Chapter 95: Duet
As Bella soared away from the White House, the gleaming spire of the Washington Monument rose ahead, stark against the midday sky. Sunlight glinted off its pale marble surface, casting a long, sharp shadow across the National Mall. She exhaled, a quiet breath of relief slipping past her lips. The meeting with the President had gone better than she'd dared hope. She still didn't know how the rest of the government viewed her—whether as an ally, a potential threat, or something in between—but at least the President had listened. More than that, he seemed to understand, even agree with what she had told him. And if she could count him as an ally, that meant something. Having the most powerful voice in her corner was no small thing.
The wind curled around her as she flew, lifting strands of her hair and sending them whipping in the breeze, a restless current pulling at her like it wanted to carry her even higher. Below, the National Mall stretched out in perfect symmetry—the green expanse lined with walkways and monuments, buzzing with movement. Cars wove through intersections, and people scattered across sidewalks, some strolling, others hurrying along. From this height, she could take it all in at once, a sweeping view where history and modern life collided in the heart of the nation.
For once, she wasn't trying to be discreet. At this point, the world likely knew she had met with the President. That thought stirred something in her, a flicker of curiosity. If she was already here, why not take the opportunity to explore? She had no idea when—or if—this chance would come again.
The Washington Monument loomed before her, its towering presence unshaken by time, and she found herself smiling. She and Edward had walked around its base the other night, but this—this was a chance to see it from an entirely new perspective.
Bella approached the monument, its sheer size becoming even more imposing as she neared. From the ground, it was a towering pillar of stone, but from her vantage point, rising alongside it, she could see every detail etched into its surface—the subtle seams between the massive marble blocks, the weathered grooves carved by more than a century of wind and rain, the faint variations in color where time had left its mark. Sunlight streaked down its length, casting shifting glimmers across its pale facade. She didn't know its exact height, but judging by its scale, she estimated it to be roughly the equivalent of a 50-story building.
She drifted closer, nearly skimming the monument's surface as she ascended, circling it as she rose. The structure gradually tapered toward its peak, where small observation windows peered out over the city like unblinking eyes. As she flew, a rush of wind funneled upward, carrying the distant hum of life below—the murmur of tourists, the excited chatter of school groups, the occasional honk of traffic threading through the streets of D.C.
At last, she reached the summit, hovering effortlessly near the very tip of the obelisk. Looking down, she knew with certainty—no human had ever stood where she now hovered, unaided and unrestrained. It was a view unlike any other, one that not even the monument's architects, builders, or most distinguished visitors had ever seen firsthand.
Bella drifted lower, aligning herself with the observation windows encircling the peak of the obelisk. Inside, movement stirred—faces pressing eagerly against the glass, expressions shifting from shock to delight as they realized she was outside. Parents hoisted their children into their arms, pointing excitedly, their mouths moving in silent exclamations behind the thick glass. A little boy, no older than five or six, slapped his tiny palms against the window in pure excitement, waving so frantically his whole body seemed to shake.
Bella floated closer, placing her palm against the glass, mirroring the child's. For a second, they just stared at each other, the boy's face lighting up with uncontainable joy. Bella grinned back, winking playfully before backing away from the window with an effortless glide, waving as she drifted. The little boy squirmed in his father's arms, talking up a silent storm, his excitement contagious even through the barrier between them.
Below, the commotion had only grown. Bella glanced down, taking in the sight of the crowd gathering at the base of the monument, heads tilted back, eyes locked on her. Voices rose in an overlapping mix of awe and excitement, the murmur swelling with each passing second. Though the wind carried much of the sound away, she could still pick out scattered cheers rippling through the spectators. Phones shot into the air in unison, hundreds of tiny devices catching the sunlight as people scrambled to capture the moment.
Hovering above them, Bella had to bite back a laugh. An absurd image flashed through her mind—this very scene, except she was wearing a skirt. She could almost hear the singsong voices from her early grade school days, the boys all chanting, I see London, I see France, I see Starshield's underpants! The thought alone made her snort. The internet would have a field day, the pictures immortalized forever. Yeah… once again, she was grateful she only wore jeans. Flying and skirts? Definitely a disaster waiting to happen.
The crowd below had swelled, the murmurs rising into a low roar of excitement. Bella hadn't meant to cause a scene, but in hindsight, hovering above one of the most famous landmarks in the country was bound to draw attention. What was normal for her was still nothing short of extraordinary to those watching.
She drifted lower, descending smoothly until she was just above the growing mass of people. Hundreds of faces turned upward, eyes wide with awe, phones raised high, capturing every second. The air buzzed with energy—excited whispers, scattered cheers, the occasional exclamation of disbelief.
She raised a hand, a silent call for attention. The noise settled into an expectant hush.
"Hello, everyone." A warm smile played on her lips as she let her gaze sweep over the crowd. "I was just here to see the sights, same as you." She gestured toward the monument behind her. "And I have to say—it's pretty impressive up there. If you haven't already, I'd recommend going to the top. The view's incredible."
A ripple of laughter and agreement passed through the crowd.
"I didn't mean to disrupt your day," she continued, her tone light but sincere. "But since I'm here, I just wanted to say—it's nice to see you all. Interacting with others while being myself is still new to me."
Murmurs of response rippled through the spectators, some calling out greetings, others just staring in stunned silence.
Her eyes flicked toward the far end of the National Mall, where the dome of the Capitol stood in stark contrast against the bright blue sky. "I think I'll check out the Capitol next," she mused, half to herself, before looking back down with a small wave. "I hope you all enjoy the rest of your day."
She took off, rising fast enough to make it clear she wasn't inviting pursuit, but not so quickly as to seem like she was fleeing. Below, the crowd erupted into cheers, their voices carrying after her as she gained altitude.
She pushed forward, the wind rushing past her, ruffling her clothes and hair. This was her reality now. Whenever she put on the mask, eyes would follow her wherever she went, the public drawn to her every move. She would just have to get used to it, but thankfully, it didn't bother her.
Over the years, she'd taken on jobs that had put her in the spotlight—standing on stages, holding the attention of audiences both large and small. The only difference now was that she wasn't acting. She wasn't performing.
She was just being herself.
The Capitol loomed ahead, its iconic dome rising like a crown over the heart of Washington, D.C. From a distance, it was already impressive, but as Bella soared closer, the details sharpened, transforming it from a familiar symbol into something truly breathtaking. The pristine white façade gleamed under the afternoon sun, its massive columns and intricate railings casting crisp shadows across the broad steps leading to its entrance.
She glided toward the dome, its grand curvature dominating the skyline. The closer she got, the more intricate it became—each ridge, each carved accent standing out in ways impossible to appreciate from the ground. Below the dome, the ring of windows shimmered in the sunlight, catching the sky's reflection like fragments of glassy blue, making the entire structure feel weightless, as if it hovered between heaven and earth.
And above it all, at the very pinnacle of the Capitol, stood a statue she had never truly studied before.
Bella slowed, hovering before the towering statue, her gaze tracing the powerful figure that stood watch over the city. Nearly twenty feet tall and cast in dark bronze, the woman exuded a quiet, unshakable strength. A long, flowing robe draped over her form, its sculpted folds giving the illusion of movement. An elaborate helmet crowned her head, adorned with a crest of eagle feathers. At her side hung a sword, partially obscured by the robe, while her other hand firmly gripped a shield—silent, unwavering, a guardian frozen in time.
A warrior.
The craftsmanship was stunning, the details finer than she'd expected—each feather in the helmet carefully sculpted, the drapery of the robe so lifelike it seemed as though it could ripple in the wind. From a distance, the statue was little more than a dark silhouette against the sky, but here, up close, it was something else entirely. Something commanding.
She drifted around it, taking it in from all angles. From this height, she could see how the sword rested subtly against her hip, how the weight of the shield was balanced effortlessly in her grip. The face beneath the helmet was calm yet resolute.
Did she have a name?
Bella smiled at the thought. Maybe she was the original Starshield—a warrior woman from another time, standing watch over a city that had long since changed around her.
The sound of a frantic voice below shattered her reverie. Bella's gaze snapped downward, locking onto a security guard standing on the exterior walkway that encircled the base of the dome. The narrow platform, designed for maintenance and surveillance, offered a direct vantage point over the city—but right now, the guard's attention was fixed solely on her.
He stood rigid, gripping his radio with white-knuckled fingers, speaking urgently into the mic, his other hand clenching and unclenching at his side as if bracing for something he couldn't quite comprehend.
"I need backup at the Capitol dome! Unidentified person at the... top! Repeat, I have an unauthorized individual at the highest point of the structure! Request immediate assistance!"
His voice crackled with tension, unsteady and strained. Bella saw the fear in his wide eyes, the way his breath hitched, his body locked in place as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. Their eyes met—his filled with alarm, hers calm and unblinking. For a moment, the world seemed to still between them, the weight of the moment stretched taut.
Shit. This was not what she'd intended.
Bella dropped toward the walkway, moving fast, hands in front of her in a clear show of peace. She didn't want this getting out of hand. The last thing she needed was for some panicked security response to turn this into a full-blown incident. She stopped short, hovering about eight feet away, keeping enough distance to avoid making him feel cornered.
"Hey, I'm sorry." Her tone stayed even. "I didn't mean to startle you. I was just looking around."
Roy looked up at her—it—whatever the fuck she was. His heart pounded so hard he could hear it in his ears, a sick rhythm of panic hammering through his skull. She was floating. Floating. No wires, no jetpack, no logical explanation.
His grip on the radio tightened. No matter what she said—no matter how casual she acted—he knew the truth. The government might have bought into her whole I'm-just-like-you routine, but he wasn't an idiot. He'd seen enough movies to know how this shit started. A friendly visit, a little hand-waving, and next thing you knew, the sky split open and the real invasion began.
"Jesus fucking Christ." The words tumbled out before his brain could catch up. "You're not about to pull some Independence Day bullshit on us, are you?"
It came out raw, half-panicked, half-accusation. His breath was coming too fast now, his fingers twitching against his radio. Backup was on the way. He just hoped they got here in time—before she vaporized him.
Hearing the man's panicked accusation, Bella couldn't help it—she laughed. A short, incredulous chuckle before shaking her head.
"No, no—you've got the wrong idea." She patted the air in front of her, a universal let's all calm down gesture. "I just came from a meeting at the White House. I'm pretty sure it's still standing, so I think you're safe."
Before she could say another word, the door to the exterior walkway slammed open.
A dozen figures stormed out, boots hammering against the platform, the synchronized snap of weapons locking into place slicing through the air like a blade. Uniforms, body armor, machine guns… a lot of machine guns.
Holy shit!
Bella's hands shot high into the air. "Whoa! Whoa! Misunderstanding here." Her voice was urgent—she needed to keep the situation from spiraling. "I was just looking around, admiring the architecture. That's all. I didn't mean to cause any trouble."
The response was immediate. Barrels stayed locked onto her chest, unwavering, each soldier poised to fire at the slightest provocation. But it was the collective click of safeties flipping off that rang in her ears.
Red laser sights danced across her chest, a dozen crisscrossing from every direction. She stayed perfectly still—not because she felt threatened, but because she couldn't let this go sideways. One twitch, one wrong move, and they'd light her up like a goddamn Christmas tree.
Just in case, she reinforced her shield, tightening it seamlessly around her body. They wouldn't know it was there—but if someone had an itchy trigger finger… well, she'd rather not find out how well her blouse held up against a barrage of gunfire.
One man stepped forward, and even before he spoke, Bella knew he was in charge. The others shifted subtly at his movement, their focus still locked on her, but she could sense they were waiting for his command.
"Ma'am, you're in restricted airspace." His voice was firm, authoritative—but there was hesitation behind it, like he was still working through how to handle the situation. He exhaled, brow furrowing. "Honestly? I have no idea what to do here. Anyone else attempting what you just did would be arrested immediately."
Bella jumped in before that thought could gain any traction. "I'm really sorry. I didn't know," she admitted. "I'm not used to flying in public like this, and I didn't think… I just wasn't thinking. It wasn't my intention to cause a scene or alarm anyone. If it's alright, I'd rather just leave now. I won't fly over the Capitol again—I swear."
The man studied her, his face unreadable. Then, after a long pause, he gave a slow nod. "I think that would be best. But, ma'am…" He hesitated, something softening in his expression. "Starshield—thank you. For what you did in Los Angeles. My family and I… we're big fans."
As his words landed, the tension around her eased. One by one, the soldiers lowered their weapons, and Bella exhaled slowly, relief settling in. Carefully, she lowered her hands and gave the man a small nod of appreciation. "Thanks. I'll get out of your hair now." A quick, genuine smile flickered across her face. "You guys keep up the good work. Uh… bye."
She lifted a hand in a small, slightly awkward wave before turning. As she did, her eyes flicked to the original guard standing behind the others. He looked like he wanted to protest, but thankfully, he kept his mouth shut.
Without wasting another second, she pivoted and shot into the sky, leaving the Capitol grounds as fast as she could. Jesus. That had been way too close. She'd learned a valuable lesson—if she was going to fly in plain sight, she needed to be a hell of a lot more careful about where she did it. And preferably, it would be somewhere not guarded by men with machine guns.
Bella flew for miles, cutting through the sky like a shadow slipping between the clouds. Below, the city stretched endlessly—a vast maze of streets and buildings, every inch of it undoubtedly covered in cameras. She needed to get out of sight.
Spotting a stretch of quiet, unpopulated streets on the outskirts of the city, she descended, landing lightly in a narrow alleyway wedged between two aging brick buildings. The second her feet touched the ground, she took off running, putting even more distance between herself and any watchful eyes.
Farther away now, she slowed, scanning her surroundings before stopping in another secluded spot. The city noise was distant here, muffled by the buildings around her. She paused, listening—nothing but the occasional hum of traffic far in the distance.
Satisfied she was alone, she reached up and pulled off her mask. Cool air brushed against her face, the feeling a welcome relief. She slipped the mask into her back pocket and closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. She let the air fill her lungs and held it, letting it settle before exhaling. The tension from the Capitol incident slowly began to ebb.
A shake of her hair. A quick smoothing of her clothes. The weight of the moment shifted.
No more urgency. No more Starshield.
She was just Bella again.
Stepping out of the alley, she settled into an easy, unhurried pace. Only then did she glance down at herself, frowning slightly. This was the outfit she'd worn to meet the President. By now, the White House had undoubtedly released an official photo. Anyone paying close attention might recognize her—not by her face, but by her clothes.
That needed to change.
A few minutes later, she stepped out of a small clothing shop in a fresh outfit, her blouse, which she had quite liked, was now folded neatly inside a brown paper bag. She carried it to the end of the street and dropped it into a clothing donation bin. At least now, someone else could enjoy it.
Scanning the street, she spotted a yellow taxi rolling to a stop at a red light. She raised a hand, and the cab pulled up beside her. Sliding into the back seat, she gave the driver the name of the hotel she and Edward were staying at.
It was time to return to normalcy.
She smiled, thinking of Edward.
After paying the taxi driver, Bella stepped out onto the curb in front of her hotel. The afternoon sun still hung high, casting a warm glow over the city. There were hours of daylight left, but only one thought occupied her mind—getting to Edward and telling him about her day.
She slipped through the revolving doors into the cool, air-conditioned lobby, striding toward the elevators—until something stopped her.
Music.
It drifted from the far side of the lobby, low and rich, but that voice… it pulled at her like a thread she couldn't ignore.
A slow smile spread across her lips as she turned, drawn toward the lounge.
Stepping inside, the shift in atmosphere was immediate. The dim lighting wrapped around her, a stark contrast to the bright lobby. Golden hues flickered from candle-like lamps on each table, casting soft shadows over the space. She hadn't expected it to be this full—not this early on a Monday—but every seat was occupied, guests leaning in, captivated.
By him.
By Edward.
He sat effortlessly at the grand piano, fingers gliding over the keys with practiced ease, his head tilted slightly downward as he played. The song was one she hadn't heard before, but it was hauntingly beautiful—each note swelling and fading like an echo of a memory, wrapping around the room like something almost tangible.
And his voice…
Smooth, aching with emotion, each lyric carried the weight of longing, loss, and the quiet passage of time. Bella's breath caught as she watched him—he wasn't just performing; he was feeling every word.
And she wasn't the only one who felt it.
A quick glance around the lounge revealed guests caught in the moment, some motionless, others discreetly wiping at their eyes.
As Edward played the final lingering notes, the room stirred from its trance, a wave of applause rippling through the lounge. He lifted his hands from the keys, letting the sound settle, his expression calm yet pleased. Then, almost imperceptibly, his posture shifted. His head turned slightly, and his gaze found hers.
A slow, warm smile curved across his lips. Bella felt the familiar pull toward him but held herself back. She didn't want to interrupt—not while he was in his element, commanding the room with nothing but his voice and the grand piano beneath his fingertips.
Instead, she offered a small nod, her silent way of telling him to keep playing. He inclined his head in acknowledgment, and with that, she turned and made her way to an empty stool at the bar.
Edward didn't miss a beat.
The applause had barely faded when his fingers pressed into the keys again, transitioning seamlessly into a new melody. This one was different—faster, brighter, charged with an energy that rippled through the room. Bella leaned forward, listening intently. She hadn't heard this song either.
She marveled at how much Edward had achieved, despite the isolation, despite the years of darkness that would have broken anyone else.
Letting the music wash over her, she absorbed each note as Edward lost himself in the performance once more. Whatever story he was telling through the music, she wanted to hear every second of it.
Bella leaned against the bar, fully immersed in the performance. She could listen to Edward sing for eternity and never grow tired of it. But even as she relaxed, other voices drifted to her, cutting through the melody.
A trio of young women, likely in their mid-twenties, sat a few seats closer to the piano. Bella didn't need to listen to know exactly what was going through their minds—the way they were eyeing Edward made it painfully obvious.
They were practically undressing him with their stares.
Their conversation, though hushed, carried effortlessly to her ears.
"God, he looks fucking delicious," one murmured, voice thick with hunger. "I could eat him up."
A hushed laugh. Then another voice, lower, silkier, but no less predatory. "Yeah, we know. And you don't have to tell us which part you want to start sucking on."
Bella arched a brow. Who were these hoes?
"Damn, Stacy, don't tell me you're about to go for another one," the third woman whispered, exasperation laced with amusement. "The conference is ending tonight. We're leaving in an hour. You don't have time to add a new notch to your belt."
"For him?" Stacy breathed, her voice dripping with lust. "I'd skip the whole damn conference." A pause. Then, more curiously, "Is he famous? He looks like he should be famous. And that voice…"
"I don't recognize him or the songs," the first one admitted, tapping a manicured nail against her glass. "But maybe you have a chance. He keeps looking at us." A smirk crept into her voice. "You're lucky I have a serious boyfriend, or I'd fight you for him."
A scoff. "Oh, please, you're not going for him because of Todd?" The derision was palpable. "Give me a break. Todd sure as hell didn't stop you from sucking face with that guy at the club last night."
"Fuck you, bitch," the woman shot back, more amused than offended. "I told you—I was drunk. That doesn't count."
They all burst into laughter, giggling like schoolgirls sharing some dirty secret.
Bella exhaled slowly. What a bunch of sluts. Pathetic.
Edward had obviously been looking at her. But these women were so low on the totem pole they might as well have been invisible. Bella couldn't even muster up the energy to feel like she had to protect what was hers.
Still, she smirked, watching as they preened and whispered, oblivious to just how far out of their league they were.
Edward finished his song to another round of enthusiastic applause, a few guests even calling out for more. Bella caught the quick flicker of his gaze before his lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. He was up to something.
He turned back to the audience, his voice smooth and effortlessly charming. "I'm glad you're all enjoying the music." His fingers brushed the keys, an idle note filling the air. "How about something with a little more rock and roll?" His smile widened as his eyes locked onto hers. "And—if we're lucky—my girlfriend might grace us with her presence for a duet."
A murmur swept through the room, but Bella barely noticed. The smug bastard was watching her now, clearly enjoying himself.
She raised a brow, unimpressed. Edward only laughed harder.
Still undaunted, she slid off her stool. If he wanted to put her on the spot, fine. She was game.
As she crossed the lounge, she passed the trio of women who had been so eager to get their hands—and mouths—on Edward. The disappointment on their faces was almost comical, their earlier confidence reduced to cinders.
Bella slowed just enough to lean in, her voice low, laced with amusement. "Maybe you'll have better luck with the next hunky musician," she offered sweetly. "But this one's mine."
The way their jaws dropped was delicious. And Stacy's scent… well, she was just lucky she wasn't a criminal.
With a wink, Bella straightened and strode toward the raised platform. As she stepped up beside Edward, the room broke into applause.
Edward was already settling back at the piano, watching her with undisguised affection.
Bella leaned in, pressing her lips to his in a brief but meaningful kiss. The soft hum of conversation in the lounge faded away, leaving only the warmth between them. When they parted, Edward's gaze lingered, his voice dipping into a hushed, intimate tone meant for her alone.
"I hope your meeting went well." His fingers skimmed lightly over the piano keys, playing a few idle notes before looking up at her with that unmistakable glint in his eye. "How about you join me for a rendition of that song I sang at Renée and Jean-Paul's house? The one about the guy looking to dance with his sweetheart?"
His smile deepened. "We'll switch it up—make it about a woman hoping to dance with her guy. You take the lead, I'll do backup."
Bella's lips curled into a knowing grin. This wasn't the first time they'd performed together. During their travels, they had sung together many times, as well as on several occasions for her family and at the Cullens' house. But every time, the world seemed to fade away until it was just them, lost in the music.
She nodded, anticipation sparking in her veins.
Edward's fingers pressed into the keys, and the opening notes spilled into the air—bright, rhythmic, alive. Bella knew he had written it at the dawn of the rock and roll era, and its infectious beat had lost none of its power. Around the room, guests perked up, heads turning, bodies shifting as the lounge buzzed with renewed energy.
The moment her cue arrived, she didn't hesitate.
Bella belted out the first line, her voice rich and mesmerizing, cutting through the space like a spark igniting a fuse. The melody was fast, catchy, impossible to resist. Fingers tapped against tables, bodies swayed unconsciously to the rhythm. Then Edward joined in, his harmony threading seamlessly with hers, weaving a sound so electric it might as well have been meant for a packed stadium.
The room sat spellbound.
And Bella, completely in her element, let herself get lost—in the song, in the music, in Edward.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I'd love to hear your thoughts, so feel free to comment and share!