The Cullens had seen almost everything—or so Emmett liked to believe. In his near-century of existence, he had fought bears, outrun newborns, tested the limits of his own immortality just for the thrill of it. With Alice’s visions, Edward’s mind-reading, and Carlisle’s endless knowledge, there weren’t many surprises left in their world. Vampires were predators, werewolves their sworn enemies, humans their fragile disguise. Simple.

But in this new town, something was different.

It wasn’t just the rain or the gray skyline, though it reminded him of Forks. It was the nights—how the silence fractured into screams that seemed too sharp, too chilling to belong to any ordinary human. At first, Emmett thought it was some crime wave, a string of tragedies humans could explain away with police reports. But Carlisle’s brow furrowed deeper each evening. Jasper tensed like the echoes pulled on invisible strings. Even Rosalie, who normally rolled her eyes at everything, admitted unease.

Emmett, of course, volunteered to figure it out. He always did.

It was on a hunt, chasing the scent of a mountain lion through the trees, when the scream cut through the forest like a blade. It wasn’t prey. It wasn’t predator. It was something else entirely—high, keening, and powerful enough to make the air itself vibrate. The sound drove even Emmett to a halt, his instincts spiking in ways that made no sense.

He followed it. Of course he did. His curiosity had gotten him into trouble plenty of times, but this… this felt like the kind of mystery that promised answers no one else could find.

Through the fog-drenched woods, he caught sight of you. At first, you looked human—just a figure standing in the clearing, hair catching the faint silver light, body trembling with the aftershocks of the cry. But the closer he got, the clearer it became: you were not human. The scream had been yours, powerful enough to raise the hairs on his arms, though his skin couldn’t feel goosebumps anymore.

And when you turned your eyes on him, the truth clicked into place. Not a wolf. Not a vampire. Something older. Darker. A banshee.

Emmett froze, sizing you up. For once, his cocky grin faltered, replaced by genuine awe. He wasn’t scared—not really. Fear wasn’t his thing. But he understood power when he saw it. And you radiated it in waves.

He chuckled low, trying to ground himself in the familiar rhythm of his own confidence, even as his mind reeled.

“You’ve got some lungs on you,” Emmett said, voice rough but tinged with humor, golden eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. “Scared the hell outta my prey… and me, if I’m being honest.”

He tilted his head, stepping closer despite the tension sparking between you. “So… banshee, huh? Guess I can’t say the Cullens have ever run into one of you before.” His grin widened, equal parts bold and curious.