Disclaimer – You guys know I'm not Stephenie Meyer. If I were, I'd be a millionaire. And I wouldn't be writing fanfic, now would I?

Bella's POV:

The gunman seemed preoccupied with his cigarette for the moment, pacing back in forth in front of the tellers' desk. Carlisle took the time to whisper, "Just stay still and don't draw attention to yourself. If you see a chance to get out of here, take it."

I shot him a look. If I tried to run, he'd go berserk and start shooting. There were two tellers, one bank manager, and a vampire in the room besides me. There was a good chance that only my bullet-proof dad would escape alive.

"Shut up over there," Robert snarled, glaring at us. "No whispering!"

He pulled out another cigarette and lit it, hands trembling.

The bank manager, Mr. Kendall, mopped his head again.

The minutes crawled by, the only sound in the room the slow ticking of the clock. How long before someone noticed something was wrong? An hour? Two?

There was plenty of time to think, and think I did. If things came to a head, what would happen? One thing I knew for sure – Carlisle must not get shot. A bullet would do him no damage – but it would expose his secret for certain. What would happen to the Cullens then, I could only guess. But all the different scenarios paraded through my mind, and none of them were good. At the best they would have to leave immediately, causing even more suspicion. At the very worst the Volturi would get involved, and no one had to tell me how that would end.

I stole a glance at Carlisle, but his face was unreadable as he watched the gunman closely, trying to anticipate what he would do next.

Half an hour crawled by; Robert smoked cigarette after cigarette. The smell of the smoke in the room was overpowering, and I leaned closer to Carlisle, hoping his scent would mask it. The bank manager was looking decidedly green by the time Robert began to talk. "You sit here in your little palace, high up a throne other people's hard-earned money bought you. Making a living ruining their lives. What do you have to say to that?" he growled, stomping over to Mr. Kendall's seat. The rotund little man swallowed visibly.

"Well?"

"It's just my job?" he offered lamely. I winced.

"Just my job," Robert mocked him. "You're a sad little man, you know that?"

To the relief of everyone in the room, he didn't wait for a reply before launching into another tirade, his latest cigarette nothing but a glowing butt trapped in his clenched fingers. "You took everything from me in the name of your job. My house, my work, my kid, and finally my wife. It's all gone now. You had to have more money to pad your fat little pockets, and men like me paid the price."
"You took out a loan knowing you had to pay it back," Kendall ventured. "It isn't the bank's fault – you were late for three payments. We had no choice –"

"No choice!" Robert thundered. "You had no choice! My wife was dying. I had to watch her waste away, slowly, until there was nothing left of the woman I married. I worked long hours and weekends – time I should've spent with her – trying to scrape up money for the treatments. Only to have you decide you didn't have enough – you had to take what was mine, too!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mary Anne reach under the desk and press a button. Carlisle noticed too, but he didn't look in her direction. I hoped she knew what she was doing. Would he go insane when the cops showed up? Or realize he couldn't win and give himself up?

She'd either managed to rescue us…or signed our death warrant.

Sirens wailed to a stop outside the building. I watched Robert anxiously, trying to gauge his reaction.

"Who called the cops?" he screamed, striding to the door to peer between the blinds.

Mary Anne wisely kept her mouth shut.

"Get over here!" he ordered, waving the gun at me. Carlisle protested, moving to get up, but Robert snatched me up by the arm and held the gun to my head in silent threat. Helplessly, he sank back into the chair.

His fingers bruised my arm as my heart threatened to jump out of my chest. I felt the cold steel of the gun through my hair, his unsteady hands doing nothing to alleviate my fear.

"Don't hurt her," Carlisle warned. His hands gripped the sides of his chair, the cheap plastic threatening to give way underneath his iron hold.

"Or what?" Robert sneered, tightening his hold on my arm. I flinched, trying to cover it up. Funny, after facing a sadistic vampire intent on torturing me to death, and coming head to head with the Volturi, it didn't seem like this should scare me.

But it did.

He dragged me to the door. "Unlock it."

Fingers trembling, I tried three times before managing to flip the latch. Impatiently he shoved it open, forcing me outside in front of him.

Forks boasted exactly four cops – and my dad was gone. The remaining three were gathered in front of their cars, deciding on a plan of action. Everything ceased when they saw us.

Deputy Tony Craft holstered his weapon, holding his hands out to show he wasn't a threat. I read the fear in his eyes as his steely blue gaze swept over the situation.

"Listen up, Deputy Dog, and listen good. You try anything, and I mean anything, and this girl gets the first bullet. Her blood will be on your hands, and so will everyone else's inside that bank. Got me?"

I could only imagine how we looked to the horrorstruck deputies – him with bloodshot eyes, sparse wild hair, and wild-eyed look. Me no doubt as pale as usual, with more than my normal share of bad luck.

Tony's jaw tightened. "Are you okay, Bella?" he called.

"Yeah," I answered back, with a lot more confidence than I felt.

His gaze flicked back up to Robert's. "Don't you hurt her," he warned.

A harsh laugh exploded close to my ear. "As long as none of you try and play hero, Deputy Dog."

I saw Officer Clark Noble pull out his cell phone – he must have been calling my dad. I couldn't help but hope all this would be resolved long before he got here. I didn't want him to get hurt.

Robert lowered the gun as he prepared to drag me back outside. For a split second I looked longingly at the parked cruisers, gauging my chances. After an agonizing heartbeat of indecision, I let the opportunity pass.

I wouldn't escape at the expense of the others' lives.