Jasper Whitlock stood on the edge of the Montana wilderness, dusk casting bruised purples across the sky, a match trembling between his fingers. The fire he’d prepared was meant to end it all—gasoline, dry timber, the cleansing agony of flame. But as he struck the match, the wind shifted. A cold breeze, unnatural in its silence, swept through the clearing and extinguished the flame before it could burn. Then he saw it. A single cream-colored envelope resting on the stone beside his belongings—one he hadn’t placed there. It bore no insignia, only a wax seal and his name written in deep blue ink: Major Jasper Whitlock. He reached for it with hands that hadn’t trembled since his human days. Its scent—wildflower honey and rain-soaked earth—was impossible, intoxicating. Inside: “Find me. Help me. When all is darkness, I will be your light.” Signed, Bella Swan. And everything changed.