The Broken Bow
summary; Bella Swan has spent her life spreading love and binding hearts together with her supernatural gifts. When she crosses paths with Edward Cullen her world begins to shift. She's determined to show him the beauty of love—even as they turn into target practice for a darker force.
one
BELLA
The coffee shop was alive with the morning buzz—clinking mugs, low chatter, and the occasional hiss of the espresso machine. I swirled my latte, the foam slowly dissolving as I let out a sigh. Across from me, Rosalie Hale scrolled on her phone, her perfectly groomed brows furrowing every now and then as she muttered complaints about her email inbox.
"Sebastian screw up another match?" she asked without looking up.
"Fourth this month," I muttered, leaning back in the booth. "And, of course, he texted me about it like he deserves a medal. Something about saving them from a lifetime of emotional ruin."
Rosalie finally looked up, her sharp blue eyes narrowing. "Why do you even entertain him? You're literally working to bring people happiness, and he's out there running a wrecking ball through it. He's insufferable."
I shrugged. "He's Sebastian. He thinks love is overrated and anyone who believes in it is setting themselves up for heartbreak. It's like he doesn't know how to just… not be an ass."
"Maybe you should start breaking his stuff every time he breaks one of your matches. Eye for an eye," Rosalie suggested, smirking.
I huffed a laugh. "Believe me, I've thought about it. But he's still my brother. I can't exactly cut him off for being a cynic. Besides, if I don't at least try to keep him in check, who will?"
She shook her head, rolling her eyes. "The universe really did a number on you two. One sibling spreading love everywhere, the other tearing it apart. Honestly, I don't know how you haven't strangled him yet."
"Pure willpower," I replied, draining the last of my latte. I glanced at the line forming near the counter and sighed. "I need a refill. Be right back."
Sliding out of the booth, I made my way to the counter, the smell of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. The line wasn't too long, but it was moving at a snail's pace. I crossed my arms, trying not to let my annoyance show.
It still amazed me sometimes how different Sebastian and I were, despite sharing the same origin. My gift had surfaced when I was fourteen, after I helped two shy classmates finally confess their feelings for each other. The satisfaction, the joy, the raw energy of their love—it sparked something inside me. From then on, I realized I could see connections between people, those fragile threads of potential that could be strengthened into love. It wasn't just about observation, though. My touch, my presence—it amplified those threads, binding them into something lasting.
Basically Cupid - minus the archery.
But it came with limits. My power thrived on joy, love, and passion. Without it, my strength waned, and I became… ordinary. Sebastian, on the other hand, operated in reverse, thriving on heartbreak, chaos, and discord. He claimed he was just "revealing the cracks" that already existed, but to me, it was more like a deliberate wrecking ball.
The line inched forward, and I stepped up, just as a man in a navy suit with perfectly tousled bronze hair cut in front of me. His movements were effortless, confident, as though the world naturally bent to his will.
"Excuse me?" I said, raising an eyebrow as I stared at his broad back.
He turned, and I faltered. His green eyes, sharp and assessing, met mine. His chiseled features were almost absurdly attractive, but the smug smirk pulling at his lips snapped me out of it.
"Yes?" he asked, his tone smooth and uninterested.
"You just cut the line," I said, keeping my voice calm but lacing it with just enough sarcasm to make my irritation clear. "Did you think no one would notice?"
He tilted his head slightly, his smirk deepening. "I'm in a bit of a hurry. I figured you wouldn't mind."
"Oh, I mind," I shot back, crossing my arms. "See, some of us have this thing called patience. Maybe you've heard of it?"
His gaze flicked over me, and something about the way his eyes lingered made my skin heat. "Patience is overrated," he said, his voice casual.
"Kind of like manners, apparently," I replied, raising an eyebrow.
For a moment, his smirk faltered, replaced by something closer to amusement. He stepped aside with a slight bow, gesturing for me to take the spot. "Ladies first."
"Wow, chivalry isn't dead after all," I muttered, stepping up to the counter.
As I ordered, I felt his gaze on me, a charged energy lingering in the air, different from anything I'd felt before. My stomach fluttered, and I didn't understand why.
"You always this feisty?" he asked, his tone teasing.
"Only when I run into people who think the world revolves around them," I shot back, grabbing my cup as the barista handed it over.
His laugh was low and warm, and for some reason, it made my stomach flip. "Good to know. Enjoy your coffee… if the wait didn't kill you."
I rolled my eyes, walking back to my table, but not before sneaking one last glance at him.
Sliding back into the booth, I placed my latte onto the table and sighed, the encounter with Mr. Rude Suit still buzzing in my head.
Rosalie looked up from her phone, arching an eyebrow. "You look flustered. Did the coffee machine break or something?"
"No," I muttered, waving her off. "It's just some guy. He cut me in line, thought the world revolved around him."
She smirked, setting her phone down. "Ooh, tell me more. Was he at least good-looking? You know, for science."
I paused, glancing back toward the counter where the man now stood waiting for his drink, his sharp suit somehow fitting him too perfectly and his bronze hair looking like he'd rolled out of bed yet still managed to look effortlessly put together. "I mean… I guess, if you're into that 'arrogant billionaire' vibe."
Rosalie tilted her head, intrigued. "Point him out."
I gestured subtly in his direction. She turned, her eyes narrowing as she took him in, then widened in recognition. "Holy shit, Bella, do you know who that is?"
I blinked. "Sometimes who needs a lesson in basic human decency?"
"That's Edward Cullen," she whispered, turning back to me with an expression somewhere between awe and glee.
"Okay," I said slowly. "Should I know that name?"
Rosalie let out a frustrated groan. "He's the CEO of Summit Airways! Youngest in the company's history. Also, ruthless as hell and apparently allergic to relationships. I've heard whispers about him through work—he's a hard ass but a genius. The media loves to hate him."
I frowned, my curiosity piqued despite myself. "How do you know all this?"
"I'm a reporter, Bella. It's literally my job to know about people like him." She grabbed her phone, fingers flying over the screen. "Hold on, let me pull up something."
She found an article almost immediately, tilting the screen so I could see. A photo of him stared back at me—him at some charity event, his suit just as sharp, his jawline just as ridiculous. The headline read: Edward Cullen: Summit Airways' Ruthless Visionary.
I leaned closer, scanning the article, but before I could absorb much, a low, amused voice made me freeze.
"Googling me already?"
I whipped my head up to see Edward Cullen standing next to our table, a smug smirk playing on his lips. In one hand, he held a muffin, and his other was tucked casually into his pocket.
Rosalie straightened, her eyes darting between him and me. "We weren't—"
"—We were," I interrupted, narrowing my eyes at him.
His smirk widened as his gaze flicked to the phone still in Rosalie's hand. "I hope you found something flattering," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. Then, his eyes locked on mine. "But considering the things you said earlier, I doubt you'd admit it even if you did."
I bristled, my cheeks heating. "You're still holding up the line - article or no article."
He chuckled softly, setting the muffin down in front of me. "Consider this an apology. For cutting the line."
I blinked at the muffin, then back at him, suspicious. "You think baked goods will make me forgive you?"
"It's a start," he said, his smirk not faltering. "Besides, I can tell you're not easy to impress, so I figured I'd aim low."
Rosalie made a strangled sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a choke. I glared at her before turning my attention back to Edward.
"Well, I'm glad you've figured out your place in the world," I said, my voice dry.
Edward raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "You're feisty. I like that." He glanced at Rosalie, his smirk softening slightly. "Enjoy your morning, ladies."
With that, he turned and walked back to his table, leaving me staring after him, my pulse racing for reasons I couldn't quite pin down.
Rosalie waited until he was out of earshot before bursting into laughter. "Oh my God, Bella. I think he likes you."
I groaned, picking up the muffin and examining it like it was a trap. "No, he likes the sound of his own voice."
"And yet," she said, wiggling her eyebrows, "you're still holding the muffin."
I rolled my eyes, but my thoughts were already drifting back to his smirk, his voice, and the way he'd looked at me like he was already two steps ahead in a game I didn't even realize we were playing.
I scurried around the apartment, tossing a granola bar into my bag and grabbing my phone off the counter. Rosalie sat at the kitchen table, perfectly put together as always, sipping coffee and scrolling through her tablet like she had all the time in the world.
"You're going to be late," she sing-songed without even glancing up.
"I know, I know," I muttered, slipping into my shoes and throwing on a jacket. "Some of us have actual responsibilities."
I yanked open the door and nearly collided with Sebastian, leaning casually against the frame like he owned the building. His smirk was as infuriating as ever, the kind that said he knew he was about to ruin my day and enjoyed every second of it.
"Hey, little sis," he drawled, his tone dripping with mock affection.
I groaned, brushing past him. "Not now, Bash. I'm late."
"Always in a rush," he said, falling into step beside me. "You need to learn to slow down. Life's more fun when you're not sprinting through it."
"Some of us don't have the luxury of lounging around wreaking havoc," I shot back, glaring at him out of the corner of my eye.
His grin widened. "Wreaking havoc? That's a bit harsh. I prefer to call it… providing clarity."
I stopped dead in my tracks, rounding on him. "Stop messing with my matches, Bash. Seriously."
He shrugged, looking infuriatingly smug. "Maybe your power's not as strong as it should be. We both know that the stronger your connection when you make a match, the less damage I can do. If I can break them up, maybe they weren't as solid as you thought."
I clenched my fists, trying to keep my voice steady. "Or maybe you just thrive on chaos, like the annoying pest you are."
"Pest? Wow, Bella, don't hold back," he said, placing a hand over his heart like I'd wounded him. "But you're not entirely wrong. Chaos is my playground."
That much was true, unfortunately. Sebastian's touch could spark anything from a heated argument to a full-blown divorce, depending on how much power he put into it. While my gift worked by igniting love and connection between people, his worked by amplifying conflict and doubt.
And unlike me, Sebastian didn't need to love what he did to grow his power. He drew strength from the opposite—chaos, discord, the raw energy of people falling apart. If I thrived on joy and passion, he thrived on pain and destruction. It was the ultimate cosmic joke.
"You know what really gets me?" I said, crossing my arms. "I have to work at my power. I have to surround myself with things and people I love just to maintain my strength. But you? You can walk into a room full of happy couples and leave it in shambles without even breaking a sweat."
"Guess that makes me more efficient," he said, smirking.
"More obnoxious," I snapped.
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "You want to know the real difference between us, Bella? You're always trying to force things to work. Me? I let the truth come out. I just… nudge people to see what's already there."
"You mean you manipulate them into falling apart," I shot back.
"Same thing," he said with a shrug. "At least I don't pretend the world's some fairy tale."
I took a deep breath, trying to keep my temper in check. "What did love ever do to you, Bash? Why do you hate it so much?"
For a brief second, his smirk faltered. Something flickered in his eyes—pain, maybe, or anger—but it was gone as quickly as it came.
"Nothing it won't do to everyone else eventually," he said, his voice quieter now.
I stared at him, my frustration melting into something softer. "Bash…"
He held up a hand, cutting me off. "Save it, little sis. I'm not one of your projects."
I sighed, shaking my head as I started walking again. "Just stay out of my matches, okay? For once in your life, let people be happy."
He chuckled, his footsteps echoing behind me. "Where's the fun in that?"
I glanced back, ready to argue, but he was already gone, leaving behind only the faintest trace of his cologne and the frustration he always managed to stir up.
