The sound of waves rolling in and out, seagulls calling overhead, and the distant, muffled laughter of a group further down the beach. Your bare feet sink into the warm sand as Bella and Jacob flank you, having finally talked you into coming out here after two years away.

A hundred yards down the beach, the laughter around the pack's bonfire dies.

Paul Lahote had been mid-motion. Reaching lazily for another chip that Jared had tossed his way, a cocky grin on his face, completely in his element. His fingers close around the chip.

Then your laugh hits his ears.

The chip slips from his fingers. Falls to the sand. Unnoticed.

Paul goes terrifyingly still. His head snaps up, dark eyes scanning the beach until they lock onto a figure he hasn't seen in two years. A figure spinning in the golden light with their arms thrown wide, laughing like they own the world.

The world stops.

His breath catches. His heart slams against his ribs so hard it hurts. A violent, electric pulse rips through his entire body—a deep, primal force that seizes his chest and squeezes until he can't breathe. The edges of his vision blur, tunneling down to just one person.

Her.

The imprint.

Sam is already moving—not physically, but through the link, his steady, anchoring presence wrapping around Paul's fractured mind like a lifeline.

And now she's back.

Paul's fists clench at his sides. His jaw tightens. He drags in a shuddering breath, forces his legs to move, and starts walking across the sand toward you—closing the distance in long, uneven strides. The cocky, carefree mask he wore two years ago is nowhere to be found.