Beta: Fran

Prereaders: Jill, Ariel, and Pearly

My heart: Yours

Things I don't own: Twilight or the FBI

-45-

Is this what dying feels like?

Or maybe a panic attack?

I don't know, I've never had one, and obviously, I'm still alive and well. Okay, so saying I'm "well" is a stretch, I know.

It feels like something is sitting on my chest. Not much scares me, but right now, I'm scared.

I didn't realize I had put all my eggs in the "date- Bella-to-crack-the-code-on-if-she-is-or-is-not-a-serial-killer-and-pray-it's-not-me-she's-coming-after," basket.

I'm used to my life being on the line, considering my career choice. Most of the time, sure, I'm sitting at my desk, so it's certainly not as constant as it would be if I were in Angela's shoes, for instance. But I do go out in the field every now and again, and I know when I do, there's no guarantee I'll make it home.

That's never bothered me before.

What do I have to come home to?

But then I remember how much better Mom looked. How happy she was to see me show interest in anyone, even if I can never be with that person. And I remember that somehow, Bella is helping me feel again. Even if it's uncomfortable as fuck.

"What's that face?" Angela waves her hand in front of me, and I suddenly realize at some point, she got up and made her way in front of me.

"Just my face, Ang," I mumble, not allowing myself to look fully at her.

"It is not. I've looked at your pretty face for a long time, and this is different. Talk to me."

"I'm next."

Im aware that its cryptic as fuck, but it's all I can manage to get out at this point. The same thought echoing again and again in my head.

"I'm sorry, what?" Angela sputters.

It takes me a second to compose myself, but when I finally do, I feel silly for what I'm about to say. Still, it's all I can think of.

"I'm next. The guy that fell into her? It's me."

All she does is laugh at me again. It's great. Exactly what I need right now.

"Okay, that's priceless," she starts, sitting next to me and bumping her shoulder into mine. "You don't even date. Why would anyone want you killed?"

I quickly run through the situation with Tanya, explaining that I never actually cheated, but she still wound up feeling wronged.

"Still, I highly doubt that would be enough for her to hire someone to kill you," she giggles. "Besides, she let the character make it up to her."

"Not yet. That part isn't written yet. And it's not a fucking character; it's me."

"I'm not convinced, but if you're so concerned that it's not written, then...write it."

"What?" I'm a smart man, but I literally have no clue what she's babbling on about.

"Get the date, Edward. Write yourself into her story. Be so charming and so sexy, she doesn't have it in her to kill you. At least until we can nail her down."

Fuck, I hate when she's right.