Many of you were shocked it was Bella who shot Diego. My question is, how many of you think she planned it from the minute he walked in because she remembered Edward telling her he carried a gun each time he left the house, and who thinks she really was clinging to him, happened to feel the holster, and realized what she could do?

Hours passed while Bella sat in the tiny room without a clock. It was an odd progression of time, one without the ticking of the second hand to guide her. The only reason she knew it was hours was that Officer Varner mentioned it to someone when they opened the door. As he told her more than once, she wasn't under arrest—but wasn't free to leave either—and was welcome to contact an attorney before speaking with them. Since Bella had no idea how to get in touch with Edward's attorney, she called the house and spoke to Garrett, who assured her he would alert the appropriate people. She assumed that meant Jasper and Emmett and that they would take care of everything.

After what felt like an interminable period of time, a man who appeared to be in his mid-sixties came into the room.

"Mrs. Cullen, I'm Jason Jenks, your attorney." He sat across from her, opening an attaché case on the steel table and shuffling through a stack of papers.

She studied his wide, ruddy face, shocking white hair, and smooth, unhurried movements. "You can call me Bella."

The smile he offered was brief. "Have you given a statement?"

"No, they haven't questioned me."

He nodded while pulling specific papers from the stack and setting them aside. "Good, that's good."

Bella shifted, forgetting that she remained in handcuffs and couldn't move far until the metallic clank reminded her. "However, I did admit to shooting a man in self-defense while we were at the crime scene."

Jenks ran his first two fingers over his forehead. "I've asked them to remove your restraints. You aren't in trouble as far as I can tell, but someone is flexing their power because of your last name."

"I had a feeling that was the case."

The door opened again, and Officer Varner entered. "Chief said it was okay to remove the cuffs, Mrs. Cullen."

She sat very still while he unlocked them, then rubbed the stiffness from her wrists.

"Officer Varner, we appreciate the sweatshirt you provided to my client, but Mrs. Cullen has lacerations on her throat"—Jenks leaned closer to squint at Bella—"and possibly her cheek, and she hasn't received medical treatment or waived that right."

"They're insignificant, and the blood is dried," Varner protested.

"Oh, so you're a physician capable of making that determination now?"

At the look on Varner's face, Bella bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. The cuts were actually superficial and no longer stung, and she'd never asked for medical care.

"I'll find someone," Varner grumbled.

Once he'd left the room, Bella said, "Honestly, they aren't bad. I didn't ask them to treat me."

"Not important." Mr. Jenks sat back in the chair. "It was his duty to offer, and he didn't. I derive great pleasure from enforcing the letter of the law, especially since Edward is a frequent guest of theirs."

"How is he?" Bella swallowed around the painful lump in her throat. She'd tried to push him from her mind so that she didn't lose her sense of calm, but he popped up constantly.

"Pissed, but already released. Stewing in the limo Garrett sent to pick me up. He waited impatiently in reception until I arrived and managed to convince him to sit in the car for a bit, have a whiskey and a smoke and settle the hell down."

Her brows went up. "A smoke?"

Jason smiled serenely. "Only smokes when he's extremely stressed, and only the finest cigars."

Bella rubbed her temples and tried to take it all in. The entire situation was ridiculous. "They didn't find anything to charge him with?"

"Tried to pin resisting arrest on him, but I pointed out his emotional distress after the two of you were shot at and then taken into custody when you were clearly the victims."

"And that worked?" she asked incredulously.

Shrugging, he replied, "They don't like it when I tangle them up in legal battles. Typically, they take the easy route."

All that time she'd tried to force aside her worry for Edward, and it turned out he was fine. "When do you think they'll let me go?"

"Oh, any minute now."

"That easily?" She dropped her voice. "But I killed a man."

"Who was aiming a gun at you and your spouse and said he would kill you out loud in front of plenty of witnesses. After his men shot up the restaurant. You feared for your life and that of others, and you acted in defense of life and limb."

Attempting to absorb everything he'd said only resulted in a pounding head. "Wow, okay. I felt like it was justified, but I didn't know for certain."

"Ought to be working on the paperwork for your release now. They'll ask you to remain in the city for the duration of the investigation, and that should be that. Legal jargon aside, you have no criminal record, Bella, despite who you married, and you're innocent."

"I don't intend to dabble further in illegal activity, either." The lie burned like acid on her tongue, but she didn't feel comfortable opening up to a stranger, even one who her husband apparently trusted.

"Doesn't bother me if you do or you don't."

"Good to know."

Varner returned with an EMT to check her over and then advised her to stay in Seattle for the next few months before telling her she could go.

Bella walked beside Jason out of the interrogation room, spotting her husband in the hallway before they'd made it five steps.

"Edward."

Turning, his eyes widened and he broke into a sprint. He knocked the breath right out of her when he grabbed her around the waist, burying his face in her hair.

"Bella." With a ragged intake of breath, he pulled back to frame her face. "Tá mé agat anois, a chuisle."

"English, Edward."

"Sorry, sometimes I open my mouth and my grandfather comes out." He wiped the tears from her face and kissed her gently. "I've got you now. They won't touch you again."

"I'm okay, honestly."

Edward took her hand and headed to the doors. "I'm sorry they took so long settling everything. Are you injured?"

"No, they had someone look at my scratches. They're superficial."

He turned his head to speak to Jenks. "Phil has the Mercedes ready to take you home. Thank you for everything."

"Not a problem, Mr. Cullen."

The men shook hands and parted ways, Edward guiding Bella to the limousine parked at the curb. When he opened the back door, the faint scent of cigar smoke wafted out. Oddly, she found it comforting.

Edward sat beside her, but she wasn't having any of that. Instead, she climbed onto his lap and rested her head in the crook of his neck. Wrapping strong arms around her, he never once slackened his hold as they rode through the silent streets of early morning.

The lights inside the house were ablaze when they pulled up and around to the garage. Rose met them with a sleeping Quinn, and Emmett stood right behind her.

"Are you okay?" Rose asked, sniffling as she moved forward.

Without hesitation, Bella enveloped both friend and baby. "I am."

"We're going to get some sleep," Edward said to Emmett. "You two need to be here bright and early to figure out who dropped the ball on Diego and who the fucking snitch is at Voltaire."

"Jasper's already sent out feelers. Hopefully, we'll have some answers by the time you wake up."

Rose and Bella hugged for a few moments longer before Bella took Quinn in her arms, inhaling his scent. Together, she and Edward ascended the stairs, heading to the nursery. Once inside the dimly lit room, Bella kissed her son before handing him to Edward.

"Is breá liom tú," he whispered to Quinn before settling him in his crib.

Tears formed anew in Bella's eyes. Despite all the words he'd said to her in Gaelic, Edward had yet to say the ones which mattered the most. After surviving their ordeal, all she wanted was to tell him how very much she loved him. She opened her mouth . . . but nothing came out.

"Ready for bed?" Edward whispered.

With a nod, she left the room to head down the hall with him. She needed a shower but didn't think she had the energy to stand upright for another minute.

Edward seemed to sense how she was feeling. "How about a bath?"

All she could do was nod.

Edward turned the water on, holding his hand under it while Bella stripped off the pale blue sweatshirt bearing the police logo. Her feet ached, but it was only a minimal comfort to remove her high heels. Edward turned, helping her pull the ruined dress over her head, kissing her nose and then standing there with the clothes in his hands.

"I'll . . ."

In expectation, she waited for him to finish his sentence, but he didn't. Instead, he left the bathroom, and she climbed into the tub. Sinking into hot water was a small glimpse of euphoria, and she dipped down until she could wet her hair. Drawing her knees up, she rested her head on them and stared into middle distance.

As long as she kept her eyes open, there was nothing in her head. No sound, no sight, no feeling of loss or terror. Just emptiness. The second she closed her eyes, however, the bullet wound she'd inflicted haunted her.

"You can do this," she told herself. "You can do anything."

She thought of high school Bella, the version of herself that Edward slept with, the Bella she was when she first moved into that house, and compared all of it to who she was right that moment. She was the one to take out the threat to the man she loved. Bella Cullen was not Bella Swan, not by a long shot. In the throes of disaster, she'd remained calm enough to pull Edward's gun and shoot their adversary in the face.

Despite her best efforts to the contrary, the image of the hole she'd created in Diego's head was burned into her retinas. She tried to focus on anything else, on her strength, on her success, on Edward, but it came crashing back to her anyway. Finding herself sobbing alone in lukewarm water had not been in her plans for the day.

Things changed, though. Lifting her head, she wiped her face and straightened her spine. Killing a man was simply one more thing she had to grow accustomed to in her new life. If she were to remain by Edward's side as his counselor, she had to accept the dangers which came with the job. It was why she trained, why she took up kickboxing, why she could hit the target dead center now when the weight of a gun used to terrify her. Causing a man's death was horrific, but it was necessary in that instance.

By the time she pulled the drain and stepped out, Edward returned to the room with a thick towel and her nightgown.

"Can you bring me one of your t-shirts instead?"

After handing her the towel, he quirked a brow but ducked into the closet, emerging with a soft white tee.

"Thanks."

Something about the whisper of the cotton against her skin comforted her. The only thing missing was Edward's scent, so she moved closer and wrapped her arms around him.

"I should be the one thanking you," he mumbled.

"Please don't."

His intake of breath was terribly audible. "I don't want to admit that I had no plan in mind for getting us out of there, but you saved my ass, Bella."

"That's what I'm here for."

"I'm supposed to protect you, not the other way around."

"Sexist."

Releasing her, he stared at her face, his eyes moving back and forth as he studied her features. "I don't like the idea that I couldn't do what it took to save you."

"We have to save each other sometimes, Edward. That's what a marriage is all about."

"A normal marriage would have nothing to do with shooting my enemies for me."

Groaning in frustration, she stalked out of the bathroom and over to the bed. "You're saying I should have let him shoot you? And then what? He might have killed me, he might have taken me. It's possible he wanted me for himself. Is that preferable? Next time, I'll allow the gunman to shoot you and rape me because at least then the poor little woman didn't save your ass."

"Bella—"

"If it's more of the same about to come out of your mouth, I don't want to hear it."

She pulled the covers back and shoved at her pillow before getting on the bed and laying on her side facing the wall. The feel of the bed dipping was all the warning she had before he draped an arm over her waist and tugged until she rolled over to meet his fervent green gaze.

"Thank you for saving us both when I couldn't."

Something in her gut told her to memorize his face; the heavy brow, the high cheekbones, the scruff, and the tender smile on his luscious lips. "You don't have to thank me for acting on instinct."

"Maybe not, but thank you anyway. I simply need time to process it all. From the time the men came in the door to right now, a lot has happened."

She frowned. "And you think I don't need time to process it? Do I look like I'm happy about what happened?"

"Let down your defenses, Bella. Just a little."

She scoffed. "You first."

Tugging her closer, Edward buried his nose in her neck. "I'm glad we're both home safe."

"I am too."

"I was scared shitless tonight."

Sighing, she ran her hands through his hair. That was something he'd never admitted before. "Me too."

And when she would have hoped for him to add the words I love you, he instead hugged her tighter and closed his eyes. With one last inhale of his scent to fill her lungs, she closed her eyes and attempted to relax into sleep with his arms securely around her.

Tá mé agat anois~ I've got you now

'A chuisle' is literally translated into 'my pulse' but is used as an endearment meaning darling.

Is breá liom tú~ I love you