TW: Drug use.

A/N: I did say the break wouldn't take long. The itch to finish this story is too strong. Hope you enjoy.

Dame Fortuna

Chapter 9: Redemption

Nine Months Later

"For fuck's sake, Edward, not the face."

But the Bluewave head was already in a frenzy. He tightened his hand around the brass on his knuckles and continued to throw several heavy punches across the seated man's cheek. To the man's credit, he didn't try to avoid any of the attacks. Or perhaps he knew the effort would be futile, since his arms were tightly cuffed behind him on the plastic chair.

Eventually, Edward pulled back. He didn't look tired in the least, though. He began to leisurely pace around the basement space, casually wiping off the blood in his hands as he did.

"May I ask what this is about yet?" the man groaned.

"You tell me."

"How am I supposed to fucking know? Did my men miss their payment again?"

Edward walked towards him again, already ready to throw another punch.

"W-Wait––For fuck's sake, just tell me. I can't possibly keep track of all my sins. I make a million of them everyday."

Edward hesitated then, his fist still hovering in the air. Eventually, he narrowed his eyes and said, "I'm talking about your sin three nights ago."

"Three nights––Oh." The man sighed deeply then, leaning his head back. "That…was an accident. And I was obviously pissed drunk. I'm pretty sure I received more damage than she did––"

That was a mistake to say, obviously, because Edward began to hit him across the face again, on the other side this time. He didn't stop until the man's nose began to bleed.

"I'm––sorry," the man wheezed. "I almost forgot how you are with your girls. How…How can I make it up to you?"

Edward removed the brass on his knuckles, dropping them on the linoleum floor. He tilted his head before proceeding to lean down to meet the man's eyes. "You tell me."

"Really?" He turned momentarily to spit blood on the ground. "We're doing the guessing thing again?"

"How would I know if you have anything of value to offer?" Edward shrugged. "So you tell me. Any kind of information will do."

A pause. "And what do I get in return?"

For the first time, Edward smiled. "Your life."

"Everyone knows you're not a cold-blooded killer, Edward."

"No, everyone knows I don't need to shoot you myself to end your life," the younger man said, shaking his head. "You know very well your business won't survive if I pull you out of the club. I can take out my investments. Tell a couple of stories. What would your men do to you if you don't pay them in the next month?"

The man sighed deeply, slouching further in the chair. "Are we secure?"

Edward stood up straight and walked over to where his two guards were standing. "Leave us."

He waited several more minutes, ensuring that the suits completely left the hall. He then leaned over the open doorway and crossed his arms. "Well?"

"You have to protect me if this shit blows up in my face," the man said grimly.

Edward nodded once. "You have my word."

"Okay." The man sighed again. "I can only offer a breadcrumb for now. There's…a guy. Goes by the name Laurent. Fucker's from Italy or Rome or something, but recently settled in Florida. Guy handles gun trade with global connections. He's been bumping off Bluewave stakes in the area."

"Hmm. How is this interesting?"

"It's the way he's bumping them off," the man continued, his voice lowering to a whisper. "He's not just selling low. He pitches strategically. I haven't heard the pitch myself, but…Edward, he's been selling guns directly to Bluewave partners. An external supply."

Edward's jaw clenched. He narrowed his eyes and began walking slowly towards the man. "You're full of shit. Atticus would've told me."

"I don't think the old man's aware," the man whispered, looking down guiltily. "But I know who is."

"Who?"

The man pursed his lips. "Now you'll really have to protect me. Because…it's my superior in the council. Narcotics."

Edward began to breathe heavily, his nostrils flaring as he struggled to maintain his composure. "I fucking knew it," he swore, hastily taking out his phone from his pocket.

"Hey, hey, hey––" the man began to say, squirming in his seat. "Don't do anything rash. If you do something now, it'll obviously point to me."

"Shut up," Edward said, pressing a button and putting the phone against his ear.

It only took two rings for the call to be answered. "Hmm. I thought we weren't supposed to––"

"Shut up," Edward said again, rubbing his temple. "We're bumping up the timeline. You're coming in the next couple of weeks."

A pause. "Bold of you to assume I'll be in the state by then. I'm on vacation."

"Come home," Edward demanded. "We have a lot of work to do."

The caller sighed deeply. "Well. Anything for my boy."

Edward made a disgusted face before quickly hanging up. He turned to the trembling man in the seat.

"Who…was that?"

"You said you wanted protection, right?" Edward said smoothly, walking over to loosen the cuffs on his prisoner's hands. "I just gave you the best one in the country. Perhaps even the world. All you have to do to survive is to keep your mouth shut and not piss him off."

The man rubbed his strained wrists as soon as he was free. He raised a brow quizzically towards the Edward. "Who…" When it finally dawned on him, he visibly paled. "No. The council hasn't given their favor––"

"The council's already betrayed me, Garrett," Edward cut him off, his sage green eyes sharp and menacing. "They should've known better than to stir up a war. Perhaps this will remind them not to fuck with me."

Bella zipped up the tall blonde's blood red corset, smiling as she regarded the woman's figure in the full-length mirror in the dressing room. "This looks perfect on you."

"You think so?" she said timidly, her brown eyes lighting up as she met Bella's gaze in the mirror. "Is it weird I still get a little nervous?"

"I was the same during my first few dances," Bella shrugged. "But you'll do wonderful, Rose. Ophelia's trained you well."

"You've been very kind to me too, Bella." Rosalie paused. "I mean––Fortuna."

"Either way's fine," Bella chuckled. Then, after pursing her lips for a moment, she asked, "How are you feeling, by the way? About the…incident a couple of nights ago?"

Rosalie's expression darkened for a while, and she stalled by running her hands through her long blond locks for a while. "I mean, it's not the first time I've gone through that. The guy was drunk. And I'm pretty sure I kicked him in the balls at least five times." She tilted her head, looking momentarily worried as she asked, "Would that get me in trouble, you think? I'm only new."

"Nope," Bella assured her, patting her on the shoulder. "Don't worry, management's handling it. They take care of us girls."

Rosalie smiled then. "Glad to hear it."

"I'll leave you to prep."

Bella left the girl, but not before picking up her beige coat from the rack and wrapping it around herself. She was already out of the hall and a few feet away from the back exit when she hesitated.

She realized she hadn't checked in on her in a while.

She swiftly turned back around and headed up the service stairs. She eventually reached the private quarters at the third story. The last door in the hall––guarded by two men in suits––was ajar.

The guards ignored her as she stepped inside. The room smelled distinctly of marijuana, as it usually did around this time. And there she was, laying on the queen-sized bed, a lit roll tucked between her manicured fingers, clad in a silk red robe and staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Hey, Tanya," Bella greeted softly, sitting next to the girl on the bed.

Bella never really found out why the girl practically never went home, even though she rarely ever danced. Edward never really told her much of anything that he considered "unnecessary information"––for your protection, he would constantly say. After a while, she'd tried getting answers from Tanya herself. As it turned out, Tanya had a tighter lip than her own man.

It constantly bothered her, though, how Tanya had become a wandering ghost at Club Bluewave for the past several months. It hurt, because she had always been sweet on Bella. There was barely any life in her beautiful, pale blue eyes as of late.

Said eyes––which were now reddish from the drug––turned to the visitor, narrowing slightly. "How's the new girl?" she asked softly.

"She's okay," Bella said, shrugging slightly. "Ophelia taught her well. Though she's a little shaken up from the thing with Garrett."

"Garrett's always been an idiot," Tanya sighed, looking back to the ceiling as she took another drag. "It'll be the cause of his death one of these days."

"Hmm." Bella decided to try again, at least. "You want to head out for dinner? Or maybe some drinks?"

"You're very kind, Fortuna" was all Tanya said, as she always did.

Eventually, Bella just had to leave her alone.

Her chauffeur was already waiting at the driveway of the club, and opened the backseat door for her as soon as she stepped out of the back door.

"Good evening, Marcus," Bella nodded awkwardly as she settled inside.

The man didn't greet her back as he closed the door gently. In fact, the old man never really spoke. Which was a striking contrast to the last chauffeur she'd had––

Bella blushed and shut her eyes, trying to wave off the last memory she had with Jacob. But it was impossible. And not to mention embarrassing.

A Few Months Ago

Bella immediately awoke in her apartment from the sound of deep-voiced screaming and shattering glass coming from her living room.

She quickly wrapped a robe around herself and headed outside the door. Her breath immediately hitched at the sight of a grown man in a suit being flung across the kitchen, rolling off the counter and crumpling on the floor.

"Jesus––" she swore, then turned to the culprit of the attack. "Edward, what the fuck––"

"No, it's okay," Jacob groaned from the floor, holding himself up from the floor by the elbows. "This––This is part of it."

"Part of what?"

Edward's expression was neutral as he walked across the living room, not even looking at Bella as he picked up the man by the collar from the ground. "We made a deal," he said in a monotone before punching the man again across the cheek.

"This is insane," Bella cried, instinctively stepping backwards as she watched Jacob take several blows, without him even trying to fight back.

"I––should've told you, Bells," Jacob managed to say between being punched in the gut. "Bluewave employees––aren't really––supposed to have––relations with––"

Bella didn't need to hear anymore, the situation finally dawning on her. Mortified and blushing furiously, she said, "For God's sake, Edward, it was my idea back then. Leave the man alone."

"I still have about a minute," Edward said simply, kicking the man again, causing Jacob to once again fall to the floor. He hovered above the man for a while, before saying, "Have you learned your lesson?"

"Definitely," Jacob sighed. Despite the situation, the man managed to weakly smile in Bella's direction. "It's okay, Bells. I, uh, consider it a privilege."

In the end, Edward grabbed Jacob by the arm and hoisted him back to his feet. "Good," he decided, patting the man on the back once.

It was when her ex-chauffeur finally left the apartment that Bella was able to look closely at the massive damage the altercation had caused in her home.

"My God, this is a mess," Bella sighed as she picked up the broom from her storage closet.

Edward narrowed his eyes at her from his place in the couch as she began to sweep. "You don't have to do that."

"Oh, so you expect me to just live with this?"

"No," Edward said, his lips curving up to a smirk. "You don't have to do that because you're leaving this dump. Today. End of discussion."

Present

And her new home for the past few months was where her generally mute driver had dropped her off that early morning. The luxury apartment Edward had gotten for her––again, for her protection, as the building had a stringent amount of security––was a little further away from the club. The receptionist greeted her politely by name as she headed up the elevator.

Bella checked her cellphone. Still no update.

Her thoughts wandered towards his safety, as it usually did whenever he disappeared. However, once she stepped inside towards the high-ceilinged living space, her worries quickly dissipated.

Because there he already was, sitting on an elegant stool by the granite kitchen counter, pouring himself a drink. His sage green eyes looked up immediately as she came in, and his lips curved up into a gentle smile.

"Hello, sweetheart," he greeted sweetly.

Bella sighed, running over to him and pulling him in for an embrace. "Thank God, you're alright."

"Of course," he murmured, kissing her temple. He lifted her chin to face him, and her heart immediately melted at the softness of his gaze. "I have everything to live for, after all."

"Always so dramatic," Bella chuckled.

He laughed along with her, until it ceased when he leaned down to kiss her softly. God, she could never get enough of the intoxicating man. He pulled her closer to him by the waist, and she instantly felt the familiar stirring at the pit of her stomach––

"How was your night?" he murmured, suddenly pulling away slightly.

Bella bit her lip. "What do you want to know?"

Edward tilted his head. "You know what."

Ah. It was his…thing. Bella stepped backwards, eyeing him coyly as she untied her coat. Once she was able to shrug it off, she basked in the way his eyes eagerly roamed her body in the number she had worn for the night––a light green bikini pair with netted stockings.

"Only had two private dances tonight," she sighed, walking over to the living room and towards the tall metal pole. He wordlessly followed behind her, setting himself down on the chaise lounge directly across from her.

"Alfred and Quentin," Edward guessed.

Bella nodded, leaning over the console at the adjacent wall to play the song she had also played for her clients earlier that night. She shot him a knowing smile before wrapping her leg around the pole and proceeding to dance her practiced number.

It was his favorite thing, to watch her perform and knowing that only he would be able to do afterwards what her clients would fantasize and probably even kill to do. Sure enough, before she was even able to reach the two-minute mark, the man had already stood up to meet her at the pole.

"Were you able to secure them?" he whispered as he pushed her gently against the cold rod, his sharp nose grazing the side of her face.

"What, you don't trust me?" she said breathlessly, her knees threatening to buckle as his finger trailed down her bare waist. "They'll play nice to their fellow Bluewave competitors now. Alfred settled with meth in southwest. And Quentin won't be a problem anymore for Colton Banks. His girls will stay in Atlanta."

"Such a good girl," Edward cooed, caressing the side of her cheek. "You deserve a reward."

And the man followed through. Soon, Bella found herself bare on the chaise lounge, face-down and her bottom in the air, with Edward holding her close by the chest against him. His breaths were shallow and sweet against her ear as he thrusted heavily in and out of her, the way he knew she liked.

This was her favorite thing, too.

It didn't take long for her to topple over the edge, and he along with her. And they lay there for a long while after, still entangled and connected together, as Edward continued to pepper chaste kisses on her shoulders and neck.

"Well, I told you about my day," she eventually said, twisting herself around to face him on the couch. "How was yours?"

She wasn't surprised when his expression slightly hardened. "You don't have to know about that," he said, shooting her a tight smile. "For your––"

"––protection," she sighed, looking down slightly. "Yeah. I know."

Edward slowly sat up then, pulling his pants back on as he stood up. His expression turned concerned when he noticed Bella remained in her position on the couch with her eyes downcast. "Hey. Are you upset with me?"

Bella rolled over to lie fully on the couch, facing the ceiling. "I wish…At the very least, I wish you could help me understand the thing with Tanya. If nothing else."

She didn't look at him, but she felt him sit back down on the couch, taking her bare feet to rest on his lap. He began massaging her toes gently as he thought of how to respond. After almost a whole minute, he decided to say, "Whatever she's going through, it's for her own good."

Bella scoffed. "Her own good? The girl barely speaks, and when she does, she's always high out of her mind. Whatever it is you're putting her through is clearly taking a toll on her."

She must've said something very wrong, because the man's hand suddenly clenched around her toes, and his expression had turned hostile. He rarely ever showed his temper around her––at least, never directly towards her––and despite herself, she instinctively scooted away from him on the couch.

He remained silent, but with a furious gaze looking a million miles away as he stared at nothing in particular, until he eventually slouched and buried his face in his hands. "She'll be fine," he said again, sounding dejected.

Bella narrowed her eyes, hugging her knees against her bare chest. "You're…sure?"

Edward turned to face her. He had turned melancholy now. "Sweetheart, I––All those months ago, I told you things were about to get worse. That time has finally come. I…Would you mind staying home for the next couple of weeks? Until I'm sure everything is alright?"

"I also told you all those months ago that I want you to pull me in," Bella countered, leaning forward to face him. "That I don't need your protection. I've humored you enough. I'm getting tired of you keeping me at an arm's length about everything."

"I'm putting you in enough danger already by selfishly keeping you with me," Edward snapped, standing suddenly with his chest heaving. "I'm not doing you any favors either by how indiscreet I've made our relationship."

"Oh? Am I supposed to thank you for not keeping me a secret?"

"God, Bella," he cried, leaning his head back exasperatedly as he began to pace. "You know very well that's not what I mean. You––Fuck, we're at the cusp of an in-house war. The very thing I've been busting my ass off for years to avoid. I have no idea who to trust at this point. And it's my own fucking fault for not seeing this coming so soon.

"And since this is a war, both sides will be looking towards the other for weaknesses. I'm the biggest target of them all. What weakness would first come to mind when it comes to taking me down, do you think?"

Bella swallowed as she stared up at him, her fingers slightly trembling around her legs as the words sunk in. "War…You mean…"

Edward exhaled slowly, as if to regain his composure. "So forgive me, sweetheart, if I refuse to pull you all the way in. It's bad enough they know I'm soft when it comes to you. It would risk your life even further if they see you as a prominent source of information."

She stood up then, picking up a robe from the rack and wrapping it around herself. She remained silent as she walked over to the full-length windows overlooking the city. Her gaze was fixed on the streets below as she felt him approach her from behind.

"I stand by what I warned you before," Edward whispered in a low voice, his breath fanning the back of her head. "That I will never let you go. But at least tell me, Bella, honestly––do you regret not walking out that door?"

He'd never asked that before. But the answer came easily to her just the same. Bella turned around, reaching up to trace the side of his cheek, which resulted in a soft sigh from the man.

"I also made it clear back then that you're my home, Edward," she murmured, kissing him softly on the lips. "You won't be rid of me so easily."

"Anything for my boy," he sighed on the phone, leaning back on the metal seat as he did.

Carlisle shoved the phone back into his dark coat pocket as soon as his son hung up the phone. His deep cerulean eyes wandered back to the young woman across from him, dressed in a formal vest and slacks.

"Who was that?" she asked in her vaguely European accent.

"Who do you think, Zafrina?" His gaze then wandered down to the sheets of paper arranged neatly on the ratty wooden table. His headache worsened as he read the highlighted words again.

conspiracy

what is Bluewave?

massive government coverup

Drugs? Guns?

"You told him you were on vacation," Zafrina said, tilting her head curiously. "I'm guessing your son has no idea what you've been up to recently."

"I'm only paying it forward," Carlisle said grimly, his fingers tapping steadily on the table. "The boy's cleaned up enough of my messes without needing my say-so. It's time for me to clean up his."

"So you're paving a path to your own redemption?" the woman said, her thin lips curling into an amused smile. "I must say, this is very unlike you. Is the great Carlisle Cullen turning soft?"

Go easy on the boy.

Carlisle returned his gaze towards her, his cerulean eyes glinting sharply. "No, I'm only fulfilling a promise, only a little too late."