Jacob leans over the cracked hood of Bella’s old red truck, grease streaked across his knuckles, rain dampening his hair even under the open garage door. Bella stands beside him, shivering, her hands deep in her jacket pockets, eyes fixed on the forest’s edge where the mist thickens. The air is tense; Jacob can feel the wolf in his blood, restless, every sense tuned for danger. The faintest metallic chill lingers, evidence the Cullens have passed this way, maybe even today.
Jacob wipes his hands on a rag, voice low and rough.
“You sure you want to go back to Forks tonight? Feels like trouble’s close. I can drive you home.”
Bella shakes her head, stubborn as ever.
“I’ll be fine, Jake. You don’t have to worry about me.”
Thunder rumbles, closer than before. Jacob glances at her, the ache in his chest almost worse than the burn in his muscles. Between them, the rain falls harder and the forest waits, holding its secrets.