A/N: This is my first time writing a story like this so please be patient if I take too long to update or if there are crappy chapters. I hope you will like it, finger crossed and don't forget to leave a review.

Enjoy…

Summary: They weren't meant to fall in love. He wasn't supposed to get caught; he wasn't supposed to get distracted. It was easy, 'get in, kill them all and get out', and then she got in the way. First chapter is a prologue! R&R

A Twisted Fate

by wackystrings123

Prologue

He stared down at the dingy, eerie alley below him. His fists clenched tautly around the curtains rail. He sealed his smoldering eyes tight and sucked his quivering bottom lip into his arid mouth. He was running out of time. He could unambiguously perceive the seconds ticking away briskly in his head.

Now?

The question soared through his tormented mind, yanking at his insides agonizingly. His mind induced him to jump but his body seemed to be uncooperative. He raised his heavy head and latched his eyes on the scarcely perceptible rooftop just a few feet away from where he stood. He swallowed a shuddering breath nearly gagging at the heavily polluted air that filtered through his nostrils. But he had no time to worry about the pollution, they were getting closer by the nanosecond; he could tell. He glanced up at the black, starless sky, listening to the deafening sound of upbeat music from a nearby club, the incessant honks from frustrated drivers and the perpetual howls from agitated dogs. It was now or never.

With another quaking breath, he climbed onto the window ledge and pressed every plane, every curve, every component of his chiseled back against the hard brick wall, preparing for the jump.

1…2, 2 ½…3…

The smoky, bitter cold air slapped against his damp hair as his sneakered feet left the support of the concrete. The smog filled wind blew into his wide eyes and he could feel his dress shirt billowing out behind him. The rooftop seemed to be floating nearer and nearer and within moments his feet had landed on the solid ground, the force causing his knees to buckle beneath his weight. A pained yet relived breath whistled through his clenched teeth and he could feel his internal organs partaking in a celebratory jig. But it wasn't over yet, he aversely reminded himself. He stumbled to his feet and looked back. A big mistake!

The door to the room he had been in just seconds earlier burst open and the sound of urgent and ponderous traveled to his ringing ears. Several bulky men, concealed within layers of black clothing, from head to toe, trampled into the dimly lit room, knocking over numerous objects with their massive weapons.

"What the fuck? Where'd that bastard go?" he patently heard one snarl.

"He 'aint here boss." Another spoke into the disturbed night.

He watched one of the men in black, probably the largest of the group briskly walk over to the wide open window and poke his sheathed head out of the window into the frigid wind and gaze at the darkness below.

Run!

Something bellowed into his mind and when his legs finally responded, it was a little too late. "Shit." He growled under his breath as the man at the window whipped his head around and called out to his comrades. His muscled legs reacted to being spotted faster than his brain. Before he could comprehend his actions his aching legs had already darted the length of the rooftop and he was once again feeling the fear and uncertainty he had felt minutes prior. But unlike the first time, this time he did not have a second to spare. Bracing his body, he stumbled a few steps back, engulfed a lung full of the stale smoky air before letting himself repeat his earlier ministrations.

Relief coursed through his veins tickling the vessels. He was safe. Just one more leap and it would all be over. Feeling a minute triumphant grin weave through his haggard features, he began a comfortable trot towards the edge of the rooftop. He had just taken two small steps when he saw them, indistinguishable, lining the brick walls, concealed in black, guns pointed at him with their hooded icy glares fixed on his frozen silhouette.

"It's over Bolton." He could not identify who had spoken nor had he made any attempt to try; his main instinct was to run…escape. But he was trapped. The speaker was right, it was all over. He felt his broad shoulders slump in defeat then his brain came to a conclusion; if this was it then he would have to make it worth it…he would not go down without a fight. Without any warning, two of the larger men launched at him and grasped his shoulders in steel grips. He lashed out striking one in the shin and bashing the others jaw with his skull. As he continued to fight back with even more force, several of the men clad in back hastened to the aid of their companions. Without any warning a deafening CRACK sliced through the frosty night, silencing every being on the dark roof but one.

He let out a low, agonized grunt as a searing pain erupted in his thigh. His frantic motions ceased momentarily as he tried to scout out the shooter. His eyes landed on the small figure standing before him, flanked by large, well-built men. He glared at the person before looking down at the gun clutched tightly in the person's hand, still pointed at him as though frozen in shock. He could not tell much from the figure. It was covered well in a dark, billowing jacket and a ski mask covering their face; no portion of the shooters skin was out in the open.

Ignoring the bleeding wound in his thigh, Bolton found himself lunging forward at his attacker with only one ambition on his mind; to kill. But before he could touch the dark figure, who had fallen back in fear, the men around it grabbed him and hauled him back.

"Do you want me to shoo this thing again?" the person threatened, raising the gun.

He couldn't quite place the familiarity of the voice. He knew it…but where from? Ignoring the threat and pushing his questions to the back of his mind, he struggled against the men's iron grips, but the wound in his thigh weakened him greatly and his struggles were futile against them. Something hard slammed into his stomach and he was overcome by a wave of dizziness. His head spun and sharp ringing blasted through his eardrums. Weak and defeated, he reluctantly let his body sag to the ground only to be hoisted up roughly by the men holding him.

"That's better."

He raised his head to meet the familiar speaker, anger and hatred pulsing through his body. The petite figure stepped in front of him, almost daring him to do something. He didn't, he just continued to stare ahead, cold and blank.

"Fuck you." He spat coldly yet at the same time it came out calmly.

"I recall that is what you wanted to do just moments ago." A familiar giggle flooded his ears. He knew that giggle, he would recognize it anywhere; it was her giggle. He watched, horrorstruck as the person ripped off their mask, in an agonizingly slow and taunting manner as if to mock him for his stupidity in letting his guard down for once in his life.

Midnight curls bounced on her slim shoulders as she tugged them free from their confines, the same midnight waves he had buried his fingers and lips in earlier during the night, the same hair he had dug his nose into, marveling at the enticing aroma, the very same hair belonging to the person who had somehow managed to break through the wall of steel he had spent years building around himself. Mouth agape and body still, in shock, his eyes traveled down to the familiar face, plump lips, and high cheekbones before they rested on the dark mocha eyes. Upon seeing those eyes and confirming the worst, Bolton felt his knees buckle beneath him. Had it not been for the men holding him up he would have crumpled to the ground in shame. How could he have been so foolish as to ignore the sense in his head and let his guard down, only to e fooled by her? Never in his life had he ever been in this predicament. He had failed; he was ruined all because of her.

"Gabriella…"