13

The second Rosalie and Emmett were out the front door, Bella turned and almost sprinted down the hallway and into her bedroom. She threw the door open, but before she could close it, Charlie followed her inside, letting the door close behind him. He leaned against the door, his eyes meeting hers, yet he didn't say anything.

"Aren't you going to go pack?" she asked.

"Never unpacked."

Bella sighed and walked over, sitting on the edge of the over-sized purple chair, placing her hands on her knees. "How'd they get involved with a group like that?" She shifted her eyes to Charlie. "They knew what would happen to us if they'd stayed with the Gathering of Twilight, didn't they?"

"We don't know for sure, but we suspected as much. We assumed that's why they left after finding out they were pregnant. Managed to hide for almost seven months before they caught up with them."

"How could they have joined a group that . . . that did stuff to kids? To babies, Charlie?"

"I don't know," he said, walking over and sitting on the side of the bed. "Happens more than you realize, though."

"How'd he get so close? I thought they upgraded my security system and everything?"

"They did," he said, leaning forward and placing his elbows on his knees. "Best system on the market. The flowers weren't there when Carlisle and Alice, I believe her name is, arrived, but when Emmett and Jasper got here, the flowers were on the porch. Camera system should have alerted Carlisle that someone was on the grounds, but it didn't. They are downloading everything and we will review it after we make our move."

"Make our move," she whispered, shaking her head. "This is my home, Charlie. The one place I didn't have to worry about people watching me, touching me. You know how much I value my privacy."

"I do," he said, nodding.

"Yet, for the last thirty-six hours, my home has been filled with people who know things about me that I didn't even know." She paused. "I feel . . . I feel like that fragile little girl, who woke up in the hospital with no memory of who I was."

Charlie frowned.

"I understand why you didn't tell me," she said, causing him to look at her. "I do, but I feel betrayed."

"Bee." He shook his head. "Do you think it would have helped you if I'd told you at five years old how they held you down while they took turns raping you?"

Bella flinched.

"I'm sorry," he cringed. "I shouldn't have said that."

"It's true, though, right?" Bella stood up and walked into her closet, dragging her purple suitcase out of the corner and pulling it into her bedroom, motioning for Charlie to stand up, which he did. She placed it on the bed before she turned and looked at him. "Why did you choose me?"

"What?" he asked, frowning.

"Why did you choose to save me? There were other kids there, weren't there?"

"Yes."

"Why me, then?"

Charlie pressed his lips together before he walked over sat in the over-sized purple chair, his eyes flying open when he sunk down into it. "Holy crap, this is low."

She laughed. "It's comfortable. When I don't sleep, it's my favorite place to keep from falling apart. My safe place, I guess."

"It's definitely cozy." She stared at him, causing him to sigh before he started speaking, "We'd noticed a pattern."

"What kind of pattern?"

He leaned forward and clasped his hands together, clearing his throat. "The Brothers always came for you — any of you — after dusk. We thought we could hit before they took another child into that chapel, Bee, but we were too late."

"Because they figured out that you were coming for them."

He nodded. "We didn't think we would find any of you alive. All we found were dead bodies, kids not much older than you, but then we started searching in the chapel," he said, shifting his eyes to her. "When we opened the cabinet, Bee, you and Edward were . . . Honey, you were both naked. Your arms were wrapped around each other, and you'd been crying. You were climbing onto each other so tight, it took both of me and Carlisle to pry your arms from around each other. Edward wouldn't let you go. He just cried and said don't take her away, don't take her away," he murmured. "I promised him I would take care of you, and when I lifted you out of that cabinet, Bee, you whimpered and cried, and I just . . . I just wanted you to be okay. I rode in the ambulance with you, stayed by your side while they accessed your condition, when they kept you sedated for the first three days."

"Why?"

"To help reduce the swelling around your brain."

"No, I mean, why did you stay by my side?"

"I didn't want you to wake up alone," he admitted. "After a few days, they started weaning you off the sedative, but you didn't wake up. Days turned into weeks, and then months. I just . . . I just couldn't leave you there alone. They kept saying there was nothing left to do, that it was time to let you go, but there wasn't anyone to fight for you, Bee. You were alone, so I fought for you." He smiled. "Eighty-five days after I pulled you out of that cabinet, you opened your eyes, Bee. You opened your beautiful eyes," he whimpered, covering his mouth with his hand. "And I saw the pain and fear, the sadness, yet you had no idea who were you were, and I . . . I knew right then that I had to keep you safe, to give you the chance to be normal little girl, so resigned from the F.B.I., petitioned the court to foster you, and then adopt you. You became my daughter."

"Did you miss the F.B.I.?"

"Nope," he replied, shaking his head and standing up. He walked over to her, slowly raising his hands and placing them on the sides of her arms, ignoring the way she tensed. "Raising you, Bee, was the best decision I ever made, and I know you're angry, but I just wanted you to have a chance to be a normal little girl."

"Haven't you heard?" she cried. "Normal is overrated."

He smiled. "Yeah, guess so. I mean, normal girls don't become America's Sweetheart, do they?"

"Ugh," she laughed, pushing him away. "I told you not to call me that."

Charlie laughed. "Oh, come on, Bee, you know you love it."

"No, I don't," she scoffed, and walking into her closet, grabbing as many of her clothes as she could before she walked back into her bedroom. "We can trust these people, can't we?"

"We can." Charlie pulled her clothes out of her hand and placed them on the bed. They started pulling her jeans off the hangers and folding them. "You let him hold your hand."

Bella paused before she reached for another pair of pants. "Yeah."

"Why?"

"Why not?" she asked, purposely not looking at him, but when she reached for another pair of pants, he reached for her hands, she pulled away from him. "Don't make a big deal out of it."

"Okay," he said, taking a step away from her. "I'm sorry."

"I just . . ." Bella inhaled a sharp breath. "There was something about him from the moment I saw him standing in his office. Something I couldn't understand. I thought maybe it was just that he didn't fawn all over me," she said, giving him a look. "People look at me and they treat me differently because I'm a celebrity, or whatever, but he doesn't. I just didn't know why until now."

"Bella, Charlie, we need to hurry," she heard Carlisle call through the closed door.

"We're almost ready," she said, her voice shaking before she turned to Charlie. "Are we going to be able to stop him?"

"I hope so."

And so did she.

Ten minutes later, Bella had managed to stuff her suitcase with as many of her clothes and bathroom supplies as she could, unsure how long she should pack for. In nine days, she was scheduled to start a series of press runs to help promote her new album, but could she? If Marcus Volturi wasn't stopped, could she put herself out there again? She couldn't not follow through with her commitments. Her career was too important to her, the only part of her life she had any real control over, but the thought of stepping outside as America's Sweetheart with a madman after her made her nauseous and had her swallowing the bile that crept up her throat.

Instead, she grabbed her suitcase and her guitar case, knowing she couldn't leave it behind, and followed Charlie into the hallway, waited while he popped into his bedroom and grabbed his own bag. When he stepped into the hallway, he gave her a look before he slipped her suitcase from her hand and motioned for her to lead the way.

When they walked into the living room, they found Edward standing at the backdoor while Carlisle was standing next to the front door. Charlie cleared his throat drawing their attention to them. While Carlisle looked at her with sorrow, almost pity, there was a look of vulnerability in Edward's eyes that rattled her to her core. But instead of saying anything, he simply turned and stretched his hand toward her.

"It's safe, right? This cabin you're taking me to, it's . . . it's safe, right?"

"Yes, Bella, it's safe," Carlisle said, drawing her attention to him. "I promise, but we really should be going."

"All right," she murmured, ignoring Edward's hand. She wanted nothing more than to place her hand in his, but she couldn't bring herself to allow herself the comfort of his touch again. No matter how he was the only person who made sense to her. "I'm trusting you, and I don't trust anyone."

"I know," Carlisle said, his eyes shifting from her to Edward and back.

Charlie placed his hand on her elbow, and when she tensed and looked at him, he tilted his head toward the door, encouraging her to take the first step. As much as she didn't want to leave her home, she knew they couldn't stay.

"I'm ready," she whispered, looking over at Edward before walking toward the front door.

Carlisle and Charlie were the first two out of the house, each of them pausing and scouring the grounds in front of her house, making sure he wasn't going to jump from behind the Justicia bush. Once they were sure the coast was clear, so to speak, Carlisle hurried down to the large, black SUV sitting in front of the house and opened the back door, turning and looking at her.

"Hurry now."

She looked behind her at Edward before she hurried down the front steps, climbing into the SUV with her guitar case next to her. Edward followed, sliding into the backseat next to her. Carlisle and Charlie stowed their luggage into the back end of the SUV before they climbed into the front, with Carlisle driving. The two looked back at them before Carlisle started the car and pulled away from her home. Bella couldn't stop herself from looking back, wondering if she'd ever return, and asking herself if she wanted. Marcus had infiltrated her home, taken her safe place away from her. What else could he rob her of?

—TB—

Two hour and eighteen minutes later, and yes, she was counting every awkward, silent minute she spent in the car with them, Carlisle turned the SUV up a small, overgrown road that Bella wouldn't have seen had he not made the turn. While Carlisle drove and Charlie kept checking behind them, making sure they weren't being followed, Bella found herself unable to keep her eyes off Edward, and him her it would seem. Yet, they didn't speak.

Carlisle drove for a couple miles before the brush cleared and he pulled into the driveway of the biggest cabin she'd had ever seen. It was at least three stories and twice the size of her house. Carlisle drove past the house and into a large garage, where three other cars were parked, two motorcycles, and a half dozen ATVs. He parked and climbed out, opening the door for her.

"Thanks," she murmured, slipping out of the vehicle with her guitar case in front of her.

"You're welcome." He closed the door behind her and took a step backward. "Edward will take you inside, show you to your room. We're going to take a bit and make sure everything is still secure, just as a precaution," he added, putting his hand up. "Emmett, Jasper, Alice, and Rosalie are already here, along with my wife. Her name is Esme, and she won't hurt you."

"Thanks," she whispered, biting the inside of her lip before she looked over at Edward. "And they won't . . . won't touch me, right?"

"No," all three men said, but it was Edward who stepped toward her, stretching his hand in front of him. "I promise," he said, almost pleading with her. "You can trust us, Bella. All of us."

"I don't trust anyone," she said, seeing the pain fill his eyes, and she wanted to take the words back, but she couldn't, because while Edward knew firsthand how she felt every second of the day, he had a lifetime of memories of her, yet she had none of him.

Edward frowned, and nodded and gestured for her to follow him into the cabin. She looked back at Charlie before following. When they entered the house, she found herself in a large kitchen that took her breath away. Crisp white cabinets, with glass doors and stainless steel appliances, a large island with a deep porcelain sink in the middle, and a large cherry wood table tucked into the breakfast nook.

"Hello."

Turning and looking at the door leading to the rest of the house, Bella found a stunningly beautiful woman with soft caramel hair that had just the slightest wave to it. She was wearing a pair of jeans with rips in the knees and a Van Halen T-shirt, which she thought was interesting. The woman smiled, the corners of her dark brown eyes crinkling and she looked from her to Edward, her grin growing.

"I've missed you, kid."

"I just saw you two days ago," Edward muttered before he walked over and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his arms. She laughed, but returned the embrace, though her eyes shifted back to her. "You should probable make the official introduction. I know who she is, but she doesn't know me."

Edward nodded and released her before he turned and looked back at her. "Mom, this is Bella Swan. Bella, this is my mother Esme Cullen."

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Cullen."

"Please, call me, Esme, dear, and it's lovely to meet you as well." Esme wrapped her hand around Edward's forearm. "Please make yourself at home, and help yourself to anything you want." She paused before she added, "You're safe here, Bella."

"I'm not safe anywhere," she replied, shifting her eyes to Edward. "Where's my room?"

"This way," he said, frowning.

Esme moved out of the way before Edward gestured for Bella to follow. She spared the woman a look, knowing she was being rude, but for two days she'd had people in her face, people who knew the horrors she had suffered while she lived in ignorance. She needed time to deal, time she couldn't have because the person who hurt her the most wasn't finished with her. He wanted more of her, of Edward, of both of them, and she wasn't sure anyone could stop him.

Emmett and Jasper were seated in the living room with Rosalie and Alice.

Rosalie sighed and stood up, hurrying over to her, but stopping before she touched her. "Bee, are you okay?"

She shook her head, her eyes flickering to Alice, who had a hard, angry look on her face. Jasper leaned over and whispered in her ear, causing her to sigh and look away.

"Bee."

"I'm fine, Ro," she whispered. "Just fine considering everything I've known was a lie. Just perfectly fine."

She shook her head as she hurried over to the stairs and started up them, feeling Edward follow. When they got to the second story, Edward stepped around her, gesturing for her to keep going to the third floor. There were only two rooms on the third floor, side by side.

"That's your room," he said, gesturing to the room on the right. "Figured it would give you more privacy. I know how much you value it."

"Thanks," she whispered, turning and walking into the room. It was warm and cozy, she couldn't deny. The walls were a soft taupe, and there was a large queen size bed with an oak bedframe, matching dresser, a rocking chair in the corner, and a small bathroom off of it. "It's nice."

"It's not red, so . . ." he murmured.

She smiled. "Thank God."

"My room is next door. We will have to share the bathroom, but it locks on both sides."

"Okay." Bella placed her guitar on the bed and turned and looked at him. "Do you come out here a lot?"

"Not in a long time. This is where they were living when I came to be with them. Spent the first two years of my life with them here. They moved us to the city when they decided it was time for me to go school."

She nodded and settled on the side of the bed. "I don't know how to do this."

"Do what?"

"Be around people."

"You're around people all the time."

"No, I'm not. They're around me, they have jobs to do and I have a job to do, and we do those jobs. Most of the people around me know that I'm not approachable, so to speak. Ro handles everyone, and I just make the music."

"You write your own music?"

"I do."

"Why?"

"Why? I don't know. I just . . ." Bella shook her head. "Music is like telling a story, and I guess I want . . . no, need to tell it."

Edward nodded, leaning against the doorframe. "Your music is really good."

"Thanks," she scoffed.

"You don't think so?"

"No, I do," she said. "I just don't like the showmanship of it. The smoke and lights, the flash of it all. It's just . . . stupid. Music should come from the soul, touch the soul, and it can't do that when it is masked by flashy lights and smoke machines."

"Then why do it?"

"Because the people want it, and it sells my music."

"And you don't think your music would sell if you weren't surrounded by smoke and flashy lights."

"No."

Edward shook his head. "I don't know, Bella. I think you could still wow people just with your voice."

"Yeah?"

He nodded and pushed away from the doorframe. "I'm going to help them secure everything. You going to be okay?"

"I'm sure Ro will be here the second you leave."

Edward laughed. "Yeah, probably. I know you're scared, Bella. I am, too. I . . . I really am, but I'm not going to let him get to us again, and I'm certainly not going to let him hurt you again. Never again."

He turned and walked back downstairs, and while she wanted nothing more than to believe him, the hard reality was Marcus Volturi wanted them back, wanted her back, and something told her that when he wanted someone, he got them, no matter who got caught in his crosshairs.

Thank you for all the AMAZING reviews! Another nice, easy chapter . . .