A/N: Hi all. Same warnings go for this story as they do for Bubbles and any other story I publish; IF YOU OFFEND EASILY OR SOME SUBJECTS ARE SENSITIVE TO YOU, THEN DON'T READ.
HEATHDOM COVE
To Bella, to love is to sacrifice. Sacrifice your rights, your heart, your freedom and most importantly, your life. Far too many cons for Bella's liking. She has her family though. With no parents, no siblings and no immediate cousins, all she has to rely on is her family. Distant as they may be, family no less. They have taken care of her since she was a child. She does her duty with a smile on her face, and never complains of her hardships. She is grateful after all. Grateful that they didn't throw her in the system, grateful that they didn't turn her over to her enemy as a sacrifice, grateful that they didn't just off her to rid themselves of her presence. From her gratefulness, sprouted her responsibility and allegiance to her family; The Razaph's.
PART I:
BELLA
A world free from enmity? Not in mine. In my world, being one with enmity is a must.
Why, you ask?
Because if you hesitate, you're dead.
That's why.
Hate is your best friend in my world, and serves everyone best if it is kept as your only companion. If you get attached to anyone, they will just go and die on you.
I do have my family though. We always stick together, no matter what. I can rely on them better than anyone else, but I don't love them or share any other type of a bond with them.
My family is called The Razaph's. The history behind the name goes way back. Every member of my family knows their roots, it is drummed into our heads since birth. Unfortunately for my family though, females are in abundance, so the name Razaph has died with the last of our males.
We will always be The Razaph's though.
Our rivals weren't so unlucky. The Talmac's name lives on strong and in abundance. While we flourished with women, they flourished with men. Most of their family is made up of their traditional name; Talmac.
My city; divided by rivalry, has been reduced to rubble over the bitterness between our families. I've never understood why the territory we are fighting for is simply collateral damage from our wars, but I'm told it is the way of our war. Those who inhabit the city are of neither of our families, yet it is their homes that are destroyed during our wars. It is their lives that are lost.
Poor bastards.
I doubt they've even heard of us. We are all ghosts, after all. With the exception of the families, our existence is a mystery; faces in an ever-expanding crowd.
The leader of the Talmacs is a strong, durable man named Carlisle. I've never actually seen him, but I'm told he has the kindest of hearts. His wife Esme; his equal. I'm told he is easily recognisable by his mop of blonde hair, youthful features and the constant placid demeanour he exudes. His wife Esme apparently stands out just as much. Bright caramel hair graces her head, perfectly coiffed to look like a thirties silver screen siren.
Flawless in other words.
Together, they produced three sons. Each a bigger asshole than the last. The heir to the proverbial throne has not been announced, so they all have an equal bounty on their head.
Emmett, hulking beast of a man that he is, is handsome to boot. One flash of his ridiculously gorgeous dimples and he has stalled you long enough for him to off you. Which is why he is called 'The Smiling Assassin'. He is the eldest, but would not be a wise choice to be head of their family. He is loud, abrupt and is not the sharpest tool in the shed. His whole strategy to life in general, is to go in guns blazing.
Like I said; dimwitted.
The middle child is Jasper. Ruggedly handsome with his dad's golden locks, but his mummies flowing waves. One batted lash from his baby blues, and you're a puddle on the ground. He is definitely who I would choose to rule, but I'm hoping Carlisle wouldn't. He is very conniving and a brilliant strategist, earning himself the name 'Major'.
A very formidable foe indeed.
Last, and definitely least, is Edward. Tall and sinewy with half red, half brown hair, making it a weird bronze. Weird forest-green shines from his eyes, but his cocky smile is what gets you. He has been dubbed 'The Ginger Ninja'. From what I have heard on the grapevine, mummy and daddy's golden child. Which in itself is enough for him to be wiped out sooner rather than later. I've come across him several times now, and from the impression he gave me, well, he is much to be desired. He is rude, pretentious and more importantly, he has an ego bigger than his head. He has no intelligence and relies on his lackeys to do his jobs for him. I'd even bet my account balance he's never even killed anyone.
Which brings us to the head of my family; Charlie.
Charlie is a stern, unforgiving man. He takes his position in life seriously and won't take bullshit. He is sick and tired of the fight that has gone on between the families. It has plagued his conscience since he was dragged into this world. His mission in life, is to end the war for good, before he dies.
Can't say I blame him.
But if anyone should want The Talmacs dead, it should definitely be him. He is not of the royal bloodline, but married into it. Renee was the daughter of our predecessor; Marie. Charlie fell in love with Renee before he even knew who she was; back when they were eight.
It was not meant to be though.
Renee's heart had never been his, just as it had never belonged to The Razaph's.
Her heart belonged to Phillip Talmac, cousin of Carlisle.
She betrayed her husband, daughters and her family… for a Talmac.
How disgusting.
Her eldest daughter is Rosalie. With ice-blue eyes and flowing blonde hair, pair that with her statuesque figure, well, she is beautiful. And I don't mean just beautiful, but the type of beautiful that has you pinching yourself just incase you're looking at an phantasm of an angel from heaven. Shallow is the only word to describe Rose though. Her mission in life is to get through it looking good. If she needs to off someone, then she'll make sure something as disgusting as that will look awe-inspiring. I'd even go as far as saying it is her talent. She will never be able to take over from Charlie though, she is far too selfish. Every decision made will be beneficial to her, not our family.
The youngest of the two is Alice. Alice is a tiny ball of energy, but she makes sure that energy is put to use. She is extremely clever, but her only flaw is that she goes with the flow. She won't make a decision about anything, just play out current scenarios that are fed to her. The best way to describe Alice, is to call her a mathematician. She collects all of the intel required, then can tell you exactly how a scenario will play out. Even though she possesses this extraordinary gift, she can never take over the family. Alice doesn't make tough decisions, as a rule. And Alice being Alice, she already played out that scenario. She already knows she will be the down fall of our family if she rules. She informed Charlie of her findings, and forbid him from selecting her. He willingly complied, funnily enough.
Then there is me. Cousin to Rose and Alice, about fiftieth removed. Far too many times to count, but the relation is there no less. I'm sure if a family tree was produced, I'd be about six thousandth in line for the 'throne'. Not that I'd ever take it. It's far too much responsibility, too many lives depending on me.
No thanks.
I'm head strategist though. Not a position that was inherited, but earned. You could call me Alice's advisor. I mock up a scenario with as many details as I can give or collect, and Alice plays out the scenario using her mojo. Everything with over a seventy-five percent success rate has the go ahead, anything under is canned. Ideally, we like our rates to be in the nineties, but sometime that's not feasible. I am proud to say though, only five percent of my scenarios get canned.
I must be doing something right.
Our main mission though, is to minimise our losses. Family is far too important to use as cannon fodder.
My family lives just South of Heathdom Cove, in complete opposition to The Talmacs in the North. Our family all live on the same grounds. Everything has been spread out like a village. There is the main house that houses Charlie and his daughters. It is very castle-like, but with modern fibrous walls spanned throughout the stone dwelling. A confusing mix, but it wasn't built for our looking pleasure. The smaller houses scattered through out the village are smaller versions of this. Each being able to withstand a small blast, just in case. The war has never breached our home turf before, but that doesn't mean they won't try. Just like we try to breach their perimeter sporadically. Overall, I'd say that we have about one-hundred-and-fifty family members occupying the village. To the fine citizens of Heathdom Cove though, we are simply a suburb of their fine town, 'South Heathdom Cove'. Talmac territory is locally known as 'North Heathdom Cove'.
Alice gave my mission a seventy-six percent chance of success. With a lesser cause, I wouldn't have bothered. Unfortunately for my target though, he is not a lesser cause. Between the intel I collected and putting myself in the equation, I have a pretty good chance at succeeding. I initially factored Rose to do the hit, and the odds upped to eighty-seven percent, but there was still a big margin for failure. I couldn't allow Rose to go with a thirteen percent chance of not making it back. Everyone else I factored in to the scenario, got even lower odds.
So I am it.
The stereotypical 'Raging Bull' bar that is located in the slums of Heathdom Cove is going to be the latest location to be shot up. Unfathomably, with everyday shootings, the population goes up daily, not down. It's not just birthrate either, it is people moving into the town.
Crazy Fuckers.
The bar has a mechanical bull that a stripper has been paid to ride all night, not to mention the glassing's left and right. A real classy joint in other words, and sadly, the exact place I'd expect to find my target.
I chose the typical back corner so I can see the whole bar, and so I'm shadowed. The place is packed, and smoke fills the joint to the brim. The odd gap here and there of non-smoke-filled air is filled with the stench of beer and urine. The entire place is cheaply furnished with white plastic deck chairs and their matching tables.
At least they match.
The walls appeared to be white plaster at some point in there life, but are now just a graffiti'd mess with gaping holes scattered throughout. The bar they had spent a little extra cash on, but not much. It is a vomit-green laminated bench, that stretches against the side wall. All alcoholic beverages are from bottles. There is nothing on tap here, just water. Nothing gets served in a bottle, everything is getting poured into disposable plastic cups.
There is still no sign of my target, so I slink my way through the sweaty, smelly bodies to the vomit-green bench. Bodies bump into me regularly with a wandering hand. They're not trying to feel me up, they're looking for a wallet.
They won't find one.
I'd never be so stupid to carry anything to do with identity on me, ever.
Pulling a twenty from my bra, I flash it at the balding barkeep with a way-too bushy beard. Seeming to have some sort of sixth sense for money, he stops halfway through an order to serve me.
"What will it be love?" he rasps. I'd be rasping too with the shit he has to inhale on a regular basis.
"Double whiskey. Don't care which brand," I lean in to say. He pulls out a large bottle of Jack and fills a glass to the brim with it. So that's where the glasses come from, the non-beer drinkers. I toss him the twenty and grab my drink.
Weaving through the bodies with a glass is a lot harder than without one. Once I get back to my table, all I had left in my glass was the double shot I'd originally ordered. I wonder if he knew that shit would be spilt everywhere.
I re-scan the bar, and find my target fighting with his brother near the entrance. They are in each others faces screaming, and I can see the pulsing veins in their foreheads from here. What is being said can't be heard, but I'm guessing big bro doesn't want little bro hanging out in a place like this.
He really should listen to his big brother.
Their screaming has stopped, and the Major pushes Ginger Ninja on his arse, then storms out of the pub. Thank god. If the Major were to be here with Ninja, then I'd have to bail. I wouldn't be able to make it out alive.
He struts over to the bar and orders a beer that is given to him in a cheap cup. Collecting his drink, he walks over to the stripper riding the bull, and pulls up a seat. His four goons pull up a seat around him, and proceed to enjoy the show as well.
Perfect.
I down my untouched whiskey and head toward the toilets. There is a back entrance there that is going to be my escape route. The last thing I want is to be caught or offed. I walk down the small dark hallway that holds three doors, and wait for the people to clear out. It won't stay clear for long, but I will only need two seconds. The door at the end of the hallway is the exit, so I lean against the door with my hand tucked in the left side of my jacket.
I have a clear shot from here, and the shadows are keeping me from prying eyes. A group of rowdy men enter the narrow hallway and one starts to approach me. He moves to flush his body against mine, but I pull my sidearm out of my jacket and practically jammed it through his eye socket.
"Keep walking," I hiss at him between clenched teeth.
He put his hands up in the universal sign for surrender and backs in to the toilets.
Looking back to my target, Ninja is still ogling the cheap stripper like the creeper he is. In a swift motion, I click off the safety and let her rip, aimed at Ninja's head. The silencer on my baby wont give away the shot either. I turn on my heel and walk out the exit, not bothering to look back.
I know I didn't miss; his head is far too big for that.
Cold air stings my face and is making my eyes water. Blinking away the small trace of tears, I look around the exit for a down pipe or fire escape. Anything to get me on the roof. The Major won't be too far away, and Ninja's four goons might get lucky and figure out where the shot came from. My best bet at the moment is to stay hidden. If it came down to a chase, I'd lose hands down.
Looking up, I see that there is no overhang from the roof, which will make it easier. I prop my foot on the door handle, and launch myself up the roof.
For a solid three minutes, I jump from roof to roof, until enough time has passed for there to be a giant search party looking for me. I need to hunker down now, I just hope I'm far enough away to not be detected. An enormous tree sits beside the house across the street, so I need to expose myself briefly in order to hide out. After a quick scan of my surroundings, I come up with nothing. With crossed fingers, I jump off the roof and scamper over toward the tree and climb it in record time. I stop my ascent when I reached the point with most foliage.
I shift about on the branch to make myself as comfortable as possible; I'm hunkering down for the night.
One down, two to go. The hit I made on Edward a week ago hasn't hit the rumour mill yet. I'm guessing Carlisle and Esme want some time to mourn before they seek their revenge. Looks like Charlie's plan to end the war might work. If we become invincible while we slowly kill off their royal family, they might finally accept the treaty we have proposed frequently. I think if we take out Emmett and Esme, that would suffice. Carlisle should heed by that point. Normally, we would take out Carlisle instead, but we all know the saying; hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. That is a fury we wish to avoid at all costs. There will be no chance of a treaty if she were to be around. I know this is a callous way to seek peace, but we're hoping to beat them into submission.
They will have their freedom, we don't wish to dictate their lives. They will have the north part of town for their territory, we will have the south. Carlisle is the sole reason this war continues, we have wanted peace for quite some time now.
It was I that thought of this callous plan in the dim hope for freedom. I put forth as many factors as I could to Alice, and she came up with the odds of thirty-nine percent success rate. It is extremely low, but far better than any other plan I have come up with. It's a percentage we can all live with, especially if it works.
Everyone has to lay low for a while, we aren't so uncaring that we won't give them time to grieve before we off another one. Our next hit will be Emmett. It will infuriate them further and they will hit back even harder, but we won't be able to give them time to grieve Emmett before we kill Esme. We don't like not giving them that mourning period, but our success rate went down twenty percent if we let them mourn Emmett properly.
Esme is definitely a huge threat if her slightly extended survival can decrease our odds that much.
It has been three weeks since I disposed of Ginger Ninja, and the news has now spread like wildfire. That isn't the only thing that has been rumoured though. There is talk of a raid about to hit our impound. Can't say I'd blame them either. If they offed one of our princesses, they would be raided as well. Charlie has put extra security detail on his daughters, as well as secluded them to the basement of their house. I am to be kept down there with them for extra security. I am expendable after all. I'll always be family, but I'm not that high on the bloodline list. The head line will always be the priority.
Cracks and bangs can be heard above our heads, and everyone is on edge.
"I am so sick of this shit. When will it fucking end?" Rose screeches out, causing the guards that are close to her to jump out of their skin.
I smash my lips together to refrain from laughing. It will be interpreted wrong by Rose and she'd most likely blow my head off.
Not surprisingly, no one answers her; it was clearly a rhetorical question.
Alice did try to soothe her though. "Don't worry Rose. We just need to kill Smiley and the mum, then we'll be home free. We will finally be rid of the war." Instead on soothing Rose though, it causes her to flinch harshly. I don't know what that was about, but it was weird.
Bang! Consuming my focus, the loud bang echoes off the walls and debris flies everywhere. Then there's nothing.
Pain shoots through the back of my head and I blink my eyes slowly. Stone, brick, wood and dirt is littered all around the room. I find myself splayed out on my stomach, my limbs going in all directions. My head lie to one side, giving me a pretty good view of what is going on. There are four black-clothed figures looking down at a couple of bodies, talking in hushed tones. I keep my eyes half closed, just so I appear to be dead or knocked out. I need to find my gun, and fast.
I lightly clench my hands, only to find them empty. I must have dropped my guns in the blast. I discreetly push my abdomen into the uneven ground beneath me, and I find I still have my revolver tucked into my hip. I could either do this fast, or slow. I think my best bet will be fast, like a band aid.
Bracing myself, I count to three. One, two, three. Speedily, I roll on my back and draw my revolver. I start emptying bullets in them, but one of the men grabs the man to his left; whom I'd already shot, and uses him as a meat shield. Shit. The other two go down, the third gets thrown down when I stop shooting. The last man standing pulls someone off the ground by their hair.
Alice.
My heart jumps up through my throat. She must be protected at all costs. I have emptied my revolver in the other men and a quick scan around me shows no other weapons near me.
Fuck.
I can only hope he didn't count my bullets. With a steady hand, I keep my gun aimed at his head while I stand up slowly. My head throbs with the motion, but now is not the time for pain, I can whinge about that later.
"Let her go," my voice comes out steady, I am feeling anything but however.
I quickly glance at Alice, and she is mouthing words to me. I put all my attention on her, and she is saying; tell my dad I love him.
Fuck! She's going to die, and she knows it, she must have calculated her odds.
There still might be a chance though, surely her percentage can't be one hundred percent. Right?.
The man puts his hand up to her head, the handgun he's holding gets pressed into her temple.
"I don't think you're exactly in a position to negotiate, Bella." I know that voice. He forces Alice to step forward as he does, and he steps out of the shadows into the light of the nearby wall sconce.
The Major.
His hair has been tied back into a small pony tail. It makes him look a bit skeezy, but handsome nonetheless. The fire from the sconce reflects in his eyes, making him look as menacing as the devil himself. How I yearn for those bright blue eyes at the moment.
Before I come up with a reason for him to let her go, he starts up again. "This is just an eye for an eye, nothing more. Blood for blood. I'd say that is fair. Wouldn't you?" I don't answer, and he clearly doesn't expect me to.
"Did you carry out the hit?" he continues.
I'm not sure what the correct thing to do is. If I answer him, he could get angry and kill me. If I don't answer him, he could get angry and kill me. I go with answering him, and just nod my head.
"So you put that hit on his head and carried it out? You are a formidable opponent indeed. Here I was underestimating you as a silly little dim-wit."
After a couple of beats of silence, it's clear he's done talking. There was nothing else for me to say either, so I prepare and hope for a miracle. I know my chambers are completely empty, but I pull my trigger in sync with his anyway.
Click! Click!
The sounds echo through the empty space. Shit! He is out of bullets as well. I make a dive for him, just to give Alice a chance to escape, but he is too quick. Letting his gun fall from his hands, he places a hand under her chin, and one in her hair. He twists her head until the snaps echo through the room. I don't stop my motion though. With a flying fist, I clock him in the temple, making him drop Alice's limp body to the floor. He stumbles back, but regains his footing in no time. He pushes himself off a large stone and launches at me with a self-satisfied smirk on his face. He tackles me with his shoulder into my gut, forcing all air from my body. The only thing for me to do is to hold on and wait for the impact.
He launches us into a large pile of debris, tearing into the skin on my back. Once we still, I still feel objects digging into my back, one suspiciously shaped like a handgun. Hopefully I can retrieve it before he kills me. He moves his body up mine, pinning me further with his full body weight. Pushing his chest against mine, he leans down near my ear.
"It's a shame we are on opposing sides, we could've been so great together. I'd go as far as saying we would've been unstoppable." His lightly whispered words flow over my ear, heating my body temperature up. I know this is one of the many tricks Talmac's use. It's in their blood to flirt their way through life, just so they get whatever it is they want at any given moment.
"If we were on the same side, then we would be cousins," I rasp out, I'm still trying to catch my breath.
His responding chuckle resonates from his chest, through my whole being.
Fucking Talmac's.
I start to struggle a bit, drawing his attention away from my arm; just so I can slide my hand under my back. My left hand grips the handle and I slide my arm out, but place my hand under my bum to keep the gun hidden. Feeling around in the small space, I feel for the safety and click it off. Now to wait for my opportunity. At the moment, he will see it coming and off me long before I could pull out the pistol.
I got my task done quick enough thankfully. With a grunt, he forces his body weight into me, making my body submit to his strength.
"Feisty are we?" his face still at my ear.
He has his hands placed beside my head, but he moves his left hand. He grabs a hand full of my hair and forces me to look at his smirking face. The ocean-blue of his eyes can be seen now, but the menace hasn't faded with the reflection of the fire.
Without warning, he starts kissing me. Deep, hard and desperate. His soft tongue explores and strokes and his teeth nibble at my lower lip.
I don't know why, but I willingly comply and returned the kiss with equal fervour. My right hand makes its own way to his hair, takes out the tie, and tangles itself in his flowing waves. It really has a mind of its own. It tugs and jerks his head to an angle where I can get deeper access to his minty-fresh mouth.
The pain in my back is now non-existent. All there is, is the warm wet tongue, caressing and teasing my own.
Heat flushes through my body, blazing and searing everything, and settling itself in my abdomen.
He grinds his pelvis into mine, taking the remainder of my concentration. Subconsciously, my hips also grows a mind and starts grinding back, seeking the friction it needs to finish what it desires most.
Sharp, cold pain snaps me out of my heated state, and it is centred in the left of my abdomen. I can feel the cold metal, slowly sliding out of my stomach at an agonising rate. The serrated edge of the knife, nicking and ripping my flesh as it is removed.
The fucking bastard stabbed me while giving me the best kiss of my miserable life!
"Typical fucking Talmac," I wheeze out.
The low, condescending chuckle, reverberates through his body and into mine, echoing through my head and my soul. Well, it serves me right for not shooting him first.
I can feel the life draining out of me at a rapid rate.
With draining energy, I lift my left hand out from under my bum and rest the the weight of the gun against my hip for support. With it aimed inward, I squeeze the trigger with the last of my might.
The loud bang echoes through the empty space.
"Touché," is all he rasps, and I managed a small chuckle in response, just to return the favour.