TW: Violence, death.
Dame Fortuna
Chapter 17: Bloodlust
"You shouldn't have left her behind."
"I'm not in the mood for a fucking lecture, old man," Edward snapped, pushing down on the gas pedal of his Maserati harder as they sped through the dark streets. "You gave me no further information besides that stupid 'SOS'. Of course my instinct was to keep her away from a potential fight."
Carlisle decided to bite his tongue on that, and chose to lean his head back with a sigh instead.
"I swear to God," his son began to whimper. "If she's––I don't know what I'll do."
The blond must've really gone soft on the boy, because Edward's pained words managed to tug on the once ice-cold heartstrings he had. "Is she alone?"
"No." A tense pause. "She's in one of Bluewave's safehouses with a few of Atticus' men. And Rosalie."
"Rosalie?" Carlisle repeated incredulously. "The fucking mole? I thought you said you were handling––"
"We were handling it," Edward cut off. "She's––Wynona has her daughter, for fuck's sake. It's the only reason she had the balls to play the spy. And you know what the woman's capable of when it comes to children. We…bargained with the girl. Rose knows more about Wynona's organization than Banks. She was in the middle of providing us with more information when you called me."
Carlisle shook his head. "The child's dead by now. You know that."
Edward released a sharp breath. "So does Bella. But we still had to make her believe we'd be able to save her. So she'll talk."
It didn't take too long for them to reach the safehouse, which was a one-story farmhouse in the far outskirts of the state. The lights were on, but the suits Edward had left behind were no longer standing.
"Fuck," the younger Cullen swore to himself as they stepped out of the car together.
Once they were outside the front door, however, Edward felt a surge of hope when he heard a familiar female voice inside, muttering something incoherently over and over again.
"Bella––!"
His voice cut off sharply, however, once he opened the door and fully took in the scene inside.
Bella Swan was alive. But she was…drenched. In blood. From head to toe. Her white blouse and jeans didn't seem to have a single patch that wasn't soaked in it. And she was hunched over in the middle of the small living room, her palms over Rosalie's unmoving chest as she continued to pump and give her CPR.
And around her were what looked to be almost a dozen dead bodies of men, their pistols and AMGs tossed to the side. What was strange was that they didn't all seem to have died the same way. All were shot by a machine gun, yes, but a handful of others also looked to be stabbed in a frenzy several times in the face and chest.
How…?
"Come on, come on, come on," Bella was mumbling, as she continued to pump Rosalie's chest. She leaned down once more to blow air to the clearly dead woman's mouth.
"Bella…" Edward croaked, still several feet away from her.
It was Carlisle who eventually stepped forward, his expression strangely passive as he tiptoed around the bodies, to gently pull Bella away from the unmoving blonde and up to her feet. "Stop. It's over."
Bella looked up to face Edward then, eyes wide and cheeks smeared with blood. Clearly, none of it was her own. "I'm so stupid. I should've––I got carried away."
Edward slowly walked towards her, reaching out to hold her by the forearms. "What happened?"
Her sweet brown eyes began to swell with tears.
Earlier
Rosalie took a sip of the tea Bella had made for her, hands still shaking with anxiety. The latter waited patiently for her to relax before questioning her again.
"We need to know all about her major players, Rose," she asked softly, reaching out to hold the blonde's hand on the kitchen counter. "Her most trusted partners."
"To get to Wynona, you'll have to get through Laurent," Rosalie said grimly. "He's the closest, too. He has his own…fortress deep in the forest east of Crescent Lake, but he flies in and out every few days. But if––if Bluewave plans on facing him there, I don't think you'll be able to come out alive. His supplies are out of this world."
Bella nodded. "Well, what's he like?"
"I don't know," Rosalie sighed. "I only ever saw him a couple of times. He's a little flamboyant. Or maybe just Italian. He likes coke and girls. Wynona keeps him well-fed in that aspect."
"What kind of girls?"
The blonde had to think about that for a while. "Wynona has the girls drive up to his estate in Florida. I don't really know if he has a type, but he…makes them dress up. That's what I heard."
That's something, Bella thought. "In what way?"
"Victorian?" Rosalie guessed. "Just big, fancy dresses, with the corsets and all. He's flamboyant, as I said. He hosts a kind of giant party at his house every other night––"
"Wait. Did you hear that?"
The two women stayed silent, and then they heard it again. Faint, but clear rustling coming from the tall grass surrounding the farmhouse.
They couldn't miss the first gunshot outside.
"Shit!" Bella swore, immediately rushing and ducking behind the kitchen counter and pulling Rosalie by the arm with her. As she was prepared by Edward to do in case of an emergency, she pulled out the loaded machine gun hidden under the sink.
"It can't be…" Rosalie cried, her breaths coming out short. "They––They couldn't have––"
"Stay low, Rose," Bella said, putting a reassuring hand on the girl's shoulder.
"Do you know how to use that?"
Bella pursed her lips for a moment, cocking the large gun once. "It can't be that hard. At least, I hope."
As soon as she heard the door fly open, Bella decided to let her instincts take over. She waited for the footsteps to come closer––so fucking many, she grimly thought––until they all sounded like they were in the living room. She took a short silent breath before finally sucking up the courage to stand up quickly and firing consecutively.
Bella yelled incoherently as she did, and felt a strange rush of…satisfaction in her chest as she watched the men before her topple over before they even got a chance to aim their weapons. One man managed to graze her arm, at least, but she couldn't feel a thing. Perhaps it was what it was, an adrenaline rush.
Or was it?
She felt her lips curve to a smile once she managed to take them all down. But not all of them were dead. Still relying on bare intuition, she set the machine gun aside and picked up a kitchen knife from the drawers.
"Bella, what are you––" Rosalie whispered worriedly.
Apparently, she couldn't hear a thing either. She walked on over to the pile of writhing bodies on the floor, kicking aside their weapons as she did. She straddled the closest man who was still alive and pressed the sharp end of the knife against his throat.
"Who sent you?" she asked in a low voice.
"Fuck you," the man spat. "You're one of Edward's whores. You––"
Her actions came first before they actually registered in her brain. She began stabbing his chest and his face violently––automatically, like a reflex from being disrespected. And she continued to do so long after the man's screams ceased.
Bella stood up slowly, turned around, and interrogated the rest of those still alive in the same manner. One of them confessed to being Wynona's. Another was able to disclose that they were able to find the safehouse because they'd tailed Edward earlier that day. The last man she talked to was able admit that the ambush at Carlisle's estate was a diversion. Killing Rosalie before she tattled was the primary goal, while kidnapping Bella was secondary.
She was extremely focused in getting the information she needed that she failed to notice another man, who remained unscathed and had been previously hiding behind the front door, silently and carefully aim towards her exposed back from the open window.
But Rosalie did.
"No!"
Bella heard that, this time. And the next sound couldn't be ignored at all. She heard the gunshot as soon as it fired, expected the subsequent pain, but felt nothing. Instead, she heard a thud behind her.
Instinct took over once more and she picked up one of her victims' pistol as she turned around. The man had frozen, possibly still confused as to who he'd just shot in that split-second. She easily aimed for the man's head and shot once. Perfectly.
"Delilah…"
Bella immediately dropped the gun and crawled to Rosalie's side. Shit. Fuck. The blood was pooling too quickly. That's a bad sign. She'd seen this before––
"You can't die," Rosalie murmured, choking on her own blood. "You still have to save her."
The brunette reached out with a shaky hand to assess the girl's wounds. It really wasn't looking good. Still, she decided to lie, "You'll be alright."
"Please," she begged. "Delilah's the only good thing I have in this world. She––She doesn't deserve this."
"I know," Bella whispered back, hunching over her as she fought the tears from falling. "I'm––I'll do it. I'll save her. I promise."
Rosalie shut her eyes, a tear rolling down the side of her cheek. "Thank you, Bella."
"I'm…so sorry, Rose."
Silence.
"Rose?"
Present
He poured himself another glass of brandy––low-class, but there wasn't much of a selection in the rundown safehouse––and twirled his drink pensively as he watched his team clean up the mess in the living room.
"We've been working too much overtime recently, Carlisle."
Carlisle drank first before responding. "You know I'm good for it."
"The payment's not the problem," Zafrina clarified, crossing her arms as she sat next to him on a kitchen counter stool. "Your war's making too much noise. Two massacres in a single day…that's too many bodies in a short amount of time. The sprees in Jacksonville were child's play compared to this. Your DA connections can only let so much slide all at once."
"They have no choice," Carlisle said. "Have they forgotten how much I've done for them? For this godforsaken country?"
"They will never forget." She paused for a moment. "But perhaps you can do more favors for them, to increase the incentive. Elections are coming soon, after all."
Carlisle rolled his blue eyes, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the counter. "What, more mistresses to shoot down? Kidnappings to stage? Drugs to strategically distribute? You know I'm getting too old for that shit."
"Then perhaps you can do a hand-off. To your…heir. You still haven't properly introduced us."
Carlisle smirked at that. "The boy's got enough on his plate right now. And if they're so pressed about the mess I'm making, why don't they lend a hand in this war to take Wynona down?"
"They're already doing their best. The security for the Cullens is being replaced and increased by them as we speak. But as for information…you know passing that off to your legal side takes time. All that red tape. And your enemy has her own connections out of the country that we're reluctant to meddle with."
"Exactly," Carlisle groaned, rubbing his temple. "God, I just have to do everything myself, don't I?"
"It's the reason the government loves you." Zafrina's gaze turned towards the bodies being carried out by the men in hazmat suits. "I must say, this havoc is impressive. And I'm to understand it was caused by a single person? And that it wasn't your particular mess?"
A pause. "It is. Just not directly."
"No, it's the mess of the same woman you planned to shoot down just a while back," she said slowly, facing him again. "Your decisions lately have been…intriguing."
"It's not your job to be intrigued."
"Fair point." Zafrina stood up and adjusted her vest. "But you'll have to admit, this scene looks very familiar. I imagine it's like looking at your own memory. Don't you think?"
Carlisle's hand tightened around his glass but he said nothing.
"The government loves you, Carlisle," she said again. "We favor the Cullens, not Bluewave. We know nothing about Isabella Swan. If we don't get some kind of insurance––"
"You will," he said simply. "I'll vouch for her."
Edward supposed even his tenacious Bella Swan had her limits. She was severely affected by what had occurred that night. And so was he.
They sat across from each other at a twenty-four hour diner a few miles away from the safehouse. She was newly showered and was wearing a fresh set of clothes––she had to settle with the plaid shirt and loose jeans available at the house––over a bandage on her arm, but the pain in her eyes he'd seen earlier remained.
She still hadn't touched the sausage and eggs he'd ordered her.
"You have to eat," Edward said softly.
Bella nodded slowly, her gaze still fixed on the table. "I will. I'm just––thinking."
"Then think while you eat."
"Edward…" She sighed. "Be honest with me. It was a senseless death, wasn't it? She died because of me. And it could've been avoided."
Edward clenched his jaw. "It happens. You can't blame yourself."
"I don't know what happened to me back there," she continued, clasping her hands together on the table. "I snapped. I wasn't thinking. I just kept going and going and going…"
He tried very hard not to think about it. About the familiarity of the situation. But it was impossible. "It's bloodlust."
Bella's gaze turned upwards to finally meet his.
"I've…seen it before," Edward murmured. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have left you behind to fend for yourself. I should've trained you first, at least. That was your first encounter with something that dangerous. I'm––really sorry. I'm never going to leave you that unprotected again, especially now that we know…that Tanya has turned on us."
Bella pursed her lips, her frown deepening as she recalled the betrayal. Tanya…She knew her Bluewave trainer no longer saw her as a friend after the revelation about her past, but the last thing any of them expected was this.
She didn't want to talk about it. Or even think about it yet. The pain was too fresh. Too much.
After several, pensive minutes, Bella asked softly, "So this bloodlust…Is it the same thing that happened with your father? The catalyst for the coup?"
He closed his eyes momentarily. He'd forgotten he told her about that.
"It makes sense now," she said in almost a whisper. "His interest and soft spot for me. He sees himself. I…don't know how to feel about that."
Edward sighed. "Don't be too hard on yourself."
"Easy for you to say," Bella chuckled humorlessly. "You've always had control."
"No."
Bella's brows furrowed.
He supposed now was the best time to discuss it, if any. "Bella, just because I haven't shot anyone recently doesn't mean I've never killed before."
"I don't––I just assumed…"
"Well, I have. More times than I can count." Edward sighed again. "Trust me, everyone has bloodlust once they're put in the right situation. The power over other people's lives––It's a feeling like no other. That was what you felt, right? A rush of power? Satisfaction?"
Bella nodded slowly.
"It's okay," he assured her, smiling weakly. "I feel it every time I'm put in the situation. But it's a choice, sweetheart. A conscious choice that takes time and commitment to continuously make."
Bella blinked slowly, processing his words. "I see. That makes sense."
Edward pursed his lips. "Believe it or not, Carlisle used to be able to control it, too. In his own way."
She widened her eyes at that.
"I mean, he was never a saint," Edward clarified, laughing softly. "It had always been effortless for him––to kill, I mean, without remorse. He taught me it was the best way to send a message across––and I still agree with that, to an extent. It's also what made him as formidable and powerful as he is today. But he never really went over the line or became too careless about it. Not until…"
He didn't have to finish for Bella to understand and nod solemnly. "I understand."
Edward smiled softly. "Tell me, sweetheart. Do you want to make that choice?"
"Yes. I…don't want this to happen again." Bella finally picked up her fork and began to eat. In between bites midway through the meal, she decided to ask softly, "Do you think he's doing a bit better now? Carlisle, I mean."
He took a sip of his soda before responding. "What do you mean?"
"Do you still think he's out of control?"
Edward fidgeted with the edge of his glass as he pondered on that. In the end, he decided to remain mute.
Tanya awoke in an unfamiliar, but cozy room. Even though her head was heavy with drugs, she could still feel a sharp, nagging pain at side of her belly.
She was…shot. She kind of remembered that. Then she was dragged away, half-dead, and stuffed in the back of a van. That was where she passed out. And now she was here, wherever here was.
She groaned softly as she sat herself up on the twin-sized bed. The sheets were strangely childish. As well as the wallpaper and the flooring. Was she in a kid's room? But that––
"You forced my hand, little Tanya. We're in very hot water now."
She jumped at the familiar, sickly sweet voice, which came from a woman sitting in a rocking chair set at the opposite side of the room. Wynona sat there, clad in a comfortable long dress, with what looked to be a sleeping, young boy around three years old on her lap. The older woman smiled softly towards her as she rocked the child.
"I also thought you'd never wake," Wynona murmured, caressing the side of the child's head. "You've been out for days."
Tanya exhaled slowly, clutching the sheets at her sides. "Where am I?"
"Doesn't matter. My boys went through so much trouble to pick you up, did you know that?"
She gritted her teeth. "You shot me."
"We tried to make your kidnapping as believable as possible," she explained. "Unfortunately, the effort was for naught. The Cullens don't seem like they're coming after you."
At that, Tanya couldn't help but smile bitterly. "Of course not. I never expected them to."
"You also cost me a lot of my men," Wynona said, her voice low now. "And we couldn't fulfill your wish to kill off Fortuna. You failed to mention to us just how much she can defend herself. My boys from New Haven have been eliminated, all by her own hand."
What? "You're joking."
Wynona's eyes flashed towards her, and Tanya shivered at the coldness in her dark gray orbs. "I never joke about war."
Tanya released a shaky breath. "Then you haven't fulfilled your end of the deal."
The woman stood up slowly, bringing the child with her as she walked to the side of the room where there was a smaller cot. She gently tucked the boy in the bed and kissed him on the forehead before making her way back to Tanya's side.
There was a sharpness in her gaze.
"I still don't trust you," Wynona said as she sat down on the cot. "I still don't understand you. If anything, you have to prove yourself to me, not the other way around."
Tanya narrowed her eyes. "You know I'm valuable. I've been running with the Cullens for more than a decade. I was Edward's right hand man, and later his own father's wife. And I'm not giving out any information unless Fortuna's dead."
"Why?" Wynona leaned in, her peculiar gray eyes roaming the blonde's face. "You've always been loyal to Carlisle. Even betrayed his own son for him before he was inducted. So why would you suddenly send a message to my people in Oregon, offering to turn traitor for the same men who took you in and gave you a new life? All for the price of one woman's death?"
"A new life?" Tanya repeated, laughing bitterly. "Yes, I suppose you're right. But what kind of life?"
Wynona tilted her head in confusion.
"You have no idea what that family's put me through," Tanya said shakily. "And while I followed through dutifully and loyally for most of my life, even I have my limits. I'm––just exhausted, Wynona. I'm utterly spent."
"Hmm." The older woman looked her over once. "But you love him, sweetheart. Don't you?"
Tanya looked down to her lap, lips quivering.
"That, my dear, is a weakness. And while I believe using weaknesses against others is efficient, I don't particularly like them, especially this one. Love makes people unpredictable."
"I do love him," Tanya said, but her tone was angry. "That's the whole point of this. He's––never going to care for me the way I do. And while I could've accepted that for the rest of my life, what I can't swallow is the company he'd rather keep and prioritize over me."
"Ah," Wynona hummed, finally understanding. "You mean Dame Fortuna."
"It's stupid," Tanya chuckled. "You know, I named her. I built her from the ground up for Bluewave. For them. Little did I know…Look, I'm aware just how much of a monster my dear husband is. Of course he'd prefer the company of monsters just like him. And perhaps this is the only way he can finally see me. If I turn just as cruel as him."
Wynona took her time in processing the girl's words, probably dissecting them one by one to evaluate if any of them were lies. "You're right. It's very stupid."
Tanya hung her head.
"You're off to a great start, if being cruel is the goal," the woman continued, standing up to her feet. "You must be aware of just how much Carlisle values his estate, hmm? His own home? And we just massacred them all. That's on you, too."
The blonde's eyes widened. Alessia. "You mean…"
"Neither party won this round, love, but at the very least, he definitely sees you now," Wynona said, smiling down sweetly. "Now I'm off to make you some dinner. I promise to work on my end of the deal. As long as you promise to keep yours once the girl is dead."
The woman was halfway out the door when she suddenly stopped and turned back to look at Tanya. There was a sweet, almost kind smile on her thin lips.
"How do you like your eggs?" Wynona asked with a tilt of the head.
Tanya furrowed her brows. "I––Um…Scrambled, I suppose."
"Lovely," Wynona replied, smiling widely now. Her teeth were unnaturally white and radiant. "So do I."
