my mind.

"I'll stay in the attic," Alistair muttered, retreating to his preferred solitude.

They watched as Alistair leaped up into the attic and shut the door behind him, his departure leaving a palpable silence in his wake.

"He's not much of a people person," Simon explained, his tone apologetic as if he felt responsible for Alistair's abruptness.

"I gathered that," I replied, my voice dry as we descended the stairs, leaving Alistair to his solitude in the Cullens' attic.

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