A/N: Oh lord. I don't know what else to say. Life is HARD and so is writing. I've been struggling with a mans world job and freelance at home. I made this one extra long for making you wait so long. I see you adding, I want to hear from you. Please, please please review!
Beta Smurf B: You're wayyyy awesomer than my new Rocket dog shoes. To Vantastic and Jelena who also made it into this fic. ;-) Love you.
|:::::[-]:::i):::| — About to beat a handsy pervy jerk.
—•—•—•
Sound: Garbage - Milk
—•—•—•
Chap 24 - Guardian Angel
—••—•—• Eight months later —•—•—••—
When I was little, I used to daydream about describing my life story to an imaginary interviewer. Of course, they were always fascinated. In my head ran a monologue of everything I've been through, who I knew, the people I loved, what they were like, my favorite foods...even random things like the most agonizing sound in the world.
I've decided now it's most definitely the alarm clock. 6:00am.
I wake up and there is no one. No interviewer. No people I love. No appetite. The only things left are agonizing sounds and a constant monologue in my brain reminding me this is not the life I dreamed.
So I go on and plant my feet on the white carpet. I walk. I move. Because there is nothing else I can do but live it and be and survive and breathe. Routine has found its way into my odd days. Life goes on. Or so I tell myself.
6:05am. I shower. My hair, under the suds of shampoo, has grown longer. Layered. Shiny. My skin exfoliated. Soft. Firm. With the glow of a wealthy fortunate woman with means. At Aro's insistence, of course.
He twisted a lock of my hair once between his fingers and smiled at me. "First impressions are everything. You'll have them eating off your hands."
Every week a stylist is sent to my penthouse to fix me up. I've never felt elegant like a lady before. Silks. Robes. Heels and garters to go with dresses and pins in my hair.
Yet my insides are raw. A child sitting in a dark corner holding onto hope for dear life.
That night Aro's wrath surfaced changed everything. I cried the whole night. Not of fear but of anger. Pure fury running through my veins. I stood from that bed and attempted to leave more times than I can count on my hands. Sobs of anger and fierce fingers pulling at my hair as I dropped to my knees, defeated. The balcony doors to my room left open to let nothing but my scream out and the breeze in. I couldn't find a way to run.
He would've found me. The army would've found me. I would've been truly dead this time. There weren't enough bullets in my Gucci purse to kill them all.
The next day, Sue came and picked me up off the floor and fixed me up all over again. Like she always has. No questions asked. She fixed my bath and washed my hair. Not uttering a word about my tear stained cheeks, blotchy eyes or even the red swollen ring on the skin of my neck. She hummed a hymn while she brushed my hair. I cried silently the whole time.
He came to collect me as he promised. No signs of anger in his demeanor. He was calm. Chipper, even. His eyes gleamed just as his onyx ring and cufflinks, like nothing had ever occurred in the early hours of the morning. But I saw it when his knuckles skimmed my cheek to the stinging cigar burn behind my ear—a hint of guilt. Just ask quickly, his ice blue eyes switched, turning cold again. He walked ahead of me towards the door and ushered me out. That was that.
I haven't looked into his eyes since.
This room...this place has become my fortress. My sanctuary. The things aren't mine but I used them as an assassin uses a stolen car, forested woods to camouflage...or a motorcycle. The surroundings provides tools to survive. To accomplish a mission. To get the job done. No regrets or guilt. Kill or be killed.
6:35am. I boot the computer on my way to my night table in my robe. It buzzes alive, crackling with static of warmth and routine. The monitor blinks on. The keyboard beams fluorescent red invitingly.
I reach the night table and grab an Ivory. The new pedestal displays the twins beautifully—functional, even. A sweep of my extended hand and I'm ready to pull the trigger. But for now, I stare at them every night as I fall asleep.
I turn one in my hand and double check. It's loaded. I drop it on the bed and move to the closet of dreams. I haven't repeated an outfit yet. I don't have to. On Monday, a soft ivory colored pant suit, a rose blush blouse underneath—Chloé on the label. Tuesday, a gray dress with sharp squared sleeves to the top of my shoulders, fuchsia lining—Chanel on the label. Wednesday, a leather pencil skirt in emerald green and a blouse—Dolce & Gabbana on those labels. I gave up looking at labels by Thursday.
Today, I pull out a red wrap dress. I keep this color when I'm feeling melancholy. When calm is slipping out and anxiety is slipping in. When I need to hide the anguish from showing. The color of him. It makes my heart hurt less slipping it on.
7:03am. I've watched the stylist enough times to know how to handle the damp nest on my head. I blow dry it and pin curls at the ends as I do my make-up. Colors of powders and blushes and glosses. All in black cases with sleek typographic logos. My fingers skim over the line of brushes. I find the one I remember and dab the golds and browns over my lids.
I take my time applying it all—careful to cover the dark circles still showing under my eyes. This is my mask. And I use it everyday. Ruby red on my lips and I'm protected. The bold color of him.
I take the pins off my hair and curls collide around my shoulders. My earings next and then the best part. I brush my thumb over the Ivory tusk that was left of him. I clipped it around a red leather cord I found around the waist of a dress in the closet. I cut it to size with my cute blade and I tied it on. Just as it should be.
I take a moment and stare at the broken woman in the mirror. She's elegant now. Alive. Breathing. But I know better. The gloom hovers like tattered wings clipped to her spine. They're densely fogged around her tense shoulders. She drowns in a sorrow that pools at her lids and trembles her chin. But then it's gone. She squares her shoulders and walks away.
8:00am. I bring up the browser on the screen and begin working. Emails from partners and corporations with mounds of money trying to get their hands on a stem of the Berry. The permission documents, the paperwork. Even mailed invitations to events asking for my attendance.
I pick up one particular invitation for tonight off the desk, Aro insist. I sigh, reading the elegant gold print on a sheet, tucked in a black envelope. Everyone that is anyone will be there. A dress will be sent and all is set. He'll pick me up at my penthouse tonight.
I've never had to endure so much. I've learned. It seems mundane now. But my heart swells when I see distributions of the medication in hospitals and I'm seeing results. This is what Renee wanted. The streaming online news playing in the background is telling me so.
The Berry is discussed daily. People are informed about hope and an extraordinary breakthrough in medicine. Talks of national involvement and even global investors. The city is happy. The word is spreading world wide.
Aro's greed is expanding just as rapidly.
My manicured nails tap over the red keys and I take a sip of the porcelain teacup brought to my desk as I dressed. The help are practically invisible. It's alien. But I pretend it's room service at a fancy hotel. I savor the moments in these early hours of the morning...because it will be hell later. Aro never makes anything easy for me these days. I never know what to expect.
8:30am. I pull on my trench coat and open the clasp of my purse. The Ivory slips in easily, tucked in beside my wallet. I head for the door.
Paul's greedy eyes wander as I pass by him. I'm still surprised he's alive. I ignore him. The elevator is full of people as I'm ushered to the back. But they aren't civilians or guest of the hotel—they're black coats, guards, my guards.I shake my head at the excessiveness.
Since that night, Aro ordered more security to flank my every move. I am imprisoned in my own apartment and watched everywhere I go. Every breath. Every sigh. I'm monitored every second of the day. Not even a flying bullet could reach me behind the walls of tall men in shades.
I sigh...yet again, as I slip into the black, bulletproof SUV. The walk of shame down the lobby is done with. I won't have to endure the feeling until I come back home. Everyone stares. Everyone is aware of the encased woman and her heels clacking on the marble floors. I keep my eyes down until the sun shines on my prickled skin. I breathe a lung full of fresh air and stare at the blue sky that is open and spacious...and free. I close my eyes...
God, let this be the day I find freedom again.
—•—–•—•
A room full of gentleman and a woman walks in. They all stand in unison and look my way. My shoulders square and my fists clench around my purse. I take a step further into the conference room. My view is of every suited man standing at both sides of the long mahogany table. Some are associates. Some are new. The morning is looking long. I'm exhausted already.
"Gentlemen," I nod.
But I stiffen instantly.
"You look ravishing this morning," Aro whispers in my ear. His knuckles skim my shoulder to my neck. He takes a step at my side. But his hand stays. It moves to the nape of my neck, gently caressing. "I introduce to you Ms. Marie Phoenix. My close partner and co-owner. She will be leading you through this gather and answering any of your questions." I smile tightly. The insinuation of close partner doesn't escape me.
I lift a few fingers. "Please, take your seats," I gesture. My assistant, Lauren, places my leather bound notebook and pen in front of me. Silence of patience as I settle myself. I'll lead, they wait. I like to make them wait to both gain control of the matter and internally gather my thoughts. I suppress lingering anxiety in my limbs with a deep breath.
The firebird logo on the letterhead of an Ivory fiber sheet of paper is black and freshly pressed. The sheet slips over the slick leather notebook when Lauren places it in front of me. And I know. I take the distraction to fill the silence in this large gray room. My signature is always needed for this or that. Daily paperwork. The etch of Aro's signature is already in place to the left. As always, I'm the last. I pick up the pen and move to the right, over the blank line.
Marie Phoenix.
I still don't respond when I'm called.
My middle name and my rebirth after death. If I'm still alive. I feel the burning like a firebird still. Much so everyday.
I hand Lauren the sheet and her smile is tight and professional, but of knowing. She's nice and blonde and grounded. I'm more than certain that amusement will spread in snickers at the ridiculousness of a room full of serious stuffed suits. She pretends to belong but doesn't and I love it. It's a relief to relate with another who's normal.
"Thank you, Ms. Mallory." I return the smile.
"Anything else, Ms. Phoenix?" she asks sweetly, "Coffee? Tea? Stuffed pastry?"
I shake my head in dismissal. "That is all, thank you." She leaves much too quickly...probably to laugh.
I look up and all eyes are on me. I begin to speak. An hour of introducing and breaking down the cycle and process of the Berry. It's abilities and effects and future advantages. I'm a different person. I watch every eye following me as I stand and pace. The massive monitor displays DNA and the effects of the Stem. I speak of the wonders it can bring to the board of health and their city hospitals. They listen.
I feel it. My mother's radiance and passion for what this experiment meant to her. My skin prickles as I remember her smile explaining to me in the video I once saw. Suddenly, there is no one in the room but me. It has brightened with the calm and warmth of her voice in my head telling me this is right.
"It is simple, really," I conclude, "Life after the promise of death and defeating it. Watching a child with cancer bring color to his eyes, gleaming with hope. Your family, your mothers and daughters, escaping death from a fatality that could be helped. What would you give? Tell me, what is the price you would pay to see that happen?" I breathe. I swell inside when some nod, some grin sadly, eyes far away deep in possibilities.
"What do you say, gentlemen?" I thread my fingers together against my chest. I wait. It sinks into their minds and I know its a done deal. And moments like this is why I wake up in the morning still. I bask in it.
I stand to the side, towards the large windows, and I give them a moment. I look up.
Aro is staring at me. His eyes dark and deep. Pride or...something I can't place, radiates. Like he'd move at any moment, devour me at any second. In a single beat of a stuttering heart. The corner of his lip lifts. I can feel him see right through me to the core. A shiver eases through my spine slowly, sending heat through my limbs. I look away.
A man in a pinstripe suit stands suddenly. Everyone looks up. His tie of silk and gray tucked in his breast pocket to match. He slips my hand into his in a matter or a few strides. "Ms. Phoenix..." he pauses to smile softly. I blink. "You have enchanted me," he says and plants a kiss on my skin. His grin spreads from his lips to his gray handsome eyes. "I'll expect a shipment to Seattle as soon as possible. Our most prestigious hospitals will embrace this with open arms."
I nod, straightening my spine, "Thank you."
He glances at Aro and I turn to look. My breath catches at the death in Aro's eyes. They flicker to the hand in mine and slowly travels up to a gray stare through his lashes.
"Aro," he nods, unknowingly. Everyone seems to wait a beat for Aro's response.
I fight my legs from moving, retrieving way, when he finally moves towards us. I flinch. His arm snakes around my waist and pulls. My shoulder pushes into his chest as he regards the man still holding my hand.
"Vince," he suppresses a sneer, "It was great doing business with you." He dismisses him.
Vince lets go and smiles at me one last time. He moves to the door. One by one the others follow, walking up to me to shake my hand, then Aro's. I try to step away from his hold but he pulls again roughly. His fingers splayed around my hip. I fake a smile at the gentleman in dark blue who shakes my hand next. Everyone is oblivious to my silent struggle as I try to push against Aro with my free hand. He just squeezes harder.
"Thank you for coming. We'll keep in touch," I say sweetly at another who takes my hand. At the same time my nails dig into Aro's hand. I pull it away. I give him my back. It only infuriates him more. A growl, as whispered as the gasp that slips through my lips when he presses against my back.
Not again.
My knees shake and I'm silently praying everyone would just leave so I can run. But I can't move. I feel him. All of him. His solid broad chest against my back. His hip pressed the left of mine. And I have to smile through this.
He's calm. His face blank as he speaks business with a man at his side. My teeth grind when I feel his knuckles skim the back of my thigh. They hastily move up the hem of my dress. I grip his fingers fiercely and snatch them away, pulling my dress back down. His are only free to curl around my front again. I shake another man's hand and he's second to last. I squirm. My breathing is staggered.
I grow pale. I feel the blood drain from my face the moment his fingers inch inside my wrap dress. The draped fabric at my side allows his creeping fingers to move further in. I gasp. I bite my tongue. I taste blood.
Everyone in this room are oblivious to fingers skimming the top of my sex.
The last gentleman in a black suit strides up to us and smiles. He's too close to see what's happening below.
I fight a smile and a steady hand shake. And suddenly, I don't want him to go, to leave me here alone with this insidious man pulling on lining and finding skin.
I hold on to the man's fist a beat too long. He stops, ready to walk away. He looks into my eyes and smiles, politely asking for his hand back. I don't let go. Frozen at the feel of warm fingers tracing my hipbone...and lower. I squeeze the hand in mine.
"Ma'am," he mutters and nods once. "It was...nice meeting you." He blinks and looks at my hand. It's slightly trembling. His brows knit when his eyes flicker back to mine.
"Right," I snatch my hand away, "You too." I watch him turn hesitantly and walk away. The instant the heavy doors close I choke on a gasp. Aro's long finger grazes my slit through lace.
With both of my hands, I pull at his, snatching at his cufflinked sleeve. My fist clenches. I punch his forearm. Nothing. I'm practically on my toes as he fully palms me between my legs. I'm pinned against his back. His hand unmovable and lead. Yet, fingers are gentle with every stroke. His lips at my neck.
"Ms. Phoenix..." he whispers. The warmth of his sigh fans over my shoulder. His free hand roughly moves over my stomach to my breast. The dress wrinkles under his grip.
"I've told you..." I breathlessly hiss. My jaw tight under every word. I snatch the hand away from my chest. "Ah..." I tense. Every stroke slips deeper between lace to bare skin. My toes threaten to slide from under me. I thread my fingers through his. I pull. Barely a nudge.
"Mmm...warm, wet."
"Get your fucking hands off me!"
I yelp. He spins me to his front in a brute hold. "Why?" he rasps, his voice calm. Provocative. His ice eyes searching mine. "We would be perfect."
I slap him. Hard. I pull back and do it again. His arms never let go as I strain to pull away.
"Fucking piece of shit, you're dead!" I dig nails into his face. Rage and red form into growls of mine. "Argh!" He twists my wrists behind me, ceasing any struggle. All I can do is stare from under my lashes, panting.
His nose nuzzles mine gently. He watches me. "A caress for every beat, love for every hate. Fight all you may, you'll give in eventually," he grins.
"Never," I seethe. I look over his shoulder at my purse, undisturbed on the table. Too far.
He nuzzles my neck when I turn my head. He inhales soundly. "Mmm..." A kiss. I fight him, twisting in his arms. "Just you wait," he whispers. His eyes grow serious. His hold slowly unfolds from around me. But he doesn't let go. His head tilts. He leans into my ear. I flinch.
"Don't dare reach for that gun in your purse...or I'll slice through your assistant's little throat," he murmurs, like a secret at the ear of a lover. My mouth falls open. Oxygen leaves me. He pulls away, his nose skimming my cheek. "I like teasing you, Ms. Phoenix. I can't resist." He kisses my flushed cheek in soft pecks and lingers. "I'm letting go now. Be nice."
I whimper. A sob threatening to escape. I step away, pulling at my disheveled dress.
He shows me his palms in surrender and smiles gently. "Forgive me. Our next meeting awaits. Let's forget this ever happened and go," he gestures towards the doors, "Shall we?"
I grab my purse. Fingers twitching, urging to bust the fucking trigger between his eyes. I storm out.
Lauren stands from her desk at the lobby. Her eyes grow wide at second glance. She steps to my side when I pass her and feel her empathetic gaze before they move to Aro. I feel him standing by the doors, glaring at my retrieving back.
"Lauren," I call sternly. She scurries behind me. I don't want her to be left alone with him.
"Marie?" She closes the doors to my office behind her.
"Just... stay here," I order. I stride to my private bathroom. I shut the door and I let go. Grabbing a small towel nearby, I bite into it and scream. Muffed rage.
This is the first time he has gone this far. The first, and the last. I will kill him.
For months, his touches have grown bolder. Lingering. Moving lower. Every time I'd squirm away some way or another. I threatened him the moment his grip on my arm squeezed too hard. He always apologized and kept his distance for a while after. But I knew it was only a matter of time.
Until now.
I turn on the sink with trembling hands to wash the anger away, ridding the feel of his skin. My aching palm red, under the trickling stream against the porcelain sink.
I find Lauren's worried eyes. The floor to ceiling windows let in the warmth of the sun and flecks in her eyes.
"A favor?"
"Anything," she mutters from behind me. A picture of Aro's blood coating the crystal paper weight in my hands is clear as its rainbow flecks. The prettiest item on my desk, yet the most effective, I think. "Are you alright?" The hesitant question behind me erases the picture away. I nod. I try to smile for her, but fail. "Him again, wasn't it?" she asks knowingly. I've never said a thing.
"Print out the list of providers from last week and take your time calling them back. Don't leave this room." I walk out without another word from her.
I walk through dark stone halls. My heels click on the shiny floors. People see. Once they look up, they stop. They step aside and nod in acknowledgment looking down. I'm like a plague. It's disconcerting. I'd always been the outsider in a school full of mean kids. This is worse. They do it out of of fear. Not of me, of Nicholi Aro.
I don't need to look behind me. I feel black coats flank my steps. They stand guard at the lobby outside my office. Once I step outside of invisible perimeters, so do they.
Double doors are pulled open for me. I step through and thank them. Instantly, I find Charlie's eyes.
Like liquid magnesium shots and my skin feels it. I look at him but he's a stranger. Not once have I spoken a word to him. He sits at meetings once in a rare occasion. Mostly to be ordered by Aro. I don't know why he lingers still. But I know the pull of relation is faint. Everytime I see him, he feels less mine. And the sadness in his eyes tells me I'm less his. I don't feel the need to ask him if he's ok, or if he's eating, or if his life is just as changed as mine. He just is—a shadow of my past who looks like me.
It terrifies me on days like these, when the pull is strong enough to reach out, to beg him to make the monsters go away like he used to. But he won't. He lead them to me. I have to breathe to suppress the sadness and loneliness. I am an island.
The meeting is underway. I quickly move to my regular seat. This time, I'm glad no one stares—no one except Aro who sits by me. He watches my every move, hands folding over my crossed knees. The distance between our chairs gapes with tension. He doesn't like it. My chair is yanked until he closes the gap. I blink but I don't look at him. He looks away with a heavy huff.
I try to listen to what Dr. Vladimir speaks about. A new experiment to produce a simpler stem of the Berry. A Berry 2.0. if you will. Slower progression and cheaper. But side effects apply. The price of life in a round pill. I already know it's a 'No'. I will not consent in signing my fake name on this. All or nothing is what Renee wanted. I sit back and let the meeting linger to the end. The back of my hazy brain plays with crystal, blood and pain.
Scars. Invading memories of warmth and ink under fingertips of mine once upon a time. I rub them together on my lap, under the table. The feeling gone, but the memory is a prickled sensation. A nanosecond of nostalgia and it's gone. My fear is that even a nanosecond will fade like he has. The day I forget his eyes, lips, face, I don't know what will become of me.
I miss him and my eyes blur the line on my paper.
Movement at my peripheral. My eyes move to the top right of my notebook, over the faint blue lines. His metal pen forms a single script question mark. He circles a few times on the dotted end, finishing the two dimensional question in his mind.
Like he has to ask. Sick man. I almost chuckle at the ludicracy. But my stomach stirs too much.
Aro begins to lean into me. The double doors push open. The walls shake with the loud bang of door handles against stone. Everyone looks up at the man with wide eyes and white hair. His white coat swivels around his thighs as he hurries into the room.
"What is the meaning of this?" Aro shouts. He stands, rattling his chair to the side. The old man scientist I recognize from around the halls stops at the end of the long table. He's mute. Panic in his hands as they gesture with an unspoken confession.
He peeps a sound, a try but fails. He looks at Aro and at me.
"For fucks sake! Speak," Aro growls.
"The Berry," he breathes, "It's failing."
I gape. Everyone turns to look at one another and at Aro. He slowly walks to the front of the room. Silence settles like the madness in his eyes. He stops by Charlie, sitting tensely at his seat. "What do you mean?"
"Sir...I..." he rubs a wrinkled hand across his nape. "The Berry is getting weaker. It's not enough. We tested time and time again. The Berry was created as a twin, not an individual. There is a stem missing. Without an energizing stem it'll...fade. We cannot continue to multiply without a second key," the old man says. His voice quivers.
A key.
"What?" Everyone but Charlie turns to look to me. His head is slightly bowed. His eyes wide. His complexion reddens. The vein in his forehead I know so well only appears when he's angry, troubled or perplexed. It plumps. His fist clench under his crisp white sleeves. My stomach drops. Aro follows my gaze. He roars.
Charlie's collar is a rope in Aro's hands. He pulls. Charlie shuffles to his feet. Every suited man in the room stiffen. No one moves.
I wince hearing the thud of Charlie's head hitting the stone wall. His face contorts in pain. "Where is it?" Aro shouts.
"I...I don't know."
"You know, Lieutenant, and you will tell me!"
"I thought it was just Bella's...uh, Marie—Marie's key. I thought it was just my daughter! Aro..." His words are broken with a fist to his lips. Charlie grunts. His white shirt and blue tie are smeared in blood. He spits.
"You're playing games with me! Where the fuck is the key?" Aro yells against his face. His fists dig into his neck.
"Carlisle," he says weakly.
"Speak up!"
"Carlisle! It was him," Charlie heaves, "He must've...made a second key. I didn't know, Aro. I didn't know." Aro lets go and he's screaming. I start in my seat, watching. Aro roars like a rabid beast.
Black coats rush in through double doors already armed. I reach for my purse and unclasp it. My fingers find the ridged tusk. If hell breaks loose, so will I.
A guard takes a step back. Aro charges at him. The black handgun is snatched off his hand. The slender man with dark hair stands helpless and unarmed. We all watch Aro swing it through the air. He aims.
I gasp. The gunshot is loud, ripping through the old man's chest. He chokes and drops to the floor. Men in suits gathered around the table stand and shuffle to the back of the room. I grip the handle tighter, still hidden under the fabric of my purse.
Everyone watches in horror as the old man grows quiet. Aro's hurried strides aim for Charlie this time. Charlie tenses. He shows his palms, panic in his eyes. He cowers against the wall.
"Wait..." he pleads. Aro aims between his eyes.
"Wait? It's all I've done for years to get her," he points my way. "Futile. A waste! I will not wait!"
"Please. I'll find him. Just...please..."
"Oh, you will, Lieutenant, or I'll have your brain scattered over your wife's grave if it's not in my hands."
A pang through my chest at his threat. Charlie's eyes darken, but he never moves a limb.
"GET OUT!" Aro shouts, the gun is aimless. Everyone moves. Charlie is gone. Guards move through the doors behind him. A couple drag the motionless old man out of the room. I'm left alone again with this demonized man.
Aro leans onto the long table, the gun still in his fist. He's breathing so hard, I pull the purse to my lap, fearing he'll pounce. Silence is a giant.
I contemplate how surreal this moment is. If Carlisle has anything to do with this, I know...I just know the key will never be found. This was his intent. A plan 'B' in case the Berry falls into the wrong hands. It has. He was right. It's so like him to do something like this. Maybe Renee knew, maybe she didn't. Charlie looked genuinely lost.
Part of my heart gloats, the other fears the worst. The mystery. The secrets. This can all be over, just like that. God, please, let it be.
I bink up at Aro in shambles—never have I felt this alive in so long.
I stand. He doesn't move. I take a step and then another. My heart pounds in my chest. I just want to run out. I reach his side and my strides quicken. Not fast enough. His hand reaches out and wraps around my wrist. I stop. He doesn't utter a word.
I look into his unfocused eyes, fury. But not like mine. Ivory is whispering to end it all, now. But I want to see turmoil. The death of power and dollar bills slipping his grasp, where it will all lead to his end. I want to see him lose his mind.
"Behold, the man who had it all," I say to him. He blinks. His nostrils flare when I taunt him out of his reverie. I snatch my hand away. "Don't ever speak of my mother again."
I walk out—not lingering long enough to see his shambles crack into shards of glass.
—•—••–•
A crackling tone through the phone. My insides desperate. Hurry. The tone is a ring of hope in my ear. A click. A breath against the sound of nothing on the other end. He waits.
"Tonight," I whisper. I take a breath. Wanting to say everything. My nails dig into my palm. Not yet. Wait. "Not alone," is all I can say.
"Your wish, my command, Ms. Phoenix."
Crackling ends the call.
—•—•–•
You look ravishing, darling." I stare at Sue. Her smile turns to a frown, "What did I say?"
I shake my head and look into the full length mirror. "Nothing. Just...anything but that." She shrugs.
"Ok, then. You look alright." I push a chuckle through my nose. I don't know what I'd do without her. "Turn around. Have to pin this," she orders pressing pins between her lips. The vine diamond studded brooch hangs from the shoulder. She pulls on the satin strap.
Fucking Aro. He had to go this far. Beyond what a cocktail dress should be. This is an Oscar night, red carpet dress. Never in a million years would I have thought I'd slip into one of these. Not every girl would want a pretty dress with all the fixings. The hair. The diamond, dangling earrings. But some...well, some would kill for this. I hate feeling the thrill of it. The dress is unbelievable.
The penthouse door rang two hours ago. Sue rushed to open it and a cart with the dress, the coat, the purse, and shoes rolled in. He didn't give me options. Just this. A Valentino gown in black. A slit far up my thigh to see my bits with a wrong swish of my hips. Sue swears it doesn't. The flared skirt is puffed with layers and subtle feathers under a long train.
"You could hide a tank under there," Sue teases. I grumble. The twin Ivories is more like it. But I won't tell her. Not until she leaves and the stylist too.
The feminine man moves around me. He adds shadow on one lid, then the other. It's not like I don't have enough on. Blush next. He puffs my hair in giant waves for the millionth time.
I hold still for the good part. Red is smeared on each lip. "Smile," he says. No red on teeth. He smiles too. "You guys can hide under there instead. I'll need you. How's that?"
"Hunny, I'll crawl in now," Frank sashays away. His fashionably bald head is shaved into designs with stubble. Shiny as his glowing, healthy, mocha skin. He would look better in this dress probably. They laugh. I don't. I really wish I wasn't going alone.
The penthouse door chimes.
Sue packs up and so does Frank. I stand at the vanity in the closet. I wait, feeling flutters in my stomach.
Sue stops in front of me and grabs my shoulders, "Kill 'em tonight." My intentions exactly. She kisses her index and touches it to the tip of my nose.
I hear them open the door and let whoever is here to collect me walk in. I take one last look at myself. Mom, if only you could see me... I sigh. If only he could see. It's definitely a change to my old gangly, unkept self. No one I care for can see me now.
I stride into my bedroom and straight for the pedestal with the Ivories. Whoever is out there can wait.
I sit as gingerly as I can on the chaise and pull my skirt out of the way. Black velcro and polyester under a fancy black dress. It feels right. I strap a gun to the right of my right thigh and one on the inside. Cute blades next, lining the top, comfortably under the garter belt.
Someone makes a noise outside. My eyes cut to my bedroom door. A shadow is coming closer. I cover myself with the dress. I stand.
"Good evening, Aro. So nice of you to barge in." I run my hands down the folds of my dress, smoothing any possible wrinkles. My fingertips secures my left diamond earring where it dangles. I flick a lock of hair over my shoulder. Signs of indifference...I hope. My insides are mush. He watches me from the doors, making me nervous.
His tuxedo is black with satin at the breast and a slit of cream peeks from his pocket. The Onyx cufflinks are as dark as his bowtie under a sharp jaw. He's angry and handsome as ever. The rage in his eyes still shows from this morning.
His gaze runs lower and then higher up my frame. I can't take it. The silence is too much. I look away.
I walk across the room and he hasn't uttered a word. "It's getting late. We should go," I try to keep my voice steady, grabbing my purse from the marble table with the gold mirror. I dab a finger at a tear duct, checking my reflection one last time. His ice blue stare reflects back at me. I turn towards the doors.
I'm close, enough to inhale his cologne. One step by him and I'm in the livingroom. I'm at the brink of panting, but he isn't moving.
"Excuse me," I square my shoulders. To my relief he moves, slowly, enough to let me by a tight gap between his chest and the door. I walk through.
Naive of me to think it would be this easy. I walk right into his arms.
"Late? For what?" he murmurs. His words vibrate through my spine. I quiver.
I quickly step away but I'm dragged against him. His arms trap me. I gasp. His teeth bite down on my ear. "The bed is just a few strides back, Ms. Phoenix. We can be as late as we'd like."
"Stop it." I struggle against him.
"Just give me a sigh,a nod, a kiss, a yes. I'll take it. You're good enough to eat." His tongue runs up my jaw followed by kisses. I don't respond. I don't even move as he bites. The silence pulls his lips away. He looks down at me. He sighs. A ghosted smirk over his lips. He traces mine. "What I wouldnt give..." I pull away from his trailing finger. His eyes moving over my face longingly. He nods. "You were in love."
I meet his gaze. He watches my reaction for a long moment. Searching. Finding the honesty in my narrowing eyes. "Were?" I humor him.
"Still?" he grins, cocking his head, "That's...sad." My heart pounds and I'm certain he feels it vibrating against his chest. The sting of words pierces right through. I swear I feel fire in me like burning coal.
I push him hard. He staggers back. "Fuck you."
"Not nearly enough time, darling. We're late," he calls from behind me. I hear him snap his jacket straight and the undeniable laughter under his breath.
I walk through the living room and pull the door open, leaving him behind. Black coats straighten quickly, not expecting the sudden exit. They stop and stare, following my trailing dress behind me. I step into the empty elevator, pushing the button as the doors begin to close.
"Move!" Aro shouts. Their wandering eyes snap back into focus. Paul catches the doors in time. They scramble in and around me. Aro steps in through the gap in the center. He stops in front me and doesn't turn around like everyone would in an elevator. He towers over me.
Silence is thick with tension as we descend. I look to the floor, watching his fist clench and release at his sides. Bastard. Never has he spoken of the killer I fell for so long ago. Never has he asked me questions or even referred to his existence. Or how Aro gave the order to kill him.
My heart sinks at the stab. He's right. After all this time, still. It is sad. Needles prick behind my eyelids. I can't even think his name.
Aro doesn't say a word to me in the confined space. But I know he wants to. He's growing restless at my silence like he always has.
We file out of the elevator after it dings. And again, people stare. The entourage in black and a lady with tear filled eyes. What a sight it must be.
We slip into the awaiting limo. It's dark out with blue midnight clouds and sparkling stars. I don't say a word as he looks at me. He presses a button for the partition to rise behind him. We're alone again.
"Forgive me," he says. Dry but uttered, no less. "You must." I will do no such thing. Never.
I don't say a word though I'd like to rip his throat out.
The limo glides closer to the old building glowing from afar. The event. Chandeliers from the large windows of the opera house reflect on the rain slick streets. Bodies in gowns and black suits trickle in from limos to mingle and drink. The Feathers in my dress flutter, like butterflies in my stomach. I look around as discreetly as I can manage, searching, but nothing. Aro's palm finds the small of my back.
We're fashionably late when people turn to look our way. We are the guest of honor. An honor granted by a committee that doesn't exist. Everyone believes this is a charity event, sponsorship for hospitals around the nation. But what it is, is a playing field. Awareness. Word of mouth and a bit of hype can get the Berry overseas and beyond, to all corners of the world. They'll give money tonight and learn about the Berry.
The black army is growing. They plan and move. They make anything possible. Even lure the richest people in the world to dress in couture and diamonds to walk through these doors.
And I'm the first lady of this whirl of chaos.
Aro grips my hip as affirmation, pulling me closer to his side. His chest seems to expand. His broad shoulders seem to sharpen along with his jaw. He's not aware I am not his plus one tonight. He's not aware I'm leaving tonight.
I square my shoulders and walk, like it's my last time.
I try not marvel at the breathtaking interior. The trimmings of gold and stone and rich crimson curtains under arches. I've never been here. I see the theater is in another wing. The crowd mingles in the great expanse room before they're invited to watch the show and listen to a symphony play. For now, this is the hour Aro looks forward to. The opportune moment to talk business and sell his brand like his soul. Money stands tall in black bowties, cigars and scotch in uncalloused hands. He's a child in a candy store.
His hawk eyes skim the crowd for the rich Russian in attendance tonight. A very special night indeed. And I can't fuck up, he said to me.
Black coats march in groups, behind and infront of us. They get to work as they know what to do. Every corner is guarded and watched. We're lead up the red carpeted stairs, onto the top balcony. The crowd parts to create a path. Some nod at Aro. Some stare at me. Most women sneer, maintaining as much propriety they can muster, while men linger with greedy eyes. I exhale when we reach the top. Windows with ivory panes decorate the surrounding balcony, to the ceilings. A table is set looking over the dancing crowd on a shiny floor. A fifteen piece band plays.
Aro sits at his place like a throne. He makes sure I'm sitting close to him. The argument forgotten, our gazes wander at the distracting surroundings, but mine focused on corners, doors and windows.
Soon.
We have our four course meal. Other tables are served across the bottom floor. People dance, most eat. The bar is full of laughing faces. A microphone stand is set up by the band on a podium with a phoenix logo displayed in the back in gold. The crowd grows quiet as an announcer begins to speak. Forty five minutes of introducing organizations present tonight and cacophony of applause echos in the large room when donors are commemorated.
I'm distracted. Tense. I take a deep breath once in a while when I forget to breathe. Aro looks down at me. I take a bite of a crumbling filet and look away. His hand finds my bare knee. I slap it away and take a drink of wine. I see his jaw flex from the corner of my eye.
No sign. Shit.
The music begins to play and chatter roars again. The hour for mingling and business propositions has come. I stand to find the powder room.
"Where do you think you're going?" he hisses by my ear. The patrons at our table look up to see his hand gripping my arm. I smile at their curious faces—the mayor of the town, his wife, a senator and his colleague.
"Ladies room, excuse me." I step away from my chair but he doesn't let go. I snatch my arm away. He's angry. He snaps his fingers once and black coats follow me out the massive double doors just behind our table.
The hallways is narrow with old paintings and crown molding. A door to the right, a door to the left. I walk towards the doors before me but stop. "Outside, please." The men behind me stop and I feel the tension of their indecision. I don't turn, waiting. "Stay," I order firmly. I take a step and they don't follow.
Two women in gowns trail through the powder room's doors. I side step around them and enter, avoiding their stares. I breathe a sigh of relief. Alone, at last. I kneel close to the marble floor and look. No one is in the stalls. I'm alone. I look around and the windows are high. I need to get to them. I lock the door and slip off my shoes. The gold metal trash barrel is tall enough. I estimate and it'll do. I climb the porcelain sink and shuffle onto the large rim of the barrel.
The night is foggy with thick midnight blue clouds after the rain. It's all I see. Cars travel by and the street is desolate.
Fuck. Nowhere to be seen. Anger flares in my veins, driving through my hammering heart.
I hear the clicking of heels far away. Coming closer. I jump off. If a black coat sees the door is locked they'll move in. I run. The lock rattles in my hand and I can't get it to turn. Footfalls get closer. I grunt. I turn my wrist and... click. A woman in a sapphire gown strides through. She doesn't notice as I apply gloss to my lips. My toes pull on my discarded heels, unseen under my dress. She goes into a stall.
My shoulders sink. I dump the tube of gloss in my purse and pull out Lauren's smartphone. I have to make sure to give her an extra bonus this christmas. If Aro knew I had this, he'd kill me...or her.
My fingers shake, sliding the lock open to find the flat numbers on the screen. My thumb hovers over the send button. Shoud I? I'm torn. Paranoia is teeth gnawing at my lip. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fear cramps my bones. My escape is beyond fashionably late.
I start. The lock to the stall silences the war in my head. She walks out and washes her hands. I pull my heels back on under my dress.
She makes a sound. A chuckled hum, a sneer, I'm not sure. I try to ignore her, busying myself with the inside of my purse. The phone lies hidden in an inside pocket. That settles that. She turns wiping the droplets off her delicate hands ona towel.
Before she even utters a sarcastic word, I march out. No one in this place has anything nice to say. I don't have the time to fake pleasantries.
The black coats glance my way and follow me back to the table. All the while i'm digging my nails in my palm. Desperation has never felt this raw. I look around me, finding.
Nothing...yet again. I will beat him to a pulp when I see his face.
"Darling," Aro calls, he extends a hand. "I've missed you." I refrain from rolling my eyes. The mingling has moved to the far side of the room by an open terrace off the balcony. He holds my waist close. I smile at our guest. "Alistair, I'd like you to meet my lady. The beautiful Ms. Phoenix." I stare up at Aro. He looks at me with a gleam on his lips and light eyes. I can't help a smirk of my own. If he knew...
I look up at the handsome Russian in blond. His ring is diamond and larger than Aro's. His tux sharp and expensive. He's frozen, almost, as he stares. His drink is thrusted at a passing waiter without breaking our gaze. He takes a step. I look down at my hand in his when he suddenly pulls it to his lips. I sigh. Christ. I want this ridiculousness to be over. I nod at him politely, taking my hand back. But he doesn't let go.
"I've been anxiously waiting to meet you. Finally," he drawls in a thick accent. I nod again.
"Likewise. Aro has said so much..." of nothing. I don't know him. It's the polite thing to say I guess. Words are lacking.
I peek over his shoulder, the windows, the floors below. Nothing. His lip curls when I look at him. Aro clears his throat. Alistair looks at him. His smile grows, like he knows a secret. Aro pulls me closer to his side and stares at our hands. He finally lets my hand free. I wiggle my fingers at my side. He squeezed too hard.
They converse further. Aro is loud and animated. No one knows him well enough to see the anxious twitching of his fingers over the glass of his drink. Or the slight bounce of his heels as he speaks business. He glances my way and gives me his back, effectively blocking me from a whispered conversation. But more so, blocking me from Alistair's gazes. He speaks to Aro but watches me. I don't like it. My skin crawls and his smile is vicious and mysterious. It's clear between the two, I'm safer at Aro's side. I look away.
I hear Carlisle's name. My attention spikes. I step into their circle again, trying to listen.
Aro turns to me suddenly, "Darling, why don't you find the associates we need to speak to tonight." Alistair smiles beside him. I watch him brings his fingers to his chin and licks his teeth. "Now," Aro hisses by my ear. I stumble away when he pushes me slightly. Aro turns back to his guest and I'm forgotten.
Why would he talk to this man about Carlisle? My stomach churns with the million possibilities. Did he tell him about the second key? Is he contracting him to find Carlisle? I wouldn't be surprised. His secrets and games anger me. I can't keep up with his lies.
I look around me and suddenly my escape is an urgency. I have to leave now. I need to find Carlisle.
I descend the steps from the Balcony to the ground floor. No one is looking my way. Black coats pace to different corners watching over Aro and his guest. Adrenaline rushes through my limbs. For the first time in nearly a year I am not being watched. I turn. The staircase has shadows under it, a dark corner is vacant. I hide. I watch the exit full of people coming in and out. Men keep guard at the doors. But I can't. I have to find another way.
I freeze. My spine goes as rigid as the cold metal against my neck. I wince. I stagger back against a hard chest. I'm pulled roughly.
"You're late," I whisper a snarl. "I can't believe you took this long." He doesn't respond behind me. The blade in his hand digs into my skin. I gasp. My brows knit and he isn't letting go. "Azar, stop fucking around. We have to go."
"I'm a Corporal. Not an Azar." The breath trickling pass my neck turns to a shiver down my spine. A pang of fear.
"Who..." I try to speak. I turn my head but his hold is too strong. He moves the blade further across my neck, up my jaw.
"You came with Nicholi Aro." He speaks. A statement, not a question. My teeth grind with anger. Fuck. Just my luck. Why this? Why now?
"What do you want?" I manage.
"Him."
I blink. Someone is here tonight to kill Aro. My heart pounds. This can't be right. This moment couldn't have be more perfect if I had planned it myself. I want to see his face. My curiosity eats at my tense muscles wanting to turn. Who is this man who wants what I do?
"Well it seems you're wasting your time with me. He's just up these steps. What's stopping you?" I hold my breath. He doesn't respond.
He let's go. I reach inside my dress with a flick of my wrist. I turn. He flinches back, not expecting the blade in my palm pointing at his throat. I stop.
My eyes grow wide searching his gray pair. "Corporal...Corporal Whitlock?" The blood in my neck drains. No. He's a ghost.
The burning man on an metal bed I once saw in a lab is standing in front of me. Flashes of those days by Alice's side filter through my mind. Her gentle hands on the scars, his skin. Her swiveling white coat billowing behind her as she ran to his side. She kept him alive. I remember him on the surveillance tapes in Aro's office that day. His agonized face, tortured, as he tried to escape.
"It's you." I drop my hand and stare at him. His shaved blond hair is tight to his scalp. He wears a black coat like the rest of them. I want to ask him everything. My mouth gapes and closes and nothing comes out. I'm staring at my past and I can't utter a word.
I take a step towards him. He steps back into the dark. His eyes are alert. Blank of recognition. He looks at my face and he doesn't know who I am. Of course. He was never awake when I was there.
"Where's Alice?" I ask. A murmured whisper that makes his eyes blink. They soften. "Where is she?" I plead. He pales. His lips part and he doesn't respond, but for his brows turning angry. His stare grows dark and murderous.
His eyes cut behind me. I follow.
"Ms. Phoenix." Alistair. He's standing just by the steps. I look back at Whitlock but he's gone.
Shit.
"You must have this dance with me," he says. I almost growl. I hide the cute blade behind me and walk towards his extended hand. This has all turned from shit to fucked, in seconds. I'm barely breathing right when he pulls me into his arms. I hide the blade against his back, tucked in my palm. I look around. The Corporal is nowhere to be found.
He's here. It's so surreal. For vengeance. I know it. He's out to find Aro now. I almost lose my footing with the anxiety and adrenaline flowing through my body.
This is it. This can end tonight.
If he's here, so is Alice. So is Emmett and Rosalie. I swallow heavily, wondering if they've seen me yet. If we're all under the same roof. If they know I'm alive. To the world I am dead as Bella Swan, but they'll see me. I can hardly breathe as Alistair twirls me to the middle of the dance floor. I slip the blade back in its place when we dip. I extend my neck and I look up from my pose. I spot Aro.
He's watching me from the balcony. I straighten in Alistair's arms. Aro's jaw is sharp to cut. He doesn't have the slightest clue what's coming to him. Despite my hammering heart, I can't help but grin his way. He's practically heaving with rage.
I flinch. Alistair's lips graze my neck where the Corporal's blade touched just minutes ago. My head is swimming.
And where the fuck is Azar? I'm going to castrate him when I see him. This wasn't the plan. He was suppose to be here long ago. I was supposed to be gone by now. But everything has shifted in seconds. I feel an invasion will break in at any moment.
The song ends and a crowd applaud. I look behind me and we have an audience. A small gathering of people formed a circle between the dancing couples and the band to watch us move.
I barely have time to flush a crimson red when I'm pulled. I'm in Aro's arms and looking up into his malicious face. He's staring back at Alistair. His fingers dig into my ribs. His free hand travels up my spine. I feel his ring cool against my nape. A song begins to play and he moves, swaying us side to side. I'm pinned against his chest as he pulls me to my toes. I gasp. He kisses me.
His lips hard and full against mine...and what the fuck? I sample his taste of scotch and need. He pulls on my lip and I pull away. A hitched breath against his mouth. But his hand is lead and insistent. His chest fills with the breath I exhale. He tilts my head. His tongue is greed, like a venomous snake, slipping through my lips. I'm digging nails in his neck. My forearms push at his chest. He doesn't let go and licks my bottom lip.
He has never stolen a kiss. It's symbolic, really. The last kiss before his death.
"You think I don't see. I know what you're doing," he whispers against me. His fingers dig into my neck so harshly. He spins us around in a circle as the music pulses.
He knows. My plan. My escape. How? Oh God... I'm frozen staring up at his narrowed eyes. He will kill lauren. She'll die because of me. My heart stutters in my chest. I push him away and take a step back. I turn and people dancing close are watching. I look around frantically. God help me...
The crowd parts. I feel his eyes before I see him. Azar is staring straight at me from the shadows. His nostrils large with anger. I gasp. My hand reflexively reaches out to him. I'm pulled by my arm.
Aro cups my chin roughly and kisses me again.
"You are mine," he snarls. "Mine. You will never have another but me." I blink.
Jealousy. He doesn't know. He doesn't know anything that surrounds us. I shudder a sigh. His lips find my neck...and he doesn't know. I look over his shoulder as he bites.
In his dark suit and bowtie undone, I watch Azar moving. His gaze lifts to the balcony. Men in black coats look his way and nod. They've been here all this time. They camouflaged with the black clothe men.
I want to run to him.
Aro nudges my chin with his mouth. And I want to laugh. He tries to kiss me around my forming grin. "Kiss me, dammit. Open your mouth," he growls. His brows knit in desperation, like his fingers around my back. He moves his hips against me. Hard.
So I do. I humor him. For just a beat of my pounding heart, my lips curl around his. I kiss him. My eyes flutter. He groans. His thumb caress my cheekbone when he finds my tongue.
Blood. I taste it. Silk crimson.
I don't let go even as he cries out. He yanks my teeth away from his lip. His hand stains with blood when he finds it. "You don't know a thing," I breathe. I wipe a drop of his copper salt off the corner of my lip.
He screams. But no one hears. Women scream. People drop to the floor. Shattered glass falls like rain over the crowd. I look up. Ropes and guns in hands of black armored men dropping down through the intricate molded sunroof.
I crouch. Move. Run. I do. I leave Aro's maddening growl with my shoes behind me.
I reach the balcony steps in a matter of seconds. Azar is there at the top reaching for my hand. "Where the FUCK were you?" I yell at him.
He ignores me looking around. He pulls a gun out from inside his coat. He pushes me behind him. "Bella, what the fuck is this?" he shouts, exasperated over the cacophony of gunshots. The Army is aiming and shooting. The armed men are aiming back. The crowd disperses like ants. The exit is crammed with bodies falling over one another. Women are stepped over by men in disheveled suits. There's nowhere to go.
"Our unplanned saviours. Forget it. We have to find Carlisle." I tug on his coat. He pulls me as we run towards double doors, open to a terrace. It's empty.
"Stop her!"
I start. We look behind us and Aro is pointing our way. The white of his tux is red with streaks. Aro spit outs blood and runs.
Black coats run for us from both directions. "Hurry!" I pull Azar and he shoots inside the building. I gasp. I pull out an Ivory from inside my dress.
A black roped ladder waits for us against the stone wall. He pulls on it and holds me by the waist. I climb.
"Fuck," he mutters. He shoots. A man far away grunts. I climb higher. My heart pounding. I hear a crackling behind me and he shouts an order, "Now!"
A bird in black and yellow propellers forming a blurred circle in the sky lifts off the roof. I can't breathe. I hold on. The rope moves, pulling me off the wall. I look down and Azar is firing round after round. He's hasn't climbed on. I call to him.
He looks up at the bird. "Get on!" I scream. He grunts and he's on. He tugs his suit jacket off. My hair is over my face, billowing, but I see him—a black coat reaches the doors and he's aiming a glock at Azar.
The Ivory is heavy, still in my hand. I aim. I pull on the metal trigger without a thought. It comes to life and I haven't felt it like this in nearly a year. I pull again. I blink. The man goes down. I stare at his lifeless form as I go higher. My gaping mouth in fear and numb and awe. Oh God... I killed a man.
"Good girl," Azar praises. I exhale a shaky breath. His words sting and soothes all at once. I look down to make sure...to see with my own eyes if it isn't him. But it isn't. He's not here. I would be safe somewhere, protected. Not going through shit and hell.
The helicopter pulls us away and we're airborne. I focus on the adrenaline and not looking down. It's loud. Black coats trickle out of the doors and look up. I see beyond the windows, the chaos inside. I don't see the Corporal, but men running. Fire rips through a once romantic interior. But the bird isn't lifting fast enough.
I see Aro running up the steps inside. Men surround him. They cover him from every stray bullet. Some fall to their death. He runs for the doors we left from.
"Azar!" Panic. He shouts orders through his handheld receiver. The helicopter jolts. It tips. I scream.
"Fuck!" Azar climbs higher. "Hold on, I'm going up!" he shouts. I just nod. I don't know what he means. I just do what he says. But then he's climbing the ladder on the other side of me.
"Shit!"
"Just hold on!" he yells. I look down and my stomach drops. Aro reaches the terrace and he's looking up. He's yelling at all the black coats standing and watching and doing nothing. I can't hear what he says but I see him pull on one of their guns. I gasp.
He shoots. I duck. "Azar!"
"Bella!" I look up and he's looking down at me from the ledge of the roof. Something is wrong with the bird. And Aro is still shooting. I try to aim but the bird jolts again, almost throwing Azar off. I snatch my hand back to hold on.
"Ah!" I drop a foot. The rope gives with a stray bullet. Aro aimed for the strings to break.
I flail to get my balance, fight from dropping the twin, jostling in my fingers. I'm hanging off a single rope. I look up and scream for Azar. But he's shooting over the ledge of the roof.
Shit. Shit. Shit. We're surrounded. I swing forward and my toes touch a stone ledge. A smaller balcony is dark but secure.
Men below are yelling for Aro to go. To move. They pull on his torso to get him out of the building. The armored men are on the top floors and the black army crossing their path fall like flies. They're getting closer to Aro.
I look and find his ice eyes. Fury and desperation. His chest heaves. His hair and clothes billow with the whiping wind. His teeth show as they grind. But I see his lips move. He utters the word, 'No' and climbs off the stone railing. He dives. I gasp.
The black coats are fighting to catch a foot or an ankle, but Aro is already climbing another balcony. His arms and back bulges with the effort, a mere struggle and he's standing on a ledge. My eyes grow wide and I know what he's doing. I look up and Azar is almost over the roof. I hear gunshots up top too. The Helicopter tilts again. I drop another foot.
I scream.
The drop is moot to the hands that find me. I look and Aro's inside a balcony below, leaning over the railing. His hands grip my waist. He pulls. I kick and thrash, but he's too strong.
"Bella!" Azar's maddening voice rips through the night. But I can't respond. The dark balcony is now invaded with guards. The doors swing open. Aro pulls and twist my wrist. The Ivory drops.
"Never," he mutters against my nape. His arms surround me and I'm dragged through a dark room. The lower level is quiet but for my screams. "Knock her out," he orders. Black coats lead us to an exit. They barge through the doors and into the night. A black SUV waits for us.
I feel a prick on my neck when he pulls my head back over his shoulder. I kick and flail but nothing. Everything grows heavy and quiet. I just don't realize I've stopped screaming.
—•—•—•
"Shhh, child. Everything's alright." I hear Sue, but I can't open my eyes.
A cool rag is wiped over my eyes. Tears fall and I awake. I open my eyes, blurry, but I see gold and fancy molding. I'm in my room again.
I cry out in agony. "God..." I'm here still. I was supposed to be gone. Everything went wrong.
"I've got you. You're alright," Sue coos. But I'm inconsolable. She sits on the bed with me, my head on her lap. She brushes my hair back with fingers and blows cool breath over my damp forehead. "You're alive. You're breathing. All is well."
I shake my head. She doesn't knows it's all over. A waste. Failure. And she just rocks me back and forth in her arms. I fit my arms around her back and bury my face in her soft belly. I cry because I can't anymore. This is too much.
Minutes. Hours pass. Like a child in her arms, I'm hiccuping. I exhale a shuddered, exhausted breath. I don't know where Azar is. If he's alive. This is all my fault. For being stupid. For thinking I could be as brave as him. A soft sob pulls from my chest. I don't know for how long I cry like this.
The sun that brightened the curtains, forming sharp warm rectangles on the white carpet has shifted, dimmer. Afternoon comes. Still, Sue sits by my side and not a sound. I will not let go of her arms. I just watch my night stand. The pedestals. They're vacant. Not even the twins are with me anymore. Gone. I'm truly alone now.
"Where are they?" barely a whisper.
I hear Sue's neck pop and she shifts. I move off her, enough to let her sit another way. She's stiff, but I can't help but snuggle into her lap again. My nightgown is silk and feels wrong. I long for my torn, worn t-shirt.
"Don't know, sweetheart. I came this morning and you were already in bed, crying your heart out," she murmurs softly. I wince.
"I was already like this?"
"No, baby. I had to pull the gown off and wash your face." I sigh a breath of relief. I shake my head. Tears already falling at the possibility. "Oh child..." Sue rasps, understanding. "The covers were over you, nice and tucked. I don't think he hurt you."
I let out a cry. Fucking bastard. I would kill Aro if he touched me.
"I'd be sure to hurt him if he did. Hm," she huffs. I look up at her and I can't help but chuckle at this side of Sue I've never witnessed. She smiles down at me. "Tell me everything."
I shake my head, "I...I don't even know where to start."
"It always helps to start from the beginning." Her soft sincerity makes me want to spill it all.
So I do. But not just about last night. Everything. She pulls on the tray with the tea cup, fruit and yogurt. She coaxes me into eating while we sit against the plush headboard. We talk. Truly talk. Woman to woman, like I've never done before.
I cry when I tell her about the last day I saw Angela and Mike. How I never heard from them again. My friends. How I don't know If they're dead or alive. I haven't had a chance to find them.
I tell her about Renee. The video. Her kindness. Her words of science and the key. How my whole life became a chase after she left.
She gapes. Speechless.
I tell her more, because I can't stop. Not at this point.
I tell her about the unit: Alice, Rosalie, Emmett from the lab who protected me. I understand now the reasons why. I was naive and reckless. I tell her how Carlisle is insane, but the mastermind behind all of this mess. But mostly I hesitate to tell her about him.
"Why did he go all his way to find you?" she asks so casually. As if the answer is simple to explain.
I breathe. "Because we were equal. We had loss in our lives just the same. He was hurt like me. He understood me." She nods.
"Was?" My brows pucker instantly at her question. I look at my shaking hands on my lap. I nod once.
"He is no more. Charlie took his life," I whisper. She inhales a hitched breath and covers her lips with her fingers. She knows the story of that part.
"And you love him," she finally says.
I nod. A tear falls. I wipe it away quickly. I laugh suddenly. The sentiment without humor. "He was hard to love at first but...he just needed patience. He was an alien. It was all new to him."
"Well aren't all men the same. Made from the same mold, I suppose," she says. We laugh. Silence settles and she seems to want to say more. I wait.
"I'm sure it was hard...I can only imagine how it felt for you to be at his funeral."
I look at her. Her eyes find mine and her words are unclear. "What do you mean?"
"Well, you know. Did you go? Did you get to say good-bye?" she asks confused.
"Oh no, I...never...I woke up here. Aro built this prison for me." Her brows furrow deeper still, in question.
"So, you never saw him...after. His body," she asks hesitantly. I shake my head. She looks away and sits up from her perch. Her hands fold over themselves on her lap as she thinks. My nerves spike, sending a jolt through my spine...and I don't know why. Her silence brings unease to my chest.
"What?" I sit up.
"So..." she tries, her shoulders slump. I wait. "Tell me, Bella, how can you be so sure he's dead?"
I can't speak. The unease turns to a knot twisting in my chest. I can't breathe. I can only manage a shake of my head when I watch her eyes. "No, he's... he is. He's gone."
She nods. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to impose, but..." she swallows thickly, " from all the curveballs your life has thrown at you, child, that one wouldn't be a surprise."
Silence envelops us like a frozen blanket. My skin prickles. My heart speeds in mere seconds. My mind awakes and moves at the speed of light. I grow angry. At her audacity. How dare she? But I look at her. Her gentle face and honest eyes. She doesn't mean it, just curious. But it hurts. I want to tell her to stop. I don't want to hear it.
"What was his name?" she murmurs, breaking the dense air and avalanche thoughts.
My mouth goes dry and I haven't said it outloud in so long. I turn my head to look at her. She smiles. She gives me strength. "Edward...Edward Masen," like I've never stopped saying it. Her smile brightens. Honest eyes. My stomach twists.
I shake my head. "Don't. Don't do that. Don't give me hope. Hope died with him." I cry. My chin quivers and she smoothes it with a finger.
"How can you be so sure? Hope has a funny way of making its entrance when you least expect it."
"Stop it." I twist the bedsheets in my balled hands.
She sighs. "No. I won't," she simply says. "Because If I were you, Bella, I'd want proof. To see him with my own eyes. I'd fight with all my being to know if a guardian angel like your Edward truly lived or died."
She stands and its dark out. The sun isn't shining anymore. And I'm angry with her. So angry. I watch as she walks away to the door of my bedroom to leave for the day. She lingers, where her hand is holding the door ajar, and sends my way a kiss with wings from her other palm.
"Sleep," she says. But I'm angry. Too angry to respond when she leaves. Too angry to sleep until the sun comes up to form those sharp warm rectangles on the floor again.
The single question beats through my brain, my heart, over and over and over... What if she's right?
—•—•—•
A/N: I just woke up from a dream with Rob. HONEST TO GOD. I was begging him to sing 'Broken' at my church LOL. And I hugged and kissed him. And he even said in my ear that he saw me walking around and thought to himself, 'I'd LOVE to be her facebook friend.'
Really? That's it? JUST a facebook friend? *shoulders drop* I woke up.
So they say if you beg hard enough, people review. Is that true? That's a nice new blue button they made below, huh? I'm almost excited about it as signing in with my google account. Sigh. I swear i'm almost done with this fic and it's not nearly close to 1k lol. What do I have to give? An arm, a leg, first born? Seriously, do people promote a fic somewhere? I don't know where or how. Twilighted? idk. If you have ideas let me know.
Thanks sooo much for adding, I see you! and all the 'please update soon' reviews. Love.