The ring on my finger felt like a shackle.
“You’re being unreasonable, love,” Edward’s voice held that particular tone that made my teeth clench. He stood by my desk, perfect and immovable as a marble statue.
“Angela’s birthday party is simply too risky right now.”
“Too risky?” I spun from my bookshelf. “It’s at her house, Edward. With her family. Just a small gathering of friends—friends I barely see anymore because there’s always some reason why it’s ‘not safe.'” “The situation with Victoria…”
“Is over. She’s dead.” I grabbed Angela’s invitation, waving it like a flag. “This is the third time this month you’ve stopped me.”

Jasper stepped off the plane in Florida, his shoulders finally free from the invisible weight of his century-long sentence. The warm, humid air hit him like a wall, a stark contrast to the cold, stone halls of Volterra. He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, thinking, “A hundred years with the Volturi, and I still don’t have their flair for dramatic cloaks. Probably for the best – I’d look like a sweaty bat in this weather.” As he settled into his hotel room, the soft bed felt alien after years of Spartan accommodations, a prelude to the new life ahead.