15

CPOV

For at least the hundredth time, I looked toward the stairs, half-expecting my wife to be standing there. But she wasn't. She had gone straight up to check on the boys, needing to be close to them, needing to be sure they were okay. She was breaking apart and I didn't know how to help. I'd never felt so useless before in my entire life.

"I'm worried about her." I looked over at Alice, who had moved so that she was sitting next to me. "Bella and I have been besties all of our lives, and I've never seen her so . . . broken. Not even after her father died, and Charlie was her hero."

"I don't know what to do, Alice," I confessed, feeling silly for sharing my feelings with a girl ten years younger than myself, but I was tired of trying to be strong. "She doesn't sleep, she barely eats. She spends every second worried about me, worried about the boys. I'm scared that she's going to leave."

Alice pressed her lips together and looked around the room before saying, "She might."

I inhaled a deep breath. "I wanted you to tell me that I'm overreacting."

Alice frowned. "Sorry, but I'm not going to lie to you, Carlisle. When her dad died, Bella was shattered. They had a tight bond, and losing him, losing her mom to the alcohol, it destroyed her. She shut down; put all her focus into school. The only time I saw the old Bella was after she babysat for you. She has loved you for so long, but she won't stay and put you and the boys in danger."

"She isn't," I argued.

"But to her, she is." Alice placed her hand on top of mine. "You just need to remind her how much you need her, Carlisle."

I nodded and leaned over, kissing the top of her head. "You're a good friend, Alice."

"I try," she murmured before moving back to Esme and nestling herself in the arms of her lover. I envied the ease of their relationship. Felt like Bella and I had continually fought tooth and nail for the right to be together. San Francisco was supposed to be our chance at a fresh start.

Pushing myself off the couch, I started to walk toward the stairs but stopped when Detective Hitchens' phone started ringing. I turned back and watched as he answered it.

"This is Hitchens." His eyes flew open as he looked from his partner back to me. "That's impossible . . . Because he's still here . . . What? . . . Okay . . . Okay . . . We'll be right there." Hitchens ended the call and took a deep breath before turning back to face me. "Sir, it would appear that your father has been . . . hit by a car."

"What?" I asked. "But . . ." I turned and ran into the kitchen, expecting to see him standing in front of the sink, or sitting at the table, but there was no sign of him. "Dad!" I yelled, rushing through the house and upstairs. He wasn't in his room, or the bathroom. When I opened the door to the boys' room, I felt my heart clench in my chest. Isabella wasn't in there with them.

"Daddy?" Tyler groaned, sitting up and rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. "Where's Momma?"

"I . . ." I shook my head as I turned and ran back downstairs, hearing him and Michael following me. Everyone was on their feet immediately. Tears burned the corners of my eyes as I said, "She's gone, too."

"What?" Jasper snarled.

"I can't find her." I brought my hand up to my mouth. "Oh, God, I can't find either of them."

"Okay, we need to get you to the hospital, see if your father has any idea where Bella is, all right?" McCoy suggested, through it sounded more like an order.

Nodding, I wrapped the boys in my arms as we followed everyone outside, cramming into various vehicles and making the drive to the hospital. Somehow, Gabriel Varner had gotten to my wife. I just didn't know how.

The emergency room was swarming with people when we arrived, but the detectives led me straight through the back. I left the boys with Alice and Esme, though they protested and cried that they wanted to come with me, but I refused, not wanting them to see their grandfather broken and bloody.

Peter was in one of the trauma rooms. From what I could tell, he had a large gash on the back of his head, lots of road rash over the right side of his body. His left arm was swollen, which meant a break, and his left leg was torn to shreds.

His nurse turned and looked back at me, a scowl creeping onto her face. "Are you the son?"

"Yes," I said, ignoring her attitude. "Why isn't he in surgery?"

"Because he refused to let us take him until he talked to you," she explained, disdain dripping from every word she spoke. "He's got internal bleeding. We can't wait much longer."

I nodded and walked up to his bed, slipping my hand onto the railing. "Dad? Dad, can you hear me?"

Peter's eyes fluttered open, widening when he saw me standing there. "I . . . I'm . . . sorry. Tried . . . tried to help."

"Tried to help with what?" I asked. "What happened?"

"He . . . Car . . . Took her. I . . ." Peter started choking, spinets of blood bubbling at the corners of his lips.

"We've got to go," the nurse said, pushing me out of the way as a team of doctors and nurses came rushing into the room. They had him out of the room and down the hallway to the OR before I could really comprehend what was going on.

"Mr. Cullen." Detective Hitchens called, and when I looked over at him, I saw him standing next to two uniform cops. "This is Officers Thompson and Calloway. They were the first on the scene."

"What happened?" I asked.

"We're not entirely sure," Officer Thompson said. "We got a call from one of the homeowners who heard a woman screaming, but by the time they made it to the street, the woman was gone and your father was laying it the middle of the street. He wasn't making much sense. Said something about a woman getting taken, about her being in danger, and insisted that we call you. When the doctors was removing his clothes, they found this." The officer held out a piece of paper with my name scribbled across it. "It was clutched tightly in his hand."

My heart was racing as I opened it, recognizing Isabella's handwriting immediately.

Carlisle,

I know you're going to hate me for leaving. I hate me for leaving,

but I can't stand by and wait while he comes after you and the

boys. I love you too much to continue to put you in danger.

You're the most amazing man I've ever known. You made me

feel beautiful and sexy and worthy of your love. I only wish I

had been the woman you deserved.

Be happy, my love. I love you. I will always love you.

Isabella

Crushing the letter in my fist, I felt my heart ache as I turned and leaned against the wall. She'd left me. She'd left me, and now, he had her.

—TW—

"Where's Momma?" Tyler asked again as I walked into the waiting room where the rest of my family was waiting. Esme and Alice had the boys wrapped tightly in their arms, almost like they were afraid if they let them go, they'd disappear. Jasper and Edward were standing on the other side of Emmett and Rose, who looked terrified, too.

"I don't know, Ty," I admitted, pulling him from Esme's arms and holding him against my body. "I just don't know, buddy."

"I want Mommy!" he cried, wrapping his arms and legs around me.

"So do I," I wept, finally allowing the tears that had been burning the corners of my eyes to fall. I was done being strong, done trying to keep from falling apart. My father was in surgery, my wife was missing, and my heart was broken.

Sitting in one of the chairs, I shifted him so that he was curled up around me and reached for Michael, who immediately scrambled into the chair next to us, wrapping his body around me and his brother.

"Is Peter okay?" Edward asked, shifting his attention to me.

I shook my head. "Surgery. It's bad. Internal bleeding, broken arm and leg."

"Jesus," he murmured, digging his phone out of his back pocket and stepping away as he made his call. I barely heard him say, "Phil, it's Edward. Listen . . ."

"What happened, Carlisle?" Jasper asked, sitting on the edge of the chair across from us.

"I, um, I don't really know," I admitted. "He, um, said something about trying to help and a car, and someone taking her. I . . . I think he has Isabella," I choked out, before turning and burying my face in Tyler's hair.

"Damn it," Jasper swore, and I looked over just in time to see him standing and pulling out his own phone. "I'm calling Marcus and Garrett. They . . . They should probably come, don't you think?"

I nodded, but the action felt automatic and false. All I could think about was my wife, my Isabella, was in the hands of a psychopath, who'd proven to kill anyone who got in his way. And tonight, my father had gotten in his path.

—TW—

The boys drifted off to sleep while we were waiting for word from the doctor, waiting for word about Bella, waiting to see if my world was shattering around me. Jasper and I managed to secure a small couch in the waiting room for the boys, covering them with our jackets. I felt anxious and nervous, terrified and pissed, so I found myself pacing, trying to keep from falling apart more than I already was.

A few hours later, Marcus, Garrett, and Kate rushed into the emergency room, looking around until they spotted us in the back corner. As they rushed over, I brought my hand up to the back of my neck, trying to keep from falling apart again.

"What in the hell happened?" Marcus asked. "Jasper said something about Dad getting hit by a car?"

I nodded, my mouth feeling dry as I tried to explain. "I don't know all the details, but he and Isabella were out, and he got hit by . . . by the man who has been stalking her. And, um, he took her," I cried, covering my mouth with my hand. "I promised to keep her safe, but he still got her. And now Dad's in surgery, and it's bad, Marcus. Really bad."

"Oh, my God," he murmured, dragging his hand over his face as he looked back toward the triage desk. "Where were they when this happened?"

I shook my head. "Close to his house. I . . . I don't know. I just . . . I just don't know."

"Okay, it's okay," he said, placing his hand on my shoulder. I shrugged it off. "Carlisle."

"It's not okay," I gritted out. "Nothing will ever be okay again."

"I know . . . I just meant . . ." Marcus trailed off before he turned and walked over to the triage desk, clearly trying to find out any information about our father. Garrett and Kate were talking to Edward and Jasper, but kept peeking over at me. I wanted to scream for them to stop, but I didn't. I couldn't. Not when they were here to help. So instead, I returned to my pacing, trying to keep what little control I had of myself together.

I'm not sure how long we had been waiting when Detectives Hitchens and McCoy walked back into the hospital with Demetri with them. I shared a look with Edward and Jasper before meeting them halfway. If they had news about Isabella, I didn't want the boys to hear.

"Have you found her?" I asked.

"No," Detective Hitchens said, regretfully. "But we found the car that hit your father abandoned in a shopping center parking lot off the Pacific Coast Highway. We have surveillance video of him transporting your wife into a black SUV, but we can't make out the plates. From what we can tell based on the footage, he's travelling north."

I inhaled a deep breath. "So what happens now?"

"We've sent out an all points bulletin for both your wife and Aro Volturi, aka Gabriel Varner. Hopefully, someone will spot them and we will be able to catch up to them," McCoy said, like it was routine.

"And if you can't?" I asked.

"We will find her, Dr. Cullen," he insisted.

I wanted to argue with him, but before I could, the doors to the back opened and the doctor who'd taken my father to surgery came out, looking around until he spotted me. The look on his face told me everything. I shook my head as I stepped backward.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Cullen," he said, ruefully. "His injuries were too severe. He didn't make it off the table."

Dropping to my knees, I screamed. My father was dead and my wife was in the hands of a psychopath.