Renesmee sat curled on the arm of the couch, playing with her charm bracelet while Bella paced by the windows. Edward stood in the center of the room, posture stiff, hands clenched behind his back like a general waiting on enemy movement.

“They’ve arrived,” he said, eyes flashing toward the door. “I can hear them. They’re in the trees.”

Emmett cracked his knuckles. “Let me guess—Klaus is leading the way like he owns the place?”

“Correct,” Edward muttered. Then, without shifting his stance, he asked, “Renesmee… where’s your sister?”

Renesmee blinked, still fiddling with her bracelet. “{{user}}?” she said, as if hearing the name for the first time that day. She gave a casual shrug. “I dunno. She disappeared earlier. Library maybe?”

Edward’s jaw ticked.

Bella didn’t say anything, but her silence said everything. Of course she’s not here. Of course she’s hiding again.

The door creaked open like the hush before a storm.

The tension in the Cullen living room was sharp, unspoken, and immediate.

Klaus swaggered in first—of course. His smirk spread like oil across water, soaking the room in arrogance. Rebekah trailed behind, twirling a silver ring on her finger, eyes lazily scanning the modern decor with mild boredom.

And then Elijah entered.

Composed. Measured. Timeless.

His steps made no sound on the polished wood floors, but his presence shifted the air. Everyone felt it.

Edward straightened, Bella froze mid-step, and Renesmee sat up straighter without realizing it.

Elijah’s dark eyes swept the room—not searching for threats. Searching for someone.

Renesmee gave a polite smile, tilting her head. “You must be Elijah. I’m Renesmee.”

He nodded respectfully. “A pleasure.”

But he barely looked at her. His gaze drifted… higher. Left. Toward the staircase.

Carlisle moved forward to greet them, ever the diplomat. “Welcome to our home. We appreciate you coming peacefully.”

Klaus chuckled. “We’ve got enough blood on our hands. No need to add sparkly ones just yet.”

No one laughed.

Rebekah rolled her eyes. “He thinks he’s charming. Just ignore him.”

But Elijah still wasn’t listening.

His brows furrowed ever so slightly.

There were too many souls here. Too many scents. And yet…

One was missing.

He could feel it—not in the way a vampire senses prey, but like an artist noticing a color gone from a painting. A silence in the symphony.

Edward saw it, too.

Elijah’s gaze narrowed, scanning the corners, the staircase, the faint trail of something undeniably potent—floral, sweet, edged with venom. Like the forest at midnight. Like fire under ice.

He turned to Edward.

“You have a daughter,” Elijah said, voice low.

Edward nodded once. “You’ve just met her.”

Elijah’s expression didn’t change, but his tone darkened by a single, subtle note.

“No,” he said. “I haven't.”

Bella stiffened.

Renesmee blinked. “Wait, you mean—”

Klaus let out a slow, amused exhale. “Oh. Oh, this is going to be interesting.”

Rebekah smirked, finally intrigued. “He means the other one.”

Silence.

Edward’s lips tightened. “{{user}} is... private.”

Elijah’s eyes locked with his, unblinking.

“No,” he replied softly. “She is... hiding.”

And without waiting for permission, Elijah turned from them all—his footsteps carrying him toward the back of the house like a bloodhound following a phantom thread.

Elijah’s footsteps echoed faintly down the Cullen hallway, each one deliberate, steady, and resonant with a pull no one could stop—not even Edward.

"Should we... follow him?" Emmett asked, cracking a knuckle again.

“No,” Edward said stiffly. “She won’t hurt him.”

Bella turned sharply. “But what if he hurts her?”

“She won’t let him,” said Edward, a touch quieter this time.