EMMETT

  Isabella was overjoyed to reconnect with her daughters and son finally. Each of them had grown into powerful beings, their bond still tethered to her by unbreakable blood and soul ties. Their reunion had been long overdue, filled with emotion, laughter, and tears that spanned centuries. But now, with the moment passed, she returned home.

  With a shimmer of black mist, Isabella teleported into her room. The air shifted around her as she reappeared, silent and graceful. Her gaze immediately fell upon the sleeping figure in the grand, silken bed—Rosalie.

  The soft glow of moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains, dancing over Rosalie’s features. Her chest rose and fell in a steady, gentle rhythm, the image of peace. Isabella’s heart melted at the sight. Quietly, she walked over and slid into bed beside her, careful not to disturb her slumbering mate. She threaded her fingers delicately through Rosalie’s honey-gold hair, relishing its softness, the way it slipped between her claws like silk. She pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, breathing in her scent—sweet, earthy, and unmistakably Rosalie.

  Seeing her children again stirred a flood of memories Isabella had long buried beneath layers of time, pain, and war. Few knew her truth. Even among demons and deities, she was a mystery.

  Isabella was not merely a demon queen—she had been born an ancient goddess of creation and flame, eons ago, before the world had even cooled from its celestial birth. Reincarnated into the body of a demoness after a brutal betrayal by the celestial council, she had walked many lifetimes under many names. Only her children knew her true lineage. Only they understood the burden she carried, the power she reined in, and the destiny she could never quite escape.

  She sighed quietly.

  Victor.

  The name left a bitter taste in her mouth, even in thought. She knew exactly what he was planning, his every move whispered to her in fractured visions and prophecies. He would start a war. A war that would force her hand, one she had hoped—prayed—could be avoided. But the paths she foresaw twisted into the same violent future, no matter how often she tried to change the course.

  So be it, she thought grimly. If war comes, I will end what Victor has started.

  Suddenly, a loud knock shattered the silence.

  The sound boomed through the room like a drumbeat of war, jerking Isabella out of her thoughts. Rosalie stirred with a soft groan, her brow furrowing in her sleep. Isabella’s eyes flashed crimson with fury. Without hesitation, she raised a warding hand and cast a sound-dampening shield around the bed, cloaking Rosalie in silence once more.

  Carefully, Isabella rose from the bed, her bare feet gliding across the floor like a wraith. Her body radiated a quiet fury as she approached the door. Her mate needed rest—desperately so—and whoever dared to disturb her would pay dearly.

  She opened the door with supernatural speed.

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  Emmett stood on the other side, his large hand raised mid-knock, clearly about to hammer again.

  Big mistake.

  Without a word, Isabella grabbed him by the throat with one clawed hand, her eyes glowing like twin infernos. She dragged him across the hallway with unnatural ease, his feet leaving the floor as if he weighed nothing. With her other hand, she softly closed the door behind her to ensure Rosalie remained undisturbed. Then, without ceremony, she slammed Emmett into the wall opposite her room.

  Cracks spiderwebbed around the impact.

  His breath caught in his throat as panic set in.

  “What the hell do you want?” Isabella hissed, her voice low and deadly, like a predator guarding her den.

  Emmett’s eyes widened. He squirmed, feet dangling in the air, caught between terror and confusion. “I—I just wanted to see if Rosalie wanted to hunt,” he croaked. “We… we usually go together.”

  Isabella’s fury exploded.

  “You idiot!” she roared, slamming him into the wall again with enough force to shake the ground. Dust and debris rained down. “Didn’t Rosalie warn you? Didn’t she personally tell you that animal blood is poison to a vampire's body? It’s what made her sick in the first place!” Isabella is starting to regret agreeing to let Rosalie's family stay with her and her mate. She will rectify that, though.

  Emmett tried to explain, to protest, but Isabella pushed him further into the wall, her nails digging into his neck. “No buts! I don’t care what you do with your body, but leave my mate out of it. Do. You. Understand?”

  He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but her grip made it impossible. He had only come to ask a question. How had things escalated to this?

  He didn’t know she was this dangerous. Until he felt it himself.

  No one truly did—until it was too late.

  Suddenly, Isabella stilled.

  She felt it, her mate's presence. And smell her mate's scent. A familiar warmth brushed against her back.

  Arms slid around her waist from behind, and a pair of soft lips kissed the back of her neck. “Love…” came the gentle voice, still laced with sleep. “Please don’t kill him.”

  Isabella’s chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, her anger slowly being tamed by Rosalie’s calming presence.

  “I’m going to kill him,” Isabella said flatly, her grip tightening just a bit more. The crack of vertebrae shifting echoed ominously.

  “No,” Rosalie murmured again, kissing the same spot, soft and deliberate. “He’s an idiot… but he means well. Please, for me.”

  A sigh rumbled from Isabella’s chest, heavy with reluctance. She dropped Emmett like a sack of bricks over the stairs railing. He crashed down the stairs with a loud thud, leaving a crater in the marble floor where he landed. He groaned pitifully but was still alive, too bad.

  “Thank you,” Rosalie whispered as she gently turned Isabella to face her. Without hesitation, she leaned in and kissed her deeply.

  Isabella responded instantly, her hands sliding around Rosalie’s waist, pulling her closer. She felt her mate's warmth flooding into her like sunlight piercing a storm. She deepened the kiss, pouring every ounce of her love, protection, and regret into it.

  She was sorry that Rosalie had to wake up. Sorry, she had to witness the demon she became when pushed. But at the same time, Isabella couldn’t regret defending her.

  Rosalie moaned softly into the kiss, tangling her fingers in Isabella’s white curls. “You’re so protective,” she said breathlessly between kisses. “It’s… kind of hot.”

  Isabella chuckled darkly, lips still brushing against hers. “You think that was hot? I nearly broke his neck.”

  “I noticed,” Rosalie smirked. “But he deserved it.”

  They stayed like that for a long moment, simply holding each other as the world outside their door faded away.

  But in the depths of Isabella’s mind, something churned.

  A storm was coming. And no matter how warm Rosalie’s arms were, no matter how strong the love between them… war would reach their doorstep soon. Victor would not stop. And next time, it wouldn’t be Emmett knocking at the door.

  It would be an army.

  Isabella tightened her hold on Rosalie.

  She would burn the world before letting anyone harm her mate or take her away from Rosalie in any way, not even death.