A/N: Violence.

Dame Fortuna

Chapter 10: Wedding

It was on the fourth day of Bella's own half-willing house arrest when she received the call.

She had been in the middle of practicing a number in the living room when the phone connected to the stereo suddenly rang loudly. Without bothering to look at the caller ID, she walked over to the table and picked up the cell.

"Hello?" she answered breathlessly, still a bit tired from the new pirouette trick she tried earlier.

"Good afternoon, Bella. Is this a bad time?"

Well, it wasn't Edward, but the gentle voice was vaguely familiar just the same. She decided to take a quick look at the saved name.

What?

She'd almost forgotten the man existed. Her cheeks immediately warmed as she remembered the incident more than a year ago with the stranger. She'd never seen his face after that, and had assumed he wasn't a frequent Bluewave patron.

Bella cleared her throat as she put the phone back to her ear. "Hey. I, uh, see you've followed through. In not being pressured to call, I mean."

Carlisle chuckled softly. "I've been very busy. But the offer still stands. Would you be free for coffee tonight?"

She sank herself down on the couch. "I'm sorry. I don't know what kind of patron you are exactly at Bluewave, but if you aren't aware…"

"Interesting. So Edward really hasn't said a word to you about me?"

Suddenly, Bella felt a rush of danger run down her spine. She wasn't sure why, but suddenly she felt very tempted to hang up the phone. Regardless, she said, "I'm…sorry?"

There was a short pause at the other end of the line. "That's reckless," he said, sounding bewildered. "But also for the best. This can be our little secret."

Her hand began to tremble on the phone. "Listen, Carlisle––"

"I can make it worth your while," he cut off smoothly. "And you can bring a friend. Trust me, you'll be making her very happy."

"A friend?"

"Tell me, sweetheart, how's my Tanya been doing the past months?"

Bella released a sharp breath then. "You––Are you one of her clients?"

That earned her some genuine, angelic laughter from the man. "I sure hope she doesn't see me that way. But you didn't answer my question."

She fell silent, recalling the last time she saw Tanya on that bed, eyes glazed and looking severely depressed for a reason she could never figure out.

As if he was able to read her mind, Carlisle repeated, "You'll be making her very happy. All you have to do is tell her to come with you to see me."

"Well, why don't you go see her yourself?"

The man paused. "I wish I could. I assume she's constantly guarded. Right now, you're untouchable. The invitation has to come from you."

Obviously, Bella was still very reluctant. Especially given the situation Edward had told her, how even the Bluewave head was unsure of who to trust in the organization…

"I mentioned I can make it worth your while," Carlisle continued. "If you come for coffee, Bella, I can promise you'll have all the answers you need. Aren't you tired of being kept in the dark?"

The hand on her lap unconsciously formed into a tight fist. "And you're telling me not to tell Edward? To…go against him?"

Another short pause. "Clearly you're not getting any answers from that end."

She bit her lip, remaining mute for a few long seconds.

"It's up to you," he finally sighed. "If you won't do it for yourself, perhaps you can do it for Tanya. And I'll need an answer now."

"So he's still fucking suicidal."

The stranger had said it would make the woman happy with the invitation, but he didn't mention that Tanya would have immediately sat up from her weed-induced stupor and begin frenziedly dressing up and packing a purse in her Bluewave quarters.

"Who is––" Bella began as she sat at the edge of the bed.

"Quiet," Tanya whispered, nodding towards the closed doors. "I assume you he gave you instructions?"

Bella nodded slowly, tightening her coat around her. Mirroring her companion's hushed voice, she said, "I told them I'm taking you to my apartment. For a sleepover."

"Perfect," Tanya said, now clad in a tight yellow number. She now sat herself in front of the vanity table and began to touch up her makeup.

Bella pursed her lips and gingerly walked over until she stood behind the woman. She couldn't help but try again: "Who is he?"

"He would've told you himself if he wanted you to know," she sighed, spraying perfume around herself.

"Well, he said I'll be getting answers."

"Then take it from him when we see him."

Bella began to pace then, a wave of fear and guilt washing up her senses. "I––I should at least tell Edward I'm taking you."

Tanya swiveled to face her, her glazed eyes narrowing. "Don't. Is he around?"

"No. He…mentioned he had a meeting. He's not at the club today."

"Perfect," Tanya said simply again, resuming putting on her eyeliner and lipstick.

Bella's uneasiness remained as the pair headed down the stairs and out the club by the backdoor. As was promised by the stranger, a sedan with an unfamiliar chauffeur standing by was already waiting for them in the driveway.

"He…said you'd be happy," Bella began sometime during the silent trip, fidgeting with her fingers on her lap.

Tanya kept her gaze straight ahead and her arms crossed. "He's so full of himself."

"Does he have anything to do with what happened in the past months? Why you've been so…you know."

The blonde's eyes turned downcast now. "Hmm. Might as well. He killed a man for me." Her pale blue irises met her companion's. "Victor, if you recall him."

Bella's breath hitched in her throat. "You mean––"

"I begged him to do it," Tanya continued, her lips curving up to a small, self-deprecating smile. "Victor reminded me so much of my––Doesn't matter. He killed him for me as a gift, but I paid the price. Partners and sponsors found out and threatened to kill me. Edward knew the only neutral location where I could be the safest was in Bluewave." She chuckled darkly. "It's ironic. In the end, it's always the girl who pays the price. I'm so sick of it."

Before Bella could even properly digest or react to the information, the car had stopped in front of a seemingly abandoned recreational center in the outskirts of town. Definitely not coffee, she thought grimly. However, Tanya didn't seem fazed at all with the location; she wordlessly stepped outside and headed towards the open doors, not even looking back to check if her companion was following her.

Bella kept her hands inside her coat pockets, keeping them in tight fists as they shook with anxiety. She was in trouble. She couldn't figure out why or how she knew that, but she was sure.

But if this was for Tanya…

They eventually ended up in the only room that was illuminated by lights, and Bella's eyes widened at the sight inside. There was no electricity in the center, so the place had been lit with candles that were spread out evenly––even romantically––in the floor and window ledges. There was a strange, flowery arch set up in the opposite wall.

And there he was, leaning against a wooden table across the arch, holding a gorgeous bouquet of roses and snapdragons. The stranger.

His eyes weren't on Bella though, and were fixed on her companion's as Tanya slowly stepped forward. There was that familiar, gentle smile on his lips.

"Flowers?" Tanya said, her voice slightly incredulous.

"They would never be enough," he said softly. "For all you've been through."

"He wouldn't even let me have a phone," Tanya said bitterly, but still continuing to walk towards the man. "Your son thinks I'd end up making a habit of calling hits."

"Son?"

The pair turned towards Bella then, who had frozen at the doorway, shaking minutely as all the information finally sunk in. Her brown eyes turned wider and wider by the second as they darted between the two––

––and finally landed permanently on her own partner's father.

"You're…Edward's father," Bella breathed. "Of course. Oh––God."

Don't. You'll regret it, Bella.

If Edward's as terrifying as he is now, can you just imagine what the man before him was like? The one who actually built the place?

Carlisle––Cullen, she finally stupidly realized––stood up steadily from his position, setting the flowers down on the table. His cerulean blue eyes regarded her pensively. "I did promise you'd get some answers."

Bella couldn't help but take a step back as her mind began to reel. "I still don't understand most of what's going on."

"In due time," Carlisle assured her with a tight smile. "I'm here to hit two birds with one stone. I'd like to start with the one that matters more to me."

He turned to face Tanya again. His eyes were fixed on hers as he pulled out a box from the pocket of his slacks. The woman's eyes widened as the man casually opened it before her.

"You really are sick, Carlisle," Tanya said, her expression contorting to that of contempt. "Edward was right. You really do get off playing me."

She didn't pull away, though, when he wordlessly put the golden band around her finger. Bella watched with plain astonishment as he, too, put a matching band around his own.

"I was forced to bump up the timeline, but no, it's not a game," he said smoothly, his expression unreadable as he took both Tanya's hands in his. "It's security. They can't touch you now, not without knowing they'll be wronging me to the gravest extent. And we'll be coming home to Bluewave together."

"You're…coming home?"

He nodded once, solemnly. "You'll get your life back. If you'll have me, Tanya."

The girl's lips began to quiver. "But you don't even…"

Carlisle broke away from her gaze then, his eyes melancholy when they turned towards the ground just as he let go of her hands.

She bit her lip for a moment. "What would Edward say?"

He didn't look up as he responded softly: "It wouldn't be the first time I went after you against his wishes. He'll find a way to cope."

Tanya held up her hand, her eyes turning glassy as she stared at the wedding ring. "I do," she eventually breathed. She turned to the man before her, her pale blue eyes softening. "And you?"

He only smiled weakly, before wordlessly pulling her by the waist to place a chaste kiss on her lips. He pulled away after a long while, turning his head slightly with a curious expression towards the other lady in the room.

Bella had remained standing awkwardly by the doorway while the scene unfolded, her hands still tucked in her pockets. "I guess I get why I'm here now. For…your witness."

"Yes. And you're my other bird."

Bella's eyes widened and she backed away instinctively as the man strode forward briskly to meet her, his hand reaching to the backside of his pants––

I'm in trouble. I fucking knew it.

Because there she was, staring helplessly at the silver barrel of a gun held steadily by arguably the most powerful and most terrifying man in the continental US.

Carlisle's cerulean eyes were no longer soft as they were earlier with Tanya. Now, they were cold and unforgiving.

Bernard Atticus––formerly Lieutenant General Atticus, actually, as the man had served honorably for the country's army for several decades––had always been a loyal man. First, he was steadfastly loyal to the flag, which was why he was one of the most well-decorated veterans of his time.

However, he was also the type of man who was incapable of forgiveness once his loyalty was abused. For instance, once he found out that his own superior general had slept with his now-late wife while he was called away, it was only natural for him to use his power and connections to exact the perfect revenge. Both parties were now six feet under the ground, and no one dared bat an eye. To most, his actions were even respectable.

It was his character of unrelenting loyalty, vengeful spirit, and respectable constitution that had made him a prime target for induction at Bluewave. Despite their different backgrounds, it had been fairly easy to align with a charismatic man like Carlisle Cullen. The man had a strong vision, just like Atticus did, and commanded his people with a confidence that rivaled that of even the strongest army generals.

Unfortunately, he, too, eventually disappointed him with his reckless bloodlust.

However, it wasn't all for naught. Because Carlisle had managed to sire an heir to the organization who inherited all of his redeeming qualities––wit, strength, and confidence––while also maintaining a good heart. There was no hint of unnecessary thirst for blood on this one, as Atticus had often seen with men who held any semblance of power not even close to what the boy had.

Edward Cullen was young, yes, but that also only made him all the more formidable. Of all the commanders he'd served so far, he trusted this man the most. Which was why it was only natural for him to feel guilt and self-disappointment when Edward shared with him the news of the stirrings of an in-house war.

"I should've seen this coming," the old man said gravely, shaking his head as he sat in the al fresco table with Edward at the former's country home. "The fact that I was never even informed about the supply––"

"I believe that was part of the plan," Edward cut off, pensively stirring the wine in his glass. "I trust you, Atticus. I know it wasn't a coverup on your end."

"I'm still disappointed," Atticus insisted, his wrinkled hand curling into a fist on the table. "Is there still a way to keep the peace? Another compromise?"

"This lapse in judgment on my part is irreversible," Edward admitted. "I know why Wynona's doing this, why they're so brazen about going against my wishes. They consider me weak, ever since the Victor incident. And they're well aware I'm not as cold-hearted as my…predecessor."

Atticus' lips pursed in to a hard line. "And that is not a fault."

"It is now." Edward's eyes turned to him. And they were dark. "I need your support in this, Atticus. I can't do this without your favor."

"My favor…" The older man raised a brow. "You don't mean––"

"I know you were against it before," Edward said, having a deep sigh. "But it's the only way. I'm calling him in and I need your support. You have the most stake in the council with security and manpower. And you and I both know it's time to clean house before this gets any worse."

Atticus heaved a deep sigh, his expression turning wary. "Edward…"

"Let my father prove his worth again," Edward insisted. "There's a reason you believed in him back then. Try to hold on to that, at least this once."

A long pause. "Do you trust him?"

"Not entirely," Edward admitted. "But I know how to make him heel better than anyone else."

"Hmm." Atticus leaned back in his seat, looking defeated. "At the very least, I trust you, Edward. If you truly believe there is no other way, then I'm on your side."

Before Edward could make a response to that, however, one of Atticus' men in a suit came rushing out of the house, looking completely out of breath.

"Sir!" the guard breathed. "We…lost her."

"Lost who?" Atticus asked, sitting back up in his seat.

The guard swallowed, turning to the Bluewave head. "Your girl, sir. Fortuna. She left with Dame Tanya from the club. We were informed they'll be going to her apartment, but…they never arrived."

"What?" Edward roared, standing up immediately from his seat, causing his wine glass to shatter loudly on the platform. "What the fuck––Why in the world would you let Tanya out of your sight?"

"S-She insisted––"

"Fuck!"

Edward stormed out of the deck, walking frenziedly towards his Maserati parked in the driveway. Atticus followed closely behind him.

"Do you think this is an attack?" Atticus called as he stood in the front porch, his breaths coming out in short breaths from the quick jog.

"I don't fucking know," Edward swore, closing the door shut. He rolled down the window before he pulled away, eyeing the Lieutenant General dangerously before adding, "It better not be. Because if I get a scratch on either one of them, Atticus, this'll be on your fucking head."

No, no, no.

Edward had no idea where to go. His route instinctively led him towards the club. Perhaps he could get some clues as to where they'd gone from there.

You're my home, Edward. You won't be rid of me so easily.

"Shit," he whimpered, his face contorting painfully as he hit the gas pedal harder.

He was only a few blocks away from the establishment when his phone buzzed on the mount. His eyes wandered momentarily to the screen––

Immediately, he skidded the car to a stop in the middle of an intersection. With shaky hands, he picked up the phone and pulled it closer to him, just to make sure he read the message correctly.

His worry instantly morphed to that of pure anger. He roughly did a u-turn right there, almost hitting a parked car as he did, and headed towards the outskirts of the city.

"I swore I wouldn't hesitate this time," he murmured to himself in a low voice. Without looking away from the road, he reached towards the glovebox on the passenger seat, pulling out the pristine piece he'd sworn never to use. But it was loaded.

Fuck Bluewave. Fuck this stupid war. If his father so much as touched a hair on Bella's head, he would make sure it was the last thing the man would ever do. He'd already warned him long ago.

With his dangerously rapid speed, he was able to reach the address within twenty minutes. He didn't bother parking the car properly before taking the gun with him inside the abandoned recreational center.

It was eerily silent.

It was past nine p.m. now, and it was dark. He pointed his gun ahead of him as he scaled the interior, using his phone as a flashlight. Only one room was illuminated. Once he stepped inside, he narrowed his eyes at the candles on the floor, and the set of fresh flowers on the table in the middle of the room. And the most damning of the all––the arch.

Edward released a shuddering breath. Tanya. For fuck's sake. Don't fucking tell me––But he just couldn't deal with that now. Not yet.

The room was completely empty. But there were also no signs of a struggle. Or blood.

He walked back out into the hallway, heading deeper into the center, until he finally heard it. The sound of a muffled conversation, coming from behind a closed metal door at the end of the corridor.

Before he could reach for the handle, however, another loud sound caused him to jump. The last sound he ever hoped to hear in this situation.

Bang.

"No!" he cried, pulling the heavy door open and stumbling inside.

He could never have guessed the sight before him.

Because there she was––his sweet Bella Swan––still on her feet and with her back facing to him. But as his eyes adjusted better to the dim lighting, his blood ran cold as he realized her hands were stretched out in front of her, holding a familiar, silver revolver––

No.

And there, crumpled to the floor across from her, was a figure with blond locks seeped with fresh red. Unmoving.