Crosshairs

Chapter Twenty-Two—Theory


To Isabella, the next hour was a blur. Her mind shut down for the first time since the night she witnessed her mother's murder and so much more.

Edward, however, had only one concern, and that was his fiancée. Rosalie whispered instructions in his ear as he gathered Isabella in his arms, but he didn't need any. Alarm and an overwhelming need to protect Isabella sent every nerve ending and his instinct to care for her into overdrive.

"Someone needs to give me answers by the time I come down in the morning." Edward didn't bother to ask for permission to use the rooms he remodeled to suit his needs. His parents had given a section of the house to each of their children in case they were in lockdown. "I need every single one of you there, no exceptions and no more lies."

He turned away with his Isabella.

"Rosalie, there's a room for you too, if you should choose to stay." Emmett realizing his brother intended to utilize his rooms, gestured to a different hallway from the one Edward strode toward.

"I need one close to my girl." Rosalie crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at Emmett when his eyes lingered a few seconds too long.

Emmett smirked, thankful for something to relieve some of the tension in the room. "I know, Rose. I thought you'd want to take a look at the grounds in our security office first."

She huffed; annoyed he read her so well. "Fine, show the way."

Carlisle and Esme helped Jasper to sit on a chair, offering him water to drink. Their eldest started to laugh, though it sounded off.

"Jesus, she's right. I do have a maniacal laugh." Jasper shook his head. "You should've told me who you hoped to marry him off to, Dad."

Carlisle sighed. "We hadn't decided if Isabella would come out as Phoenix once we announced their engagement. It's one of the hundred other things we need to discuss together."

Esme tightened her hand on Carlisle's arm. "She can't come out as the Phoenix. Our sons already have targets on their heads because of who they are, add the fact that she's a hired assassin, that number could triple."

Jasper snorted, again laughing like a fucking Rossi. He'd been in denial for far too long, and now the reality of the situation slapped him in the face, no, it body-slammed him into the ground. "Try quadruple. The sheer number of cartels that want Phoenix's identity would make you sick."

"What have we done, Carlisle?" Esme started to panic and pace, never a good thing. She plotted when her family was in danger. "You said she worked with her father, I thought you meant behind the scenes, not that she was the highly regarded assassin!"

Jasper was relieved to know his mother didn't know Edward's fiancée had been the one to carry out Maria's sentence. There was only so much betrayal a person could handle in one night. Although, was it even that considering she was simply doing her job?

"You wanted someone for our son who would love him unconditionally, was aware of his business, but would call him on his shit. Who would protect him as much as he would protect her." Carlisle shrugged. "You remember the connection they had as children, and with Charlie's suspicion that someone in his crew may be a mole, he wanted to ensure she would be protected no matter what. As a Cullen, she would be."

"I would die for that woman." Felix handed Jasper his gun. "Not only because it's my job, and you're all like family, but Phoenix helped destroy the asshole that killed my brother in the shootout three years ago."

"I forgot about that." Jasper whistled. "I'm honestly not sure if it would be better to have her come out or not. For people to know one of the most lethal assassins and a Cullen are marrying, the fear alone could put everyone in line."

"Or piss off them off since it would mean our family has the most power." Esme looked at her husband, shaking her head. "There has to be some reason for whoever is blackmailing us to insist on Edward being in power. For now, let's call it a night, and discuss this as a family."

"Now, Es…"

She held up her hand. "You are not stopping me from attending the meeting."

"Do we call the rest of the family?" Jasper asked as he stood, rubbing his neck. "The more people who know who she is, the more chances someone outside of the family will find out."

Most family members were exceptionally good at keeping secrets, while sober. Others would die holding onto them. No matter what state they were in.

"Let me sleep on it, and once we're ready to meet tomorrow, I'll offer my opinion on the matter."

Esme held up her chin. "And I'll have mine."

Carlisle smiled and tugged his beautiful wife into his arms. "As if I'd expect anything less."

Jasper left his parents alone, uncomfortable with their affection. It had been that way since Maria betrayed him. Felix stated he would check with security and Emmett before he headed to bed himself. He passed his room and quietly approached the section his mother designated for most guests. Though he had access to all the rooms in that section of the house, he had yet to make it his own. The master suite he once shared with his wife lay in ruin and dust; having forbidden anyone to touch it since he had forsaken and sentenced Maria to death.

From the corner of his eye, he watched as Mary Alice slipped out of his old bedroom, anger slicing through to the bone. "What the fuck are you doing in there?"

She squeaked, cowering against the wall, refusing to meet his eyes. Again. Not that he blamed her. He had an interesting eye color, a mix of his father's blue and his birth mother's gold-brown, just like his late cousin, Alec—her attacker.

"I want to be useful." She tipped her chin up, her unruly black hair flopping in her eyes. Protecting her from him in a way. The first thing she did after he saved her from Alec was to chop off her hair, but it was growing fast. His mother was also the only person she allowed near her other than him.

Not even any of the staff could get within a hundred feet of her before she ran to hide.

"I told you before that the room is off fucking limits."

She giggled but slapped her small hand over her mouth, as if she couldn't recognize the sound. "You sound like a character in an old fairytale, forbidding me from entering a corridor while keeping me prisoner."

Jasper gaped at her; his family had made it clear she was welcomed to leave whenever she felt she was ready. Before he could reply, she shrugged.

"Whatever you say, Beast." For one brief moment, she looked up at him, then turned on her heels and ran down the hall to her room.

The door slammed closed and the snick of the lock loud in the lonely hallway. Jasper couldn't help but smirk, shaking his head. Maybe the real Mary Alice would be revealed as time passed.

He opened the door to his old bedroom and stood there frozen in shock and amazement. It had been months since he'd entered the room, now it was transformed completely. Nothing of the original design elements or furniture remained; even the walls had gone from various shades of red and gold to inviting blues and browns.

It no longer felt like a reminder of what he thought he had. No doubt, his mother had a hand in it, but he didn't care. It was perfect, thanks to the tiny spitfire who just called him a beast.

Jasper started to laugh—and it no longer sounded maniacal.

.

.

.


Edward dried off Isabella with a towel, having set her on the edge of the bed. She hadn't said a word or made a sound since she shut down. He didn't try to tell her it would all right, knowing she wouldn't hear a word of it. Possible lies and platitudes were not what she needed, only comfort and perhaps someone to listen. Had anyone listened to her? Not orders, he knew from watching her with the crews, they always followed her commands. No, had anyone listened to her heartbreak?

From the beginning, he knew this incredible woman was quite capable of taking care of herself, of handling any situation she faced. Discovering she was Phoenix amplified that knowledge, yet a part of him wondered: What happened to a woman with such strength when she broke?

He needed to know more about the night of her mother's murder. Of the night that a sixteen-year-old Isabella killed someone who hurt her mother. Why had his uncle kidnapped him in the first place? If his kidnapping hadn't happened, would Isabella be the woman she was today?

Stop making this about yourself, asshole. She needs you.

Edward realized it didn't matter—she did need him. He stripped off his wet suit jacket and loosened a few more buttons of his shirt. All he wanted was to slip into bed with her and hold her until she broke.

If she did. Would she merely bend? Or shatter?

She turned away from him once he placed her in the middle of the king-sized bed in his master suite. "Will you hold me?"

"Of course." Edward closed his eyes, thankful she was still with him, present and not lost in her mind. After settling in bed beside her, he found some relief in the ability to provide her some comfort. A long while passed without a word, from the sound of her soft breathing, he wondered if she'd fallen asleep. Cracking one eye open, he realized she stared at their reflection in a mirror on the opposite wall. It was supposed to be taken down and put into another room, having found the gilded, ornate frame too much for his room.

Their eyes met in the reflection.

"I would say I'm sorry for getting lost in my head earlier."

"Don't you dare." He pressed a hard kiss to the back of her head. "You don't even have to talk about it right now, love." His arms tightened around her, but he loosened his hold when she tensed.

"I will apologize for that." She sighed. "With that night in my mind, it's hard to tolerate touch."

Edward somehow managed to prevent his body from reacting to her words. He wanted to rage and destroy, soak the concrete with their blood. It didn't matter if they were family.

"There was a third man that night, Edward. Besides your uncle Caius and your Rossi's illegitimate nephew. Or even the men they hired to watch over you."

Edward remembered the indistinguishable time during his kidnapping. There had been at least six men who were merely security, and though he had a vague sense of his uncle Caius and even Leonardo Rossi, who'd gone by Leo, there had been one in the shadows.

He had told his father there had been others there, but he hadn't asked Edward to identify the bodies; his mother insisting he couldn't handle it. At the time, he had agreed with her. After a month, his mind all but blocked those memories, only conjured up in nightmares.

"My uncle Anthony." He remembered then, a night long ago, of his father accusing his brother of trying to destroy his marriage and family—yet again.

She sighed. "I never got a good look at him; he simply liked to watch. Always in the shadows; then again, your asshole family members didn't think I'd live until morning, but it was almost as if he expected them to fail." A shiver moved through her, her back arching slightly away from him. It took her a moment to melt into his embrace again, her voice barely a whisper when she spoke. "I'll never stop seeing my mother's face as she begged me to close my eyes and cover my ears."

A tight knot formed in Edward's throat. He wondered how, for such a young girl at the time, she managed to not only escape, but also become who she was. Did killing for the sake of his family help to ease the turmoil inside her?

He closed his eyes as his mother's words flooded his mind. "Carlisle, I swear to you, I have never been unfaithful. He's lying!" Then something else his mother said only hours before. "Edward is a Cullen, and my own flesh and blood."

Edward needed answers and for all their secrets to be unearthed. "We need to talk to my parents."

She hummed. "No shit."

"There's a chance I'm not Carlisle's son."

She stilled and shook her head, attempting to turn, but Edward wouldn't let her move.

"Give me a second, hear me out." He explained the little memories he had surrounding his kidnapping, an argument between his parents he'd stumbled upon a few nights after his rescue. He slipped out of bed and room, returning with a dusty photo album within minutes.

Isabella sat up beside him, her eyes settling on Edward's handsome face. He couldn't have been more than fifteen, and even then, he'd been a stunner. Edward held a hand over the photo and looked for another photo toward the front.

The Cullen boys all stood by a 1952 Gray Bentley R-Type Continental, custom and likely not more than a few years old. Marcus sat in the driver's seat, a big cheesy smile on his face. Caius and Anthony, the Irish twins, all dark and mysterious stood toward the back end, scowling as Carlisle and Garrett made faces at the camera from the passenger seat.

Edward flipped to the picture of him then back to one of all the boys. There was no missing the striking resemblance between them, both about fifteen when their pictures were taken, Isabella couldn't dismiss his thoughts.

It would be a mistake to do so, but she also refused to believe his conclusion. She pulled the large album to her lap and flipped through generations of photos, going back to the beginning, she pointed at a black and white photo.

"You also happen to be a carbon copy of your grandfather," she reasoned, feeling a little smug. Okay, it was more like desperation. She didn't want Edward to be Anthony's son. Not because she'd see him differently, but because he'd see himself that way.

She continued when Edward said nothing. "You have your mother's coloring, yes, but you have your father and grandfather's jawline. Your eye shape and brows, all Carlisle."

"But also, my uncle's."

Sensing something dark in Edward's eyes, she grasped his hand, somewhat grateful for something to distract her from her dark memories. She pulled him out of bed. "Get dressed. We're getting answers now."

Edward tried to protest, complying with the need to get dressed. "My parents are likely in bed already."

She cocked a hip and eyebrow. "As a woman, I can tell you right now, your mother is wide awake. She had her son's life threatened by another son's girlfriend…"

"Fiancée," he corrected.

"Not yet." She glared at him, and it made him smile. "Why are you looking at me like that?" The almost sinister grin, paired with the desire in his eyes, made her heart race.

"I see you're back to old self again."

She shrugged, dragging a hand through her hair. "That shit you witnessed earlier rarely happens; it's a testament to how much I love and trust you."

Edward groaned and pulled her against him, giving her time not to shudder or tense at his touch. She didn't, closing the distance between them instead. His hands lifted to her face, watching her to see if she meant what she said. Her love would always be cherished and revered, but her trust in him meant so much more. In their world, trusting someone was something so rare and necessary to survive.

He understood why there was a rule for the head of the family to be married. Without someone to stand by his side, as his equal, to listen and give counsel, and help him carry all the burdens, the risk to his sanity would be in jeopardy.

Marcus had refused to take over for Edward's grandfather. He knew he didn't have the mental capacity to run an entire organization. Caius, being unmarried at the time when he stepped into his father's shoes, had proven it, too. His period as head of the family had been a bloody one.

"Let's go." Isabella stopped in the middle of the hallway, her eyes closing. "I have the floor plans memorized; give me a second to get my bearings."

Edward's hands slipped over the silk robe she wore. His mother had filled one of his closets with clothes for Isabella already. The cool, blue fabric felt especially soft against her. "Let me get mine," he whispered against her temple.

She caught the moan before it fell from her lips, but Edward snickered anyway.

"Stop distracting me, Edward. We need answers. We'll come back to ridding your room of other women later."

"I have never shared any bed in this house with anyone." He shook his head. "You forget, if I had, my family would've taken it to mean something more."

"Good to know. So, we'll christen every surface later."

He groaned, eliminating the space between their bodies.

She ran her hand over the length of his arms around her waist, taking a moment to lean back against his chest. "Let's go."

Edward nodded, taking it slow. She didn't complain, despite his reluctance to know the truth.

There was no doubt he was a Cullen, but who was his father? Did he want to know?


AN: I know finally! Sorry for the delay, I was so blocked on this fic but it's talking to me lately. Thanks to MC for your help with the chapter and encouragement. Any mistakes are mine, I messed around with the chapter a lot. I don't foresee such a long delay for the next chapter since Edward is yammering in my ear right now. Just got to find the time. Also, posted in my Facebook Group and on my Twitter profile, (ericastwilight) you can find the Cullen and Rossi family tree.

Anyway, off to finish the next chapter of Beauty Takes on the Beast.

For anyone willing to buy me a coffee so I can write more often at a local cafe, there are links to Venmo, and Ko-fi on my Twitter profile and can be found on my Facebook page in the About section, or you can send or Starbucks e-gift to my email ericastwilight at gmail dot com. THANK YOU!