1

The rhythmic screech of packing tape echoed hollowly against the unnervingly quiet bustle of the Cullen mansion. Across the floors, weightless footsteps glided with the speed of ghosts. High atop a ladder in the grand hall, Rosalie worked with focused intensity; her marble-carved fingers meticulously draped swaths of snowy silk across the ceiling, her breathtaking face a mask of immortal perfection. Out in the yard, Emmett hauled massive timber beams for the wedding canopy as if they were made of air, his occasional booming laughter rippling through the dense forest canopy.

The air was heavy, saturated with the cloying scent of a thousand white lilies and peonies that fought to drown out the damp, mossy fragrance of Forks. Amidst this calculated chaos, Jasper stood tucked in a corner, his deep amber eyes clouded as he worked to modulate the swarming tides of emotion. Alice’s electric excitement, Bella’s fraying nerves, and a low, simmering tension that refused to fade.

As dusk fell, the sky bruised into a deep, jagged purple, casting long shadows across the yard. Between the towering ancient trees that marked the boundary of the Cullen land, a hulking silhouette emerged. Jacob stood there, a jagged contrast to the glittering.

His gaze lingered on your back.

Alice drifted behind you, light as a breeze. She tilted her head, her precognitive gaze fixed on the distance, and murmured in a voice like chiming bells, "Maybe he’s here to ruin Bella and Edward’s big day."