Principal Greene / Edward

The old man walked slowly up the main flight of stairs at the front of the school. Burly and still muscular despite his age, his thick white hair crowning his head, his knees protested as he climbed the stairs. It stuck in his craw every time he had to do something like this, groveling to a person—a student!—who should have no authority over him whatsoever. In the twenty-five years he had been principal of this school, Greene had never before encountered anyone brazen enough to challenge him. Until now.

He growled to himself. At least it would be coming to an end soon, when Edward Cullen left high school at the end of the year. Cullen had promised it would be over then.

He'd been one of the gang's agents ever since that day three years ago when a video had arrived in his mailbox, threatening to expose his daughter for the secret she had sworn no one knew: she had had an abortion before she married her deeply religious husband. She had begged her father to keep it a secret, and so he had given in to the blackmail, carrying out all the gang's orders and serving as their local coordinator, as they moved their primary base and main headquarters to the buildings of Forks High. Payments had appeared in his bank account, and everything had been carefully documented, with the usual attention to detail the rumors said you could expect.

So now they owned him, holding not just his daughter's secrets in their hands, but plenty of his own as well should he ever step out of line.

The one promise the boy—whom he'd been forced to call "Captain"—had made was that at the end of his senior year, the gang would move its headquarters elsewhere and Greene would be allowed to retire, his silence the only further price. Four years of hell, of being an accessory to crimes he didn't even want to think about, and finally the end was in sight.

He nodded to the student on guard outside the door to the room marked 'Teachers' Lounge.' "I have important information for the Captain. He'll want to see me immediately."

The student sniffed, but entered the room at once to relay his words. In a minute he returned and swung the door open to Greene with a jerk of his head.

The former teachers' lounge was spacious and comfortable. It was located in one of the older parts of the building, but had been maintained reasonably well over the years. The wainscoting and crown molding gracing the once-elegant room echoed bygone days of larger school district budgets, when education was believed to be a priority by state government and teaching was a respected profession. The tall floor-to-ceiling wood-mullioned windows offered the best view from the school, overlooking the neighborhood park.

At one end of the room sat Edward Cullen, at his ease in an antique high wing back armchair upholstered in white satin. About two dozen members of his gang were sitting or standing around his chair. In the center of the room, facing Edward, a younger, blond boy was kneeling, wrists bound behind his back, his face pale and terrified, a bright red welt rising on one cheek. Greene grimaced. Although he had made his peace, mostly, with his own complicity in Edward's crimes, the youth seemed to enjoy rubbing his servitude in his face, deliberately allowing him to witness scenes of intimidation, torture, and even threats of murder. The scowl on his face deepened.

He ignored all the others, walked straight up to Edward and said, "I have important information for your ears alone, Captain."

Edward gave him a level stare, then gestured peremptorily with his head. At once the gang members began filtering out of the room. One jerked the bound student to his feet and made him follow.

When the door closed behind them and the two of them were alone in the room, Greene said, "The police chief called me this morning."

Edward said nothing, only raised a brow in inquiry.

"He said that the drug trafficking and gang activity in this area is getting out of hand, and he's had orders direct from the mayor to do something about it. They're especially concerned about this new drug that's recently been appearing on the streets." He beetled his thick white brows at Edward. "So he's sending a team of undercover agents to the school on an infiltration mission. He informed me that I was to be the sole contact to minimize the possibility of leaks."

"Is that so." Edward rested his chin in his hand. "And have you received any information on these undercover agents?"

"Yes. I have their names and descriptions here, as well as the schedule of their arrival. They're adults who can pass for teenagers, experienced undercover cops from other jurisdictions."

Edward held out his hand for the information. He unfolded the piece of paper and ran his eye over the names. "Alice Brandon and Jasper Hale. Very interesting. Have they informed you when they'll send more information?"

"No. This was the final exchange. They're just going to drop these agents off here, where they'll pretend to be students for the next few months, gathering intelligence."

"And undoubtedly attempting to infiltrate that notorious gang that's rumored to have operations at Forks High." Edward's eyes flashed with amusement. "We'll just have to make sure we—facilitate their work," he said softly. "Thank you, Greene. As always, your cooperation makes my work so much easier." The old man scowled.

The part that bothered him the most was not just the crimes. It was the loss of control over his own school, the way he had to bow to Edward, the fact that if the crimes came to light, it would be Greene, not Edward, who would go to jail.

And if what he'd heard was going to happen next week went down—

He gritted his teeth, aware that Edward, as always, was amused by his reaction.

Bella

I danced along the school hallway to the beat of one of my favorite songs, humming and singing to myself.

Life was good. If this was how being in love made you feel, I could understand what all the fuss was about. I had another date with Edward tonight, and then we were going to the Halloween Ball at the end of the week. I felt like turning cartwheels down the hall.

As I passed by a courtyard window, I saw Jacob and Leah arguing and gesticulating. Whatever could they be discussing to make them so grumpy? Time to cheer them up. I ran into the courtyard.

"You're being ridiculous, Jacob," Leah was arguing. "You're only saying this now that Bella is with Edward. I've never seen her so confident or so happy."

"Edward is dangerous," Jacob retorted. "That's true even if you bury your head in the sand."

Awkward. They were talking about me. What could I say to distract them? "Wow, are you two having a lovers' spat?" I teased. "Trying to decide who's going to ask who to the Halloween Ball?"

They stepped apart, glancing away from each other. Leah's face was bright red. Jacob brushed a hand over his hair.

OK, what was going on there? Maybe it was time to turn the tables on Leah after all her matchmaking. It was funny, after all my puppy love over Jacob, now he just seemed solid and unromantic, like a very good friend, not at all like the thrill I felt whenever I thought of Edward. But maybe I could give Leah a little of that thrill. I grinned.

After a pause, Leah said, "We're just friends, Bella."

Jacob said, "I'm not even going to the Halloween Ball."

"Yeah." Leah swung her backpack over her shoulder. "I'm late for work. See you." She shuffled away. Jacob stared at her retreating back.

"Oh my god, work!" I realized I was about to be late to my bakery job, again. For some reason, I found it hard to be aware of my surroundings all the time. My mind was constantly torn away, replaying recent conversations with Edward, examining every nuance of his words in my memory, seeing his face in my mind's eye, feeling his touch on my skin.

"Bye!" I shouted as I ran off.

But even as I rushed off toward work, running so fast I was panting, I still felt exuberant. Even the thought of being chewed out by my boss didn't seem that important. What mattered was that I loved, and was loved in return.

Kim

Kim crouched on the floor of the basement furnace room beside the other members of Volterra, waiting for the Captain to come down the stairs. The room echoed with taunts and sneers, but she avoided at the eyes of the scrawny kid tied to a classroom chair in front of the furnace. His arms and legs had been strapped to the chair with tie-wraps that cut into his pale flesh. She knew why the meeting had been called, and she wanted to distance herself from the unlucky captive as much as possible.

Hulking shapes of equipment of unknown vintage surrounded the room. The antique furnace glowed dimly around the iron door in its squat belly, and the reek of sour iron pervaded the air. Two bare bulbs hung from twisted wires nailed to the rafters amongst a maze of pipes, drains, and loose clusters of wire. The largest of the pipes was wrapped with insulating tape stained with decades of rust. The painted cement floor slanted downward toward the recessed drain at the low end of the room.

About twenty of the gang members stood against the walls of the room, mostly male except for three or four females. Their jeering and taunting stopped when a figure appeared on the landing and walked down the final stairs slowly and deliberately. He was not wearing his glasses, and a small smile played about his lips.

Kim waited in her customary position on the floor beside the Captain's chair. Watching Edward walk down the stairs sent a shiver through her, as it did every time she saw him.

The first time she had seen him take command of a meeting, his physical beauty had struck her like a knife. The large, expressive eyes surrounded by impossibly thick, long lashes; that deep, resonant voice that spoke so politely of torture and death; lean, sculpted torso and utterly graceful movements—between one breath and the next she had known what she wanted.

From that moment on, she had set herself to catch his attention in the most brazen way possible. She knew she had an attractive body, lithe and well endowed. She shivered as she recalled the day she had finally caught his eye. How well she remembered that night, the night he had brought her to his room in the clubhouse. She had expected him to be like all the others, the men who tore her clothes, grabbed her breasts, pressed sloppy mouths reeking of whisky or smoke to her lips, and then took her roughly, taking their pleasure eagerly and tossing her aside until the next time.

But instead he had been a gentleman. He had spoken to her politely. He asked her permission, had unbuttoned her shirt slowly, his eyes smoldering, a dark smile on his expressive face. He touched his lips sweeter than honey to hers, entered her mouth tenderly with his warm tongue. He teased her, stroked her with his long fingers until she thought she would die from the torment and wonder of it.

Sex had always been a tedious task for her, something she did to get other things she wanted, pleasurable mostly in that it finally gave her a small power over others. But that night with Edward had been a revelation.

She had been so desperate for him that she had trembled, for once in her life unable to speak, as he leaned over her, finally naked, his hair brushing her face when he lowered his mouth to hers. His body was even more impossibly gorgeous than she had imagined, his well-muscled, tanned chest like that of a god, his beautiful eyes alight with lust.

At last he had taken her, and in that moment she was lost, her body clenching in waves of agonized passion. She felt a pleasure more intense than she had dreamed possible, until at last he collapsed on her, gently seeking out her mouth again with his and kissing her again.

That night she had lost her heart to the worst man possible. She had heard all the stories whispered about Edward; she knew he had utterly no principles; that he cared for nothing and no one besides himself; at the very most he might toy with her, use her for his pleasure. Suddenly she wanted nothing more than this from life.

She knew all too well how her infatuation with a man like this would end. But she could do nothing to stop herself. She knew she would do anything for him. She would kill for him. She would die for him.

The sight of him, a glimpse of the curve of his throat, a single gesture with a graceful hand—any of these made her violently fascinated, weak and trembling at her core, all her resolve washed away in a single instant. She was helplessly, hopelessly attracted to him; she knew she would forever be drawn to his deadly beauty, that she would go to him knowing full well that it would bring her only pain and death.

She still held that one golden night in her memory, precious and unrecoverable, as the one crowning moment of her life when everything had been worthwhile, when she was not Kim Lugo, a trashy slut in a lousy neighborhood, but a princess, a treasure, taken by a king.

They had had sex again since that night, but it had never been the same as that first time. He had never again shown that gentle, caring side to her. Instead, he had been indifferent, or even worse, in a playful mood, a devilish smile dancing on his lips, as he whispered commands in her ear that she must follow regardless of the pain or cost to her.

She did everything he asked of her, obeying the least of his whims to the letter, never voicing the despair that filled her heart and mind. She knew that if she were caught, he would not care in the slightest as they took her to jail. And she knew, she thought in hopeless anguish, that she would be loyal to him even there, and would not let his name pass her lips as they sentenced her.

And now… he had let her know her part in his plans, let her know exactly what he thought of her, what was going to happen to her… and the worst of it, not even by his own hand. She could have borne it if it had been at his hands.

But no. She bowed her head. She was nothing now. Less than nothing. A tear squeezed out of her eye. All because of that girl.

She ground her teeth. She wouldn't let it go. Kim Lugo didn't just take shit. Even if it killed her, she would get her revenge.

Her eyes narrowed as it came to her. That pathetic girl wouldn't know what hit her… and neither would Edward, until it was too late.