AN: This was inspired by Bon Jovi's Wanted. It created this image in my head and i had to run with it. I hope you enjoy!!

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As I felt a presence heading straight towards me, I felt a great sense of trepidation begin to crawl from my toes and hammering into my heart. I knew it was only a matter of time before I was apprehended and sent to jail for the rest of my natural life; being a master thief doesn't get you into the Fed's good graces I've heard. I just wasn't expecting that to happen anytime soon. I was currently wedged between a wall and a high stack of boxes, and I could only hope I would be lucky enough for the nice agents to move on to another room so I could get the hell out of there.

I internally cursed at the injustice of it all. I was a mere feet away from my prize: an original Monet. I had been scouting this piece for months and now all that work was useless. Recon. Aliases. Scavenging for an access key. All for naught.

How did this even happen? I had deactivated all of the alarms for the building. I had knocked all the security guards unconscious. Even the security beams around the painting went off like clockwork. It should have been an easy job all things considered. I had certainly broken into much more heavily guarded places before so what had gone wrong?

I wanted to bang my head against something because the voice calling out orders was none other than deputy director Carlisle Cullen, whose face I had seen in press conferences detailing my high profile thefts. Apparently stealing a couple of original works of art gets you on the fed radar. And eluding capture seemed to piss them off.

It seemed Deputy Cullen knew I was in here somewhere and he wasn't leaving without me. I could only wonder if I were really that important that the second in command would come to a raid himself. Clearly I hadn't noticed I had attracted such a fan base.

I faintly heard murmurs between him and another agent about how lucky they were that someone had seen me break in. Fantastic. The one thing you could never account for, people being nosy.

I could faintly hear him taking a few steps into the room I was in when I heard his authoritative voice ring out into the darkness.

"Bella," he called. "We know you're here and we have every exit possible covered and that includes the roof and tunnels."

Well damn. He was thorough.

"My name is Carlisle Cullen and I just want to talk to you. I need to talk to you."

Great. Just what I always wanted, a fed "needing" to talk to me.

"This doesn't have to end badly. We can work something out."

Sure thing. I sighed. I didn't have anything to offer him. I worked alone and I always had. I had contacts of course, in this line of work, you have to have them to survive, but that probably wouldn't be news to him and I could never betray them.

I sighed and considered my options. I could try to run and get shot at. Great way to go. I could wait it out and maybe they would go away? This isn't a nightmare Bella. You aren't going to wake up and this isn't going away. Now I was talking to myself. Wonderful.

I racked my brain and I couldn't think of anything else but the overwhelming panic threatening to consume me. It riddled me with frustration because I was usually pretty quick on my feet and was extremely good at what I do. That was why I lasted so long. Or I had.

So, it seemed like I had no other option. Thankfully, my voice did not betray my duress and rung out clear, "I don't want to negotiate here."

A palpable sheet of tension rose in the air at the sound of my voice.

I saw through a space between boxes that several agents had their weapons trained on the space from which I had spoken.

Carlisle's response came quickly. "Of course not. We will take you back to headquarters. I have an offer to make you and I assure you it would be worth listening to."

An offer? Well now, that sounds intriguing.