Edited by Stilldreaming85 and Banshee69
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Edward Cullen.
The gunfire from downstairs echoed through the house.
Isabella covered her ears in an attempt to shield herself from the loud noise.
I rummaged around the bedroom, pulling out every weapon I knew to be in here and securing them onto myself.
"What are you doing with all of that?" Isabella asked.
"We're outnumbered down there. They took the guards out that were stationed along the perimeter. I'm not taking any chances."
Marco had come for his revenge. I knew it was him, I saw him as he exited his car surrounded by his heavily armed men. There were eight of them that I could see, including Marco.
I had had two armed guards at the gate, six after Isabella's stunt. I didn't know how many of them were still standing.
I had called for backup, but given our location any reinforcements was hours away, that's why I had Garrett send for some of our men with the helicopter, but even with that they were still an hour away at best.
"Here," I said, handing her a gun. "Remember what you learned yesterday. Don't think too much about it, just aim and shoot if you have to."
"Edward, I can't," she said, shaking her head.
"I told you, don't think about it. It's us or them. They kill us or we kill them. I don't know about you, but I don't feel like dying today."
"Shit! You know I'm terrible right?"
"Just stay behind me," I said.
"Why can't I lock myself in here?"
"Because they are spread out all over the house."
I placed my hand on the doorknob, ready to open the door, ready to see what awaited us on the other side.
"Wait!"
"What?" I asked, irritated.
"Where's your mother? Where's Carmen?"
"They are in the panic room. There was no time to get you down there before they came in."
"You have a panic room?"
"Just stay behind me," I said.
I opened the door with the utmost of care, very slowly peeking my head out. The bedroom we were in was located on the curve of the stairs. There were no walls or another bedroom next to it, nowhere anyone could hide.
We tiptoed our way down the hall. Isabella had a death grip on my sweater, but nevertheless, for once in her life she followed instructions and stayed behind me.
I didn't take us down the main staircase. If I had, I might as well have put a big target on our heads and wave a flag. No, we went down a set of hidden stairs, that came from the bedroom my brother was occupying. The stairs led down into the office, behind the oversized curtains, against the wall next to the window. If someone was in this room, we would be shielded from their view.
"Edward, where are we?" Isabella whispered.
I turned to her, there was enough light in our position where she could see my face. I gave her a disapproving glare, it was my way of telling her, keep your mouth shut or you're going to get us killed.
There was commotion that could be heard on the other side. Two, maybe three, people struggling and then a swoosh of air from a gun with a silencer. It had to be one of us, because they did not come in here quietly. Nevertheless, I would not take any chances.
I carefully, as not to ruffle the curtain more than needed, guided us along the wall to the end. Peeking my head out slightly, I saw my brother-in-law and two bodies on the ground.
Emmett spotted me as we came out from behind the curtain.
"To think, you said I was over-exaggerating when I sent Rose and Sofie away," he said.
"Oh my God." I heard Isabella's gasp behind me as she looked at the scene before her.
"How many more are there?" I asked.
"Anthony and dad have it covered out there. Garrett did great from upstairs with that rifle."
"Garrett's here?" Isabella asked. "I thought you said you put him in coma?"
"Not now," I said.
"What do you mean, 'Not now'? That's a speedy recovery."
I turned to her, tugging on her hand harshly, making her stumble towards me.
"I said, not now."
"Marco and one of his men are still unaccounted for, but I don't know if they've found them since I've been in here," Emmett said.
Above us, we could hear the helicopter returning. I went to the window, watching it as it was settled down on the grass. I watched as my brother ran to them, giving out orders.
"At least we have reinforcements now," Emmett said.
"A little late," I muttered.
"Better late than never."
My watched vibrated against my wrist, my brother was calling.
"What?" I answered.
"All clear on my end. All clear on Garrett's end," he said.
"And dad?"
"He's downstairs, Vince is in the house, they're looking for Marco."
"Alright."
"I'm going to do a sweep of the house with security, make sure we haven't missed anything or anyone."
"Marco's still in the house?" Emmett asked.
"He's outnumbered now," I said.
"He wasn't prepared."
No, he wasn't, it was as if Marco wasn't expecting much of a fight. My main problem isn't that he was or wasn't prepared, but that he knew where we were. Had I been that stupid not to notice one? Had one of them seen us as we left the city? Did they follow us back here unnoticed?
No one knew of the estate, no one but the family, the immediate family.
"Let's go," I said, tugging on Isabella's hand.
Emmett went out the door first checking up and down the hall.
"All clear," he said. "I'll go check the kitchen and around the back."
I nodded. I found my father in the living room, he had come in at the same time from the other end. He looked at me, shaking his head.
"I told you this would happen!" he yelled. "I told you to let me handle it and you didn't listen." He continued with his rant.
"Edward," Isabella whispered, had noticed the same thing that I had.
Marco stood behind my father with a smirk on his face and his gun raised to my father's head. My father was completely oblivious to it all as he continued on his rant.
Marco could see me, he knew that I would kill him, but his mission was to kill my father first.
I aimed my gun at my father and fired, shooting right through his forearm, straight into Marco.
I let go of Isabella's hand, making my way to Marco. He wasn't dead. The shot I had fired through my father hit him in his abdomen. I stood over Marco, watching him as he coughed up blood, getting it all over my shoes. He made one last pathetic attempt to reach for his fallen weapon before I fired a round to his heart, and the last one between his eyes.
"Are you alright?" I asked Isabella. She stood frozen on her spot with her eyes wide,staring into space. For a brief moment I wondered if this was the final straw it took for her to lose her sanity once and for all.
"Hey, look at me," I said, tilting her chin up until her eyes met mine. "Deep breaths."
"You...you shot...you shot your father," she stuttered out.
I chuckled. "I didn't shoot him," I said, taking the gun out of her hands and tucking it into the back of my pants. "I shot through him."
"But…"
"He'll be fine," I assured her.
We turned around as my father let out a staggered groan, rolling onto his side.
"See, he's fine."
~MINY~
Three days later.
Manhattan, New York City.
"Where's Leo now?" My father asked.
"I don't know." I shrugged.
Without Marco, Leo had nowhere to hide anymore and no protection, yet he still managed to evade us.
"I told you to listen to me," my father said. "None of that would have happened if you would have listened to me."
"If I would have listened to you, we all would have been dead."
He paced the floor back and forth, holding onto his forearm as he did. I hadn't done any damage to him. He had a simple entry and exit wound. He was in pain, but he was too stubborn to take any painkillers for it.
My brother sat idly on the couch watching as our father and myself attempted to hold our tempers and not kill each other. His eyes would dart down to his phone every now and again.
"How can that stupid, little, fat piece of shit keep slipping away!?" My father shouted.
"You need to calm down," I said. "Or are you trying to tear your stitches out again?"
"I want my money. I want Leo, fuck, I want that puttana of a daughter as well."
My brother let out a loud laugh, drawing mine and our father's attention.
"No way," he laughed. "No fucking way."
"Is there something you find funny, Anthony?" Our father asked, not making any attempt to hide the bitterness in his tone. "Does this situation amuse you?"
"Oh, yeah," my brother said, "It amuses me greatly. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some important business."
My brother patted our father on the back and kissed both of his cheeks.
"You need to relax," he said. "Think about mom and what she'd do to you if you tore your stitches again."
Our father glared at him, not at all impressed by his son.
"What business do you have that is more important than this?" He asked.
"You need to sit down and relax. You're an injured man. Let your son get you something to drink."
"Relax? You want me to relax?" Our father questioned as he shoved Anthony away from him.
"Yes, relax. Trust us, alright. Edward and I are going to sort everything out."
I looked at my brother with a raised brow, wondering what it was he knew that I didn't. What was he keeping from me this time?
Anthony ignored our father's harsh shove. Instead, my brother helped our father to the couch that he had previously occupied and fixed him a drink.
"What the hell are you playing at?" I asked, noting the powder he had stirred through our father's drink.
"Shh." He shrugged.
It only took a few short minutes for the drink to have the desired effect on our father. His eyes closed, his head dropped and the glass slipped out of his hands rolling onto the carpet by his feet.
"Why?" I asked my brother.
"He was getting on my nerves. Besides, he could use the nap."
I shook my head in disbelief. Although this had not been the first time my brother had put our father to sleep, he usually had a reason behind it, but this time…
"We need to leave," he said.
"Why?"
"Trust me, you are going to love this."