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).

Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.

AN: I appreciate your reviews! (Thanks for the guest reviewer who pointed out that I spelled "rogue" as "rouge". All mistakes are mine, haha. Also, I've been asked by a few, so I'm going to try and update regularly. Maybe a couple times a week. I'm a grad student and work, so whenever I find some free time! :)

Chapter 2:

Run: Snow Patrol

The next morning began exactly like the one before, and the one before that. Bella woke up at 4:45 a.m., silenced her alarm, and slid out of bed. Her morning ritual was her anchor, a three-mile run with Jake through the quiet streets, a hot shower, and her standard breakfast of black coffee and dry toast. By 6:30 a.m., she was behind the wheel, driving toward the lab, the day ahead already mapped out in her mind. It was an important day—potentially career-defining. Every move she made in the next twelve hours could cement her place in scientific history.

But as Bella pulled into the lab's parking lot, her usual sense of calm was replaced by a prickling unease. She slowed her car, scanning the unusually crowded lot. There were more vehicles than usual, and clusters of people were streaming into the building, their stiff postures and dark suits immediately striking her as odd.

Frowning, Bella parked and stepped out, her bag slung over her shoulder. The crisp morning air bit at her cheeks as she approached the entrance, and inside, the normally serene lobby buzzed with quiet, tense energy. Men and women stood in tight groups, speaking in low tones. Bella's grip tightened on her bag as she swiped her ID badge at the security checkpoint. The gates beeped and unlocked, but the unease lingered. She glanced around, searching for familiar faces. A few of her colleagues passed by, nodding brief greetings, but the crowd of unfamiliar suits far outnumbered them.

Shaking off the growing tension, Bella reminded herself of what was at stake. Focus. Today's too important. The review was next week, so they could've been here for that. She forced her thoughts back to the lab and the task ahead, stepping into the elevator and pressing the button for her floor.

When she finally reached her lab, the familiarity of it greeted her, immediately calming her nerves. The rhythmic sound of the centrifuge, the soft beeping of the thermal cycler, and the faint, sterile scent of ethanol wrapped around her like a well-worn blanket. Here, within these walls, she was in control. Every variable, every outcome—it all obeyed her commands. Angela was already at her workstation, diligently arranging the day's equipment. She looked up as Bella entered, her face lighting up with excitement.

"Morning, Dr. Swan! Are we ready to make history today?" Angela asked, her quiet enthusiasm infectious. She handed Bella a neatly organized clipboard with the day's protocol.

Bella smiled softly, setting her bag down and slipping into her lab coat. The crisp fabric settled over her shoulders like armor. "Good morning, Angela. Let's not jinx it, but yes, today's the day."

Angela grinned, pushing her oversized glasses up the bridge of her nose with a gloved knuckle. "No pressure, right? Just the culmination of years of groundbreaking research," she said, her voice rising slightly in mock seriousness. As she adjusted the micropipettes, she mumbled under her breath, "Precision is our friend. Calibration, our superpower." Then, without missing a beat, she shot Bella a sheepish smile. "Sorry. I tend to narrate when I'm excited. You know, like those nature documentaries? 'And here we see the meticulous scientist in her natural habitat.'" She wiggled her eyebrows, her cheeks pinking slightly.

Bella smirked at her lovable assistant, shaking her head. "You're a dork, Angela."

Angela giggled, unfazed. "A proud one! Besides, dorkiness is just enthusiasm in disguise." She pointed at the micropipette. "And this baby? This is my wand. Hermione wishes she had one of these."

Bella's smile widened, but her focus was already shifting. She tied her hair back in a high ponytail and approached her station, her hands moving with mechanical efficiency. The protocol was second nature by now, every step embedded in her muscle memory.

"Angela, double-check the enzyme concentrations before we start the next run," Bella said, her eyes scanning the setup with the intensity of a seasoned researcher. Her gaze flicked between the freshly calibrated spectrophotometer and the array of labeled reagent vials, each representing months of painstaking optimization.

"Already done," Angela chirped, her tone brimming with the excitement of a well-prepared lab assistant. She held up her tablet, its screen filled with a neatly formatted spreadsheet. "Take a look—everything's within the optimal range. The reaction efficiency should be even better this time."

Bella glanced over the data, her mind immediately picking out the crucial figures— substrate concentrations, buffer pH, incubation times. Her heart gave a small leap at the sight of a 0.02% variance in enzyme kinetics—well within the margin of error. "Good," she said, her voice steady, but laced with anticipation. "Now let's ensure the instrumentation is fully aligned. I don't want any confounding variables skewing the results."

Angela nodded, her eagerness undimmed. She moved to the fluorometer, adjusting the wavelength settings with the care of someone handling a priceless artifact. "On it. Recalibrating the excitation and emission spectra now," she said, muttering softly to herself. "Okay, little photon catcher, let's see those emission peaks line up like good soldiers."

Bella suppressed a smile and turned back to her own station. The process that lay ahead required absolute focus and heedful precision. She began by carefully pipetting the enzyme solution into a 96-well plate, each drop falling with surgical accuracy. She followed this with a substrate cocktail, its exact composition fine-tuned over countless trials to achieve the desired catalytic activity. The microplate reader hummed softly in the background, awaiting its role in capturing real-time data.

Each step was executed with a rhythm born of years of practice. Pipette. Mix. Spin. Incubate. Bella's hands moved almost on their own, muscle memory guiding her through the protocol. But her mind was far from idle—she was already running through potential interpretations of the upcoming data. Would the enzyme maintain its enhanced activity under these new conditions? Would the modified buffer system stabilize the reaction intermediates as hypothesized?

As the first set of results began to populate the monitor, Bella's pulse quickened. Absorbance curves started to take shape, the real-time graphs showing a promising initial reaction velocity. She leaned in closer, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized the Michaelis-Menten plot. The enzyme's Km had shifted slightly, indicating a higher substrate affinity—a critical improvement over the last batch.

"Angela, look at this," Bella said, motioning toward the monitor. Her voice carried the faintest tremor of excitement, a rare break in her usually composed demeanor.

Angela hurried over, peering at the screen with wide-eyed curiosity. "Holy moly," she breathed, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "That's a beautiful curve. Reaction rates are up by at least 12% compared to last week."

Bella nodded, already keying in adjustments for the next trial. "I'll tweak the temperature gradient for the next run. If this holds, we might finally hit the threshold for catalytic efficiency we've been targeting."

Angela grinned, her fingers flying over her tablet as she cross-referenced previous datasets. "I'll update the protocol notes. This could push our specificity rate to over 95%."

Hours passed in a blur of controlled chaos. Each iteration brought them closer to their goal, with Bella meticulously adjusting reaction conditions and Angela running statistical analyses on the fly. Together, they were closing in on a breakthrough that had once seemed like an impossible dream.

When the final dataset of the day appeared on the screen, Bella's breath caught. The reaction efficiency had peaked, with near-perfect substrate turnover and minimal byproduct formation.

She exhaled slowly, a rare smile spreading across her face. "We've got it," she murmured, her voice tinged with quiet triumph, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the moment. Her hands hovered over the keyboard, double-checking the figures. It was all there. The enzyme's specificity had reached unprecedented levels.

Bella had been engrossed in her breakthrough that she didn't hear the door open, and the sudden sound of deliberate clapping jolted her from her thoughts.

"Well done, Bella," a smooth, familiar voice said, rich with approval.

Bella spun around, her heart still racing from the adrenaline of her discovery. Standing in the doorway, was Victoria, her fiery red hair swept back into a sleek, polished ponytail, not a strand out of place, accentuating the sharp angles of her face. The subtle shimmer of her silk blouse caught the light as she moved, the deep emerald color complementing her pale skin. Bella had always felt woefully inadequate standing next to the stunning doctor, and today felt no different. Bella straightened as her mentor pushed off the door frame in which she'd been leaning on. A proud, knowing smile played at her lips, one corner curving slightly higher than the other.

"Dr. Greene! I didn't hear you come in," Bella said, her surprise quickly giving way to excitement.

Victoria's smile widened as she stepped forward, the sharp click of her heels echoing softly against the lab's tile floor. "I've been here for a while," she said, her tone warm yet commanding. "I didn't want to disturb the maestro at work. Watching you—it's like witnessing a master artist at her easel. You're remarkable, Bella."

A rare flush of pride crept up Bella's neck. Praise from Victoria was never given lightly. "Thank you," she said, her voice steady, but tinged with genuine appreciation. "I couldn't have done it without your guidance and Angela's help."

Victoria's slate-grey eyes gleamed as she turned to the monitor, her expression softening into one of admiration. "Look at these results," she murmured, more to herself than to Bella. "This isn't just good—it's extraordinary. You're on the cusp of revolutionizing the field. And just in time for the review next week."

Bella squared her shoulders, her confidence bolstered by Victoria's words. "I'm ready. I've worked for this moment, and I can't wait to present it."

Victoria placed a hand on Bella's shoulder, her grip firm yet reassuring. "You'll be brilliant, as always. The review board won't know what hit them. This is just the beginning, Bella. You're going to make history."

For a moment, Bella allowed herself to bask in the warmth of her mentor's praise. Years of relentless effort, long nights, and sacrifices had led her to this pivotal point. Standing on the brink of recognition and achievement, it all felt worth it. She could almost taste the success, the legacy she was building.

As the morning stretched into afternoon, the initial euphoria began to wean, replaced by a creeping unease. The lab hummed with its usual rhythm—but something still felt different. Bella couldn't shake the sense that she was being watched. Her eyes flicked toward the doorway more than once, half-expecting someone to step in unannounced.

She was adjusting the calibration on the spectrophotometer when the sound of hurried footsteps pulled her attention. James appeared, practically bounding into the lab, his unruly hair flopping as he waved a tablet over his head.

"Dr. Swan! Okay, hear me out—what if we name the new enzyme Enzyman?" he said, grinning ear to ear. "Or better yet, Enzyman X! It sounds like a superhero, right? Perfect for your world-saving research."

Bella blinked, barely processing his words. "James, I—what?"

He frowned, lowering the tablet slightly. "You're not even listening," he said, narrowing his eyes. "This is gold, Dr. Swan. Enzyman could have his own comic series."

Bella shook her head, forcing a smile at the eager intern. "Sorry, James. I've got a lot on my mind today."

James squinted at her, crossing his arms. "You're distracted. You're never distracted. You're like the human embodiment of focus."

Before Bella could respond, her gaze drifted beyond him to the lab's outer corridor. Victoria stood near the far wall, speaking quietly with the same man Bella had noticed yesterday. He stood tall and composed, his dark suit impeccable, and his pale skin almost luminescent under the harsh lab lights. His dark, seemingly black eyes were sharp, calculating, and fixed directly on her.

The intensity of his gaze sent a chill down Bella's spine. She quickly looked away, her pulse quickening.

"Dr. Swan?" James waved a hand in front of her face again. "Earth to Bella?"

She forced herself to refocus, offering a tight smile. "Sorry, James. I guess I'm just tired. It's been a long few weeks leading up to this breakthrough."

James didn't look convinced, but he shrugged. "Well, you've earned a break. Maybe even a sandwich that's not turkey for once. Go wild."

Bella chuckled softly, grateful for the levity. When she glanced back toward the corridor, Victoria and the man were gone. The unsettling feeling lingered, but she pushed it aside. There was still work to be done.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of data analysis and preparation. By the time Bella left the lab, the sky had deepened into a dusky gray, the air crisp and cool. The unsettling encounter with the man remained at the edge of her thoughts, a shadow she couldn't quite shake.

...

The evening settled in like clockwork, and Bella's routine played out as it always did. Jake greeted her at the door, his tail wagging furiously as she dropped her bag and bent down to scratch behind his ears.

"Hey, buddy," she murmured, the warmth of his presence easing the tension in her chest.

After feeding Jake, Bella threw together a quick dinner—grilled chicken and steamed vegetables—before settling in at her kitchen table with her laptop. She reviewed the day's data, her fingers tapping methodically at the keyboard as Jake dozed contentedly at her feet. The comforting sounds of his soft snores and the occasional clink of her fork against the plate filled the quiet room.

Later, after a long, hot shower, Bella stood in front of the fogged bathroom mirror, towel-drying her hair. The lavender-scented steam clung to her skin, soothing her muscles and dulling the edge of her thoughts. She slipped into her favorite worn pajama pants and an old, soft T-shirt before padding barefoot into her bedroom, savoring the quiet of the evening. Jake was sprawled across his dog bed, snoring softly and paws twitching in the air as he dreamed. Bella smiled to herself, feeling a flicker of warmth piercing through her fatigue.

But then, a noise.

Faint but unmistakable—the soft groan of a floorboard beneath some type of weight. Bella's body went rigid, her breath catching in her throat. Jake's ears perked up immediately, and within seconds, he was on his feet, a low, guttural growl rumbling from his chest. His hackles bristled as he bolted toward the stairs, barking furiously, his deep voice echoing through the quiet house.

"Jake, hush!" Bella hissed, her heart hammering against her ribcage. She grabbed her phone from the nightstand, her thumb instinctively hovering over the emergency dial. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to run, but she forced herself to move cautiously toward the top of the stairs.

Each step down felt like an eternity, the wooden boards creaking softly beneath her feet. The shadows below stretched long and ominous, the faint glow from the kitchen nightlight barely illuminating the edges of the living room. Bella's grip tightened around her phone, her knuckles white as her eyes darted frantically, scanning every dark corner.

The house was silent except for Jake, whose growls deepened as he paced near the base of the stairs. Bella's gaze flicked toward the kitchen. No broken windows. No open doors. Everything seemed undisturbed.

She exhaled shakily, her pulse still racing. "You're imagining things," she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. "It's nothing."

Jake's growls began to taper into soft, uneasy whines, his eyes fixed on the front door. Bella swallowed hard, the tension in her chest easing just slightly. She reached for his collar, tugging gently. "Come on, boy. Let's go back upstairs."

But before she could take another step, a sudden force slammed into her from behind.

Bella was hurled forward, her phone slipping from her grasp and clattering across the hardwood floor and skidding somewhere beneath the couch. She hit the ground hard, the impact driving the air from her lungs. Pain radiated from her shoulder all the way down to her fingertips, sharp and searing. Dazed, she barely registered the heavy footsteps behind her until a gloved hand fisted her hair, yanking her up and onto her feet. She felt the painful stretch of her scalp and sobbed out a hysterical, "No!"

Her mind snapped into focus.

Fight or flight.

Jake's barking exploded into a frenzy, his teeth bared as he lunged at the intruder. The man—broad-shouldered and clad in black, his face obscured by a ski mask—grunted as he dodged Jake's snapping jaws, but he didn't release his grip on Bella. He used his hand to swing blindly at the dog, hitting him square in the face and causing him to stumble back with a pained yelp.

Terror surged through Bella, a cold, paralyzing wave that left her limbs trembling. Her thoughts blurred into a single, desperate refrain— Get free. Get free. She twisted and thrashed, kicking out wildly. Her bare foot connected with the man's shin, and he let out a low growl of pain.

"Let go of me!" Bella screamed, her voice raw with fear.

The man's grip fell to her arms, tightening around her skin, and he shoved her hard against the wall. Her head smacked against the plaster, stars bursting in her vision. For a moment, everything tilted, the edges of her world blurring, but then Jake was lunging again, his powerful jaws sinking into the man's forearm.

The intruder let out a muffled curse, his hold on Bella slackening. Pain and fury flashed in his dark eyes as he shook his arm violently, trying to dislodge Jake.

Bella gasped for air, her lungs burning. She scrambled backward, her hands blindly searching for something—anything—to use as a weapon. Her fingers closed around the heavy ceramic lamp on the side table, and without hesitation, she lifted it and swung with every ounce of strength she had.

The lamp smashed into the man's shoulder with a sickening crack. He staggered, releasing her completely as he clutched at his injured arm. Bella didn't stop to think. Her instincts drove her forward, her body fueled by adrenaline and sheer will.

"Jake, come!" she shouted, her voice breaking.

Jake released the man with a final snarl and bolted toward her. Bella dashed to her front door, her eyes locking onto her car keys hanging on the hook. Behind her, she could hear the intruder recovering, his heavy boots pounding against the floor as he gave chase.

Her hands trembled violently as she grabbed the keys, nearly dropping them in her panic. She could feel the man closing in, his presence a dark, suffocating weight just behind her.

Bella reached for the front door and wrenched it open, shoving Jake out ahead of her. The cold night air hit her like a shock, but she didn't stop. She sprinted to her car, her bare feet slapping against the pavement.

"Come on, come on," she muttered frantically, fumbling to unlock the door. Jake leapt into the backseat, still growling, as Bella slid into the driver's seat and jammed the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life, and she threw the car into reverse, tires screeching as she backed out of the driveway. Her eyes momentarily flickered to her side mirror, expecting to see the man barrel out after her, but there was nothing.

Her chest heaved, every breath a struggle as she sped down the dark, empty street. Jake whined softly, his paws pressed against the window, his eyes still fixed on the house.

"It's okay, Jake," Bella whispered, her voice shaking. "We're safe now. We're okay."

But as she glanced into the rearview mirror, her blood ran cold.

A man sat in the backseat, his face partially obscured by shadow. His piercing green eyes locked onto hers through the mirror, calm and unyielding.

Bella's scream tore through the car as she yanked the wheel, the vehicle swerving wildly. The tires screeched against the pavement, and she barely managed to regain control.

"Don't panic," the man said, his voice low. "I'm here to help."

Bella's hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white. Her pulse thundered in her ears. "Who—who the hell are you?"

The man leaned forward slightly, his expression unnervingly composed. "My name is Edward Cullen," he said evenly. "If you want to stay alive, you'll have to listen very carefully."

Well, that happened.