“You’ll be alright,” Esme tried reassuring her. It was a dead end. Bree was not going to let the woman convince her she was going to be fine when they both knew that was not going to be the case. She wasn’t as dumb as she looked. And most importantly, old enough to realise there was nothing to be done to save her.
She didn’t even want to be saved.
The girl’s silence didn’t go unnoticed by the two. She’d wished they’d just let her do her thing and stop trying to convince her she wasn’t going to die.
Carlisle softened his hold on her arm. “Alice saw that your chances to survive are not as slim as before,” he reminded. “We’ll figure something out. I’m sure the Volturi will listen to us depending on which of them are coming.”
“I doubt so,” Jasper said, inserting himself into the conversation.
Esme hushed him away, giving him a scolding look. “Don’t listen to him. If Alice sees your surviving chances are better, she should be listened to.”
Bree shaked her head, doubtful to believe them.
A sight broke out from the matriarch’s lips, but she did not say anything else. She had clearly stopped trying to convince her, registering it was not going to be successful to try changing the mind of the stubborn newborn.
Pleasement dripped into the brown-haired girl’s expression. She had won.
Her victory was short-lived, as her ears picked up fast-paced running. The sounds were coming closer without a single heartbeat pumping near them. The inhuman sounds brought her back to the house, comprehension of her upcoming death dawning upon her face.
She gulped.
Carlisle and Esme tightened their grips on her, their amber eyes unsure if she was going to attempt bolting away.
“They are here,” Rosalie whispered.
The Cullens didn’t dare to move until the footsteps stopped on their doorsteps. Nervousness rattled in the air, suffocating the last positive emotions inside the house.
This was it. Her death was here.
Time stretched as the newborn waited for the doorbell to ring. Her nerve-cracking feelings swirled in her stomach like butterflies begging to get freed. Their screams haunted her, warned her to run, but she was stuck in her place. Her feet had glued themselves to the wooden floor in hopes of being somehow saved by their laughable action. She wished they did not truly believe in getting rescued from that. If they did, they were idiots.
The rest of her body agreed with her mind, making her twitch as the doorbell rang. The sound was ominous, promising a never-forgotten scene to unfold in front of her. She’d become ash at the end of it, but at least, would not suffer. Or at very least get tormented fast, and then her life would be taken.
Carlisle let go of her. He gave a reassured smile to the sixteen-year-old and started moving towards the front door. His form disappeared behind a wall as he walked out of the living room. Steps slowing down, he came to a halt. The patriarch must have reached the door.
With an unassuming click, the door creaked open.
“Ah, Carlisle!” an unfamiliar voice spoke. The stranger continued with a polite voice, “I’m so thrilled to see you again, my dear friend.” 
The patriarch greeted the unfamiliar vampire, keeping his tone courteous “Aro, I was not expecting your company. It’s a delight to see you…even if the situation is far from pleasing.”
“Yes, indeed. It’s quite unfortunate. Which brings me to my next question.”
Bree’s muscles turned rigid. If her face could have paled, she would have become white as a ghost. A memory from two weeks ago repeated itself in her head like a broken record. It consumed her mind, sweeping all of the other thoughts away. She remembered the yellow-eyes leader mentioning Aro when telling about his past, her crystal-clear memories recalling the leader of the Volturi without a struggle.