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co·er·cion

the practice of persuading someone to do something by using force or threats.

Chapter 23

BPOV

Awaking from a very restless sleep, I look around the room, expecting to see McCarty somewhere nearby, but he's not. The room is empty and dim. Training my ear toward the hall, I can hear a low mumble from a television. Earlier, I woke to find him sitting across from me, reading by the light from the hallway. I scolded him and told him he would ruin his eyes, but he insisted he was fine. Surely he just got bored with the menial task of watching me sleep.

A loud noise from farther away catches my attention, bringing my body to an upright position. Quickly, I swing my legs around and put my feet on the cold, wood floor. With Edward's house being nestled into the woods, there are many sounds I'm not used to; I'm sure it's nothing, but with the events of the last day or so, I feel on edge.

"McCarty!" I call out, as I leave the bedroom, heading down the hall toward the main rooms of the house, but there's no response.

Another bang.

Instinctively, I move faster toward the sound. When I get to the hall, I quietly peek around the corner, expecting to see McCarty killing a spider or swatting a mouse; instead, I'm face to face with my worst nightmare.

James.

How? Why?

His eyes scan my body, and it's as if I can feel them, like they're an extension of him. I want to escape—run back to where I came from—but my feet are frozen with panic.

"Well, well, well, look who we have here. Is Edward home?" he asks. "Oh, wait, that's right, Edward had to go tend to his dead mother. Such a pity."

"He'll be home soon," I say, quickly.

James throws his head back in laughter. He takes two steps closer to me and I mirror them until my back hits the cabinet.

"This," he sweeps the room with his hand, "this is not home. You're not the little miss," he smirks. "You're Bella Donna", he says, allowing the name I use on the streets to roll off his tongue, the menace in his voice dripping off every word. "You're nothing more than a high-paid whore." He licks his lips and looks down his nose at me.

"I know exactly what you are. You're not fooling anyone," he sneers. "I didn't recognize you at first, because you're quite good at disguising yourself, aren't you? You with your fancy wigs."

"Where's McCarty?" I ask, my voice quivering in fear of what he might have done to my friend. My mind is working overtime as I realize that if McCarty were able, he'd be here protecting me, but he's not.

"He's been detained," he says, reaching his hand out tentatively, forcing me farther back into the cabinet. "How does that saying go: the bigger they are, the harder they fall?"

I swallow the emotions bubbling up in my throat and try to keep my voice level as I say, "I think you should leave."

"Oh, do you?" he asks. The look he's giving me is one of pity, the way you'd look at a child when they don't understand what you're saying.

I feel vulnerable as the icy tendrils of fear begin assaulting my body. My hands quake with fright as I feel for something—anything behind me—that I could protect myself with. I know by the look in his eyes that he won't be leaving without a fight. That thought terrifies me and shakes me to the very core of my being. I'm not normally one to fear anybody or anything; I'm used to taking care of myself, but this is different.

His laugh echoes around us. "I'm not going anywhere. Actually, I was thinking that if I fucked you, I might feel better. It seems to have done wonders for Edward. He seems to have found a new lease on life since he started screwing you." He's so close to me that I can feel the sickening warmth of his breath. Anger is coming off him in waves as he tries to keep it under control, but it's slipping. There are cracks in his façade.

He reaches out and touches my cheek. Before I can react, he removes his hand from my face and turns around.

"Would you like a drink?" he asks, walking over to the wet bar and pouring himself a large glass of scotch.

"No." I swallow, trying to tamper down my emotions. I know people like him. They feed off other people's fear and weaknesses. He reminds me of Aro—no respect for humanity, walking all over people to get a little higher on the food chain, taking things that aren't theirs and disposing of them like they're last week's garbage.

My heart is beating so fast and hard that I'm afraid he hears it from across the room.

"Why don't you come have a seat, Isabella," he demands. "It's all right that I call you Isabella, isn't it? I mean, Edward calls you that, right?"

My body moves without my approval and I sit down on the loveseat across from him.

I think of a million scenarios, but none of them are plausible. I don't even know where my phone is and I don't know if Edward has a landline here. I don't know what to do, other than wait for Edward and pray that he's not too late.

James swirls his finger around the rim of his glass, without taking his eyes off me. We sit in silence for what seems like minutes, but I'm sure it's merely seconds, until he speaks again.

"You must be very good at what you do."

Not wanting to have this conversation, I stand from the couch and walk to the window that looks out into the forest behind the house, willing Edward to walk through the door. I need him. Please, Edward. I get lost in my thoughts until I feel James behind me.

"Are you, Bella? Are you good at what you do? Are you good at fucking? Is that why Edward keeps you all to himself?" His nose skims my neck and I feel his hardness press into my lower back. "How about you show me just how good you are? I promise you'll enjoy it and then you can thank me by convincing Edward to help me."

"No." I barely get enough air to force out that one little word.

I've always wondered what I would do if I were ever face to face with James. After hunting him down for so long, I never thought it would end like this. I want to spew all the awful things I know about him, all the things that could put him away for the rest of his life, but fear silences me.

"No?" His hands snake around my waist and pull me back into him, and I literally want to crawl out of my skin. My fists are in tight balls at my side, and I fight the bile that is rising in my throat.

He forces me to turn around, our noses almost touching. "Did you just fucking tell me 'no'?!"

I say nothing; I'm frozen in his grasp.

"Maybe you didn't hear me correctly. You are going to get Edward to help me but, first, you're going to let me fuck you!"

He reaches lower until his hand is winding up my shirt.

"I've had plenty of whores like you. In fact, I'm sure you know a few of them. What was that little bitch's name who ended up in the dumpster? Tanya? Yeah, she was a feisty one. She thought she was going to pull one over on me! Can you believe that?"

The mention of Tanya and the nonsensical way he's going on about her, how she had it coming to her, snaps me out of fear and fuels my hatred toward him. I have to fight back. What little bit of self-preservation I'm able to muster takes over; I instinctively pull my knee up, forcefully hitting him in the crotch. He doubles over in pain, allowing me to escape his hold.

I run across the room, attempting to put as much distance between us as I can, heading for the front door.

"You fucking bitch!"

The next few minutes are a blur. James' hands are on me and he spins me around, slapping me hard across my cheek. I feel the burn and throbbing, but it's like I'm having an out-of-body experience, watching what's happening from somewhere else. I try to fight him off, feeling my fingernails dig into his skin. I make contact with my knees and fists, swinging and kicking. I hear him yell out in pain in between grunts and harsh words. Before long, he has me on the ground, hovering over me and pinning me down with his arms and legs.

Tears burn at the corners of my eyes. I begin pleading, begging him to let me go.

He laughs in my face, pressing himself against me.

I'm running out of options and I feel my resolve slipping.

"What are you going to do now? Where are you going to go? Just admit that you want me as much as I want you. We could be finished before Edward even gets home. You're just a fucking little whore. He's not going to care anyway," he growls.

I spit in his face, and it lands in his eye. When he reaches up to wipe it off, I take the opportunity to fight my way out of his hold, scrambling and fumbling until I'm on my feet.

When he yells out my name, I turn around just in time to see him running full speed toward me.

Suddenly, there is glass shattering all around me and an excruciating pain coming from my head. Right before darkness takes over, I hear him, my knight in shining armor—my savior, my Edward. But he's too late.

A/Ns:

Jiff: *twiddles thumbs* Sooooooo….how is everyone holding up?

Jenny Kate: My fingers hurt from gripping my seat so hard!

Jiff: And we've been holding onto this chapter for almost a year! That's a long time to grip our seats!

Jenny Kate: I know! How crazy is that?! Everything we've been writing for the past year has been leading up to these next few chapters.

Jiff: It's so exciting! As anxious as you all are to read the last couple of chapters, just know that we're also anxious to post them!

Jenny Kate: What Jiff said! LOL. We'll have another chapter for you guys on Thursday!

Jiff: Thanks, as always, to Mauigirl60 for setting us straight on all things grammar!

Jenny Kate: We look forward to reading your reviews!