𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑
— 𝒸𝓁𝑜𝓈𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒷𝑒𝒻𝑜𝓇𝑒 —

     𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 within him; those that gazed upon his cold features had no choice but to face the cruel reality that perhaps the devil had manifested under his warm skin, roaming the earth endlessly to find those who deserved to be terrorized. He was irrevocably macabre, and though they knew not, he was haunted. Life had not been kind to Paul Lahote, and he decided that he, in response, would not be kind to it. With his past came horrifying memories that he wished so desperately to fall away from — they chased him in his dreams, followed him through the woods at night, and tugged at him while he laid in silence. On some days, when finding himself frustrated, he would lose touch with reality, and in those seconds, the massacre that he wished to inflict on the world in retaliation to his lifetime of pain would break loose.

Fate had made a mistake when placing him upon the beautiful soil of the earth; he didn't deserve to live among the blossoming flowers and budding trees, nor did he deserve the love of another. He was a creature of destruction, who would one day meet the soul he was destined for . . . and that thought alone terrified him. So he no longer glanced from the pavement as he roamed the streets while in Seattle, nor did he search the face of every girl he passed by with the hope that the earth would stop turning the second his gaze met hers. He no longer wished on every star in the night sky, and finally stopped dropping to his knees every night before bed to pray that he find her — because his truth, no matter how his friends insisted against it, was that he destroyed everything he touched. Falling for another would be a battle that he would inevitably lose.

His routinely days consisted of patrolling the woods of the Reservation while searching for nothing in particular, losing himself in the quiet sounds of nature with Sam Uley by his side. Although he preferred to be alone, his friend's presence was a benefit that Paul couldn't deny— those around him were safe under the alpha's protective gaze, and he was secretly grateful for his company. Today was a day like many others, he found; after a long while of stepping on leaf-covered grass and pushing past bushes of briars, he and Sam had finally made their way back to the safe-haven that Paul considered a second home. Inside of the small, forest-surrounded cottage, Emily Young had decorated the extended cedar table in the kitchen with glass dishes while baking anything she saw fit. The beautiful woman held the heart of Sam — and since she was his imprint, Paul was pained to watch the interactions between them, which were all undeniably full of love. But after years of enduring the slow-coming realization that he would never look at another with such admiration in his eyes, he had finally grown accustomed to the feelings that once tore at his chest.

Sam Uley was a man of simplicity and control, and even he had lost his sense of direction in a short period of untame jurisdiction nearly three years before. He had scarred the smooth skin of his lover within a second of losing his temper, and would forever be tarnished with the memories of her crimson-stained clothing and the position in which her fragile silhouette had fallen. He would never forgive himself for his actions, and Paul never wanted to encounter the same feelings that Sam had that day. So as his friend hastily pushes past the creaking screen door of the cottage and pulls Emily into a tight embrace, he turns his back to the couple, and seats himself at the table. Jacob, Laythe, and Embry enter only moments later, joining Paul in the dimly lit, confined area while laughing at something he didn't bother to listen to.

"I met Serenity today," Embry informs the others to explain their time away, dropping into one of the mismatched chairs arranged next to Paul. "And I believe that Laythe was completely abandoned when it came to familial genetics — she's a wonderful person."

"I'm a good person too," Laythe rolls his eyes, slapping his palm against the nape of the younger boy's neck. "Anyone, when standing beside of her, is considered a . . . I don't know, a Paegan. The girl is a saint, you could learn some manners from her next time."

"And maybe I could join all of you," Emily interjects, breaking away from Sam to place a warm pan of pasta and basket of rolls at the center of the wooden surface. "She sounds lovely, and I could really use the company. Sometimes I think that spending too much time around the lot of you troublemakers is slowly making me lose my mind."

Jacob takes a roll from the aging basket, looking to Emily before he takes a bite. "Laythe is so overprotective that I'm sure you might never have the luxury. We barely managed to convince him to stay over tonight since Marina was called in for a double shift."

"I don't trust the rest of the world," Laythe attempts to explain himself, "because she's fragile. Even the thought of her staying at the house tonight by herself is terrifying, especially with that red-headed bloodsucker chomping at the bit to find whatever she can use for manipulation against us."

"But your occasional distance is better," Embry points his finger at the Raegan boy. "She probably has us all under surveillance as we speak, and with you latching onto Serenity constantly, the leech might just take your — our — weakness to her advantage. So sit back and take a deep breath, we all have the situation under control."

Paul was uncomfortable with the topic; only nights ago, as the crimson-haired vampire lured both the shapeshifters and the Cullens together, he had nearly brawled with the largest vampire from the coven. From the small interference that happened merely because of his anger, Victoria had managed to skip from their withering grasp, of which he received a grave scolding for. The hunt for her meant more to him than just protecting the area, it meant that he could unleash the fury that practically burned in the depths of his soul. And since he had no other effective methods to turn to, the russet-skinned boy was forced to impatiently await the moment that would one day come — he would face her, and the hell inside of him would break loose unto the venomous creature that dared to walk upon his ancestor's sacred ground. But until then, he shook when those around him mentioned her, and he nearly lost control because of the continuous ache that coursed through his limbs. He had lost his appetite by the time the remainder of his pack brothers entered the constricted area, and suddenly the atmosphere around him began to feel oppressive and almost suffocating.

Pushing himself away from the table and effectively causing an abrupt delay to the group conversation, Paul's apologetic eyes find Sam. "I need some air, I think I'm going to walk around for a bit. I'll be back soon."

He was completely unsure of how soon he had meant — the forest was waiting for him outside, and he almost couldn't bare to wait any longer. If he stayed, cramped among the others while ignoring the pleads of the night sky outside, he was sure he would have grown sick. So he hastily pushes past the front door, dropping from the rotting wood of the foyer to take a deep breath and retire to the wooded area that held his heart. There was a beauty there, lying within the way the fading moonlight made the dew on the tree leaves glisten, or the soft hums of the hiding organisms that lurked there, following, staring closely at his every move as if he were their very creator. Nature embraced him, almost as if it had missed him since his last visit, seeming like years although it had barely been hours. The moon knew his name, he liked to think — she led him through the dense area as he stripped from his clothing, gently placing them on a moss covered slate by his feet, just before turning for the animals surrounding him to witness.

He was significant here, wandering the path that the moon had lit for him; she didn't care that he was a shapeshifter, nor did she mind when he lost his temper and bared it against the closest tree he could find. She knew him, she cared for him, and every night she guided his way to a grand, well-kept home at the edge of the grove. The wolf perched himself there for hours on end, finally calmed from the previous events while lying in the damp grass. But something about this very night was different, and Paul felt a stronger pull to the residence than he had before. He nearly stood from his position, venturing the tiniest bit closer in his alternate form to find what, exactly, he was drawn to; but before his instincts managed the best of him, the front door of the home was slowly opened, and out from the slim aperture stepped a girl, adorned in a light pink nightgown that clutched to her chest and draped past her knees. Since the light overhead was so faint — even with the assistance of his heightened senses — he couldn't quite survey her features. The most he could decipher was the short length of her hair, and her slim body as she hesitated to move any further from her haven. He faltered before backing away from her, worried that, had she come any closer, she would have been frightened.

But Serenity, only twenty feet away, was determined to find the very thing that had been waiting for her in the dark. The bitter wind of the night practically hit at her exposed skin, and her bare feet were growing rigid from the wet grass that folded under her cautious step. And although Laythe and Marina would scold her if they witnessed her actions, she had to follow her intuition at least this once. If her inclinations were wrong, she promised herself that never again would she stray from the balcony, no matter how sorrowful the moon sounded when it pleaded for her company in the forest below. Though she should have brought a flashlight to find her way past the fallen branches and patches of sunken ground, her eyes were focused on the rustling bushes ahead of her. The distance was short, and she found herself reaching for whatever had caused the disruption — but just before she arrived in the very spot, the movement had stopped.

Furrowing her eyebrows and placing a gentle hand upon the rough tree next to her, she continues, her pace quickening as her eyes gradually adjust to the fog that was beginning to consume her legs. Nonetheless, she ignores the aching in her feet brought on by a mixture of discarded thorns and the cold air, listening to the placate resonations of her favorite nightgown as it brushes the undergrowth and shrubbery that she disregards.

"Please," she begs out loud, almost chasing the fast creature — she was sure now that this was what she had been searching for. How could she possibly retreat to her home when it was almost in her grasp? "Stop, please!"

Now fighting for her breath and losing focus on her heedful stride, Serenity's foot is caught on the jagged edge of a recessing tree trunk. The girl screams as she falls among the barbed twigs and uneven stones of the forest floor, reaching down to place a warm palm on her aching foot. But as she cries, she finds that her ankle is beyond fractured, in fact, she could feel that the bone was exuding from her skin, and with it came a liquid that she knew not to be the dew that came with the late night. Covering her mouth with her hand and desperately trying to wipe the blood from her stained hands, Serenity removes her tear-filled eyes from the wound in an attempt to scan the area around her. But because of the fog that loomed over everything near her, she was left to sob in the haze. Helplessly, she lays her head upon the ground, and wonders why the moon had tricked her so — perhaps Serenity Reagan was too kind for the world.

But as she closes her eyes, her blonde curls coated from the mud, her porcelain skin damp from the atmosphere, and her ripped nightgown smudged crimson, she finds herself believing that perhaps she would never again trust the deceiving moon as her name fell so softly from its lips.

Life was not kind to Serenity Reagan, and perhaps it never would be.

❝ i actually really like this chapter,
it might even be my favorite
so far. what do you think?? :) ❞