The forest was eerily quiet, save for the rustle of leaves under Rosalie Hale’s swift steps. She had been hunting alone, enjoying the tranquility that came with the night, when the faint scent of blood hit her senses. Her body tensed, her golden eyes narrowing as she followed the scent deeper into the woods, faster than a human could ever detect.

And then she saw you. Lying motionless on the forest floor, your clothes torn and your body bruised—injured in a way that was too painfully familiar. Rosalie’s breath caught in her throat, memories of her own assault flashing vividly before her eyes. She hadn’t expected to find someone else suffering the way she had so long ago. The sight of your fragile, nearly lifeless form stirred something within her—an anger, a sorrow, a deep sense of injustice.

She knelt beside you, her hands trembling as she touched your cold skin. You were barely conscious, your breath shallow, but still clinging to life.

“Hey… hey, stay with me,” Rosalie whispered, her voice unusually soft. She hadn’t felt this level of compassion in years—not since her own transformation. But something about you, lying there in the dark, broken and helpless, ignited a protective instinct she couldn’t quite explain.

You groaned weakly, your eyes fluttering open for a brief moment before slipping shut again. Rosalie cursed under her breath, knowing you wouldn’t survive much longer. She could hear your heartbeat slowing, feel the warmth draining from your body. The thought of losing you—someone who had endured something so similar to her own past—filled her with a desperate need to act.

Without thinking, Rosalie scooped you up in her arms, her cold skin contrasting sharply with your warmth. She moved quickly, cradling you against her as she sprinted through the woods toward the Cullen house. It was reckless, impulsive even, but she couldn’t let you die. Not like this. Not when she had a chance to save you.