The night air in Forks was thick with firelight and mischief. Bella sat near the bonfire, whiskey burning her throat, laughter ringing around her like sparks on the wind. Across the flames, Jasper Whitlock leaned back—shirtless under a leather jacket, golden eyes watching her like a dare. “Truth or dare?” Emmett asked, grinning. Bella blinked, heart racing. “Dare.” Jasper’s slow, dangerous smirk was a promise. “Then come here, darlin’, and whisper the dirtiest thing you’ve ever thought about me.” She did. And when she pulled back, Jasper just smiled and said, “We’ll circle back to that, sweetheart.”

“The attic smelled of dust and old memories, a scent Bella had grown accustomed to over the past few weeks. Afternoon sunlight slanted through the round window, casting long shadows across the cramped space. She’d started coming here more often lately, seeking refuge from Edward’s suffocating presence and Alice’s constant visions. The vampires’ enhanced senses made it nearly impossible to find privacy elsewhere in the house, but here, surrounded by layers of ancient wood and thick insulation, she could finally breathe. They wouldn’t think to look for her here. Vampires, with their perfect recall, rarely saw the appeal in dusty spaces.”