Edward's POV

I had been fully aware when she pulled herself from the bed they shared, but I kept my eyes shut. I knew I couldn't look her in the eye, knowing she was walking into a trap. Once she was gone I had gotten up and showered, trying to kill time as I knew the inevitable was happening.

Benucci was a creature of habit, yes, but he wasn't stupid. He would have lurked around the hotel for her, and by now would have known that she had a spa appointment. He would find her there, and probably take her. I couldn't have told her; she wouldn't have been able to convey the right performance to make him think he won—to make him take his guard down.

I knew I had been underhanded when I asked if she still wanted to help; secretly gaining myself permission to let this plan play out this way. My heart ached at the idea of Benucci having her, but I didn't plan on letting it stay that way for long. I had planned everything so meticulously; I knew there would be some pain on both sides in order for success to be claimed.

Really, it was my fault for gaining feelings for her. Everything had been so perfectly planned and executed until I began to feel remorse. I felt terrible for how I treated her, ashamed for desiring her, and terrified by the idea of losing her.

I couldn't give up now though; I had come so far. It had taken forever to pull myself out of the depressed stupor I lived in after my parents were killed, and the business was destroyed. Often the nightmares would torment me; visions of my parents dancing and laughing together, the restaurant full of patrons, music flowing quietly. I wasn't able to pull myself out of the darkness until I considered the idea of getting back at the one who had so violently ripped my family away from me. And why shouldn't I? Benucci had hurt so many, had let greed rule his actions as he commanded his reign across all of the local families that owned businesses. He had invaded everyone's lives; destroying so many of them in the process.

Organizing myself had taken so much focus, drive, money, and so much time. I had gone to such lengths to educate myself in combat, weapons, stealth, espionage—everything that could have come up. But I could have never predicted her—Bella. I couldn't have predicted her intelligence, her humor, the way her eyes sparked when she was angry, her ferocity—no, I hadn't been ready for it.

And now as I watched the clock tick, my jaw clenched. All I could picture was him taking her, her being so scared; I felt as though I was betraying her. I knew I would have to leave her with Benucci for at least the day. Night would have to fall before I could go to them; before I could save her—before I could kill him.

I went to Bella's bag and smiled to see that she had taken the exact outfit I had hoped. She would never notice the small chip embedded in the waistband of her pants. I had expertly sewn it in prior to packing her overnight bag. I had spent an ungodly amount of money to have a tracking system so precise, that emitted no sound, and could withstand immense amounts of damage. I had taken the liberty of placing small chips in many of the things I packed in Bella's bag, but her sweatpants held the strongest tracker. They were the only item that had a thick enough waistband to hide the thicker chip.

As the clock finally dragged forward another hour, I pulled my laptop out and booted up the software. Just as I expected, her chip was no longer showing the address of the hotel. I felt a pang of panic, the idea of her being in Benucci's possession causing my stomach to churn. I will come for you, cara mia, I thought sullenly, my eyes following the gps as it led me to an intersection right outside of the city. I quickly googled the address to find it was an apartment building. So eager to start your life with her, you sick fuck. I glared at the screen and sighed, reaching up to rub at my eyes. Was she frightened? Did she hate me for putting her in danger? She had so eagerly agreed to help, but had she really recognized the extent of her agreement?

She's never going to forgive me for this; I'm going to lose her for good. I don't deserve her; how could I put her in his path like this. I spent much of the afternoon hating myself, constantly tormenting myself with the images of what could possibly be happening to her. By the time night broke my fingers ached in anticipation, my leg bouncing nervously.

I had driven over earlier in the day, just to scope out the location. I had quickly eyed the mailboxes, easily finding the fake surname I had seen Benucci use in some of his less-than-legal business arrangements. After some digging I had even found the blueprints to the building. I had spent close to two hours studying them heavily, making sure I had multiple escape routes for us. I knew there would be at least one security guard there, watching her room—but that was hardly an issue. I had no gripes with killing at this point, especially someone that stood in the way of me saving her.

Once the clock had passed eleven, I knew it was late enough for me to go to them. It was hard not to speed; my hands gripped the steering wheel so tight that my knuckles had turned a pale white. I parked in the back, close to the door that led to the elevators.

My clothes were form fitting and light, allowing me premium movement. I had a gun tucked in the back of my pants, a silencer securely in place but I had no desire to use it. My preferred weapon would be the small knife that clung to my belt. I made my way inside and climbed the stairs until I reached the 4th floor. I peered through the small window that faced the hallway, instantly catching site of the guard standing outside of the door. He was tall, easily 6'3. A suit clung to his large form, leaving a smile on my face. He was more for show, and probably couldn't move very fast; the suit definitely wouldn't help.

I awaited my opportune moment, minutes passing by slowly. Finally, as if someone from above was taking pity on me, the guard received a phone call. He turned away from the hall and talked in a low, deep voice. As his distraction continued, I snuck through the door and closed it silently. With practiced stealth, I crept down the hall towards him until I reached his body, my knife already in my hand.

Before he could spin my knife was plunging into his back, my fingers wrapping around his mouth to keep his sound muffled. I held the knife there, digging it in as far as possible until I lowered the man to the floor, watching his eyes slide shut. The blood pooled quickly around his body as I slid the knife out, wiping it on his jacket afterwards. Once I was convinced he wouldn't be getting up I turned my attention away from him and to the door in front of me. I could hear muffled sounds coming from inside the room, and what sounded similar to crying. Isabella¸ my heart sunk, my fingers balling into fists. I need to calm myself down; there were too many ways she could get hurt if I couldn't keep a level head. I had to focus on my target, and execute quickly. I leaned into the door again, closing my eyes as I forced myself to swallow down their conversation.

"Please, don't. Please." She was begging through choked sobs.

"Isabella, as I have expressed, I won't deal with insolence. Take off your clothes."

"Please, not that. Please just let me go."

"Do you want me to force you?"

"No, no more. Please, please..." her sobs were louder now, the pain in her voice evident.

I couldn't take it anymore. I pulled the gun from my waist and shot the lock and handle off the door, pushing it open quickly.

"Frankie, we don't need you in here." I heard Benucci call from what I assumed was the bedroom. He must have assumed I was his goon, little did he know Frankie wouldn't be coming to his aid.

I quickly made my way down the hall, pressing my back up against the wall closest to their room.

"Frankie, get outta here!" Benucci yelled, pulling the bedroom door open. He moved towards the living room, looking around. "Frankie?"

I quickly reached out and pulled Benucci's body into mine, my fingers wrapping around similarly to the way they had Frankie's. I held my knife up to his neck and chuckled in his ear, my voice growling into his ear.

"I'm going to delight in torturing you; you sick son of a bitch." I whispered harshly, my knife sliding very delicately across his skin. It was enough to draw a painful hiss from Benucci, a slow drip of blood seeping from the cut.

"Edward?" her voice was like music to me, and I found myself unprepared for it. My head spun quickly, my eyes widening at the site. Her cheeks were bruised, swollen, and very evidently cut. She had dark red marks on her arms as if he had been grabbing her. Her eyes were red rimmed, her lips puffy. Her t-shirt was ripped, her sweat pants were gone, and her panties were ripped on side.

"Oh, Bella." I choked out before feeling my body slammed into the floor. I snapped back to attention to see Benucci above me, grinning. He quickly kicked the knife out of my hand, placing his foot on my chest after.

"Rule one, boy, you don't let cooz get in your way." He smirked, pressing his foot into my chest. I growled a little and fought against his weight, trying to center myself mentally so that I could figure my way out of this predicament.

"Haven't you learned yet, boy? I always get what I want. And things that end up in my way end up permanently removed." He spat, his foot sliding up to my throat. He pressed down, causing me to cough roughly, my air slowly being cut off.

"NO STOP! PLEASE STOP!" Isabella was screaming, and now moving towards us. She tried to push Benucci off but he tossed her off of him like a rag doll, her body dropping to the floor behind him. I growled and wrapped both of my arms around his ankle, pushing his leg roughly. He merely laughed and dug his foot in more, causing me to wheeze uncontrollably as I tried to gain air.

"Sad, I would've loved to see you go the same way your parents did." Was the last thing I heard as I was greeted with darkness.