Hunted and betrayed, biochemist Dr. Isabella Swan just wants her life back after her research is turned into a deadly biological weapon. She's protected by brooding rogue NSA agent, Edward Cullen, who seems to save her life just as often as he drives her insane. With time running out, she'll have to outsmart her enemies—or die trying (again).
AN: Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or rights to any song titles.
Titles are of songs that remind me of or are relevant to the chapter. If you want, give them a listen while reading or before/after ;)
Chapter One: Eleanor Rigby
The shrill buzz of Bella Swan's alarm cut through the predawn stillness, rousing her from sleep, but she didn't groan or hesitate. Her hand shot out, grabbing her phone and silencing the alarm. It was 4:45 a.m., the time she wakes up every morning. Discipline was her cornerstone, the foundation of her life. Every minute of her day was accounted for—a rigid structure that allowed no room for error.
She sat up, pushing the heavy quilt aside, and glanced toward the foot of the bed. A pair of amber eyes stared back at her. Jake, her German Shepherd, was already awake, his tail thumping softly against the floor in anticipation.
"Morning, Jake," Bella said, her voice raspy with sleep. She reached down to scratch behind his ears, earning a soft whine of approval.
Jake had been her constant companion for years, a gift to herself after completing her Master's degree at Harvard. He had seen her through late-night data crunches, solitary weekends spent poring over academic journals, and the sleepless nights leading up to her thesis defense on oncogenic mutations in IDH1. His steady presence was a grounding force, a reminder that there was life beyond the sterile walls of the lab—a life she often forgot to live.
By 5:00 a.m., Bella was lacing up her well-worn running shoes, her outfit practical and predictable: black leggings, a moisture-wicking top, and a lightweight jacket. Jake sat patiently by the door, his leash gripped tightly in his mouth, his eyes watching her every move.
The streets outside were cloaked in silence, the city still wrapped in the comfort of sleep. The only sounds were the rhythmic echo of Bella's sneakers hitting the pavement and the steady, measured panting of Jake beside her. They ran the same 3-mile loop every morning—a brisk circuit through her quiet neighborhood and around the nearby park.
The crisp morning air filled her lungs, sharpening her senses and clearing her mind. Bella thrived in these moments of solitude. The steady rhythm of her footsteps, the cadence of her breath, the pull of her muscles—they all worked in tandem, creating a sense of order and control. This was her time to prepare, to let go of any lingering thoughts and focus solely on the forward motion.
Discipline and routine, she reminded herself. They were her anchors.
By 5:45 a.m., they were back home. Jake gulped down his water while Bella toweled off and headed for the shower. Her mind was already transitioning to the day ahead. The lab. The experiments. The data.
She moved through her morning routine with mechanical efficiency. A quick, hot shower. Coffee brewing while she dressed—black slacks, a crisp white button-down, and her favorite gray sweater. She didn't need to think about her outfit; it was as much a part of her routine as the coffee itself. By 6:15, Bella was seated at the kitchen island, her hands wrapped around a warm mug of black coffee. Beside it, a simple plate of toast sat untouched as she scrolled through the latest scientific articles on her tablet. This morning's read was particularly fascinating: an article detailing the diagnostic accuracy of a plasma phosphorylated tau 217 immunoassay for Alzheimer's disease. Her eyes moved swiftly over the abstract, her mind already analyzing the methodology.
Her eyes flicked to the clock. 6:25. Time to go.
She drained the last of her coffee, rinsing the mug quickly before placing it in the sink. Her bag, neatly packed the night before, sat waiting on the counter. She grabbed it and made her way to the pantry, scooping a cup of kibble into Jake's bowl.
"Be good, Jake," she said as he eagerly nosed at the food. His tail wagged furiously, thumping against the cabinets. Bella knelt beside him, scratching his head one last time. "I'll be back before you know it."
Jake chomped at his food happily, oblivious to her words. Bella stood, slinging her bag over her shoulder and heading out the door.
The drive to the lab was uneventful, her car weaving through the early morning traffic, the city beginning to stir as the first hints of sunlight stretched across the horizon. The sleek glass and steel facade of her lab building came into view, reflecting the soft orange glow of the rising sun. Bella pulled into her usual spot in the secure parking lot, her routine unchanged. She swiped her ID at the entrance, the scanner emitting a familiar beep as the gates unlocked. The lobby was pristine and quiet, the faint scent of industrial cleaner lingering in the air. She passed through the biometric scanners and made her way down the long, sterile corridor that led to her personal lab.
The hum of machinery greeted her like an old friend. The faint, sterile scent of ethanol and chemicals hung in the air, comforting in its familiarity. This was her sanctuary, a place of order and progress.
Angela Weber, her lab assistant, was already at her station when Bella arrived. "Morning, Dr. Swan," Angela said brightly, her eyes lighting up behind her glasses.
"Morning, Angela," Bella replied with a small smile, setting her bag down. "Did you check the enzyme assay results?"
Angela nodded, handing Bella a printout. "They're consistent with yesterday's findings. The specificity looks even better than we hoped."
Bella scanned the data, her brow furrowing slightly in concentration. "Good. Let's set up another round of tests today. If we can replicate these results, we'll be ready to move to the next phase."
Angela nodded, already making notes. Bella turned to her own workstation, where the whiteboard was covered in a tangle of equations, molecular diagrams, and annotations. She picked up a marker and added a few more notes, her mind racing ahead.
The hours passed in a blur, as they always did. Bella was at her best here, surrounded by her research and the quiet hum of the lab. Around mid-morning, she heard the familiar click of heels on the polished floor. She turned just as Dr. Victoria Greene entered the room.
Victoria had a commanding presence, her fiery red hair pulled back in a sleek bun, her tailored suit unblemished. She carried herself with the confidence of someone who knew exactly how much power she wielded. Bella had always admired her mentor—Victoria was a trailblazer in molecular oncology, and her guidance had been invaluable.
"Bella," Victoria greeted her warmly, her sharp green eyes scanning the lab. "How's everything progressing?"
"We're making solid progress," Bella said, handing her the latest data. "The enzyme is performing better than expected. We're setting up another round of assays today."
Victoria reviewed the printout, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips. "Excellent. This project has the potential to change the game. And you, my dear, are at the forefront."
Bella felt a flicker of pride but quickly pushed it aside. "There's still a lot of work to do."
Victoria chuckled, clapping a hand on Bella's shoulder. "That's what I love about you—always focused, always driven. Keep it up. I have a meeting with the director, but I'll check in later."
As Victoria strode out, Bella returned to her work, her mind already racing ahead to the next set of experiments. The lab was her sanctuary, her battleground, and her mission field. Nothing else mattered. Not yet.
Bella was lost in thought, meticulously pipetting a series of samples into a microplate when she heard a familiar, awkward throat-clearing from behind her. She sighed internally before turning around. Standing there, holding a clipboard like it was a live grenade, was James Hunter—the lab's newest intern.
James was a tall, gangly twenty-something with perpetually messy hair and a nervous energy that seemed to radiate off him. He had joined the lab a month ago, and since day one, he had been a mix of earnest enthusiasm and endearing incompetence.
"Dr. Swan," he said, grinning like a kid who had just met their favorite superhero. "Morning! Uh, I brought the lab inventory you asked for."
Bella took the clipboard from him, scanning the sheet. "Thanks, James. It looks thorough."
James beamed. "I double-checked everything. Twice. Well, actually three times because the second time I thought I might have miscounted the pipette tips. But then I realized I was looking at the wrong column. Classic rookie mistake, right?"
Bella raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "It happens. Good work."
James looked like he might float away. "Thank you! You know, working with you is just… incredible. You're like a science ninja. You're so precise, and calm, and you make even the most complex procedures look effortless. It's like watching a master at work."
"A science ninja?"
"Absolutely," James said, nodding earnestly. "If this were an action movie, you'd be the one defusing the bomb with two seconds left, while explaining protein synthesis to the audience."
Bella couldn't help but laugh. "That's… quite the image, James."
"Just saying. You're a legend around here." He paused, then added, "By the way, I noticed you always bring the same lunch—turkey sandwich, apple, and a granola bar. If I may say, very disciplined. But… ever thought about mixing it up? Maybe a peanut butter and jelly? Go wild?"
Bella gave him a mock-serious look. "James, a scientist's routine is sacred."
"Right, of course," James said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Wouldn't want to disrupt the delicate balance of the universe."
Bella shook her head, returning her attention to the samples. "Was there anything else you needed?"
James hesitated, clearly wanting to linger. "Well, actually, I had this idea for a new labeling system for the storage units. Hear me out—color-coded, but with themes. Like, blue for 'Cool Stuff,' green for 'Grow-y Things,' and red for 'Warning: May Explode.'"
Bella turned back to him, her expression neutral but her eyes amused. "James, are you suggesting we label hazardous materials as 'May Explode'?"
He shrugged, grinning. "It's catchy, right? And technically accurate."
Bella chuckled again. "Maybe run that one by Angela first."
"Will do," James said, saluting with the clipboard. "She loves my ideas." He turned to leave but stopped halfway to the door, snapping his fingers. "Oh! One more thing—Jake is adorable. Saw the picture on your desk. He looks like he'd be the perfect partner in a science ninja action movie."
Bella smiled softly. "He's a good dog."
"I bet. Okay, I'm off to work on my labeling pitch. Don't worry, I'll keep it… professional." With a wink, he walked out, narrowly avoiding colliding with a cart of equipment.
Bella shook her head, chuckling to herself as she returned to her work. James was a handful, but his unfiltered enthusiasm was a welcome break from the usual seriousness of the lab.
The day unfolded as predictably as ever. Bella was in the zone, her hands moving methodically as she prepared the next round of samples. The familiar drone of the lab equipment and the soft clatter of glassware created a symphony of productivity. Angela was at her station, James was enthusiastically explaining his labeling system to anyone who would listen, and Bella was immersed in her work, the world outside the lab barely registering.
But then, something caught her eye.
Through the small, rectangular window of the lab's main door, she saw Dr. Victoria Greene walking down the hallway. Victoria rarely left her office unless it was for a meeting or to check in on her team, but that wasn't what struck Bella as odd. It was the man walking beside her—a tall figure in a dark suit, his face partially obscured by the doorframe.
Bella paused, her hand hovering over the microplate. The man wasn't anyone she recognized, and that in itself was unusual. The lab was highly secure; access was strictly controlled, and everyone who worked there was either part of the research team or vetted support staff. Visitors were rare, and when they did come, it was usually announced well in advance.
The two of them stopped just outside the door, speaking in low voices. Victoria's posture was tense, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She glanced toward the lab, and for a brief moment, her eyes met Bella's through the window. Bella felt a flicker of unease.
Victoria turned back to the man, her expression unreadable. Then, as if sensing they were being watched, she placed a hand on the man's arm and guided him further down the hall, out of sight.
Bella blinked, the moment passing as quickly as it had come. She shook her head, pushing the odd scene to the back of her mind. It wasn't her place to question Victoria's business. Still, a faint feeling of worry lingered.
Later that day, as Bella was organizing her notes, Victoria entered the lab. She was her usual composed self, clipboard in hand, exuding the effortless confidence that had earned her respect in their field.
"Bella," Victoria said warmly, striding over to her workstation. "I just wanted to check in again. How's the enzyme assay coming along?"
Bella straightened, setting her notes aside. "It's looking promising. We're getting consistent results, and I think we're ready to move on to the next phase of testing."
"Good, good," Victoria said, scanning the data on Bella's screen. "You're exceeding my expectations as always."
Bella hesitated, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Dr. Greene, I noticed something earlier. There was a man with you in the hallway—someone I didn't recognize. Is everything all right?"
For a split second, Victoria's expression faltered, but she quickly recovered, offering a dismissive wave of her hand. "Oh, that? Nothing to worry about. Just some routine administrative matters. You know how it is—red tape and oversight." She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "It's all terribly dull."
Bella nodded slowly, but the unease didn't entirely dissipate. "I see. I just thought it was unusual."
Victoria's smile widened, and she placed a reassuring hand on Bella's shoulder. "You're too observant for your own good, Bella. But that's why you're invaluable here." She gestured toward Bella's workstation. "Now, tell me more about this assay. Your work is the cornerstone of our project, and I want to make sure we're fully prepared for the upcoming review."
Bella hesitated for a moment longer, but Victoria's steady, confident presence had a way of smoothing over doubts. She turned back to her notes, launching into a detailed explanation of her latest findings.
As they talked, the strange encounter in the hallway faded into the background, eclipsed by the intensity of their work. But somewhere, in the back of Bella's mind, the image of the man in the dark suit lingered, a shadow waiting to resurface.
...
The soft click of Bella's heels echoed down the empty corridor as she made her way out of the lab. Another day, another set of experiments, another round of data meticulously collected. It had gone as it always did—smoothly, predictably, mundanely. She waved goodbye to Angela, who was shutting down her station, her usual warm smile in place.
"See you tomorrow, Dr. Swan," Angela called.
"Goodnight, Angela," Bella replied, her voice carrying a polite, practiced cheerfulness.
She rounded the corner to the break room, where James was hovering by the door, holding two mugs of what appeared to be lukewarm coffee. His face lit up when he saw her.
"Dr. Swan!" he said eagerly. "Hey, before you go, I thought we could—"
"Goodnight, James," Bella said briskly, sidestepping him with the ease of someone who had dodged many similar interactions before.
James blinked, then gave a sheepish smile. "Right, right. Tomorrow then!"
Bella offered a small, noncommittal wave as she continued toward the exit. Finally, she reached Victoria's office, where her mentor stood in the doorway, looking over some paperwork.
"Heading out?" Victoria asked without looking up.
Bella nodded. "Yes. Everything's prepped for tomorrow."
"Excellent," Victoria said, glancing up with a smile. "Goodnight, Bella. Rest well."
"You too," Bella replied, her tone softening slightly.
With that, she pushed open the glass doors and stepped into the cool evening air.
The drive home was calm, the streets bathed in the golden hues of a fading sunset. Bella kept the radio off, preferring the quiet, the low hum of the engine her only companion. The city lights flickered to life as she navigated familiar roads, her hands steady on the wheel.
But inside, Bella was restless.
She'd spent her entire life chasing discipline, carving out a future built on routine and rigor. Every moment had been dedicated to her studies, her work, her relentless pursuit of excellence. Yet, in the quiet spaces of her day—like now, during the drive home—doubts crept in.
Her life felt like it was on a loop. Wake up. Jog. Lab. Home. Repeat. It was efficient, productive, meaningful in its way. But lately, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.
A memory surfaced, unbidden. She was eight years old, sitting alone at the kitchen table in her tiny house in Forks. Other kids her age had been outside, riding bikes, climbing trees, laughing. But not Bella. She'd been inside, her nose buried in a book, working on advanced math problems while her peers were still learning multiplication tables. Her father had been proud of her intelligence, her focus.
"Smart girls don't waste time," he used to say.
Bella had taken those words to heart, locking away any desire for frivolity or fun. She'd skipped childhood the way she skipped grades, leaping from milestone to milestone without ever pausing to catch her breath. She'd graduated high school at 13, got her bachelors in biochemistry from Harvard at 17, her Master's two years later, and then just last year, she'd received her PhD in biochemistry, completing a dissertation on CRISPR-Cas systems and their applications in gene editing.
Now, at 25, she wondered what it might have been like to be carefree, even just for a little while. To run through a field without a plan, to stay up late giggling with friends over things that didn't matter.
She clenched the steering wheel tighter. Stop, she told herself. There was no point in dwelling on what-ifs. She had chosen this life, and it had brought her success, recognition, and purpose. Wasn't that enough?
Still, the weight of routine pressed down on her, stifling in its sameness. The lab, her sanctuary, had started to feel like a cage. The accolades and breakthroughs, though significant, no longer filled the growing void within her.
She pulled into her driveway, cutting the engine. For a moment, she sat there in the quiet, staring at the darkened windows of her little townhome. Jake's silhouette appeared in the front window, his ears perked up in anticipation of her return.
Bella exhaled slowly, pushing the unsettling thoughts aside. She had no time for existential musings. She had work to do, and that was all that mattered.
She grabbed her bag and stepped out of the car, her disciplined mask firmly back in place. Jake greeted her at the door, tail wagging furiously.
"Hey, boy," she murmured, crouching to ruffle his fur. Jake licked her face, his enthusiasm infectious.
Bella smiled, the momentary heaviness lifting. "Let's get you some dinner."
And just like that, the day ended as it always did. Quiet. Predictable. Mundane. Bella told herself it was enough. But deep down, she knew the void was still there, waiting.
It gets more exciting after this, promise ;)