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RILEY POV
The soft voice managed to pull Riley out of his inner struggle for a few seconds.
Slowly, he opened his eyes, a faint stab of irritation crossing his face. And when he did, he saw her.
She was a woman.
Standing a few meters away, she watched him with a calm, almost childlike curiosity. Her black hair fell over her shoulders with impossible elegance, perfectly arranged, and her red eyes immediately marked her as one of his kind. She wore a pristine white dress that contrasted almost unrealistically with the snow covering the clearing. She didn't seem affected by the cold at all; on the contrary, there was something ethereal and timeless about her, as if the place itself had no effect on her existence.
Even by vampiric standards, she was beautiful.
The woman narrowed her eyes slightly as she studied him more closely and asked, with genuine curiosity,
"You look thirsty… aren't you feeding?"
Riley answered with a low, rough growl, a sound more animal than conscious. He didn't want company. He didn't want words. He just wanted her to leave him there, to let him die in peace.
She tilted her head, assessing him.
"You smell almost like a newborn…" she murmured. "You haven't been turned very long, have you? What happened to your arm?"
Riley's irritation flared into anger. Without even looking at her, he covered his eyes with his only hand—a clumsy, almost childish gesture, a clear rejection of any attempt at conversation.
The woman watched him for a moment longer, amused. Something in his attitude reminded her of a child throwing a silent tantrum.
"I see…" she commented lightly.
And then she disappeared.
She left the clearing like a gust of air, so fast that she barely left a trace of her presence.
Riley removed his hand from his face and turned his gaze back to the sky. Thirst burned in his throat like liquid fire, but he clung to the hope that his suffering would end soon. Maybe it wouldn't take long. Maybe this was the day.
Hours passed.
Hours during which he remained completely still, lying on the snow, while his sanity began to crack little by little. The instinct to feed grew stronger, twisting inside him, demanding control. Staying there, refusing it, required a strength of will he barely knew he still possessed.
He struck the snow with his hand in frustration, as if he could drown the thirst through denial alone.
Then he felt it.
Something was approaching.
The speed, the rhythm—without a doubt, a vampire. But the scent that came with it was unmistakable.
Human.
Riley sat up without realizing it, his eyes sunken and shadowed, narrowing with a fierce need. Desire shot through him like lightning.
When the figure emerged from between the trees, a jolt of recognition hit him.
It was her again.
The woman advanced calmly, holding a man by the throat. The human struggled weakly, terrified, on the verge of losing consciousness. With a casual motion, she threw him to the ground as if he were nothing more than an object.
Then she looked at Riley, and her expression softened.
"There you go…" she said quietly. "Eat."
Riley shook his head at first, clumsy and unsteady. But instinct was stronger than any desire to die. Stronger than pain, than guilt, than despair.
In the blink of an eye, he lunged at the man.
Warm blood flooded his mouth as the screams of agony quickly faded. He drank desperately, with fury, with the need of someone who had spent far too long on the edge of the abyss.
The woman watched the scene with a satisfied smile.
Her expression was serene, almost sweet, and her gentle eyes contrasted disturbingly with the violence of the moment.
She waited patiently until Riley pulled away from the body, now lifeless on the bloodstained snow. Riley wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his only hand and lifted his gaze, blazing with fury, toward the woman.
"Why did you do that?" he shouted, his voice breaking with rage. "I was so close to dying!"
The woman tilted her head casually, completely unfazed by the violence of his accusation. Her expression remained calm, almost indulgent, as if she were facing a child who didn't understand what he was asking.
"Were you planning to die of thirst or something?" she asked calmly.
Riley's accusing glare was answer enough.
She let out a soft, restrained laugh that sounded strangely warm in the middle of the frozen clearing. Her tone grew lighter, almost affectionate.
"Sweetheart… didn't whoever turned you explain it to you?" she said with unsettling gentleness. "That's impossible. We can't die of thirst. In the end, instinct always wins. Sooner or later, it would have forced you to attack someone."
Riley's eyes widened, as if those words finally shattered something inside him. All his determination collapsed in an instant, leaving him exposed, hollow.
With a broken voice, heavy with defeat, he looked up at her.
"Then… how?" he whispered. "How can I die?"
The woman softened at the sight of him like that. Seeing him on his knees, vulnerable, she crouched down to meet him at eye level. With a distracted yet surprisingly gentle gesture, she ran her fingers through his hair, as if trying to calm him.
"Actually," she replied softly, "the only way I know is at the hands of one of our own."
Riley lowered his gaze, feeling the weight of those words settle heavily in his chest. Once again, the idea of seeking his end by confronting the Cullens crossed his mind—but he dismissed it immediately. He didn't want to give them that satisfaction. Not them.
Carefully, he looked back up into her eyes. There was desperation in his expression, but also a silent plea.
"Could you do it?" he asked quietly. "Could you kill me?"
The woman pressed her lips together slightly. With a curious gesture, she lifted his chin to study his face more closely, as though evaluating an unfinished work. Her eyes gleamed with an almost cheerful interest.
"That would be such a waste, dear," she remarked. "Tell me… why do you want to die so badly?"
The answer struck him like rejection.
Frustrated, Riley knocked her hand away and rose to his feet carefully, which surprised the woman a little. His voice came out muted and tired, but steady.
"If you don't want to do it, that's fine," he said distantly. "There must be other vampires out there. Someone will be able to do it."
With those words, he began to walk slowly out of the clearing, dragging the weight of his decision behind him.
The woman straightened and watched him in silence for a few seconds before speaking, her calm tone stopping him cold.
"I never said I wouldn't," she said softly. "I just wanted to know what reason someone could have to want so badly to stop existing."
Riley froze, his back still turned to her. His shoulders sagged slightly, as if even staying upright required an excessive effort. When he spoke, his voice was weak and worn, heavy with an exhaustion that had nothing to do with his body.
"If I tell you… Would you be willing to do it?"
The woman tilted her head theatrically, watching him with a calm, almost curious gaze. A serene, gentle smile curved her lips as she answered lightly, as if the conversation weren't about death at all.
"If your reason is good enough… I don't see why I wouldn't help you."
Riley let out a long, heavy sigh. Explaining himself felt harder than enduring the thirst—harder than the constant pain that had followed him for days. But if putting it into words offered him a way out, even a final one, then it was worth it.
In a low voice, he began to speak.
He told her everything.
How Victoria had looked at him the first time, how she had fallen in love with him almost instantly. How she had turned him, promising him an eternity at her side. How, her face twisted with rage and pain, she had spoken of her brother, of how the Cullens had taken him from her after an encounter that had never been fair. How she had formed an army of newborns to help her, convinced that by doing so, he could protect her, avenge her, prove to her that choosing him had been worth it.
And how, in the end, when they tried to take them by surprise, everything collapsed.
He spoke of how everything went to hell. Of the brutal strength. Of the confusion. Of the creature he didn't know, the one that tore his arm off as if it were nothing.
And the worst part came last.
He confessed that he didn't know whether Victoria was still alive. That he didn't know if she had abandoned him… or if she had died without ever knowing what had become of him.
The woman listened with unbreakable patience. She didn't interrupt him even once. She remained there even as the last light of day faded, and the clearing sank into night. When Riley finished speaking, silence settled between them.
Her brow was slightly furrowed, thoughtful.
"You said those wolves were many, didn't you?" she finally said, slowly. "The children of the moon aren't supposed to move in groups… but the way you describe them, they seem to be something else."
Riley shook his head sharply.
"What does it matter what they are?" he replied bitterly. "In the end, the only thing that matters is what they did to me."
He raised the stump where his arm had once been, a mute testament to his defeat. Then he lowered his gaze and looked back up at her, expectant and exhausted, with a trace of restrained irritation.
"So… are you satisfied now?" he asked. "Can you put an end to my pain?"
The woman didn't answer right away. She simply watched him, her expression impossible to read, as though instead of a broken newborn she saw something far more interesting.
In a soft, almost maternal tone, she replied,
"I see you've been through a great deal in a very short time… and there are parts of your story that are, at the very least, questionable. But I know what it's like to give everything for love."
That last sentence slipped out with a particular sadness, as though it stirred an ancient memory that still ached. Her eyes softened as they returned to Riley, studying him with almost careful attention.
"Are you sure that's what you want?" she continued. "To die without knowing whether you're leaving your beloved behind?"
Riley hesitated for barely a second. When he spoke, his voice was dark and worn, as if each word cost him more than the last.
"Too much time has already passed. She didn't do anything to look for me. If I go and it turns out she's dead… I don't know what I'd do with my life. And if she's alive and chooses to leave me behind…" He swallowed, though he didn't need to. "I think that would be even worse."
The woman gave him a warm, almost protective smile, as if she were speaking to a child.
"And what if it's neither of those two options?"
Riley lifted his gaze, confused, unwillingly clinging to that possibility.
"I believe only you have the answers to your own questions," she continued calmly. "Tell me… is your beloved weak? Would she fall easily in battle?"
Riley thought for a few moments before shaking his head.
"No. She's agile. Nearly impossible to catch. I don't think they could have hurt her."
The woman's smile turned satisfied, almost pleased.
"Then there's a strong chance she's still alive. And as for her not coming to look for you…" She tilted her head slightly. "What if she trusts you so completely that she's simply waiting for you?"
Riley held his breath.
"From what you've told me, you've done impressive things for her. Controlling an entire army of newborns while being one yourself is already a feat. Perhaps she has faith that you'll return on your own."
For a brief moment, something lit up in Riley's face—a fragile, almost painful spark of hope.
But it faded as quickly as it had appeared.
Bitterly, he lowered his gaze to the stump where his arm had once been.
"Even if that were true… even if she were waiting for me… how could I protect her?" he murmured. "Look at me. I'm incomplete. How would I protect her without my arm?"
The woman watched him in silence for several seconds, assessing him. Then an amused smile curved her lips, as though she'd just heard something naïve.
With slow movements, she swept one of her arms back, with the calm of someone preparing for an unnecessary demonstration, and spoke gently:
"I think you're seriously underestimating what we vampires are capable of, dear."
It took Riley a few moments to understand what she meant. When he did, a faint look of irritation crossed his face. Still, he decided to play along, giving her the benefit of the doubt.
With a low growl, heavy with frustration and desperation, he lunged at her.
He never stood a chance.
In a single motion, the woman grabbed him and slammed him into the ground using only one arm. The impact was sharp, brutal, and final.
She remained over him with absolute calm, as if she hadn't just crushed another vampire without the slightest effort.
She released him with an indulgent smile, allowing him to rise quickly. Riley was stunned for a second. As a newborn, he knew he was considerably stronger than her, and yet, using only one arm, she had incapacitated him in an instant. He didn't miss a chilling detail: if she had wanted to, she could have torn his head off the moment she smashed him into the ground.
Noticing his stunned expression, the woman spoke in an almost instructive, patient tone, as though she were used to explaining uncomfortable truths.
"I've been on this earth for quite some time… I even lived before the Volturi rose to power. And in all that time, I learned a thing or two."
She took a few slow steps across the snow, with the absolute confidence of someone who neither fears being attacked nor questioned.
"When it comes to fighting other vampires, strength and speed matter, yes… but they aren't decisive. Our bodies are frozen in time. We'll never be stronger than we already are. That's why, in the end, the best strategist—the one who knows how to move, read, and anticipate—always wins."
Riley's eyes widened in surprise at her words. The vampire smiled when she noticed his reaction and, with a gentler look, added:
"I can't guarantee that your fears about your beloved are unfounded… but I can help you with something."
She straightened fully, adopting a confident, almost majestic air, as if the promise were as natural as breathing.
"I can teach you to be skilled enough that the arm you lost won't be an obstacle to anything you set your mind to."
Riley watched her in silence for several seconds. For a moment, he thought all of this was a waste of time—that perhaps it would be better to insist on his original request and accept death now that he had the chance. But the image of her knocking him down effortlessly, combined with the possibility of reuniting with Victoria and of everything returning to how it once was, ultimately prevailed.
He nodded slightly and took a step toward her, though a shadow of doubt crossed his face.
"But I don't understand… why would you do all this? Why help me?"
The woman looked at him closely and, suddenly, a bright, almost carefree smile lit up her face, completely breaking the mysterious air that surrounded her.
"Because I have some free time until my next hunt… and because I know very well the frustration of feeling weak."
With that, she turned her back on him and, with a gesture of her hand, signaled for him to follow. Riley hesitated only a moment before starting to walk after her. Then, as if remembering something important, the woman turned her head slightly.
"Oh, by the way… my name is Veronica. I hope we get along well, dear."
Riley nodded slowly, engraving the name of his benefactor into his mind. As night closed in around them while they disappeared into the snow, he could only pray in silence, hoping that Victoria was safe… and that she could hold on long enough for him to be able to protect her again.