1If only the Volturi did not exist…
The variations in which that sentence could end were truly endless. All would change for the better. Without them, so many vampires would be alive today. Without them, Cristina would be alive today.
Outside the winds howled and thunder roared. Inside, it was Edward whose mind howled and roared with hatred for the regime that had hurt so many. To think of how wretched his soul had to be, for in the next room of the mountain cabin was Jane.
They were alone on the top of a mountain, in the eyes of a storm, far away from civilisation. They had been for a week. And for a week, he had planned how to kill her. He had come so close so often, only to retreat, full of doubt of his own skills compared to hers. You don't become a darling of the Volturi as she has without certain abilities.
He knew of those abilities, had seen them in action. They scared him. Today, however, he would not be scared.
Love conquers all, even fear, he thought.
That, or the alcohol soaring in his poisonous bloodstream.
She sat facing the floor-to-ceiling windows, her eyes watching the snowflakes that were thrown around outside as her hand traced a replica of the scenery with a brush on a canvas.
In one hand, he held a bottle of Everclear and a lighter. The other hand was free. What he had to do was simple; throw the arm that held the alcohol around her neck and hold her still, then use the free hand to twist off her head. The alcohol would be poured over her body and lit on fire by the lighter. Simple.
And so he did; he threw his left arm around her upper body, clenched his right fist around her skull and twisted with all his might.
Then he burned.
He thought he had accidently spilled the alcohol and set it on fire, but there was no fire in his sight. Still he burned up. No matter how much he tried, he could not keep twisting. He fell to the ground in a heap.
Jane stood above him, red eyes glistening, and she made reprimanding cluck-sound with her tongue. "Did you think you could fool me, Cullen?"
The fire seemed to distinguish and he managed to shake his head.
"You almost did, at a point." She shrugged. Her foot pressed down on his shoulder painfully. He could hear the crack, like marble breaking. "But when you started lurking about – I am not that stupid."
"I-I know," he stuttered.
There was fire in her eyes, too, a fire more real and dangerous than any other. "Yes, you did," she said. "And you had me falling for it – for you. Too bad that I, just like you, hate with the same passion as I love."
The fire consumed him once more. In his last thought, he wondered if this was what Hell felt like.