AN: Sorry for the break, the holidays and whatnot. Hopefully everyone is having an awesome new year.
SM owns Twilight.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Of course. Of fucking course.
This was it. My fucking life. Stuck in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, on foot, with sirens screeching in the distance and nothing but shitty trees and freezing air to keep us company. No plan. No car. No way out. Just me and the girl who seemed dead set on getting me locked up—or buried six feet under.
What the hell was I thinking? Falling for her like a goddamn idiot. Letting her drag me into her shitshow like I had "future inmate" tattooed on my forehead. Like I actually enjoyed spending my days dodging cops and cleaning up after her reckless, batshit ideas.
It was too much. She was too fucking much.
I turned on her, the rage spilling out, raw and jagged. "What the fuck are we gonna do now, Bella? Huh? We don't even have a fucking car anymore!"
Her wide eyes blinked back at me, startled, like she wasn't the reason we were in this mess. Like it wasn't her actions that torched our last chance.
"I'm sorry about your car, Edward," she said softly, like a fucking apology would fix everything.
"Oh, now she's fucking sorry," I muttered, laughing dryly.
"Yeah, I'm sorry," she snapped, defensive now. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I was just—"
"No," I cut her off, stepping closer, my voice slicing through hers. "You never fucking do. But somehow, shit just keeps happening around you, doesn't it? Is that a coincidence? No, I don't fucking think so."
I was so fucking mad I could've fucking strangled her. I couldn't even look at her. That gorgeous fucking face of hers would make me cave, and I wasn't fucking ready to let her off the hook. Not after she got my goddamn car taken by the fucking cops. That car was like fucking blood to me, a goddamn part of me, and now it was fucking gone—all because of her.
"You know what, asshole," she finally said, her voice biting. "You're just as much to blame in all of this as I am."
I froze for half a second, disbelief slamming into me before I whipped around, fists clenched so tight my knuckles ached. Was she serious? Was she really trying to put this on me?
My rage boiled over, spilling out in a roar louder than I meant. "What?" I stepped closer, my voice cutting through the air like a whip. "Are you fucking kidding me right now? You're the one who never fucking listens to me, Bella! I have rules. Rules that are there for a goddamn reason. You think I pulled them out of my ass to ruin your good time? No, they've kept my ass out of jail. Do you get that? Or are you too fucking stubborn to see the difference?"
Her lips twisted into a sneer, her shoulders snapping back as she squared up like she was itching for a fight. "Yeah, I get that," she said, her tone sharp and dismissive. Then she shoved past me, like she was too good for the conversation, too good for me.
I reached for her arm, grabbing it tighter than I should've, and she yanked it free like I'd burned her.
"Don't touch me," she snapped.
Yeah, fuck that. We weren't done.
I grabbed her again, my grip firm, locking her in place just to prove my point. "I'll do whatever the fuck I want," I growled, stepping closer. "You're mine."
Her eyes narrowed, her anger crackling between us. "Oh, really?" She yanked her arm free, defiance radiating off her like heat. "You may have your name tattooed on my skin, but you don't fucking control me."
The sirens bled through the woods, their wails stretching closer with every second. I flung a hand toward the trees, my voice sharp and cutting. "Yeah, no shit. If I could control you, we wouldn't be standing in the middle of this shitstorm. We'd be home. High as hell. And fucking."
Her head snapped up, her eyes flashing like I'd crossed an invisible line. "So, all that shit you said last night? Lies? And you do blame me—for the Lamborghini, for Phil, for your goddamn father. Every fucking thing. It's all my fault."
"Jesus Christ," I muttered, dragging a hand down my face, the weight of her words pressing on my chest. "I didn't fucking say that."
Her glare didn't budge, her voice cutting like a blade. "You didn't have to. You think I don't know I screwed up today? I know. But you? You're so goddamn full of yourself. Where the hell was this so-called level head of yours twenty minutes ago? Oh, right. It was in your dick. You didn't seem too worried about losing your precious car when you were fucking me."
Before I could fire back, she shoved me, her hands slamming hard against my chest. I stumbled, my breath hitching as I caught myself.
"Get away from me!" she yelled, storming off.
"So what?" I jogged to catch up. "I'm not allowed to be pissed off? You're really gonna flip this shit on me? Make me the bad guy in your goddamn drama?"
Bella's gaze stayed locked ahead. "No, you've made it pretty clear whose fault this is. I get it. I'm a strain on your perfect little existence." Her jaw clenched. "I'm doing us a favor by ending this now."
I lunged in front of her, cutting off her path, my chest heaving. "Ending what?"
She didn't blink. "This train wreck of a relationship we have. It's not fucking working. We're toxic together."
The word hit like a gut punch. Toxic? Yeah, maybe she wasn't wrong. We burned each other alive half the time. But did she really think walking away was an option? Like I'd just stand here and let her go?
My laugh came sharp and bitter, the sound foreign in my throat. "You're breaking up with me now? That's your move? That's how you wanna play this?"
She shrugged, the motion too casual. "I don't see this working anymore."
"Alright, fuck it then," I bit out, my voice rough as I waved her off, pretending like it didn't fucking hurt. Like it wasn't tearing me apart at the seams. "Leave. Go do whatever you want, kid."
Her shoulders stiffened, and for a fleeting second, I thought I saw her hesitate. Just the smallest crack. But when she spoke, her voice was steady, cutting, daring me to test her resolve. "Fine, I will then, and don't you dare fucking follow me."
She spun on her heel, her steps heavy and deliberate, the crunch of dirt under her boots echoing in the silence.
Every goddamn cell in my body was screaming to grab her. To pull her back, throw her over my shoulder if I had to, and make her fucking see that she was mine. That she couldn't just walk away like this was nothing.
Like we were nothing.
But I didn't move.
We didn't have the luxury of my obsession, of this bottomless, all-consuming fucking need that made me want to tear the whole world apart for her.
Survival first.
My breakdown, my goddamn insanity over her—that could come later.
And let's fucking be real. This breakup bullshit? Total fucking theater. Bella could spew whatever dramatic crap she wanted—"toxic" this, "train wreck" that—but we both knew she didn't mean a word of it. That girl was as batshit crazy as I was.
This was just one of her games. Push me, test me, see how far she could go before I snapped. Fine. Let her stomp off, scream at the trees, and play out her dramatic I'm-so-over-you act. She'd be back. She always came back. Meanwhile, I'd focus on something useful—like getting us a fucking ride out of this disaster.
I turned and headed in the opposite direction. Not north, where the cops were probably circle-jerking around their crime scene, and definitely not south, after Bella. Chasing her now would be like throwing gasoline on a dumpster fire. Nope. West was the move.
There'd been a diner up the road, one of those dingy shitholes where the coffee tasted like motor oil, and the biggest scandal in town was whose pie took home the blue ribbon. The parking lot had been full earlier. Plenty of cars parked out front, all lined up like a goddamn buffet. Small-town types were always too trusting—doors unlocked, keys in the visor, maybe even engines running if I got lucky. Almost insulting how easy they made it.
I didn't need anything fancy. A dented sedan, a soccer mom's minivan, hell, even a beat-up farm truck would do. As long as it had gas and moved, it was mine. I just needed to get us the fuck out before this whole thing exploded. Because with me and Bella, catastrophe wasn't if—it was when. Always fucking when.
The diner flickered into view as I broke through the tree line, its buzzing neon sign casting a sickly glow over the gravel lot. Crickets droned in the distance, the rhythmic hum broken by the occasional clang of dishes from the kitchen. A few people shuffled in and out of the front entrance, heads down, lost in their own worlds. No cops. Not a single damn one. Perfect.
My gaze locked on the Acura tucked in the back like it was trying to disappear. Limo-tinted windows, paint polished to a mirror shine, reflecting that busted neon like it was proud of being here. It didn't belong. Too flashy, too cocky. Screamed, Look at me—I'm important, in a place where no one gave a shit. Probably some idiot who thought they were untouchable.
They weren't.
My steps didn't falter as I crossed the lot, my pace unhurried, like I had every goddamn right to be there. Nobody was looking. Why would they? Small towns bred complacency—blind trust wrapped in a bubble of it'll never happen here.
At the car, I reached for the handle, fingers curling around the chrome. I gave it a pull.
Unlocked.
Too fucking easy.
I slid into the driver's seat, the smell of old smoke and cheap air freshener hanging in the air. The dashboard was trashed—cracked plastic, wires sticking out like someone had taken a bat to it. The ignition was busted wide open, a jagged hole where the key should've been.
I shoved my hand in, twisted the metal, and the engine sputtered once before firing up, smooth and steady, like it was ready to bolt.
I let out a short, sharp laugh, my grip tightening on the wheel. "Goddamn," I muttered. "I fucking love this town."
Pulling out slow, I spun the wheel and headed back toward the tree line, keeping it steady, keeping it quiet. No need to draw attention.
"Alright, let's see," I muttered, grabbing my phone and swiping to a map. I squinted at the screen, trying to figure where she might've gone. The forest cut off the back road from the highway. She was smart—always was—or maybe just stubborn enough to take the long way. Either way, I'd have to cut her off before she got too far.
The phone rested on my leg, the blinking dot on the map doing jack shit to ease the quiet. Too fucking quiet. My knuckles tightened on the wheel, the tension creeping in like it always did, sharp and heavy, coiling in my gut as I drove.
Then came the lights, red and blue, flashing bright against the pale afternoon sun.
Two cruisers barreled past me, sirens howling, their reflections streaking across the car's hood like a warning shot. My chest tightened, every instinct screaming at me to ditch the car, bolt into the trees, run.
But I didn't.
I eased off the gas, kept my hands steady on the wheel, my pulse hammering so hard it felt like it might shake the whole car. Normal. I just had to look normal. Like I wasn't driving a stolen car with everything teetering on the edge of don't fuck this up.
The cops didn't slow, didn't even glance my way. They blew past, the wail of their sirens fading as they crested the hill, leaving the road wide open behind them.
I exhaled through my teeth, flexing my fingers against the wheel, the tension still coiled tight in my gut. "Jesus fucking Christ," I muttered, more to myself than anything. This shit was going sideways fast. Cops were the last thing I needed right now.
I glanced at my phone, the blinking dot on the map mocking me. She'd been gone 27 minutes. Fast steps, angry pace. That put her close to two miles out. The bridge, maybe. Or the gas station if she'd slowed down.
Not that I needed the app or the numbers. I felt her.
Like some invisible thread was pulling me forward, straight to her. Chest tight, gut twisting, every nerve in me screaming Bella. Like the universe itself had decided to point me in her direction.
The sun shifted, light pouring through the branches and cutting across the road up ahead. Just enough to catch the dip in the asphalt, that tiny break in the trees. It wasn't subtle. Hell, it felt like the world was yelling at me, she's here, go fucking get her.
And I knew.
She was there, probably crouched in the brush, pissed off and thinking she'd outsmarted me. Like I wouldn't find her. Like I'd throw my hands up and walk away, saying, oh no, Bella wins this round.
Fat fucking chance.
I gripped the wheel so hard my hands ached, my chest tight like it was ready to explode. She thought she could outrun me? Out-hide me? Out-anything me? No fucking way.
I yanked the wheel, the tires spitting gravel as I veered off and slammed the car to a stop on the shoulder. The engine cut, and I shoved the door open, my legs unsteady as I hit the ground.
The field stretched out in front of me, grass swaying in the afternoon sun like it didn't give a shit that my life was falling apart. It was empty. Quiet. Too fucking quiet.
"Bella!" I yelled, my voice cracking like a teenage idiot. Nothing but the sound of the wind.
"Fuck," I growled, running a hand through my hair and gripping the back of my neck. She couldn't be gone. Not like this.
Then I saw it—a flicker of movement in the tall grass. My breath hitched. Her head popped up, wild hair everywhere, dirt smeared on her face. Relief slammed into me so hard it almost knocked me over, but it didn't last.
"Jesus fucking Christ," I muttered, my hands shaking as I stalked toward her.
She stood up slowly, brushing off her pants like she hadn't been crawling around in the dirt, like she wasn't just hiding from me. Her chin was up, her eyes cold, acting like she was the one in control.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice flat like I was some random asshole who didn't matter.
My head snapped toward the road. The sirens were closer now, winding up my nerves like a noose.
"Baby," I said, trying to keep my voice steady even though I wanted to fucking scream. "We need to go. Now."
"Why?" she snapped, arms crossed, ready for a fight. "We're done, Edward."
Her words hit me like a hammer to the chest, but I didn't let it show. Fuck her. She wasn't walking away. Not from me.
"Bella," I growled, every ounce of patience I had barely holding on. "Get in the fucking car."
"No." She turned her back on me, hair whipping over her shoulder like she'd already decided I wasn't worth her time.
That was it.
The relief I'd felt? Gone. Replaced by pure rage that burned through me like fire. She wasn't pulling this shit. Not now.
I grabbed her wrist, yanking her around to face me. My grip was hard, probably too hard, but I didn't care.
"Don't," I growled, my voice low and mean. "You think you're walking away from me? Not happening."
Her eyes narrowed, her jaw tight. "Let go of me, Edward," she hissed, like she wanted to cut me down right there.
"Shut the fuck up," I shot back, pulling her closer. "You don't get to just walk away. Not from me."
She shoved at my chest, fists pounding like she actually thought she could make me let go. It pissed me off even more.
So I kissed her. Hard. Not soft, not gentle. It was messy, angry, and full of every fucked-up feeling I didn't know how to say.
She pushed against me, but I didn't stop until I felt her give, even for a second. When I pulled back, she was panting, her face red with either fury or something else. I didn't care which.
"Get in the car," I said, my voice sharp and clipped. "Don't make me drag you."
Her laugh was bitter, like she thought I was joking.
"We're done, Edward," she said, her voice icy. "You don't own me."
"Bullshit," I barked, grabbing her by the waist. "You're mine. You've always been mine."
Before she could fight back, I threw her over my shoulder, her fists pounding against my back as she screamed.
"Put me the fuck down, you psycho!" she yelled, kicking like a toddler.
"You're making a scene," I said, my voice flat. "Keep screaming if you want everyone to hear how much of a brat you are."
I carried her to the car, dumped her in the passenger seat, and slammed the door before she could bolt.
"Stay there and shut up," I snapped, rounding the car as she glared at me through the window.
"You're a fucking asshole, Edward!" she shouted.
"And you're still in the car," I shot back, yanking open the driver's door. "So shut the fuck up and deal with it."
By the time I slid into the driver's seat and gunned it back onto the road, she'd gone dead silent. No more yelling, no more screaming at me like I was the reason her world was crumbling. She just sat there, stiff as a goddamn board, arms locked across her chest like they were the only thing holding her together.
Her glare burned into me from the corner of her eye, sharp and heavy, but it wasn't anger anymore. It was something darker, heavier, something that sat between us like a ticking bomb.
I didn't say shit. I let her stew in it, let the quiet stretch long enough to choke us both. She needed space to work through her own mess, figure out what the hell she wanted to say.
Her hands fidgeted in her lap, twisting the fabric of her jeans. That was the tell. She was close.
"Edward," she said, so soft it almost got swallowed by the hum of the engine. "I'm sorry. About everything. It feels like you're always giving things up for me."
I flicked my eyes to her, the apology sinking in. She thought I was pissed about losing Tanya. Like the car actually mattered that much. Sure, I liked her. She was fast, clean, and got us out of trouble when we needed it. But I'd watch that car burn a thousand times over if it meant keeping Bella alive and breathing.
"Hey," I said, my voice rough, reaching over to rest a hand on her thigh. The warmth of her skin under my palm grounded me more than I wanted to admit. "It's just a fucking car, Bella. I can replace it. I can't replace you."
Her eyes softened, and before I could brace myself, her arms looped around my neck, pulling me in. She kissed my cheek, quick, simple, like it wasn't meant to gut me, but it did.
"I love you," she murmured, her voice low, the edge gone now. "You let me get away with too much shit."
"Ain't that the fucking truth," I said, shaking my head, a smirk tugging at my lips despite everything.
She sighed and pulled back, her eyes locking on mine. "I really am sorry. I didn't mean for you to lose Tanya. I wasn't thinking. It was stupid."
"Don't worry about it," I said, steady and blunt. "Losing her doesn't mean shit. Just makes me realize how goddamn dumb this tattoo is."
Drunk me thought Tanya, the car, was all I'd ever need. Now it was just a reminder of how little I'd known back then.
Bella's eyes dropped to the ink on my arm, and before I could say anything, she leaned in and pressed her lips to it. Soft. Deliberate.
"We'll get her back," she said, her voice sharp and full of fire. "If it's the last fucking thing I do."
I stared at her like she'd lost her mind, then let out a laugh, short, bitter, and loud in the cramped car.
"Yeah, maybe," I said, smirking like none of it mattered. And it didn't.
Her eyes narrowed. She pulled back, sitting straighter, her arms crossing again. "Don't laugh at me, asshole. I mean it. We're getting her back. No way in hell she's gone for good."
"Jesus Christ," I muttered, shaking my head as my hand slid back to her thigh, squeezing hard enough to make her look at me. "I don't give a shit about that car, Bella. Only you. Got it?"
Her mouth opened, probably to argue, but I cut her off.
"That car doesn't mean a fucking thing to me. Not compared to you," I growled. "I'd torch a hundred Tanyas before I let anything happen to you."
Her lips twitched, but she leaned back, folding her arms tight. "Still," she muttered, softer now, "I'm getting her back."
I snorted, shaking my head, a crooked grin breaking through. "Yeah, okay," I said, letting out a low chuckle. "We'll fucking see."
But the laughter didn't stick. It never did. Not with the sirens still screaming in the distance, not with the weight of everything unsaid pressing between us.
Because I knew better.
We never walked away clean. We always left pieces behind. Of the world, of each other. And sooner or later, there wouldn't be anything left to save.
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