A/N: Ummm, yeah. If you read my profile messages you know i've had surgery and RL has just pretty much sucked. But let's move on. Timeline to the end has been outlined. The end is soon. I promised I would finish this fic. Just remember, with all your might when reading: Have a little faith in me.
Happy Halloween. Go read.
Beta Beige, Vantastic, SM, you are all like finding Twilight on cable TV and falling asleep to the sounds of Robward speaking. You're THAT good. Thanks for your patience through out all this craziness.
|:::::[-]:::i):::| — Between my teeth.
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Sound: Fever Ray - Keep the streets empty for me.
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Chapter 20 - Fury
Fury. At my simple words. Words meant for a key you never knew locked your heart to crumble, melt, dissipate...to make space for breathing, hope and happiness...love. But its not what I see. Not anywhere in his eyes that look at me.
Fury. And nothing else.
I die a little inside. My lungs give way. Every breath threatening its last. But then I breathe again. Convulsions of sobs are threatening and giving all at once. Because it means I get to breathe again. I get to live for another breath. To see him and not leave him. He stays even when my lids close and open again.
I watch him. And fury.
For an instant I regret my simple words. They weren't simple after all. They seemed to have wounded. Sent him far away from me. Body, mind and soul. It unlocked the wrong key. Of memories and hate. Of those same words uttered to him and then taken away when he needed them most. He doesn't trust simple words, not since he was young. I can see it in his eyes. He doesn't want me. I heave.
Pain. For him. For me. The only feeling that grounds the moment to reality. A tense room that wants to be broken in by thieves. Thieves who will take away beautiful eyes and take away me.
I can feel it bleeding. Red streams out from a bullet wound that not even he could've stopped. Such a small hole that makes tragedy and makes weakness. Wasting away. It's leaving and with it my will to live. I give up. This is too much.
Though, I cannot, for the little life in me, stop. My lips move and they are on their own. They live on as my insides die. I love...love...love you. I'll always love you.
Fury. And I cry. No answer to simple words from jade eyes.
"No," he utters. "You don't get to say that."
"But...I do."
"No. Not today. Not ever," he seethes. He looks down at red. Silence between us as shouts tremble outside. He rips his shirt off his shoulders. Scarred skin I'll never seen again. All of him. He presses it to my side. But its no use. I'll die soon. I look for his eyes and they evade me.
"Run," bloody words from my lips. I choke and heave again.
His lips purple. Jaw set to cut. Plump veins. "Stop it." His teeth grinding.
"Leave. They'll kill you." But he doesn't respond. I cough and more blood. His palm tips my face to the side. Red running down my cheek. The taste rancid and warm, foreign and frightening. He wipes it away.
"I don't...want you here. Just leave!" I cry out as fiercely as I can. Anger mixing with fear. I look at him from the corner of my watery eyes. "Dammit, just...please!"
My eyes roll back. I choke in a gasp. "Enough!" he shakes me. Menacing eyes when he pulls me from my shirt collar. I whimper with the strength of his balled fist under my chin. Fury. His pale face close to mine and cheeks trembling with gritted teeth. "You're not going to die, alright? Not if I fucking allow it!" he blinks, his knitted brows. A shake with each of his words.
Silence between us. Just heavy swallows and faint whimpers from my drowning throat. I watch him go undone. Trembling in flushed skin and heavy pants. Rage.
I reach. To calm him. To bring him back from the darkness in his eyes. With just my lips seeking his. A warm brush and I kiss. I slip away with the effort to keep him close. A whimper. But I reach again, despite his tensing jaw and shoulders. A taste of the soft cleft of his lip. Pleading.
I will always remember these lips.
I feel it. The layers and fear reluctantly melting away. An exhale from his flared nostrils. A blink. Another kiss. The full bottom. The corner. Every inch oh his full lips. They part. And I kiss his quivering chin. But never, not once, does he kiss me back. I die a little more inside.
"You will die if you stay. Please...just go."
He looks at me. Sadness in his eyes filling with a blurry glaze. He inhales with a strain. His chest constricting. Fury fading away.
"I love you. I...love you...so much. And I don't want you to die. Please...you've done so much for me. Just one thing for you." I graze his lips with mine.
But nothing. Banging on doors that shut the world out. It's loud and angry. A panic room that lets you out but doesn't let anyone in. I don't want to think beyond it. They'll find the way in and it'll be over soon. My offer still stands in the tense air between us. And fury rushes in his eyes again.
"No," he simply says. He pulls away. Done and settled. The death of me.
I cry. A loud sob when he pulls me up in his arms. My head falling back. So mad. So mad at him... Anger and a gritted teeth growl from my chest to my throat.
He moves me to the long couch. I beg him to please but he ignores me. He kneels and reaches in a slit of his gun halter. A clear pill. Nervously, he slips off the plastic pouch. I've never seen his hands trembling, stained with my blood. I watch with tears still streaming down my face as his remains focused.
I yelp. We look up and the wall shakes with a bang beside the doors. They try every possible way to get in. Edward turns. "Swallow this. It'll stop the bleeding. Hurry," he orders. He stuffs his finger in my mouth. I choke. Blood fills it and I can't. "C'mon, Swan," he pleads. He pulls back and dips my face over the couch. I spit red, staining a shiny floor beside his knee.
He tries again and this time I manage to pull it to the back of my tongue. I wonder how many times he's had to take a pill like this when he was on his own.
He stands and rushes into the bathroom connected to the room. I breathe. My eyes drift closed. Breathing is all I can do, as he brakes and moves things around, doing god knows what.
But the haunting bangs I hear go straight to my nerves. I lie here and listen.
They're like monsters clawing their way into my bedroom, my nightmares. But this is real. And the monster is Charlie. More warm tears run down my cheeks when I hear a shout, an order from a familiar voice. Him.
He has become the villain to the story of my life. His voice not soothing or fitting like it used to be in this house. My old sanctuary. He is death and destruction. How will we get out of this? I want so badly for Edward to run. But he won't.
He appears from the dark bathroom. A silver roll of tape in his stained hands. He pulls a large piece off the duck tape and rips it with sharp teeth.
I grunt. He lifts his shirt away from my side. His face falls, furrowed brows.
With a trembling thumb he skims the flesh around it. Whipping red away. I whimper. Reaching for his fingers, I squeeze them fiercely to stop him from touching further. My eyes roll back. His jaw falling slack, watching. He exhales. His stained fingers run through his hair, streaking the copper strands.
He hurriedly presses piece after piece over the wound on my side. His nimble fingers smoothing wrinkles away over my bare abdomen.
I cry out. Loud. In excruciating pain. Like knives stabbing, like wire twisting, like acid boiling in my open skin with every pass of his fingers. I stop screaming because it chokes. My body freezing in a held gasp. Beyond pain. Yet, he's quiet. Firm and focused, never failing—but for his trembling hands. He doesn't look at me. His attention at the doors and back at his hands. Like I've never said a thing. It angers me.
"Bella!"
My skin crawls. Charlie's terrorizing call is muffled just behind the wall, seemingly far away. But I hear it.
I blink up at Edward after taking long breaths. His fury blazing through his eyes.
But suddenly nothing matters. I look at what is passed him and my eyes widen, "Ed...Edward..." I didn't see the floor to ceiling windows illuminated behind him. Blues, purples and greens. A pass code blinks, asking to be logged in over the glass like a monitor. He looks back.
We sit frozen. Watching in wonder. Thoughts of secrets and answers of questions existing beyond the blinking form-field filter through my mind. Hopes of fulfilling all of Mom's pleads to help her, bubble up inside my wounded body. The Berry. Strength creeps in like a beam of light through my veins. What if everything we need is all there...just waiting?
"Go," I push on Edward's shoulder weakly with a stained hand. He reacts, scrambling to his feet. He runs to a dashboard on a slim pedestal between the sleek black single leather couches.
The monitor glitches and blinks. Beeps sound with every graze on glass keys from his insistent fingers. Nothing. A pass code is needed. The light blue glowing lines making the graphic grid turn deep blue.
"Shit," he murmurs. The morphing colors are equal to the sensitive floor beneath us. He stops trying before it locks. Or worse, activate another gun. He lifts the dashboard off the pedestal searching for a loophole, a wire, anything. The graphic blinks unfazed waiting to be interfered. His shoulder blades and muscles tense with every hurried shuffle.
My insides tense the same with hope and desperation. We have to...we have to get the Berry now or never.
I follow the tip of his index skimming a flat surface. He stops. Realization makes his shoulders drop faintly.
My eyes widen and I strain my neck to see better. My side still burning but I will to ignore it.
"What is it?"
He leans on open palms over the pedestal glass with his back to the giant monitors. He stares at the boxed device. Defeat.
Not good.
"Jesus, what...?"
"Blood," he interrupts. I blink. He doesn't look up. "The pass code is a drop of his blood."
"Shit, shit shhhhhit..." We can't win. I'll die here, he'll die here and we'll get nothing out of this. All for nothing. My head falls back on the couch.
I flinch. A hiss. He looks up when I squirm. The wound. A piece of plaster falls off the wall, taps and rolls off my middle onto the couch. The first piece of inevitable destruction they have started outside.
I watch as it tumbles off the couch and onto the floor. The banging from the other side has heightened. Vibrations fills the void of our silent thoughts. Waiting. Knowing it'll all be over.
His blood is an impossibility. Never.
Rushed thoughts of pounding my way out of this room and ending his life, making him pay for all he's done. Thoughts of sending Edward to take an Ivory and let him do what he has wanted for so long. Revenge. For me. All for just a drop of blood. A single drop.
I watch the white plaster soak in a small pool of red on the floor. Its chalk fibers fill like micro sponges.
My brows knit. "Does it have to be his or one like it?" I pause. I feel him look up at me, his eyes boaring into my bowed head. "One that's maybe the same blood type? One that's...unfortunately related?"
He moves. He runs. He's kneeling in front of me in a matter of seconds. I feel him before I see him. His long middle finger dips into the red pool with the tip and its all he needs from the mess I've made. I follow with an unfocused gaze.
"It wouldn't kill to try," I look up at him. His eyes empathetic. They say enough without words. "Though, it already has," I whisper. He looks away. Clearly not wanting to hear it. Fury threatens to come back through his tense jaw.
He slowly stands to his full height above me. Thundering bangs from outside slows with his every stride. A rhythm that vibrates through my nerves, making anticipation unbearable as I watch him go.
He bends. His bicep tensing slightly, reaching. His hands still trembling slightly. Enough to force him to aim right. The dashboard mere inches away, waiting to accept the drip sliding off his finger.
And I pray. Anything. Please, God. Just one thing right.
A mute drip.
Like a thousand knives to my heart. Silence envelopes us, the room, our breathing. Even Charlie stops.
Nothing. Not a beep. An unclick. Or a signal of victory as Edward watches, brows knit, wiping his finger off his pants.
Of course. Stupid of me.
I blink away to stare at the ceiling. I grow weak with lazy lids. I inhale with a start to a silent cry. Hot tears roll down to my hair under my clenched fist.
Stupid, stupid me. I hate hope. It fails when I need it most.
"Bella."
No. I don't want to look at him. I can't. I ignore him.
I shake my head. "Why don't you just leave? Just get the hell out of here!" I'm angry. I heave with a painful cough. Fucking blood. Fucking hope. The tension rolling of him is palpable when I hear him take a step towards me, but stops.
I swallow down more bitter blood, "This is my bullshit. Not yours. You don't need to stay." A weak whisper, "It's what you want. I'm not what you want. I've just...dragged you into all this... shit," I wipe away angry tears, "It's enough. You can stop pretending to care. You don't have to do this anymore. You should go."
I wound him. Deeper than my wound. Because I will die. Because I feel foolish. It hurts when he didn't say anything back to my stupid words. Regret of my stupid mouth.
Silence. He stares at me. Shooting daggers is more like it. I feel them. Piercing my skin again. I don't give in. I won't look at him. He has to live. Because if the bullet won't kill me the guilt will. He's done beyond enough. Killed for me. Risked his life for me. Stole my heart from me...No more.
"Dammit, just fucking go already!" I cover my face, a sob, "God..."
"Get up,"
I tense. His foot falls are determined, haste. I gasp when he's beside me before I can uncover my face. Fury. And now I really shouldn't look at him. I ball my fists to my eyes harder afraid of what I'll see.
"Get up!" this time he hisses with laced panic.
I scream. I stagger to my feet when he pulls me. The pain stabs through my side like a bolt. I graze the floor with the toes of my boots across the room, pressed against his chest.
Crash.
My spine arches at the ripping sound behind me. I gasp. His cheek against my face. His arm around my waist, one shields the crown of my head. I stand on unsteady toes holding onto him...and this isn't where I should be. His scent. His skin. The scar underneath my lips. I hide in his neck.
I peek behind me and I can't look again. Right where I was and where a piece of wall now sits.
Oh, God... Again he saves me.
We stand there listening to the raucous still moving outside. Men shouting over heavy footfalls. Metal on metal screeching trying to drill their way inside. Terrifying.
Soon. I shiver.
His chest fills and falls against mine and not a word is uttered. I whimper because the pain is all I have to overpower the feel of his shoulder cradling me. I really shouldn't be in his arms. I can't let him just sweep me off my feet, literally, time after time.
I take a staggering breath burying my face against his throat. Fear makes me want to crawl into him and hide. But he can't protect me anymore. Not from this. He should go.
"I know how it feels..." My lids flutter open at the feel of his voice on my lips. "The pain," he continues. Despite the roaring cacophony around us, he sounds eerily calm. I look up at him. His unblinking gaze fixed on the trembling doors. His heart beats close to mine, steadily. His breathing light and fanning down my neck. I flinch when his fingers ghosts over the tape on my side. And I know what he means.
My legs grow weak and buckle. I can't fill my lungs right. My head lulls to one side of his shoulder from the weakness. Pale. The blood still seeping out of me.
Yes. The pain. He holds me.
"I've felt it countless times, I forget. For nothing. For Carlisle's orders. It didn't matter and I didn't care," he breathes, shaking his head. I feel his lips by my ear. I'm frozen. "So, tell me why should I leave now when it matters the most to me?" he asks. His calm words suddenly laces with a venomous sneer.
I gasp, choking on a whimper. I grip his shoulders for support when he lifts me. I can't think. His words strike deeply. The pain the same. He carries me. My tears won't stop. They come now with added purpose, mixing with red drops I cough up. Down my cheeks and over his skin. His words. I wince.
With all the grace and gentleness he musters, he deposits me on a couch by the pedestal. I slump. My chin quivering when he crouches by my knees to settle his soaked shirt around my side.
"Don't fucking tell me what I don't care for or want." Like acid. He looks at me. I look down at my limp bloody hands over the tape.
I feel like shit.
Tingles in my belly flutter with hope at his confession. That's the closest he'll ever get to saying simple words back. I'll take it. Anything. But I've hurt him. A man with a shell tougher than cement could possibly find offense so deeply. But his eyes give him away. The windows to his true feelings.
I open my mouth to apologize. To say anything to make his jaw relax and eyes lighten. I've hurt him and I can't undo it.
I look away. Ashamed. Still, he watches me. Fury back to play. I hate it. He stands and I've never felt him farther away.
"It worked," he murmurs. I peak through my lashes at him. His eyes towards the monitor. I follow his gaze.
Oh my God, it did work. It's what he meant to say before I interrupted, spewing hate and insults. Stupid.
A lift of my head is all I can manage. The graphics fill the space like a web of information. Files, images of people, descriptions running below them. Everywhere.
My adrenaline spikes when I glance at him. He's typing furiously on the keyboard.
Images morph open to reveal more information. Codes run through transparent windows. He knows what he's doing.
"Rose," he calls. Instantly a scratchy image of her sharpens. She appears, it seems, out of thin air.
"Give me a fucking good reason not to crash our link right now," she spits. Her anger visible in her perfectly groomed brows. Not a welcoming hello at all.
"Fuck. I can't explain now. I need..."
"Morals? Loyalty lecture? A brain?"
"...a little help."
"Edward Masen needs help?" her voice turns sweet and conniving all at once. She swivels on her chair and crossed her arms.
"Rose."
Her gaze turns my direction, "Let me guess. Her fault? Couldn't have been you." I squirm, and try to look away with a bobbing unsteady head. I'm short of breath. Glistening skin and dry lips. The loss of blood must look obvious on my face when she tilts her head. The blood stains giving it all away. I must look closer to death than alive. "You'd rather stab one or your own than have her get hurt," she mocks.
I wince. Her intent obviously referring to our fight in the woods.
"Carlisle is beyond enraged. We've had to deal with him all thanks to you. My advice? Stay and die."
Edward sighs. He pulls at his hair. "Stop wasting fucking time! I need someone here, now!"
She shrugs around her arms crossed after a long moment. "From us? Are you sure? You seemed to have made your choice." No one speaks. His fists clench until his knuckles go white. "I just sent them out, Masen. You didn't exactly give me time. What did you expect?" she finally relents.
Edward looks down. He inhales deeply and holds it in. His hands wrap around his nape as he leans on his knees. He tries to keep his composure but it's not working.
It'll be too late. They won't make it on time. He knows it. I know it. The men's shouts outside grow louder as proof.
Edward looks back at the door. His anxiety shows in his eyes and his clenched fists over his knees where he sits. He turns back.
"I need documents. At least comb the server and download all heavy files," he orders dismissively.
"If I could, I would by now," she sneers, "You insult me."
He sighs running a hand over his eyes. "Fuck."
"You're on your own."
"What do I do?"
"Not gonna say."
"Dammit, Hale!"
She laughs.
He sighs and squeezes his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. An awkward silence spreads between them. He looks back at the door again. They're growing louder. The door budges. My breath hitches. They're desperate.
"I'll give you the Aston," he says with a strain. He blinks as if the words were knives scratching his throat all the way up.
She leans in. Her eyes grow wide and sobers again. She's interested but hides her surprise. She clears her throat and settles on a hard look again.
"You worship her," she murmurs incredulously. Disgusted. My eyes flicker to him and back at her. A flush over my sickly pale face. And this is the second time I see red rush up his neck... that isn't do to anger.
"Deal." With that she gets to work. I hear and see her fingers typing away on her glass keys.
Edward stands and paces. He turns towards the doors and watches. Another budge. The crease between the doors cracks a millimeter wider. He reaches for an ivory we left on the floor, and then the second. He checks them for ammo and slips them into his halter. His arm muscles coil with tension. He's planning. His mind working a mile a second. I see it in his eyes flickering over the walls and the ceiling.
I sigh when his pacing wanders to my side. His fingers blindly seeking me and skimming my damp cheek. My eyes roll back to my head. The blood loss is weakening me by the second. I've never felt life slipping out of me like this. You have no control. You can't hold on to it. It's terrifying.
He looks down at me and I stare back in his jade eyes through drooping lids. His brows knit, jaw set. There's nothing he can do but wait. He knows it. I know it too. But its not like him. It itches him. Makes him uncomfortable. He wants to do and move. But he can't.
His warm fingers wander from my cheek to my neck. My eyes flutter close. He feels for my pulse but hides it with a caress, but i know. A minute passes, glancing at his black watch on the same hand, he pulls away. His eyes say it's not good. I know, I feel my heart slowing too. After he rearranges his soaked shirt at my side, he turns away.
"I can't rip the files. I'm restricted. He has a wall. You'll need to do it yourself." Rose turns to the screen, "Find something."
We all look up when a thundering bang trembles the floor. "Fuck," he rasps. He stands still for a moment. Thinking. Looking all sides of the room.
"Looks like you don't have much time there, Romeo. You should probably hurry." Rose says with tapping nails on her desk.
He runs to Charlie's desk and pulls out drawers one by one. They fall to the floor in order with loud bangs. He rummages. Nothing.
His hands skims over the desktop. Nothing. He stops, looks up. He gropes his pockets. Nothing. He looks up. At me. He runs. My eyes go wide.
"What?"
"Your pockets," he mumbles. He kneels in front of me. I hiss. Pain rips through me. His hands cup the back of my knees and he pulls. I slide to the edge of the couch. Enough to give him room to dig my back pockets. Blood dripping on the leather cushion under me.
"No!" I heave when I see what he pulls out. "Not that."
"There's nothing else."
"No, please," a weak shake of my head. I reach for it. He pulls it away. "Edward," I plead.
"Bella," he scowls, "Do you want the Berry or not?" I bite my tongue and keep quiet. Damn it.
"Aww, their first fight. How adorable." I look up at Rosalie's cocked eyebrow.
"Fuck you," I spit right back. If she only knew, It's not. We're like oil and water. Her indication that we're a couple flutters through my stomach. I told him I loved him...Christ.
"Is that what you asked him to do?" she chuckles. I go red. "Many times I bet."
"For fuck's sake!" he punches the air.
Everything stops. His yelling is interrupted. All bickering forgotten as we look up at threatening doors. Even Rose straightens. The door cracks open and closes again. The mechanics screech and complain with strain.
"Bella!" I hear Charlie again. My breathing speeds at his frantic, angry howl.
This is it.
I grip his arm with a whimper, "Edward."
"Where the fuck are they?" he yells over his shoulder. She doesn't respond. Her image scratching and threatening to fade.
"Masen..." she calls. The image freezes, permanently giving her a sneer. Red letters flash over the frame, 'Connection failed'. She goes black.
He stands and I watch him walk away with the card of my mother's video He slips it in a slot. It sticks. The screen lights up. A window blinks and reveals a file with a 'play' symbol over it. He taps on keys. A prompt fades in, asking to 'delete file'. He looks at me, "I'll get you another copy." I nod with a heavy swallow. He indicates to 'continue'. Gone. I breathe uneasily.
Pipeline after pipeline loads in neon blue as he saves them on the card's memory. Mug shots of men and woman appear and close quickly. I blink when I recognize some. The spies from Carlisle's office. Paul, Jake, unrecognizable men I once saw in passing at the forrest that Edward killed.
My stomach churns.
I choke. A sudden sharp pain spreads at my side. My body arcs. I heave and blood comes out. Through my nose, my mouth. I'm blinded by the ceiling light above me. The only thing I can focus on as I feel my body give way.
I hear him calling but I can't look at him. Air has left me. I can't catch it.
His warm hands find my shoulders, my face. Oh god… I'm dying. I want to tell him.
But he knows. I feel myself grow limp. He pulls me and my side is on the floor. A tear slips when I see him. I blink. He reaches. I don't know what he does but his fingers slip through my lips. I can breathe again. They come out crimson, almost black. He goes back in again to pull more clogging blood out. Two of his long fingers reach the back of my throat. I feel them. Scooping death out of me.
"It's ok. You're fine." He hushes my whimpers away. "It's just a little blood." He lies. He lies to me so I won't freak out.
He looks behind him. I blink. He disappears behind my lids. The banging is loud. So loud in my head. Needles prick my chest and arms, the effort of hurling death out. Weak. I can't anymore. I just want to sleep.
"Swan!" He cups my chin and shakes me. I'm jolted awake. He's kneeling above me. Ceiling lights are bright above him like a glow, a halo. Like my guardian angel. I do...I do, I love him. I open my mouth to tell him because I'll sleep now, but I spit red out. "Stay with me," he says from afar, his trembling hands all around me. But I'm so tired.
He rushes to a wet bar. Glasses clink. Bottles move and crash to the floor. He turns. The neck of a bottle of whiskey pressed in his closed fist.
He kneels again and his face is close. He doesn't answer the question from my knitted brows. I hear him place the bottle by his knees. He looks at me.
"Bella," he whispers. He looks away at the trembling doors and back at me. He winces. Breathes and his eyes open slowly. He can't continue. I know there's more he's not telling me. He finds his belt and the buckle clinks. He's breathing hard, focused. He pulls it off.
"Bella I...I have to take the bullet out," he murmurs.
What? I blink. He swallows thickly.
"It has to come out."
Oh God... "No," I shake me head. He nods.
"You're strong. You can take it."
I whimper watching him slip out his infamous blade. He bends the belt and cuts, two times.
"No, please...please." But he doesn't answer me. The task at hand is all he focuses on. He pulls out a lighter. The metal the same sheen as the Ivory's trimming. He flicks it and it ignites.
"God..." I cry. My head falls back. A sob escapes with anger. The fire molds to the blade as he sterilises the tip. My eyes flutter.
"Drink," he orders. He cups my head and helps me off the floor a bit. I feel the rim before I smell it. The burning alcohol wafting up my nostrils. I choke, feeling the burning liquid going down. I spit most of it out, running down my neck and cheeks. "More," he dips the bottle. I sniff back and swallow more.
Before I get a chance to breathe, he pulls. The tape rips off my skin soundly. My back arches. I scream.
My legs thrash and my trembling hands find his forearm. Nails. I dig down with all my strength. He doesn't flinch. My cry is muffled with his belt. I bite down when he holds it still, insistently. He bends and kisses my forehead and leans his on mine.
"Listen to me," he swallows. His warm breaths stream down my face. I breathe him in. "They're going take you. And there's nothing I can do. You can't fight back. They'll hurt you. Whatever happens, Bella, you have to be brave."
But what about you? I scream at him. They'll take me but they'll kill him. I sob loudly as he pulls away to look at me. Please, please, God don't let him die.
I shake the belt out my mouth, "I can't... I...I can't be without you. Edward, please, don't let them kill you. I know you can take them all. Please don't die. I love you...too much."
He nods. His brows and lips pucker. He doesn't respond...or can't. His lips go pale. His eyes glaze over and face reddens. He takes a staggering breath and swallows thickly. But never once does his gaze leave mine. "I know," he whispers. He closes in the last inch and kisses me.
My heart wants to give away. It pounds in my chest. I sniff back endless streaming tears. He's saying goodbye. I know it. I feel it through his kiss, he's letting go. His lips desperate, hard. The searing pain he's feeling, I taste it. I feel it too. I'm nearly hyperventilating when he tugs on my bottom lip and lets go. I can't. This is not how I pictured finding the one I'd fall completely and irrevocably in love with and having to let him go.
"Just promise me one thing when you get your strength back..." he murmurs. He pins my legs with a knee and pulls back. My teeth closes around his belt again. I whimper. His face grows hard, dark. Furious. "Give them hell."
He picks up the bottle and pours alcohol over my side. I scream. The burning. God, the burning. I feel the tendons in his arm under my fingers moving as I dig in harder. A hand desperately flails to his chest and I dig my nails there.
The twisting sharp blade digs into my skin. Raw. I feel it. Fuck the alcohol and the failed attempt at numbing. Nothing. Nothing is strong enough to make the the pain dull or stop. The room fills with my laments. My pain. Until my voice leaves me.
My eyes roll back. Gone, when his finger slip into the wound to find the shredded bullet.
—•—•
BANG.
Shouts. Clicks and cocking metal. Chaos flood my ears.
I come to with a start. A heave. My chest fills. My teeth grit. The pain crawls back over me like sharp glass nails digging over raw skin. Every nerve aches and splits with the feel of open flesh down my middle. I can't even feel my legs.
I blink one eye free. Sticky film in my eye lids, everything is blurry.
Edward. Where's Edward?
I try to move but my chest is lead. I manage a twitch of my fingers. Other warm fingers graze the tips of mine. I try to close my fist and find them again.
"Drop your weapon!" I hear people shout. I gasp. I squeeze my eyes shut and blink them free. And I see. Edward is still kneeling above me.
His soaked red fingers grazes mine and slowly slip away. My blood runs cold, the little left pooling in me. He's quiet. Calm. His arms comfortably leaning on his bent knees. A single Ivory pressed into a fist. His eyes unfocused. He stares off into oblivion.
I blink, feeling the eerie vibe surrounding him. This is not like him. No fury or rage in his eyes. He waits. Letting them. He lets them win.
I gasp. My breathing picks up at the mere sight of a grey trench coat swaying its way into my line of vision. The polished shoes on my father's feet stop inches from Edward's bent knee.
I can't look up. I won't. I only keep my eyes on the calm man I've grown used to seeing angry. But he doesn't move.
I lie frozen, helpless, zoning out everything around me. Edward's face appears and disappears with every flutter of my eye lids. I fight to keep conscious. Black is invading again.
I watch him and his lips part. Finally he speaks. "She needs blood." Three words. It's all he says. His eyes never blink or focus.
Anger flares in me at polished shoes. One lifts and kicks him. Edward grunts. He flinches, his side twisting. He takes a hitched breath, but doesn't react.
The trench coat dips. The hem grazes the shiny floor. Charlie bends and snatches Ivory out of his fist. He lingers close to his face, "Last time you'll get to fuck with me, soldier. You're done," he spits. He lifts Ivory and jams it across his head. Edward instantly goes limp. He falls.
I try to cry out. My voice fails me. Nothing goes beyond my silent cry. My chest convulses. I feel him lifeless over me. His head heavy on my lap. I reach for him. With all my strength. My hand violently trembling skims his hair, his face, his neck. Warmth seeps faintly out of his lips. I feel it on my fingertips.
The blow didn't kill him, but soon they will. It's only a matter of time. And I can't do a thing to stop it. Nothing.
"Get him out of here," Charlie orders. I hate him.
Weak. My consciousness fades under pooling tear filled stare. Wherever he went, I follow.
—–•—•
"Where is it?"
"Argh!"
"Say it, you fucking piece of shit!" Footsteps. Creaking floors under their weight. Closer. "Wake her up, dammit. Wake her up!" Rustling clothes. Chains clink. "Fuck...just move!"
My head falls back. I moan. My nostrils flair. Damp, moldy air. I try to open my lips. They crack. I taste blood. "Ah..."
"Sweetheart, wake up."
No, no nooo... I'm dreaming. This is a nightmare. My shoulders are squeezed roughly and lifted. I whimper. Pain. And more pain. I'm shaken. Lips kiss my cheek, chastely. A mustache tickles my damp skin. I feel heavy with grime and filth. My hair sticking to my glistening forehead, neck. My eyes won't unstick.
"Dammit, Bella, wake the fuck up!" I start. Charlie shakes me. I breathe rapidly. His thumb forces my lids open. "Look up. I want you awake for this, baby girl." He fists my hair and lifts my head up.
My heartbeat pick up. What's happening? "Edward," a faint whisper. My arms come alive. My nerves. Oh God... He's looking right into my eyes. Blood trickles up his forehead to his hair line. His face contorted awkwardly where he hangs upside down. Chains tied around his ankles, his arms behind his back. The bulged biceps straining with the tight hold. The glow of night seeps through a dirty window behind him. The blue moon sets shadows over his back. Swinging slowly back and forth, he blinks.
I try to sit up, but the pain is unbearable. Tape crinkles in my middle, holding the wound back together again. "Hold her." I look around. Two men stand in the shadows. The room is dark and I can't see who they are, just their hands holding my arms. I sit, weakly slouched in pain, staying up right with the rough hold from strange hands. My eyes snap back to his. The single bulb over him sets a glow over his skin. His scars dark, haunting. Every muscle on his arms and abs tense. The staggered breathing makes his chest rise and fall.
I scream. I thrash and pull. You can't fight back. They'll hurt you. But I don't care. I want to run to him.
"CHARLIE!" I yell. I watch as his arm lifts. Another blow to his side. Charlie's fist connects to his ribs. A fist to Edward's jaw. His neck snaps the opposite way. He spits out red. Another cut, another bruise added to his torso and face. He's covered. Tortured and terrifying. He's been hanging there for long while I was out. Charlie tugs off a brass knuckle ring off his fingers. It rattles on the floor. Swiftly, he's holding a knife to Edward's cheek under his eye.
"Start talking or I'll slash her until I find it." Edward doesn't even flinch. The white of his eyes, red, his dark irises move to find mine again.
"Stop it! I'll give you anything! Just leave him!" I plead. My head whirling, dizzy. Charlie laughs.
"God, you're so stupid, Bella. I thought I raised you better than that," he says with a shake of his head, "You can't give me what you can't find yourself."
"What. The fuck. Do you need?" I seethe between pants. The room grows quiet with the roar of my out burst. Charlie goes pale. Anger. His expression incredulous. He looks down at me, the men around me and back at Edward.
"Is this what you taught her? To be vile and rebellious? To be a bitch?" he looks at me, "Just like Renee."
"Don't you dare even say her name!" I shout. The echo fills the room. We stare at one another. Tension like a third person. I breathe. I break the silence with a weak hoarsed voice I don't even recognize myself, "You wanted me. I'm here. He has nothing to do with this. Let him go..." No one moves and my heart races.
Stupid traitorous tears slip. My head falls to my shoulder weakly. I wince. I swallow down the disgust at what I'm about to say, "Dad...please," I try.
"I'm going to ask again, soldier," he hisses. He ignores me, but doesn't break our glare. "Tell me where it is or I swear to god, I'll slice her conniving little tongue." Shit.
I cry. My sob softly fills the silence. The knife is moving. trailing down his cheek, cutting. Edward flexes his jaw, trying to hold back the flinching pain. "Please... I'll give you anything. What is it? Tell me. Just please..."
I breathe a sigh of relief. Charlie pulls away. But only to walk towards me. I gasp. He takes me by my chin and lifts me off the floor slightly. "Where should I begin, soldier? Here?" I whimper. His knife trailing over my temple. I feel it cutting at the tip. "Or here?" I grunt when he finds the vein on my neck. "No, can't be right. Maybe here..." He flips my head and I feel the blade at my nape.
"Leave her!" Edward shouts. I shiver. His voice sending chills up my spine.
"He speaks!" Charlie shouts with glee. He pulls my head back up. I can see Edward's face again. "You're next words better be what I've asked for the past five hours. Choose wisely."
Five hours...of non stop torture. I cry for him and what he's been through just to be here with me. Why couldn't he have left when I told him? I stare in his eyes trying to convey what I can't tell him out loud.
For a long moment Charlie turns from calm to murderous. Edward doesn't speak.
"James, get the tray," he orders.
Quickly, boots shuffle to another room. I hear them make their way back. A man with short blonde hair walks into the light. His arm hoisted up on a sling. His eyes blue when he gives me a hard look. I know him. My heart skips a beat when I recognize him.
My eyes trail down to his wounded arm. The bloody scars on his face. I shot him...just yesterday. His torso hanging out of the SUV's window. Fuck. He'll most definitely want revenge. My gut tells me he probably already started with Edward.
He places the tray on a table on the side between Edward and I. Charlie reaches for a surgical knife. The tip thin and catching the light with a beam. I feel it in a blink of my eyes. I flinch. The space under my ear revealed when Charlie pulls my hair aside.
"One last chance," he says calmly, looking Edward's way. My breath hitches when Edward's lips part. But nothing. Nothing comes out. His jaw sets again stiffly. "Suit yourself."
I scream. The knife cuts slowly down my skin. I fight and turn to spit in his face. He blinks. His hand comes up and wipes it off roughly. He seethes with a twitch of his mustache. He grabs me again by my neck. I choke. He shifts my head and I feel the knife cutting behind my neck.
"Four fingers down her spine. Follow the birthmark under her hairline as a guide," Edward stops. He looks up. Edward finally hisses under clenched teeth. He's visibly shaking.
I stop. My eye roll back, trying to focus on his eyes again.
The key. I realize it's what Charlie was asking for. In my spine? And Edward knew.
All along I had it in me. Renee was right. I never knew it was literally planted in my skin. My mind is stampede with a memory that came to me at the lab, a dream—or was it real? I was a little girl. My white dress was speckled with red spots of blood. Carlisle's smile spread in my memory. His face kind. His hair neat and platinum blonde. The needle in his hands kept coming closer. The prick. I screamed in pain. I pulled a lollipop out of his hands after, as I cried in my mothers arms.
Carlisle and Renee planted it...in me. And now Charlie knows.
My heart drops. Edward watches me, his nose flared with fury. I look in his eyes and wordlessly ask him why he did it. He shouldn't have said it. But he glares, and I know its not important anymore to him. He'd rather I continue breathing. I want to touch him. Feel him.
"See? That wasn't so hard. And she gets to keep her pretty face," Charlie breaks the silence. He stands and wanders towards Edward again. "I'll set up the procedure right away. Men," he calls, rolling down his sleeves. They shift around and begin to move towards me again.
I tense. I look at them and back at Edward. They'll kill him now. This time for definite. I thrash on the floor when they reach me. I kick one on his shin. But then everything slows. I grow frozen. Something shifts. I see it. No one else catches it.
Edward's biceps flex.
Charlie turns around to face me. Everyone is looking at me. No one sees his arms drop from behind him and his torso bending.
My eyes grow wide. Adrenaline surges through me when I watch his teeth appear with a snarl.
Fuck yes.
Edward swings his body sideways. In one thrust he reaches the tray on the table. Before velocity takes him away, he clenches the knives in a fist.
I blink and Charlie is screaming in agony. The air cuts behind him with a flick of a knife. As Edward swings away, he slices the bones at the back of his ankles over his shiny shoes. One after the other. Three slashes over his spine, tearing thourgh his crisp white shirt. He falls forward.
Black coats look up. All they catch of the commotion behind them are blades, airborne, aiming for the space between their eyes. The two simultaneously grunt and fall.
"Edward!" I shout. Charlie's screams are calling attention to more heavy boots coming from outside. But Edward already has a leg free. His body swinging side to side across the night sky lit window.
He holds onto the chains with both hands and swings his legs free. He drops. Electricity surges through me at his proximity. I weakly reach out to him. His fingers touch my hand and I can breathe again.
But behind him. He kneels in front of me and more men run to flood the doorway. "Edward," I whimper. And he knows. His face turns slightly and he stays frozen. He looks back at me. His face partially covered in streaks of blood. His brows knitted. I run my palm over his cheek. His fingers twine in mine.
No, this can't be it. It can't end like this. I sniff back tears that stream endlessly again down my quivering chin. He turns his head and kisses my palm.
Cocking guns click sharply.
"FIRE!" Charlie shouts from the floor. I gasp. He leaps. I blink and he's gone. Shards of glass rains over me. A window. I close my eyes. My arms come up to shield my head. I scream. Agony.
Shot after shot splinters the wood and window pane above me. And I know. I know. I feel it in my aching heart, a pang in my chest.
Edward is dead.
—•—•—•