IMPORTANT--READ:

For those that don't have me on author alert, I posted a EP OUTTAKE on the 24th. I recommend reading that BEFORE you read this. It's Carlisle POV and will help you understand this chapter some IMO. Go to my profile and you will see it listed under the stories. Alert it b/c there will be more to come.

For those who aren't aware, I was hospitalized from complications of the swine flu last week, which is why I went missing. I suffered a loss during that time and I want to thank everyone who shared their kind words and messages of concern for my situation. Losing a child is difficult and I want to ((HUG)) everyone who had to endure it also.

Updates won't be as quick as I deal with the complications of real life, I already had most of this chapter written which is why it's arrived so quickly to you.

There is violence in this chapter. I feel I must warn you just in case someone is sensitive.

Thanks to my girls for beta'ing and prereading for me. means a lot.

Disclaimer: I don't own twilight

Emancipation Proclamation
The Truth

"He learned to live with the truth. Not to accept it, but to live with it." - Nicole Krauss, [The History of Love]

Dr. Carlisle Cullen POV

“You’re going to die.”

The four lone words rang out, shattering the intense silence that had enveloped the room. I fought back the urge to balk or scoff at the statement, instead keeping my calm disposition. It wasn’t as if it were something I hadn’t already thought to myself dozens of times, but hearing it verbalized in that cold emotionless voice somehow made it more real. The words were spoken so calmly, as if it was just another statement made in passing, words forgotten almost the moment they registered in the mind. But they weren’t, because they were words that would haunt me and linger in the air around me until the moment they became true. I was going to die.

I glanced over in the direction the words had come, meeting the piercing eyes immediately. They were dark, so dark you couldn’t differentiate between the pupil and the iris, and they were extremely powerful. I wouldn’t exactly say they were emotional, as there was a sort of callousness to them, but there was still intensity to them that sent a chill down my spine. They were the same eyes dozens of men had looked into in their last moments on earth, the eyes that had stared them down before their lives were taken from them. They were eyes that could break even the hardest of men, elicit fear with just a look. They were the eyes of a murderer, the eyes of a man who could stand up and reach inside his coat, pull out his .22 caliber Ruger Mark II pistol and put a bullet in you before you even realized what was happening. More importantly, they were also the eyes of a man who wouldn’t hesitate to do it if he felt it was necessary.

“I know,” I said simply, keeping my voice even despite my anxiety. I couldn’t let my nerves show no matter what happened next. I realized I was taking a big risk here but I simply didn’t know what to do anymore. I was running out of time and every scenario or potential outcome my mind could conjure up seemed deplorable to me or impossible for me to pull off on my own. There had to be another way, there simply had to be a way to escape this situation without someone having to be harmed or lives being ruined because they were unfortunate enough to be mixed up with me. And maybe it was wrong of me, to involve the man whose eyes bore into me so intensely, but I didn’t know what else to do. He was the most logical person I’d ever come across, and if there were a way out of the situation, he’d know. He’d be able to see it and tell me. He was the only one who could help me; the only one I trusted enough to help me. But on the other hand, part of me acknowledged that he could very well be the one to end it all.

If I failed horribly, if those four lone words spoken a mere moment ago were to come true anytime soon, the man whose eyes I gazed into would likely be the one to do it. Those dark and dangerous eyes could very well be the last things I ever saw before I died.

He stared at me and didn’t speak, but that didn’t surprise me a bit. I’d sat across the room from him and spoke for nearly an hour, spilling everything I knew, spelling out the entire situation and my dilemma to him. I didn’t hold anything back and didn’t spare him any details; because I knew even the most inconsequential things could potentially mean something to him. And after I’d finished, he simply stared at me, those eyes practically burning holes through me as he absorbed the information and processed what it meant for me. What it meant for him, for all of us.

He’d remained silent for quite some time, the only sound in the room being that of the clock ticking on the wall behind me, and every second that passed increased my anxiety. I had no idea what was going through his mind, which path his thoughts were going down. I wasn’t naïve, I knew for a fact at some point he’d deliberate as to whether or not to simply kill me right here and right now and get it over with, but I just hoped that he wouldn’t settle upon that.

And when he opened his mouth and finally spoke those four bone chilling prophetic words, I oddly felt a twinge of relief. I was still breathing, living to see another minute, and that told me that maybe-just maybe-there was hope after all.

Those eyes bore into me for a while longer and I could practically see his mind working through different scenarios. I’d just placed the future in the palm of his hands, not only my fate but the fate of two young love struck kids, and I could only hope that he’d see that and find a way for me to fix this. If not for me, then for them.

Because behind those deep and perilous eyes, within that hard exterior, lay a real man with a heart. A man that had known me since we were children. A man that had been welcomed into my family with open arms. A man who loved my sister with all of his being, and because of that he was a man who understood the love I had for my own wife, and it was that man that I was appealing to. I wasn’t asking him as Mafiosi what I should do, because I knew what a mafia man was supposed to do with what I had. I was asking him as my family.

Because those eyes belonged to my brother-in-law Alec, and I only hoped that despite everything he’d be able to understand my position. That he’d hear me as my sister’s husband, and not as a caporegime in la cosa nostra.

Today was June 18th and the first thought that ran through my mind when I awoke this morning was that we’d finally reached judgment day. It was the day I called it in the game of life, preparing to lay my cards out on the table, and I hoped that when I did so there’d be a winning hand and that I wasn’t forced to fold.

Either way, nothing would ever be the same after today for any of us; I knew that as a fact. It was frightening in a sense but necessary, and which way it all went depended mostly upon the man who sat across from me. It depended upon whether or not he was willing to play the game.

Tomorrow, June 19th, my two oldest sons would graduate from high school. I couldn’t be prouder of either one and I knew that if Elizabeth were here she’d be equally as proud of all they’d achieved so far. They both found wonderful girls and have fallen in love, and both were heading off to college in the fall, ready to embark on their lives. They were both good kids, neither ever truly getting into any trouble beyond normal teenage debauchery. Emmett was going to study computer science at Notre Dame, which I know Elizabeth would’ve been ecstatic about.

Jasper was staying closer to home because of Alice, and although I knew he could do a lot better than the University of Washington in Seattle, I also understood his reasoning and ventured to guess his mother would’ve been equally as ecstatic about. She was a believer in sacrificing for true love and I was a testament to that, so I liked to think she wouldn’t fault her son for his decision. In fact, she’d likely have praised him for the selflessness and maturity such a decision took.

It was depressing to admit, but out of everything I’d done those two boys felt like my biggest accomplishments in life. I’d fucked up so much over the years and just the fact that my eldest two sons had survived it intact and were setting off on paths that didn’t even remotely resemble the one I walked down at their age made me feel as if I’d finally done something right. There was finally something I hadn’t destroyed, someone’s lives I hadn’t helped to ruin. No matter what happened those two were okay at least, and that made me feel like maybe I hadn’t been that horrible of a father after all. That maybe I hadn’t been that big of a disappointment to my late wife.

But my enthusiasm and pride over tomorrow’s event was being overshadowed by an even bigger event happening the very next day. An event that I’d been dreading most of all; the event that had forced me to finally break my silence about this situation and take action. There was no more time to delay; no more time to sit back and just hope things resolved themselves on their own because it was clear that wasn’t happening. I needed to get this situation figured out before it got even worse, because I knew in two days time it potentially could.

Because in two very short days, on June 20th, Edward would finally turn 18.

I wasn’t entirely sure where his head was, what he was planning for his future, but I hoped that the words he’d spoken those weeks ago in my office held true. I hoped he had absolutely no intention of following in my footsteps, that he had no intention of going to Chicago or involving himself in that life in any way. But I also knew that things changed in the blink of an eye, and I was well aware that Aro was desperate to get his hands on him. He wanted the ultimate principe della mafia to follow in his footsteps, a puppet he could force to do his bidding and mold into a cold calculating soldier, and that thought sickened me. It sickened me as a father and I knew if Elizabeth were still alive just the mere thought of it would devastate her.

I knew Aro could be persuasive and that he wasn’t above manipulation, and I was afraid of what he’d do to get his hands on my son. I was afraid of what or who he’d use to draw Edward into the life, and because of that I knew I needed to be proactive. I had to be on the offensive and make some preventative measures. I couldn’t just sit back and prepare my defense, because if it came down to it my defense would fail with what I was up against and we’d all go down in flames.

My youngest was turning 18, would finally be emancipated in the eyes of the law, and outside forces were already threatening to take his life away from him. That was why today was so important, why I sat across from my brother-in-law and gazed into those piercing eyes, awaiting judgment. Alec and Esme had flown in this morning for Emmett and Jasper’s graduation and to celebrate Edward’s birthday with him. All of the kids had gotten up before dawn to head to Port Angeles for the afternoon and Esme was upstairs, settling their things into Isabella’s bedroom for their stay, purposely giving the two of us some space. She knew what I had planned; she knew I was finally telling her husband what I knew. She was well aware that I was asking him to set aside everything he’d vowed to the Borgata in order to help my child and the girl he loved. Esme was confident love would win out, that he’d be unable to deny me, but I wasn’t as sure.

“She doesn’t look like a principessa della mafia,” he stated, breaking the silence that had overcome the room once more. I nodded slowly.

“I had the very same thought. I almost said it to her when I got the second DNA sample. Her skin’s too pale, she doesn’t look like a full-blooded Italian,” I said.

“But you’re positive of it,” he responded with, speaking the words as a statement and not a question, but I nodded in response anyway. He knew I wouldn’t have dared bring it up to him if I weren’t entirely sure.

“Both samples hit,” I added quietly.

“Principessa della mafia. Perché non lo vedo prima d'ora? Ha perfettamente senso,” he said to himself after a moment, shaking his head. “I always suspected there was more to that girl. It just never made sense to me that the elder Swan would do something as deplorable as put a hit out on your wife simply because Isabella was his granddaughter. Aro might have accepted that fact, but it just wasn’t logical to me. Sure he treated his granddaughter horribly, but it wasn’t so awful that the Borgata would’ve ever penalized him for it. It would’ve been an embarrassment maybe, but not a serious infraction and not worth killing over. But this… this is definitely worth killing over.”

I cringed as he spoke the words, knowing he didn’t mean them as they came off but not liking the sound of them none-the-less. Nothing would have ever been worth killing my wife over. He must’ve noticed my reaction because he continued quickly. “I’m not saying she should’ve died. You know how I feel about that situation so I’m not going to get into that. I still to this day wish I would’ve done more to thwart her attempts when she came to me the afternoon of your father’s funeral, but it never once crossed my mind that Swan could be this heinous.”

“None of us did, Alec,” I said, not wanting him to feel guilty. None of it was his fault. He nodded and looked away from me, staring down at the plush carpeting of my living room floor. He was obviously deep in thought again, sorting through the information once more.

“It’s hard to believe she’s one of our own,” he said after a moment, his voice calm as usual. “Not saying I don’t believe you, because I do, Carlisle. It’s just a bit surreal to discover after all of these years that the little slave girl is Marcus and Didyme’s granddaughter. That her mother Renee is really Bree, and that she somehow managed to survive.”

I nodded. “I know. It took me awhile to come to grips with the information myself.”

“What are the odds that the woman living in that barn in Phoenix and the child that sleeps in this house would both end up being related to… him,” he said. “Of all people…”

“…Aro,” I said quietly, completing his thought.

“He has surviving blood relatives after all,” he said, shaking his head and sighing. “Nieces.” I nodded hesitantly, confirming that. So many people had been lost in the chaos in the 70’s when the underground wars started between organizations, a lot of the bodies never recovered. It started when Joseph Columbo, leader of the Profaci Family, started the Italian-American Civil Rights League and started making a spectacle of our lifestyle, drawing unnecessary attention by law enforcement to the five major crime families in New York. The closest family to them, the Gambino’s, called him out on his actions and it escaladed to an all out brawl between organizations, spreading out from New York to the rest of the country.

It began with the assassination of Columbo and became about revenge and bloodshed, men killing families and going against everything our organizations had believed in simply for vengeance. The Italian families always swore to leave the women and children alone, but they were so blinded by their hatred and blood thirst then that they took it out on the innocent. It was sickening, but I understood and that made it even worse. I understood, because years later I’d gotten trapped in a similar situation. I’d nearly taken my own quest for vengeance out on the innocent.

My father had sent Esme and I here to Washington when the fighting broke out, which was where we’d first met Alec and Jane as children. We’d been lucky and came out of it unscathed, but many others hadn’t. Marcus and Didyme were eventually discovered buried in a cornfield in Idaho. It was just naturally assumed the daughter had perished and was disposed of, as they had no means to identify babies’ bodies when they surfaced and there was nothing distinguishable about them to tell them apart. There was no DNA to match up back in those days, no way to tell who was who unless they were recognizable. They’d later found the body of a girl a few miles from the cornfield in Idaho that was estimated to be around the age Bree had been, so it was always just assumed to have been her. It was clear to me now that wasn’t the case, though. I don’t know whose child was buried in the cemetery beside Marcus and Didyme’s grave, but it surely wasn’t theirs. Their daughter had lived through it. Their daughter had survived the bloodshed.

He stared at me for a bit longer. “You know, I’ve had this feeling for awhile that you were hiding something, but I never imagined it would be this, Carlisle. The odds of that woman turning out to be Aro’s dead niece are about as great as the odds of Jimmy Hoffa showing up tomorrow on the corner of Lincoln Avenue and Orchard Street in Lincoln Park back in Chicago.”

“Yeah, well, you never know Alec. I’m inclined to believe anything’s possible now,” I said, shaking my head.

“True. They did all disappear around the same time. I guess I’ll be on the lookout for Hoffa now when I’m in the neighborhood,” he said, his tone completely serious. I started laughing, as it was absurd because Hoffa was most definitely dead, but he just gazed at me with a displeased expression on his face. I quieted myself quickly, knowing I shouldn’t be laughing because there was nothing funny about this situation and he obviously didn’t see the humor in what he’d said.

“So let me get this straight. Whoever killed Marcus and Didyme sold their child to the Swans, and Charles Sr. purchased the child knowing she was a principessa della mafia within his own organization. He was aware he was buying one of his own, that he was keeping own of his owns blood as a slave and never said a word about it. He had your wife killed because of it, he ordered the wife of a fellow Mafioso murdered in an attempt to retain his secret, because he knew what he was doing would be an automatic death sentence if discovered by Aro,” he said, summing up in a few seconds what had taken me almost an hour to explain.

“As it would be for me, if Aro were to find out,” I added quietly. He eyed me curiously for a moment before nodding.

“Yes,” he said simply. I sighed, nodding once more at his confirmation. I was well aware that if it were exposed that I’d kept possession of Isabella after discovering her blood relation to the organization, I’d be killed. There’s no way Aro would even pause to consider my reasoning or attempt to figure out my position. He wouldn’t understand anyway, even if I were allowed a chance to explain.

“You do understand why I’ve done what I’ve done, right?” I asked hesitantly, eyeing him cautiously. Aro might not be able to understand, but I was truly hoping the man across from me would. Aro would simply see my actions as treacherous, but I hoped Alec would at least see the logic behind them. “You understand why I couldn’t simply turn the girl over to him.”

“Yes,” he said. “We wouldn’t still be sitting here speaking, Carlisle, if some part of me didn’t agree with you. The fallout from turning her over to Aro and confessing her true identity would be catastrophic. Not only would you be killed on principle, but her life would also be placed in grave danger. James is set upon inheriting Aro’s dynasty, is banking on the fact that he’s the closest thing Aro has left to a true relative. Edward is in enough danger because of Aro’s interest in him, adding the girl to the equation would only jeopardize them both further.”

He paused, taking a deep breath. “I’m not sure James would risk trying to kill her, but he would definitely try to take her as his own to cement his position as Aro’s heir. And if what you state is correct, that Edward loves the slave girl, I could see a potential war starting between those two boys over her. She’d be caught in the middle with no control over what becomes of her. She’d frankly be safer with my sister in Phoenix than she would be in Chicago with Aro.”

“Exactly. If I sent her to Chicago, Edward would follow right behind and I don’t doubt at all that he’d fight to the death for her,” I said, shaking my head. If I handed Isabella over to the organization, it would drive my son directly to them and I simply couldn’t take that sitting down, not without at least trying to thwart it. “Not to mention what all of this would mean for the organization as a whole. They never did determine who murdered Didyme and Marcus, and you know Aro had a hard time letting that go. He’s finally learned to live with it but if he were to discover that whoever murdered his sister and brother-in-law also sold his niece into slavery to one of his own friends, it would be reopening that wound. He’d go on a warpath, wouldn’t trust any of us after finding out men he considered friends had kept his blood family from him, and we have enough problems within the Borgata right now.”

I sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of my nose. “He’d kill Charles and your sister and anyone who’s had contact with them over the years, anyone who had seen or spoken to Ren--- uh, Bree, and hadn’t helped her, regardless of if they knew or even were in the position to help. He would not only destroy our organization from the inside out, but he’d go to war with anyone that potentially had a hand in it. My father had been around to control him back when they first died, to calm the fighting and keep the vigilante justice at a minimum within our own house, but with him in charge… there’s just no telling. He claims to be all business but he wouldn’t see this logically at all and a lot of people would die in his quest for vengeance. He’d point the finger in every direction and go after every single one of them until he finally found the right one.”

“History repeating itself,” Alec said. “He’d start another underground war in response to the first one.”

“Exactly,” I said. “I’d likely be dead before it even began, but my family would most definitely be endangered by a mafia civil war and I wouldn’t be around to protect them.”

He nodded. “We’d all be in danger, Carlisle,” he reiterated. I nodded.

“Yes. I’m trying to find a way out of this where that’s avoided. I’m not worried about myself, Alec. I’ve accepted that my odds of surviving this are slim no matter which way it goes down, but I just don’t want either of those kids to be taken down by something they have control over. They don’t need any more heartache; they’ve both had it rough enough. They deserve a life,” I said. He glanced at me and raised his eyebrows.

“So you just want principe and principesse to be able to ride off into the sunset, to live happily ever after? That’s not asking for too much, correct?” he asked, his voice cold and hard. “I hate to be the one to break it to you Carlisle, but this is the real world. This isn’t the stuff fairy tales are made of. I have a greater chance of getting you out of this alive than I do of making sure both of them remain entirely unscathed. This will hurt people, and there’s a good chance one or both of them will have to suffer or sacrifice. I honestly don’t know what you expect of me, I can only do so much.”

“I’m not asking you to really do anything, Alec. I don’t want to have to involve you, I’m just…” I started, but he cut me off with a bitter laugh, the sound striking something inside of me that sent dread coursing through me.

“You’re getting soft, Carlisle. I don’t know what’s happened to you, but I don’t like it. I can understand your personal logic in what you’ve done concerning the slave girl, but nothing else makes sense to me. You claim you aren’t trying to involve me, but do you not see you’ve involved me from day one? You’ve involved Esme in this mess, and by involving her you involve me. I thought you were smarter than that Carlisle, that you had more sense than this. She may be your sister but she’s my wife damnit, and you’re risking her life over this girl! That I can’t accept or understand. Not a bit,” he said, shaking his head. He was raising his voice and I could hear the tinge of passion in it, surprising me. Alec never really lost his composure or showed emotion.

“I didn’t intend…” I started, not wanting him to think I planned to push the entire situation onto him. I just needed some guidance, some outside reasoning, but he cut me off before I could express that.

“No, I’m sure you didn’t intend it Carlisle. But I would’ve thought you of all people would understand. You lost your wife to this life, lost her because of that slave girl, and now you’re putting me in the same exact situation. For someone who loved and grieved so wholly, you surely didn’t hesitate to set me up to endure the same fate. For someone who claims to love his family and would sacrifice himself for them, you surely didn’t consider what this meant for your sister or for me. In your quest to ensure your son didn’t follow in your footsteps, you managed to set your sister up to follow in your wife’s footsteps,” he snapped.

“Do you know how it felt to have my wife come to me and ask me to save that girl? What I felt to have her look at me and plead for me to rescue Isabella Swan from Phoenix? She used almost the same exact words your wife used when she came to me years ago. I refused them both because it wasn’t my place to intervene, and I want nothing more than to refuse your request for help right now but I can’t. I’m a logical man and I recognize I have no choice but to help you and attempt to salvage some lives. If I didn’t know what happened next based on the past, I’d turn you in right now. But doing so would be turning my wife in and sealing the rest of our fates also.”

I stared at him, slightly stunned by his outburst. In all of the years I’d known Alec, I’d never heard him go off so passionately. It hadn’t even really dawned on me what he was saying, the position I was truly putting my sister in. I’d been selfish lately with my concern.

“So yes, I’ll help you Carlisle, but I’m not doing it because of you. I’m doing it for my wife. If I have to die because of this, at least I’ll die fighting for something worth fighting over,” he said, staring at me pointedly. “I make no promises, but I’ll see what I can manage despite the fact that it goes against everything I’ve sworn myself to. All I know is this slave girl better damn well be worth it to you.”

I gazed at him briefly. “She was to Elizabeth,” I said. He shook his head, bringing his hands up to rub his face with frustration.

“L'amore domina senza regole. The things we do for women,” he muttered. “First of all, I need the doctor’s name that ran the DNA tests for you and has the results.”

I eyed him warily. “Why?” I asked. He raised his eyebrows, looking surprised.

“I’m helping you and you’re questioning my motives, Carlisle?” he asked, shaking his head. “You really have gone soft. The Carlisle I used to know would’ve put a bullet in that man without a second thought and now you’re even hesitating upon giving me his name? What is it about this girl that incites such reactions from people?”

I sighed, and ran my hand through my hair. “I don’t know, I’ve asked myself that question so many times. And I was trying not to kill any innocents, Alec,” I said. “I’ve been paying him off and he’s kept his mouth shut so far.”

Alec gazed at me, his expression almost one of disbelief. “Chi vuole mantenere un segreto deve nascondere il fatto che egli possiede uno,” he said coolly. Whoever wishes to keep a secret must hide the fact that he possesses one. “Money will only get you so far. At some point it won’t be enough. The only way to ensure he keeps his mouth shut is to ensure he doesn’t have the ability to ever open his mouth again. I understand the desire to not harm innocents and I know you’ve done all you can do the past few years to keep that blood off of your hands because of what you did, but that’s not always plausible. Maybe out in society it is, but in the world we live in collateral damage is often unavoidable. Kill or be killed, you know that.”

I nodded hesitantly, knowing it was the truth but still not wanting to go down that path. “Dr. Scomparsa,” I said. He stared at me intensely for a moment before the corner of his lips started turning up, a small smile overcoming his mouth.

“Seriously?” he asked, some amusement in his voice. I nodded and his smile grew. I watched him curiously for a moment, a bit caught off guard by his reaction. “Well, Carlisle, I do believe your wife would’ve declared this as ‘fate’. I couldn’t think of a more fitting name for the man.”

It dawned on me after a second what he was referring to and I smiled involuntarily. Scomparsa, an Italian word referring to a disappearance or death. He started laughing and I probably should’ve been disturbed that out of everything he’d find this bit humorous, but I couldn’t seem to bring myself to really turn the switch to my emotions on and care at the moment. I was just grateful for his involvement in whatever way he wanted to be involved. At least I wasn’t alone anymore; at least I wasn’t carrying the burden of this secret on my own.

“I have to say, I’m surprised you’d trust a man named Dr. Death,” he said, shaking his head. “But I’ll handle him. He’s in Port Angeles, correct? I’ll need his address.”

I felt a twinge of guilt at the nonchalant way Alec discussed the man, as I’d known him for quite some time. “I’ll give you his office and his home addresses,” I said. He nodded in acknowledgement.

“Good. I’ll slip off sometime this weekend while we’re here,” he said simply. “And is there anyone else who may know? Anyone who may suspect something?”

I considered the answer briefly. “Just Edward,” I said, eyeing him cautiously. He raised his eyebrows with surprise.

“You’ve told Edward?” he asked. I shook my head no, sighing.

“He’s too curious for his own good. He got nosey and started digging. He didn’t locate any names but he’s hinted that he has it figured out. I don’t know for sure, but I realize he likely may,” I said quietly, unsure of how Alec was going to take that. I recognized he didn’t want anyone beside him, Esme, and myself alive that knew and wasn’t sure how he’d want to handle Edward.

He sat quietly, mulling it over. “Maybe it’s for the best that he knows,” he said finally. My brow furrowed at his response, as it was the last thing I expected to hear. I expected at least irritation or disappointment at a new complication. “If something goes wrong, I think it would be fair that Edward understands why and what he’s up against. If he likely knows anyway, I don’t see the harm in informing him outright.”

I contemplated his statement. “I’ll consider it,” I said, hoping he’d accept that for now. His logic made sense but I was still so hesitant to divulge anything to Edward and involve him in this any more than he already was. He nodded.

“Fair enough. He’s your child. I do have to say, though, I’m conflicted as to who he reminds me of more these days, a younger you or his mother. He’s such a big mix of the two it makes him a potentially dangerous kid. Curiosity and hostility doesn’t make for a stable disposition,” he said, shaking his head. “I can see why Aro wants him so badly. He’ll be a force to be reckoned with if guided properly.”

I nodded, feeling the dread at the statement. I knew it was the truth, even I could see Edward’s potential worth to the organization.

“What should I do about Renee, or, uh, Bree?” I asked, the fact that she was still under the Swan’s control weighing on my mind heavily lately. I couldn’t just go in and demand that Charles give her to me. Not only was that against our code of conduct, considering Renee was considered Swan property and I couldn’t just take her, but it also would raise suspicion because it would be so out of character for me. Aro would want to know why I was suddenly so interested in another slave, and using the excuse that Isabella was her daughter wouldn’t fly with him. He wouldn’t care about a slave’s mother, would deem it unnecessary and basically forbid me from doing so.

“Nothing for the time being. I’ll keep an eye on her and try to make sure Charles keeps his hands off of her. I don’t like leaving a principessa della mafia in that situation, but it’s for the best for now, until we can ensure this information isn’t coming out,” he said. I nodded.

“That’s fine,” I said, knowing he had the ability to pull her out but understanding why he’d not want her in his home until he was sure it wasn’t going to come back to haunt him if the information was exposed. He didn’t want to be in the same position I was in… owning one of Aro’s blood relatives as a slave. That would endanger him and my sister even more than they were already endangered because of me.

“Do you think Charles or my sister may know?” he asked after a moment. I shook my head.

“No, I would’ve known if something was off. Your sister would gloat about it and I doubt they would’ve given Isabella up so easily had they have figured out her identity, knowing it could be discovered. And I’m sure he didn’t know anything then, when… it happened…” I trailed off. Alec watched me for a moment.

“It’s been almost five years now, huh?” he asked. I laughed dryly, nodding.

“Today,” I said. “Today makes exactly five years.”

June 18th--the anniversary of the day I’d hit rock bottom. Most people would assume bottom was when my wife had died or the year afterward when I’d been unable to come home and face my own children because of my shame and guilt and anger, but it wasn’t. I hit my bottom years later…

~*~ ~*~

June 18th, 2001

I sped down the desolate highway, my hands shaking and my eyes burning from lack of sleep, threatening to close on me. My body was growing weary, desperate for rest, but there was no way I could stop now. I’d come too far to stop, entirely too far to just give in to the exhaustion.

My cell phone started chiming loudly from the passenger seat and I glanced over, blinking as the harsh yellowish green light lit up the darkness. I reached over and picked it up, squinting at the screen and trying to read the name. I felt the car jarring after a moment and glanced back out of the windshield quickly, dropping the cell phone and gripping the steering wheel tightly when I realized I’d run off the road. I swung a hard left, trying to correct myself, and skidded sideways briefly before regaining control. My heart was pounding erratically, my palms sweaty as the panic surged through me. My adrenaline started pumping and waking up my tired body, a queasiness brewing in the pit of my stomach.

My phone started chiming again after a moment and I glanced around quickly, seeing the yellowish-green illumination on the passenger side floorboard. I sighed and looked back out at the road, knowing there was no way to reach it without pulling over and parking the car. It wasn’t as if I’d really answer it, considering I hadn’t the last dozen times it rang. I knew who it was and I knew he was calling to stop me, but I couldn’t. No matter what it meant for me next, I couldn’t simply stop. That was out of the question.

I turned the air conditioning up high and cranked the stereo, hoping the loud rock music and the cold air blasting on me would be enough to keep me from drifting off. It drowned out the sound of my ringing phone but I could still see it lighting up periodically, illuminating the car with its harsh glow. It was grating on my nerves and sending my temper flaring. I punched the dash of the car in frustration and screamed, my voice drowned out by the sound of the Linkin Park song coming from the speakers, wishing it would just STOP. I wanted it all to just stop, every bit of it, but I just couldn’t seem to get myself to stop. I was too close; I’d come too far. Everything was so out of control and I was out of control.

Twenty-six hours. I’d been driving for a total of twenty-six hours straight, stopping only long enough to fill the gas tank or relieve myself when necessary. I’d climbed behind the wheel of the car last night around twilight in the Lincoln Park neighborhood of Chicago and just started driving upon instinct, my mind frantic and my thoughts disjointed. I didn’t know what I was thinking driving here, what I hoped to accomplish or even what exactly I was going to do when I arrived. I knew I was going against everything I’d agreed upon, knowingly disobeying orders and I was coherent enough to recognize that could have devastating consequences for me, but I wasn’t coherent enough to care. I didn’t care what happened to me because I wasn’t thinking about me at the moment. I wasn’t thinking of the future at all, was only reacting in the moment. All I could think about was revenge. I wanted vengeance--I needed payback. I couldn’t rest until I settled the score, until they all paid and hurt like I’d hurt. I couldn’t stop until it was over, until they suffered as much as I’d been suffering.

I walked inside that large house in Lincoln Park a little over twenty-six hours ago and stood in front of the man who controlled my life, hearing the four words that were echoing through my mind constantly like a tape on repeat. Over and over again, the words driving me forward, “Charles Swan did it.”

He’d explained more after that but none of it sunk in or really affected me like those first four words. I recalled him telling me not to react, that he’d call Swan to Chicago when he got the chance and we’d have a sit-down, and like a good little minion I’d nodded in agreement. ‘Yes, sir’ ‘Whatever you say, sir’, I’d said robotically, knowing I couldn’t say anything else. He’d dismissed me, telling me to go home to my children because my youngest would be turning 14 in a few days and he needed his father. I’d agreed once more and walked out, but the moment I sat down behind the wheel of the car all logic and reason left.

All I could hear were those four words, and all I could feel was the anger and hatred. All I could think of was revenge. He’d had my wife killed and destroyed my family, permanently scarring my son in the process. His scars were mental and physical, and there was no way I could go home and face him. Not now, not knowing, and definitely not without doing anything about it. Edward and Elizabeth deserved retribution, and Charles Swan deserved to pay with blood. No, I couldn’t face my son, the one who looked so much like Elizabeth, until I fixed this.

So there I was, twenty-six hours later, exhausted and unstable, on the verge of losing my very last shred of sanity as I sped down that desolate highway, heading straight for the Swan’s residence. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do when I arrived, but I was sure that I wasn’t walking away until the agony was gone. I wasn’t walking away until justice was served.

The closer I got to my destination, the more frenzied I grew. My mind was on the verge of a mental breakdown and my body was revolting against me, the fact that I’d been awake for two days straight wearing me down. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d ate or drank anything, besides the bottle of vodka on the seat beside me, and knew my lack of nourishment and dehydration was making everything worse. The vodka had been long gone hours ago, but I was sure the effects of it were still mingling in my body. I’d been drinking a lot lately; a lot more than I’d ever drank before. I kept it from everyone, not wanting them to worry about me, but I was teetering on the edge. I was slipping, and hearing those four fucking words all those hours ago wasn’t helping me keep my grip on reality.

My eyes were unfocused and felt like tiny grains of sand were lodged in them. I was light-headed and nauseated, my mind slipping, as I couldn’t seem to get a hold of my thoughts anymore. My hands were shaking even harder than before and I was cursing them, telling them to fucking knock it off. I had steady hands; it was one of the things I was known for. Carlisle Cullen never shook; Carlisle Cullen could aim and hit a moving target better than the rest of them. But now… now my hands were anything but steady. They were idle hands, trembling and sweating, rebelling like the rest of me.

I was a few miles out from the turn off to the Swan property when I saw the headlights of a car coming in my direction. I swerved back into my lane, having been riding in the middle of the highway, and slowed down some so I wasn’t going so far over the speed limit. The last thing I needed right now was to get pulled over, carrying a loaded unregistered weapon and slightly intoxicated. I glanced at the vehicle as it whizzed by, tensing up and rage surging through me when I realized it was them. It was unmistakable, because no one ever traveled this deserted road and Swan was a car aficionado, entirely too flashy for his own good. He bragged about his new bright yellow Ferrari 360 the last time I’d seen him and the moment I saw it, I knew exactly what it was.

I slammed on the brakes, the car skidding to a stop with a loud screech, and made a quick U-Turn. I nearly lost control of the vehicle when it went off the side of the road as I attempted to turn around, but I managed to get it straightened back out. I pressed down hard on the gas pedal and lunged forward, trying to close the distance between our vehicles. I wasn’t thinking clearly and logically had no plan as to what I would do when I caught him, but none of that mattered in the moment. All that mattered was that it was him and that there was no way he was getting away from me. Not now, not after what he’d done. Not now that I knew the truth. Not after I’d heard the four simple words that were still echoing in my head loudly, driving me to the edge. Charles Swan did it.

The car accelerated rapidly, closing in on the yellow sports car. The red lights in front of me came on as he hit his brakes, obviously noticing my rapid approach. He could easily outrun me and hit 200 mph if he wanted and I wouldn’t be able to touch him in the Mercedes, but Charles Swan Sr. wasn’t that logical. He slowed the car some and in my irrational unstable state, I floored it. I slammed the gas pedal and went straight for him. He must’ve realized what was happening at the last moment because he slammed his own gas pedal, his tires squealing as he shot forward again, but it was too late. He was too slow.

I rammed straight into the Ferrari, turning the wheel quickly and clipping the back corner of it. I was thrusted forward and my chest slammed into the steering wheel because I didn’t have my seatbelt on. Pain shot through me and my vision blurred out as I gasped for air. The force caused both cars to skid sideways and I gripped the wheel tightly, turning it and trying to straighten the car back out as I let go of the gas pedal. I heard the tires squealing and a loud crash as the Ferrari flew off the side of the road, straight into some large boulders jutting out in the desert sand. I hit the brake after a second and the car skidded some more, swerving in the road before swinging around and nearly flipping over. It eventually came to stop in the middle of the highway facing the opposite direction I’d been going, thankfully still intact for the most part and on all four wheels. My breathing was shallow and my heart was pounding erratically, my eyes foggy and stinging. The pain in my chest was intense, every breath hurting. I realized I’d likely broken a rib or fractured my sternum, but was just grateful I hadn’t hit my head in the process. A broken rib I could tolerate and handle, swelling in the brain I couldn’t.

The adrenaline coursing through me, coupled with my exhaustion and the physical blows from the accident made me feel sick, everything foggy and surreal in the moment. Smoke and dust lingered around the area from the collision, my eyes burning and watering. I brought my hands up to rub my face as my vision blurred out again. I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself, and groaned as the pain intensified in my chest.

I pushed the door open after a moment, blinking rapidly and trying to focus my eyes. I reached over for my pistol, glancing around briefly when it wasn’t on the seat where it had been, finally locating it on the floorboard. I grabbed it and stepped out of the car, my legs weak and shaking, threatening to give out as I put weight on them. I gripped onto the door until I was stable, glancing around. The Ferrari was totaled; the front end crushed from the impact with the boulder and smoke was filtering into the air around it. I didn’t see any movement in the car but started walking toward it slowly, watching cautiously. I neared the drivers side and heard the gasping and sputtering, pausing briefly to listen. I started forward again after a second, stopping right beside the door and glancing down at him. The window was busted out, glass shattered around and crunching under my feet. He turned his head to look at me, the fear overcoming his expression as his eyes took me in.

“Carlisle?” he sputtered in disbelief. I just stared at him and felt the anger rising up, the pure hatred and bloodlust rocking through me. It was fucking him. He’d done it. He’d destroyed my family, taken my wife from me. I loved her more than anything in this world, I loved her more than my own fucking life, and he took that from me. He was going to pay. He had to fucking pay.

“Charles Swan did it,” I muttered to myself, my voice oddly calm as I repeated those four horrid words that were eating at me. He gasped, his eyes going wide with shock as what I’d said registered with him.

“Uh… I… uh, Carlisle, I…” he started, wheezing and gasping for air. He was pinned in, his legs crushed under the front of the car and I could tell by the sound of his breathing that he had at least a collapsed lung. I glanced over at the passenger side and saw his wife slumped over, her legs also trapped. She wasn’t moving at all and there was blood pouring out of her ears, indicating she likely had what I guessed was a severe base skull fracture from blunt force trauma. She wouldn’t be a problem to me, as she was already as good as dead.

I glanced back at Charles and could see he was still stammering, his eyes welled up with tears as some streamed down his face. I couldn’t hear his words anymore and in that moment I didn’t even take time to wonder why. His mouth was moving frantically but all I heard was buzzing, my ears ringing loudly. Seeing him crying and begging for his life made my rage surge, my anger completely overcoming me and blocking out everything else.

“You killed my wife,” I snapped, losing the last shred of composure and sanity I had in that moment. He brought his hands up to shield himself and I brought the gun up, but instead of pointing it at him I grabbed the barrel, gripping it tightly. I reached my arm back and slammed him in the face with it with every ounce of force I could muster.

I blacked out, going completely on autopilot, having no conscious recognition of my actions. I don’t know how long I stood there beating him but by the time I resurfaced, my mind coming back around and it registering what I was doing, the body in the driver’s seat was unrecognizable. My hand was cramped as I gripped the gun, my arm sore from the force of my blows. I glanced down and saw my hands were coated in blood and it was splattered all over the front of me, covering my shirt. The sight of it brought me back around and I felt the sickness rising up. I doubled over and started dry heaving, gripping onto the side of the car to keep myself from toppling over.

I took a few deep breaths, trying to ignore the pain in my chest and get a grip on myself. I couldn’t fall apart now, not after all of that. I needed to fix this, I needed to finish it. I stood back upright and glanced back into the car. They were both obviously dead, blood everywhere inside. I took a deep breath and started walking away, turning back around to face the car. I brought my gun up and aimed it, firing off a few rounds in the direction of the gas tank. It took a second before the smell of the gasoline registered with me and I walked over to my car, tossing the gun onto the passenger seat again. I started scouring through the car, opening the glove box and center console, muttering to myself. I located the pack of Marlboros in the driver’s side door and pulled one out, grabbing the red lighter. I lit one up and inhaled, feeling the burn as the smoke scorched my lungs. The nicotine soothed my nerves as it filtered through my body.

I didn’t condone smoking as a general rule. I was a doctor, and I knew the damage I was doing to my lungs and body. But it was a habit that had taken over me lately, one of my many vices to help me cope, like the liquor and the women. I took a few more drags of the cigarette before flicking it over toward the Ferrari. It landed in the small puddle of gas accumulating, igniting immediately. I stood back and watched for a few minutes, leaning up against my Mercedes, and lit up another Marlboro. The blood on my shaky hands tinted the cigarette red but I ignored it, trying to focus.

After the car itself started burning I put my cigarette out, flicking the butt into the flames. I climbed into my car and started it up, heading back toward the Swan’s residence. I had no idea where else to go because I knew no one else in the area, and there was no way I could go out into public anywhere in my condition. I was out of control, my mind still foggy and thoughts jumbled, and I was covered in blood and shaken up.

The drive only took a few minutes and I pulled down the Swan’s driveway cautiously, unsure if he had the guards out tonight and wanting to avoid a confrontation. They had a marijuana field located nearby and often had armed men watching the tree line and keeping an eye on their property for them when they went away somewhere. I stopped the car in front of the house and climbed out, glancing around. The place looked deserted, everything silent and no sign of any movement anywhere. I grabbed my pistol and started toward the house, turning the knob and finding it unlocked. I stepped inside the house and immediately saw the form starting there. I reacted upon instinct and pointed the gun, preparing to shoot, and the scream rang out. It registered to me as female and I lowered the gun before I had the chance to pull the trigger, noticing an older slave standing there. She was staring at me wide-eyed, stunned and frightened as she took in my appearance.

“What’s your name?” I asked immediately, not really caring but feeling compelled to ask for some reason.

“Clara,” she whimpered.

“If you want to live Clara, I recommend you go to your room and stay there,” I said coolly. I started past her and she gaped at me briefly before turning and scurrying away. I headed toward Charles’s office, trying the knob and finding it locked. I kicked the door open, surprised at how simple it was to get inside. For a man with secrets, he surely didn’t do much to protect things.

I scoured through the office quickly, tossing things around, trying to find something-anything-of importance that would explain to me why he’d done it. Why the hell he’d go so far as to kill my wife over that little slave girl. What the hell made her so important for them to fucking kill over her? None of it made sense to me.

The more I rummaged, the angrier I got when I found nothing. My rage was growing, the disgust and resentment boiling up. How dare them, all of them. My wife was dead and here these people were, breathing and going about their lives. None of them deserved to live, not if she couldn’t live. They’d fucking gotten her killed, and it wasn’t just Charles and his wife’s fault. It was all of them; every single one of them had fucked my wife up somehow.

I gave up on finding answers after a while, realizing searching was fruitless. It didn’t fucking matter why anyway, all that mattered was that it had happened. They’d done it, and because of that they were dead. But it still didn’t feel like enough. I still wanted someone to fucking pay, still needed them to pay.

I washed up and took some of Charles Sr.’s clothes, changing into them to make myself look presentable. I stepped out onto the porch eventually and paused, glancing around. My exhaustion was taking a hold of me again, my thoughts frantic and my body screaming for me to just give in and give up. I felt like I was in a haze, my head pounding and my eyes burning. I don’t know how long I just stood there, my mind drifting to thoughts of my wife and visits to this dreadful house. I remembered all the times she’d fucking begged me to come here, begged to see that little girl. And it was making me even angrier, because it was unfair. None of it was right. She was dead and that little girl was alive and well, probably sound fucking asleep. She was breathing and dreaming, and tomorrow she’d wake up to another day. Another opportunity to live. That was something my wife would never have again. Something that little bitch had taken from my wife by even existing.

My resentment and grief overpowered me again, and before I even realized what I was doing, I was climbing the stairs to the small loft above the barn where I knew she slept. I stepped into the room quietly, pausing when I saw both her and her mother asleep on a tattered old mattress on the other side of the room. It was hot and stifling in the room, the stench uncomfortable coming from the barn below. I took a few steps over toward where they slept, accidentally kicking a book when I stopped right beside the mattress. I glanced down at it, faintly making out the title as being something of Albert Schweitzer’s, and immediately wondered if her masters knew she had that. I doubted it, because there was no way they’d give a slave a book to read. She shouldn’t know how to read anyway, they didn’t educate their slaves, but then again what did I fucking know? They never killed over their slaves before either.

I sighed and turned my head, gazing down at her. She was so small and frail, looked weak and helpless, but I wasn’t fooled. She wasn’t weak at all. She was powerful, and she didn’t even fucking know the power she held. She was dangerous, and she had no clue the danger she posed. She was a wolf in sheep’s clothing… the big bad fucking wolf that had to be stopped.

I hated her and felt that bloodlust in me rising back up, my desperation to blame people and make them pay hitting me hard. I stared at her, disgusted by everything about her. Why did she even have to fucking exist? She stirred in her sleep after a moment, rolling over to face me, and mumbling. I tensed up as the words “I’m sorry” escaped her lips, the rage overwhelming me once more. She wasn’t fucking sorry. She didn’t give a shit about what she’d done to me, what she’d taken from my family. She didn’t even know!

I raised the gun up and pointed it at her, aiming for her head, not hesitating at all. I pulled the trigger without giving it a second thought, my brow furrowing and confusion hitting me when nothing happened. No loud bang, no piercing screams, no blood. I just stared at it for a second, stunned because the gun had never failed me in the past, before it truly dawned on me what the hell I’d just done. I’d just pointed the gun at her with every intention of killing her, and if it weren’t for the fact that the gun had jammed she’d be fucking dead right now. I would’ve killed her without even realizing what I was doing. I’d been so consumed by rage I’d almost killed a child, the child my wife had died trying to keep alive! She couldn’t help her situation; she had no control over what had happened to her or anyone else. She knew nothing of the outside world and I wasn’t even sure she’d ever been off the Swan’s property. I couldn’t be blaming her and killing her. I couldn’t kill a child!

I blinked a few times as shock hit me, coupled with extreme disgust and hatred. I was despicable, no better than Charles Swan Sr. himself. I’d almost killed an innocent girl, and she may only be a slave but she had a mother and my wife had fucking loved her! I gasped as it all sunk in and brought my hand up to cover my mouth, nearly losing my hold on the gun in the process. I took a few steps back away from her, needing to get the hell away. I kicked the book again by accident and Isabella stirred in her sleep once more, mumbling the word “Master”.

I felt the rage threatening to consume me at the sound of her voice, my body tensing up again, and turned around before it overpowered me. I walked out of the room and ran down the steps quickly, needing away from her before I lost it again and did something I truly regretted. I could never live with myself if I killed her, no matter what part of me may have been feeling in the moment. I’d promised Elizabeth years ago that I’d never harm a woman or a child, and I’d just fucking killed a woman out along the highway. That was bad enough. Killing a child, especially a child she loved and fought for, would be like slapping her memory in the face.

I walked out of the barn and took a deep breath, tasting the fresh air. The emotion swirling through me was intense and I staggered over to the house, sitting down on the porch steps. I slumped forward, the gun falling from my hand and hitting the step with a bang. I put my head in my hands, gripping onto my hair tightly, trying to get a hold of myself. But my exhaustion and anger and devastation, my disgust and agony and guilt were simply all too much for one man to take.

Sitting there, on those steps in the hot June night in Phoenix, my hands trembling and my skin soaked with sweat, I finally hit bottom. I sat there shaking, alternating between crying hysterically and puking, my body trying to expel whatever sickness consumed me, whether it was mental or physical. I don’t know how long it went on or how long I would’ve sat there under that spell, but I was eventually brought out of it by the flashing of headlights coming in my direction. I glanced up in their direction, wiping my eyes and clearing my throat, trying to get a hold of myself. I reached down and grabbed my gun, going on autopilot again. The haze over my mind seemed to clear some and I was coherent enough to check the gun and dislodge it so it would fire if the need arose.

I stood up quickly and took a few steps back, opening the front screen door quickly and slipping inside. I moved to the side and peeked out as the car pulled up. I felt like an idiot immediately, knowing I’d parked the car registered in my own name right in front, clearly visible. In fact, I’d made so many mistakes the entire night I’d be lucky to walk away from this period. It was pure luck that no one had driven by out on the highway and seen me murdering and scorching the car, and divine intervention that my gun had jammed and kept me from killing Isabella.

The car stopped behind mine, shutting off immediately. The driver’s side door opened and a man I recognized immediately as Charles Swan Sr’s son stepped out. He shut the door and started toward me without even seeming to notice my car, talking to himself frantically. He walked up onto the porch and swung the front door open, freezing as he stepped inside and his eyes fell upon me. I pointed the gun at him and he stared at me, the fear and confusion flashing in his eyes.

“Mr. Cullen?” he said hesitantly, bringing his hands up to show them to me. “What, uh… What’s going on? Why, uh… my parents, they, uh… down the road, I don’t know what happened, their car was torched…”

I stared at him for a moment. “I know,” I said simply, keeping my hand steady.

“You… know?” he asked with confusion. I nodded. “Did they… were you sent here to help them? Was someone after them, is there a problem?”

I nodded. “Yes, there is a problem. But no, nobody sent me. I came here on my own.”

He stared at me with his brow furrowed, his hands shaking in the air as he tried to piece together what I was saying. “Are they okay?” he asked. I shook my head.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, Charlie, but I’m afraid your parents are no longer with us,” I said coldly. His eyes widened and I saw the fear spiking as he realized they were dead, the rest of what I’d said falling into place.

“Y-Y-You…” he stammered.

“Yes. Me. And if you’d like to walk out of here alive, it’s your best bet to listen and listen well…”

I checked him for weapons, making sure he was unarmed and couldn’t hurt me in any way, and led him into the living room. I grilled him for awhile, doing what it was I did best. I used everything I had to strike fear in him, to let him know I meant business, and it was clear to me he held no knowledge about his father’s hit on my wife. When I was done and had said everything I needed to say, I gave him a pass. I told him he could live but only on my terms. I told him he owed me, and when the time came I expected repayment of that favor.

Around dawn I stepped out onto the front porch of the house, watching as the sun started to rise. I caught glimpse of movement off to the side and glanced over, watching as Isabella stepped out of the barn and set off toward a large garden. I glanced down at the watch on my arm and saw it was 5:30 am on the dot.

Charlie Swan stepped out onto the porch and stopped beside me, eyeing me hesitantly. I could still see the fear in him, as he knew very well what I was capable of. He glanced over at Isabella as she stopped in the garden and got down on her knees, going to work right away.

“What is it about that girl,” I asked, more to myself than anything. I heard Charlie sigh and glanced over at him, cocking an eyebrow.

“Some people do crazy things over those that are related to them by blood, regardless of if they really care about them,” he said, shrugging. I stared at him for a moment, what he said sinking in.

“She’s your daughter,” I said, turning my head to glance at Isabella. I don’t know why the thought had never struck me before. She had to come from somewhere and I just naturally always assumed one of the guards or men Charles brought around had taken advantage of her mother, but it made sense that one of them would’ve done it. Charles Sr. had goomahs and wasn’t the type to bed the help, but his son was another story.

He grunted in response, not giving me a yes or no but one was unnecessary. I didn’t need confirmation. I stared out at her as she worked alone in the garden, completely oblivious to everything else but what was right in front of her. My guilt was creeping in ten-fold, my anger and resentment still there but being overridden for the moment. It disgusted me that the poor child had been born into this life and had no way out, the only person ever to try to save her dead because of it and she had no idea anyone even ever gave a shit for her. Her own family put her in this position, made her what she is.

“Are you taking her?” Charles asked hesitantly after a moment. I glanced over at him and saw his apprehension. He was uncomfortable and on edge around me, frightened but trying to come off strong because he knew his life depended on him holding his own right now. I looked back out at Isabella, considering the question. I watched as her mother walked out from the barn and over to where Isabella was, smiling at her daughter and reaching down, smoothing the hair on her head affectionately.

“No,” I said finally. Part of me screamed out in objection, knowing I had the opportunity to free her as my wife had wanted her freed, but a bigger part of me recognized I was in no position to truly save her at that point. It was much too late to take her and pass her off as my child as my wife had wanted to do when she was three. She was twelve now, uneducated for the most part and had no life experience. She’d be better off with her mother for now, where she’d be relatively safe and someone loved her. Because I couldn’t love the child, not now, not after everything. And most of all… she wasn’t safe with me. I’d just tried to kill her hours before and I was coherent enough to realize it could easily happen again. I barely had the patience for my own children so I knew there was no way I’d be able to find the patience and understanding I knew it would take to help her.

“Okay,” he said, sounding surprised. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. It was all over the place from me fisting it out of frustration during my breakdown last night.

“You keep her alive and when the time comes where you no longer can keep her here, call me. Maybe my answer will be different then.” He nodded in response. “And you might want to keep them locked up today. The police will probably be by soon. And remember… you never saw me.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, his voice trembling with fear. I nodded and glanced at him, giving him a look that clearly said I meant business, before heading off of the porch to my car. I climbed in the driver’s side and sat the gun down on the seat beside me, taking a deep breath. I put the key in the ignition but before I had the chance to start the car up my cell phone started chiming from the floorboard. I sighed, closing my eyes briefly, before reaching down and picking it up. I glanced at the screen, reality setting in. I couldn’t avoid it any longer. I pressed the button and brought the phone up to my ear.

“Cullen speaking,” I said calmly.

“My office. Now,” Aro said sharply.

“Yes, sir,” I said. “I’ll be there in twenty-six hours.”

~*~ ~*~

I still don’t know how I survived the trip, all of it a complete blur. It was a miracle I didn’t fall asleep behind the wheel and crash, but an even bigger miracle that once I arrived in Chicago I wasn’t killed. Aro wasn’t pleased that I’d disobeyed a direct order and killed the Swans and I knew what the rules of our organization dictated happen to me. I’d gone rouge and the punishment for that was immediate death. But Aro gave me a pass, he allowed me to walk from the sit-down alive, because a part of him understood. He pulled some strings in Phoenix and had the situation dealt with, nothing ever coming back to me. It didn’t escape my notice that he never once attempted to call the Swans and warn them, so part of me always wondered if that was his intention. I wondered if he’d set it up that way, knowing I’d go off like I did, because in doing so he gained even more power over me and my life. I couldn’t step a foot out of line or be disagreeable in any way, and I knew that because he held what I’d done over my head every moment he got. I’d been given a big pass once; there would be no more passes for me.

“Is that the last time you killed?” Alec asked. I shook my head no.

“I killed a man here in Forks not long after that and that woman James planted in my house,” I said. He eyed me curiously.

“I’m not even going to ask about the man. I nearly forgot about that woman, though,” he said. “James is definitely up to something.”

I nodded. “I know,” I said.

“And you’re likely going to have to kill again, Carlisle,” he said. I nodded once more.

“I know that also,” I said.

“Just as long as you know we shouldn’t have a problem,” he said, shaking his head. “Is there anything else you feel the need to tell me? I’d like to join my wife upstairs.”

I shook my head. “That’s it,” I said. He sighed and stood up.

“Good, because to be honest with you, I’m not sure I could handle much more right now,” he said, starting to walk out. I stood up and walked out into the hallway as he headed for the foyer.

“Alec?” I called. He paused and turned to look at me. “Thank you.”

He stared at me for a moment before shaking his head. “Don’t thank me yet, Carlisle. I haven’t done anything.”

I opened my mouth to speak, to tell him I was just grateful for his willingness to try to help me, but before I could utter a single word the front door opened and the voices of the kids carried into the house. They quieted down almost instantly as they spotted Alec and he just gazed at them.

“Hey, Unc,” Emmett said, walking into the house and grinning. He reached over and patted Alec on the back lightly; a move that always required a lot of guts. That’s one thing about Emmett… he was quite the brave one. Most people scurried from Alec but Emmett was one of the few who dared touch him. “You remember my girl Rosie, don’t ya?”

“Emmett,” Alec said, nodding in greeting. “Rosalie.” Rose said a quick hello, toning down her usual sassiness.

“Uncle Alec, it’s nice to see you,” Jasper said politely. He was always the one with the manners. “I’m guessing you remember Alice also.”

“Jasper, Alice,” Alec said once more nodding in greeting. Alice smiled brightly.

“I’m so glad you could come to see Jasper graduate,” she said cheerfully. There was very little that could kill Alice’s chipper disposition. Alec merely nodded in agreement to her statement, shifting his eyes over to Edward. He was standing in the doorway with Isabella in front of him, holding her close to him with his arm wrapped around her protectively. He had a serious expression on his face as he eyed Alec and I glanced at Isabella, seeing she was staring down at the floor. She looked frightened and even from where I was standing I could feel her apprehension. She knew who he was; she’d seen him numerous times in her life. She knew he was related to the woman that had tortured her, she knew he had stood back and watched as she endured it, never once stepping in to stop it or speaking up for her. And I couldn’t begin to imagine what that made her think of him, and part of that made me feel guilty because in reality Alec had done a lot for her. Alec had made sure that Charles followed through with what I’d told him that day in Phoenix five years ago. I hadn’t been allowed back there much over the years, but Alec went regularly and continued to ensure that Charles kept the girl alive. That was more than I ever expected of him, and I felt guilty that now I was asking even more of him.

“Alec,” Edward said simply.

“Edward,” Alec said, giving him the same greeting as the others. Edward gazed at him for a moment before glanced down at Isabella. He pulled her even closer to him and leaned down, whispering something in her ear. My brow furrowed and I watched him curiously, wondering what he was saying to her. She nodded briefly after a moment and he said something else. She nodded again, still staring at the ground, bringing her hands up to grip his arm wrapped around him. He reached his other hand up, cupping her chin and pushing it upward. She didn’t resist and glanced up after a moment, her eyes meeting Alec.

“This is my girlfriend, Isabella,” Edward said. Alec nodded.

“Of course, Isabella,” he said. Isabella stared at him for a moment, maintaining eye contact and the air in the room grew thick as nobody spoke. We were all waiting on her reaction, waiting to see what she’d say or do. I half expected her to run away and freak out as she did with Esme months ago because Alec was a much bigger threat than my sister ever was.

I almost gave up hope on her reacting at all, but she did finally, and when she did, it surprised everyone in the room.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alec,” she said, her voice shaking. She held her hand out to him and my eyes widened in shock. It was shaking, every one of us could see it and tell she was frightened, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was she doing it anyway. She wasn’t allowing her fear to consume her.

Alec hesitated but reached his hand out and took Isabella’s, shaking it lightly.

“As it is you,” Alec said. “If you kids will excuse me, I’m going to get settled in.” He let go of Isabella’s hand and turned, heading for the stairs. He turned briefly and caught my eyes, nodding at me before disappearing upstairs.

I glanced over at the kids in the doorway, watching as Edward smirked proudly. He leaned down and whispered something to her again and she blushed deeply, smiling softly in response to whatever he’d said. He chuckled and leaned down even further, placing his lips on her neck. She leaned her head out of the way and her eyes closed in response to his kiss.

And I smiled. For the first time, watching the two of them together, I smiled.

Because she’d stared into those piercing dark eyes, eyes that had watched her be tortured, eyes that she knew belonged to a murderer, and she didn’t buckle. She stood her ground and stood up for herself, not allowing anyone to hold her down. And that, more than anything, made me believe that things truly may be okay and that there may be hope for them after all.

Because that was something even my wife hadn’t been able to do.

Principessa della mafia = princess of the mafia
Perché non lo vedo prima d'ora? = Why didn’t I see it before now?
Ha perfettamente senso. = It makes perfect sense.
L'amore domina senza regole. = Love dominates without rules.
Chi vuole mantenere un segreto deve nascondere il fatto che egli possiede uno, = Whoever wishes to keep a secret must hide the fact that he possesses one.