Oh my goodness, this is moving along! Let us hope that I can still find time to write with a new puppy in the house. Wish me luck!

Please note: There is violence in this chapter. If you have any triggers, please skip the section after the word "staircase" and come see me. I'll give you the abbreviated version along with some hugs and chocolate.)

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or its characters, but I am having a grand time playing around with them.

Thank you to BeLynda Smith, who betaed this chapter for me. I appreciate all of your critiques and input.

I spent most of the night in my muggy room, planning. Wearing nothing but my slip, my hair still up in bobby pins, I sat on the hard wood of my bedroom floor with a notebook and an empty shoe box. The occasional breeze from the wide open windows and a small fan blew air around the warm room, bringing relief in bits and pieces. They were still unable to compete with the hot air, even though the sun had set hours before.

From my bedroom window, I could hear faint voices from other people in neighboring apartments who'd done the same thing. I could hear a couple of men laughing loudly from several feet away. The sound of a baby's cries carried on the wind. A piano was being played somewhere downstairs, the melody sad but calming. The sounds here were very different from the kind that I had heard in my childhood; crickets and animals in the far distance.

I'd counted my earnings from my job three times, and created a budget of how much I would need to leave, how much I'd need to live, how much I'd need to eat - at least until I could become established and get a job somewhere. Though I knew it would be foolish, I kept imagining running back to Forks. To be surrounded by trees and green and ocean was a dream that I hadn't allowed myself to imagine for quite a while.

I had a little over $400 and change thanks to the free housing that I'd enjoyed since i'd taken the job. What little was spent had gone to food and whatever modest, professional clothing I had been able to find. I decided to stop buying anything that I absolutely didn't need.

Then there was the matter of actually, physically leaving. Would it be better to run as soon as I got the chance and hope that Jasper couldn't catch me? He had a strong physique and very long legs and I doubted my five feet, four inches would get very far. In reality, none of the plans that I could think of would work. My only hope was for an odd day that they were distracted and busy and wouldn't notice me missing. Who was I to them, anyway? Just a secretary who had witnessed one too many crimes?

Every penny that I had saved was placed carefully into a shoe box and shoved into the far corner of the room, under my bed. It wasn't the best hiding place, but with the lack of secret loose floorboards or false walls in my tiny apartment, it was the best that I could do. With a sigh, I leaned back on my heels and closed my eyes, filling my head with the music of the human race that surrounded me. I said a silent prayer that it would be enough.

The next morning brought with it a promise of a new future, and I revelled in it. Things that I'd once ignored seemed more real and vivid than before. I noticed the life of Chicago around me for once, and it was beautiful. I chose to walk instead of ride the train or take the car, and even with Jasper not more than ten paces behind me, I felt unfettered. I felt like I could fly. Even the cold gray of the towering buildings stood beautifully against the blue sky, and all around me: the birds, the children playing in the schoolyard, the cars whizzing past with their clanking engines, all spoke of freedom.

My freedom.

For the first time in a long time, I felt as though I could take a breath. I felt like I finally had lungs to breathe, and a heart, and a mind, and a purpose.

As I walked into the office, I curtailed my thoughts, afraid that they'd all be able to tell what I was thinking, what I was planning. The slight smile on my face didn't go unmissed by my boss, who looked at me quizzically as I sat in his office, taking the daily notes.

"What?" I said, finally, failing to keep the smile from my face.

"I don't know if I've ever seen you happy before." he said, a slight smile shining on his own face, "It's a nice thing to see, though I don't completely understand it."

I shrugged, "I guess you're not the only one with secrets." I said, somewhat shocked at my own boldness.

He smiled in response and we continued with our work.

By the end of the day, the heat index had risen again, but it didn't dampen my spirits.

"Are we walking this afternoon?" asked Jasper as he held open the door for me at the end of the day.

"No, I'm good to take the train." He smiled down at me, and I hurriedly rushed around him, anxious to put some distance between us. I liked Jasper. He seemed kind and sensitive and caring. I felt badly that I was going to have to one day dupe him - at least, if I was lucky enough.

I'd decided to walk to work the next day also.

I walked into the office with a spring in my step, despite the long walk, and arrived just as my boss and Emmett were hanging up their overcoats and hats.

"Good morning, Bella." said Edward absently.

"Good morning, Edward," I said, rushing to my desk to gather my pens and paper and typewriter ink. I didn't miss the look that he gave me. An infectious smile crossed his face, a large, wide-toothed grin that I'd never seen on him before, and I bit my lip in an effort not to laugh. He hadn't missed the fact that I'd called him by his first name.

Sometime in the night, while I was waiting for sleep and my usual resulting nightmares to overtake me, I'd decided that I was going to trust him. The decision could be disastrous, and I could possibly live to regret it, but in this lonely world that I was drowning in, he had been the only person to throw me a lifeline. I decided that must count for something.

When I looked up a few seconds later, as Edward was walking to his office, Jasper was standing close to my desk watching me with a look in his eyes that made me uneasy. It was as if I'd done something wrong and was about to be punished. I didn't break his gaze and he didn't speak as he walked past and into the main office, firmly closing the door behind him. The sound of the morning broadcast on the radio began to play through the closed door and I took a few shaking breaths as I stared at the mahogany of my desk, wondering what I could possibly have done to make him react that way. A slip of white caught my eye, half-buried in the green stems of new roses. It was paper, and I recognized the script of the sender as soon as I unfolded it, as it was the same writing I deciphered day in and day out.

Look in file B11, it said.

Wait until no one is watching.

I looked back at Edward's door, which was still firmly closed and also at the main office door. Both had been made with wood framing and an insert of cut glass, so we could easily see someone if they were on the other side. I decided that now was as good a time as any, and quietly opened the file cabinet drawer, rifling through the folders. At the very back of the very bottom cabinet, I found it jammed in between throw away files from three years ago.

I sat back in my desk chair and opened it, staring at the pages inside, unsure at first of what I was seeing.

Isabella Marie Swan

4-01-1931

Type of Account: Savings

Account number: 322939

Total amount $2,301.

A shocked cry escaped my lips and I clamped my hand over my mouth to stifle it. The sudden laughter that followed was uncontrollable as tears rolled down my face.

He'd been helping me all along and I never even knew.

I quickly glanced through the rest of the paperwork in the file, the records of deposits that had been made since the first day that I'd started the job. He'd been putting odd amounts in for months. I placed a shaking hand against my forehead and stared at the pages, completely dumbfounded. He was funding my freedom.

I laid my head down on my desk and wept.

It was nearly midday when the three men finally emerged from the office. I'd had plenty of time to work out my emotions and get myself cleaned up and presentable.

Emmett walked past and rapped his knuckles on my desk. "We're going to go get something to eat. You want anything?"

"Pasta," I said with a wobbly smile as Edward emerged from his office.

"Geez, Eddie. You have to get this girl some real food for a change." Emmett said, laughing as he grabbed his hat and coat with a quiet Jasper close behind him.

"Pasta." Edward deadpanned as they were closing the office door.

I shrugged.

"I opened the file." I said quietly once the door was closed. My voice shook. "It's too much."

"It's not enough." He looked mournful and sullen, and I wanted nothing more than to pry every piece of information out of his head. I wanted to throw my arms around him in gratitude. I said instead, "I'll pay you back one day."

He smiled. "No need. Consider this my way of paying a debt."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"No," he said, looking at his feet.

"Will you ever stop speaking in code and tell me what you really mean?" It was all so much, the file, the feeling of freedom within my grasp. It was all making me bold, too bold.

He looked around then, as though he were unsure and deliberating. "Do you really want some Italian?" he said finally, and I blew out a frustrated breath and looked away.

"My mother was Italian." I said jokingly. "Does that mean you don't like me either?" As soon as I said the words, I realized that they could be misconstrued as flirtatious, and I felt my face getting hot.

He smiled then, the twin to his earlier grin. "You are the one exception."

I looked down at my keyboard and bit my lip.

The rest of the day passed quietly. I'd replaced the file exactly where I'd found it, but not before giving it a quick kiss. On a whim, I pulled out my small calendar that I carried with me everywhere in my purse, and flipped through the months. How long would I be able to stay without going crazy? Seven months? Two? My previous conversation with Edward filtered through my head and I glanced at the door behind me. I wondered what would happen to him if I left. Would they discover he'd helped me? Would he get into trouble? Surely he knew the risks and had covered his tracks. Just in case, I pulled out the file once more, writing the account number in my calendar before destroying the papers completely with a pair of scissors

I flipped forward several pages in my book and circled a random date:

Maybe I didn't have to wait for the right moment. Perhaps I could make my own.

"I'm going to be free, Dad." I whispered into the empty room to no one.

Work progressed throughout the week as it normally did, but I was distracted. The promise of freedom was all I could think about. No longer in absolute fear for my life, I stopped working as though it was the only thing I had to live for - and it began to show. He called me into his office, and I could see from his expression that something was wrong.

"Close the door, please." he said.

I complied and sat in my chair.

"This isn't your usual work."

I looked at the paper that he held out in his hand: an account record for one of the restaurants. The numbers looked like a jumble and I ran them through in my head as I went down the list, quickly noticing my glaring mistakes.

"No. I'm sorry. I'll go fix these."

"Bella, sit." he said softly as I had begun to rise.

"You caught onto this job quickly, far more quickly than we'd thought you would. I've never seen anyone so good with numbers."

"Thank you." I said quietly, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"I need you to work as though nothing has changed," he said in a hushed tone, looking toward the door as he spoke.

"I understand."

"Do you?"

"Yes."

He looked at me for a long moment. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

I wasn't sure how to respond. I looked down at the paper in my hand.

"I need you to please just pretend that the file doesn't exist, that we haven't had any important conversations."

I nodded, half tempted to tell him that I'd destroyed it, but I said nothing.

"Okay. If you feel like you're going to give something away, just think about sick kittens."

"What?" I said laughing, catching on to what he said a few seconds too late.

"Well, you can't act to save your-" he stopped and frowned and began again, "You're a terrible actress, but maybe you can think of something that will make things, I don't know, less obvious?"

I nodded and left quickly, but it wasn't the last time he called me into his office for the same reason. Fortunately, it was a day that Emmett and Jasper were called away for other things: jobs that I probably didn't want to know about.

By the third call, I was exasperated: at myself for making the mistakes and at him for calling them out. I snatched the final papers from his hand and he smiled. "Well, that's a much better reaction."

I huffed and walked out and I could hear him laughing behind me as I closed the door.

By the end of the week, I'd found a balance, keeping my excitement only for when I could be alone. Edward and I had begun sharing inside jokes and secret looks. It was a precious thing, to finally have a friend. We attended dinner again at Esme's. Carlisle wasn't able to attend, and I was glad. I noticed that Edward was dressed for the occasion this time, and I wondered what that meant.

After dinner, while everyone was standing around and chatting, I steeled my courage and walked up to Alice. It was something I'd thought about since I'd first seen her beside me at our first dinner together.

"Hi." I said, feeling awkward, uncertain. There was music playing in the background, and I recognized the radio that sat in the corner of the room as the same kind that Edward had brought into the office.

She simply looked at me. The dark circles under her eyes made her look so much older, and my heart hurt for her. Though I didn't live through the exact same thing that she had, I knew what it was like to constantly live in fear.

I'd resolved earlier in the week that I'd speak with her. Edward had told me that no other woman in their family knew what the men did for a living. I was certain that meant she didn't know what Edward had done for her. Right or wrong, I decided that she deserved to know.

"You don't have to be afraid," I said quietly.

She looked at me then, alarm all over her face.

I took a deep breath and said, "He's dead. Torrin."

"How do you know?" she asked, looking both horrified and hopeful. I caught Jasper frowning at me from my peripheral vision, but I knew he was too far away to hear what we were saying. My mouth was dry, and my palms were wet.

"I watched it happen." I whispered, hoping and praying I wasn't saying too much. Alice grabbed my hand and squeezed it, and I knew I'd done the right thing.

Her eyes were filled with tears and she said, "Thank you."

I smiled at her slightly and gripped her hand back. "If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm sure I'll be at more of these things."

"Poor you," she said, smiling wider, a wicked gleam in her eye, a flash of the person she must have been before she was harmed by a vile man. Edward walked up to us then. He hugged his sister and made excuses for us as he escorted me into the gardens.

"I haven't seen her smile like that in quite a while." he said, "What did you say to her?"

I bit my lip. "Nothing that's going to fix her completely. I just told her what she needed to know. Don't worry," I added quickly, "I didn't give any details. I just told her that she doesn't have to be afraid of him anymore."

He made a sound and I couldn't tell if he was grateful or annoyed.

I felt brave. For once, it was my turn to ask the questions.

"How does everyone fit? I can tell by their looks that Jasper and Emmett are Carlisle's sons…" It wasn't a difficult observation to make. They both had his chiseled nose and jawline and, though theirs were darker variations of the shade, they both had blonde hair.

"Jasper is Carlisle's first son, then Emmett. Alice and I are Esme's children. She adopted us when we were very young. Well, adopted is a strong word." He smiled, and the light of the full moon made his features look flawless and unearthly.

He paused, and I waited for the rest of the story that didn't come.

"Rose is Emmett's wife. Her family lives in another state, so we've claimed her as one of ours."

"But you're the one in charge? Not Jasper or Emmett?"

"No," he said, "Not Jasper."

I watched his face as we walked, his hands in his pockets and his eyes far away, deep in thought. I wondered if he'd ever divulge his secrets, if he'd ever give me more than small bits of information and broken clues. I decided to take the moment to appreciate the fact that he was there, willing to walk with me in the half-darkness, thankful to have a friend. It was nice to have someone to talk to.

A question had been nagging me, and I no longer feared that I'd get into trouble for asking it. "Are you worried? That they'll retaliate after what you did to Torrin?"

"No." he said stopping to pull out a leaf that had fallen into my hair. "He hurt one of ours. We hurt him. 'An eye for an eye'. They expected it and accepted it, otherwise they would have done a better job of protecting him."

"So, the mafia has some sort of moral code?"

He laughed bitterly. "Yeah, something like that."

"Is that how Carlisle and Esme can live in this giant house without feeling like they have targets on their backs?"

"Yes, families are off limits. It's the way it's always been. The men of the family are one thing; they entered into this life willingly. If a woman or a child is harmed, that gives the other person free reign to hurt their families' wives or children. As power hungry and violent as these men can be, they still love their families and protect them at all costs."

It was odd to think of any one of them being family men, but I'd witnessed it at dinners. Carlisle was hardly a doting father, but he provided for them all and protected them. It wasn't a future that I would have wanted for myself. I wondered if Edward wanted this life. He talked about the men involved in the mafia in the third person, as if he was not also one of them. I wondered if he might also want to leave one day. I wondered if we could leave together.

"I don't want to hurt people." he'd said.

It was selfish of me, to only be thinking of my own escape, and not consider his. What would he have to do? Was there some exit strategy for a man who wanted to leave organized crime, knowing what he must know? I wasn't feeling quite as brave as I thought, so I didn't ask that question, and we spent the rest of the walk in silence.

Like every other evening, he left me at my door, and instead of our usual polite goodbyes, I threw caution to the wind, and my arms around his neck. No one was around, and it was the only way that I could think to truly thank him for what he was giving me, the sacrifice that he was making for me. I didn't even care if I was doing the wrong thing. He stumbled backward and then stood very still.

"Thank you," I whispered into his shirt collar. He put his arms around me then, enveloping me in a large, warm embrace. For the first time in a long time, I felt safe. I felt more than safe: I felt peaceful, protected, and foolishly, cherished.

"You're welcome," he said as he released me and quickly turned and disappeared down the staircase.

I was still smiling when I entered my apartment, but it faded as soon as I closed my door and looked around me.

Lights were off.

No, they were broken, I realized as my heel crunched over pieces of glass. I froze. There seemed to be no one in the apartment, but I couldn't see past the small kitchenette that still had a single light burning over the sink. The living area, and my bedroom beyond, were cloaked in darkness.

Shaking breaths escaped me as I carefully, quietly turned back towards my front door. If Edward was anywhere around, I could yell for him.

It would be okay.

I would be okay.

As soon as I turned, the sickening, strong smell of a familiar and long-forgotten cologne wafted around me just a split second before a large hand clamped over my mouth.

"Don't you dare scream," said a deep, gravelly voice. His breath fanned against my ear, making sick to my stomach.

He turned me around and half dragged me through the kitchen, toward my bedroom.

I began to fight then.

Some forgotten lesson of my father's snapped into place, and I picked up my right foot and dragged the side of it down his calf before I elbowed him in the ribs as hard as I could. He cursed and let go of me.

"HELP! HELP!" I screamed as I ran back toward the door, praying that Edward could hear me somehow. How far could he have gotten in the last two minutes? Would he be in his car by now, driving away? Someone would hear me. As thin as the walls were, someone...surely...

He grabbed me from behind by my hair, ripping out pins that fell to the floor amongst the small pieces of broken glass. Through my panic, I tried to think of something I could use as a weapon. An arm wrapped around my midsection, and he clamped his hand more forcefully against my mouth, making even breathing through my nostrils difficult.

"Do you think anyone's going to hear you? I've been scoping this place out for weeks. You don't have any neighbors."

My heart stuttered.

God, he was right.

It wasn't something I'd really thought about before, and I felt so stupid. I'd never seen anyone coming or going in the months that I'd been living in the building, and I had just assumed it was because the people on my floor kept separate hours.

"You really are an idiot. I don't know why Aro wants you. Good thing you were fighting so hard I had to kill you." I could almost hear him smiling as he said it, and, I continued to squirm and struggle. As he dragged me by my sofa, I saw an old, gray flannel hat sitting on my couch, confirming my suspicions, and my blood ran cold. I screamed as loudly as I could around his suffocating fingers.

"Shut up! Just tell me where it is, and I'll kill you quickly... If you keep screaming and fighting, this will go very badly for you. I'll take my time with it. You know what I can do, don't you, Isabella Swan?" His voice was soft and deep, and I almost didn't hear them around my muffled sobs. His next words, however, were screamed into my ear, "WHERE IS THE FILE?"

The only file that I could think of was marked B11, and was now completely empty, the papers shredded and in my waste paper bin. That didn't make any sense. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think. His cologne and his hand and my own fear were slowly choking me.

He let go of my mouth, and instead of saying anything, I bit his fingers hard enough to draw blood. He yelled and let go of my midsection, but he gripped the back of my head and shoved me into the wooden bedpost; it made a sickening thud as I hit the hardwood.

My thoughts began to get foggy.

My own breathing resounded loudly in my ears. And beyond that, through the thin walls, I heard the loud thud of feet stomping up the stairs and into the hallway.

"Please, please, please." I pleaded as my vision began to tunnel. Something warm trickled against my neck, and I placed a hand to the side of my head and came away with blood.

My attacker heard the sound also, because he jerked away from me and let go of my hair. He jumped over my bed to the window to try to make his escape. A large, blurry shadow jumped in front of me, and to the window, quickly grabbing the man by his collar before he could fling himself onto the fire escape.

"Edward." the man said, signs of fear in his voice. "Mr. Cullen. I don't mean any trouble. I'm just here because Aro told me to-"

"What does Aro want?" he asked, gripping the man harder. When he'd killed James Torrin, he'd appeared evil, like a demon. The look on his face was somehow beyond that. It was terrifying. The man who had murdered my father was afraid of my boss, my friend. The need to get farther away from both of them took hold, and I backed blindly backwards until I hit a wall - until all I could see of them were two violent, blurry villains.

"He just wanted to send a message. You know all about that, don't you?" he said, his mouth opening in a blurred sneer. My head pounded and I thought I was going to vomit. That voice was so familiar, thick with an accent that I'd never been able to place before, and gravelly. Now that I was an adult, I recognized it as a blend of Italian and Chicago. Memories swam through my pounding head:

Tall rose bushes.

A blackboard with numbers.

A dark closet with only a thin ray of dim light pouring through a small crack.

The man in front of me, less blurry and younger, hacking my father to pieces.

Large, wet tears ran down my cheeks as I watched Edward grip both sides of the man's head. He twisted it at a sickening odd angle, tearing ligaments and crunching bones, but not before saying, "You should have learned from Torrin. We don't let people touch what's ours."

I watched the light fade from the man's eyes and a horrible feeling of relief rushed through me.

It occurred to me that the man who I'd considered a friend all week was just as violent and deadly than the man I'd been terrified of my entire life.

I vomited.

And then I blacked out.

"Bella! Bella!"

Hands were smacking me in the face. I moved to swat them away and then realized who they belonged to. I tried to bolt, but my body revolted. I was too weak to do much more than try to move his hands away. My thoughts were sluggish and it made me angry.

"Hey. Hey, you're okay." he said, softly. "Look at me. Let me see your eyes."

I obeyed, but barely. My eyes didn't want to open. I wanted to drift off into space, but only if I could do it without the nightmares.

"Hey, there you are," he said, as my eyes locked with his.

"You killed him." I said, my words garbled. He felt my arms, legs, and ribs: checking for broken bones.

"I want you to just focus on me right now. " He held up fingers for me to count. "How many fingers am I holding up?" Instead of answering, I grabbed his hand.

"He killed my dad." I said, surprised when the revelation didn't bring any change on his face.

"I know," he said.

He stood and spoke to someone else in the room, either Emmett or Jasper, or both. I couldn't make my head stop pounding long enough to focus on their faces.

Emmett patted him on the shoulder, a gesture of a job well done. They were all twisted and psychotic.

"I need to get her to a doctor. Are you okay with the cleanup?" I didn't hear the resulting answers, but my stomach heaved as he lifted me up to carry me down the stairs. The stairwell reminded me of something that was said earlier and I started laughing hysterically. He kept walking, but stared at me.

"Bella? Are you okay?"

"I'm the only person in this building and you put me on a fourth floor walk up?" I said, giggling. He smiled slightly, but worry was in his eyes.

"Not the only person," he said. I passed out again before we made it to the front doors.

At first, I thought I'd died.

Large pillows were behind my head and all around me, under my arms and legs.

Maybe I hadn't died, but was stuck in some sort of weird marshmallow dream. That would be a happy alternative to the nightmares.

I lifted my head and winced. None of my dreams had ever involved pain before, but there was a first time for everything.

Esme walked in the door of the large bedroom with a tea tray in her hands, and I realized I was awake.

"Good morning," she said. "Did you sleep well? I wasn't sure how you'd fare through the night after Edward brought you here. Does anything hurt?"

Everything hurt. My eyelids hurt. I didn't let her know that, I only shook my head slightly.

"He wouldn't tell me what happened. Do you want to tell me?"

Somewhere, in my muddled head I'd remembered that she shouldn't know. I blinked slowly and said, "I fell."

Esme frowned.

She set the tray down and began to walk away and seemingly changed her mind.

"Just tell me: Did Edward do this? Did he hurt you?"

"Edward? No. No, I know he would never hurt me." The statement struck me as absolute truth and she smiled slightly as she placed a hand on my forehead. "I'd like to think that he's good for you, Bella. I'm just not sure."

It was odd that she should say that about her own son. I pondered her declaration just a few moments before falling asleep again.

After two days of resting and mending and being cared for by Esme, Emmett found me to tell me that Carlisle wanted to speak with me. HIs tone was kind, but the words behind it made me uneasy and sick.

I took a quick bath and fixed my hair, slipping on a clean dress that Esme had kindly laid out for me from my apartment. It was one of the plainer dresses, in shades of cream and brown that always made me feel like I could blend in comfortably with the background and not be seen. It was as if she knew me.

When I walked into his office, Edward was already waiting in the dark-paneled room. Dust motes traveled in the air in front of one of the two windows behind him, circling around his face and auburn hair. It struck me that I'd missed seeing him. It had been two days since he'd brought me to this large house. Two days since he'd destroyed the demons that had plagued all my nightmares. In those two days he hadn't visited me once.

My annoyance quickly changed to concern once I paid closer attention to the defeated expression on his face.

Something was very, very wrong.

I had no idea how wrong.

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