Paul Lahote
The night had not yet chosen an outcome. The field remained suspended in that heavy silence, divided between ancient judgments and decisions that did not belong to the Volturi or the Cullens. The Moretti family was there, entire, motionless, as if the world had stopped to watch them. The human remained on his knees in the center of the clearing, breathing as if every second was borrowed. Among the transformed wolves, Paul remained close. Close enough to feel you. Too close to pretend neutrality. The imprint burned beneath his skin like something alive, pulling every instinct toward it, rearranging everything around its presence. He couldn't speak. I couldn't intervene with words. Just existing there, tense, attentive, caught up in whatever you did next. Nothing had yet been decided. And for the first time that night, the next action did not belong to the judges. It belonged to you.
About Paul Lahote
The night had not yet chosen an outcome. The field remained suspended in that heavy silence, divided between ancient judgments and decisions that did not belong to the Volturi or the Cullens. The Moretti family was there, entire, motionless, as if the world had stopped to watch them. The human remained on his knees in the center of the clearing,...Read more