DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property to the respective author. The original characters and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.

-Chapter Forty-Seven-

The instant my foot crossed the threshold, the next phase of my life—good or bad—was set into motion and things were going to be different. The time for regrets and second guesses had passed. All of our scheming and planning came down to whether or not we could plant the drugs and get out without being seen before the stopwatch reached zero.

14:47, 46,45,44,43…

I should be terrified. It would be the logical response, but I felt instead an odd mixture of excitement and trepidation. This life I'd chosen, eighteen years old, on the cusp of adulthood, wanted in various states for armed robbery and attempted murder with a guy who was so bad but so good, fucking excited me.

Maybe I was crazy.

Maybe that tiny tear and flaw in the fabric of my makeup was destined to be my downfall, but I didn't care.

I wanted it.

The constant adrenaline and chaos was a drug to me, and I sought danger like a crack fiend.

No apologies.

The only difference between the Bella of yesterday and the Kid of today was, instead of acting on pure whim, I tried to follow Edward's strict rules. It was tough. Every second, I fought the urge to be reckless and purposely fuck everything up.

It was a classic case of wild child syndrome.

But no matter how much fun it was to make Edward mad and horny, I realized if I didn't get my head on straight, losing him would be my next reality.

I wasn't stupid enough to let it happen.

Not anymore.

Click. The door closed softly behind me. Edward spun at the sound and assessed me thoroughly, from head to toe, with his calm green eyes.

I was anxious. That was obvious. My heart was beating at an insane pace and I couldn't stand still. I kept bouncing and switching from foot to foot. The inside of my leather gloves were drenched from the sudden pooling of sweat, and I rubbed my palms down the sides of my uniform in an attempt to dry them.

On the outside I was a nervous wreck, but my body was reactionary, playing off the pressure to get this job done within a reasonable time frame.

Edward took one long step towards me, overwhelming me with his presence as he tilted his head to the side and mouthed, "Relax." And before I had a chance to argue, he took a hold of my chin and brought his lips to mine.

Any sort of rebuff from me was silenced.

The kiss was tender and chaste, but took my breath away and did nothing to stop the fluttering of my heart. If anything, he just made things worse. That all too consuming hunger for him was always there—I'd forever need and want more.

I rose to my tip-toes and clutched at the lapel on his blazer and intensified our kiss. Edward walked me back and pressed me up against the door, groaning and rocking his hips into mine as he desperately bit and nipped at my needy lips. An innocent and reassuring kiss had escalated into a full-on make-out session.

In the back of my mind, I was well aware of the clock ticking down, each second faster and more unrelenting than the last…

14:05, 04, 03, 02…

Edward broke the kiss, grasped my shoulders, and gently but forcefully pried me away. Dropping his forehead to mine, he sighed. "I would throw away my freedom for that fucking mouth."

Panting heavily, I released my death grip and settled my hands on his waist. "You have no idea."

"Maybe we should try to stay focused, yeah?"

I peered up at him and nodded. "That sounds like a good idea."

"Stay right there for a second," he said, walking to the end of the foyer and poking his head around the corner into the main room, glancing both ways to survey our surroundings.

I listened with him. The apartment was quiet, nothing to be heard but our collective breathing. We were positive no one was home, but assuming was a dangerous mistake when the consequences of a lapse in judgment could mean a bullet to the head—or worse, imprisonment.

"All right, everything looks good," he said, coming back over to me, grabbing my hand and interlocking our fingers. "What's our time?"

"Um, let me see," I said, digging the stopwatch out of my front pocket. "Thirteen minutes."

"Fuck man, I hate cutting shit so close." The step in our stride picked up, and he was no longer giving me the scenic tour. Time was running out and we both felt it. "We're going have to double-time it."

This brought me up short, and I shook my head, not understanding his meaning.

"What are we double-timing? It's just planting the drugs in his office, right?" I chuckled. "I mean, seriously, how long can that take?"

"Not long," he said, and I watched as the muscles in his back tensed, his shoulders hunched in, and he avoided all eye contact.

I knew right then he wasn't telling me something.


"But breaking into a safe and hacking into the computer is a tad more time consuming."

"Excuse me?" I pulled back, stopping in the middle of the hallway, unwilling to go any further.

Edward glanced down with his brows furrowed, surprised to see his hand was empty. He shot his eyes back up to me. "Listen, baby..."

"No, don't baby me, Edward. Since when has this hacking business been apart of the plan?"

"It's not important, okay?" He spoke in a cautious tone as he slowly approached a highly volatile and skittish animal…


He had his hand outstretched, beckoning for me to take it, but I dug my heels in the dirt and folded my arms over my chest.

He got mad. "Jesus, Bella, we don't have time for this."

"Time for what, exactly?"

"This!" He gestured the space between us. "I don't want to fucking fight with you."

"And why would we be fighting?"

"Because you're going to be pissed off at me when you find out why we're really here."

"Oh, you mean it's not just about planting drugs in your dad's office—"

"He's not my dad."

"Ugh, whatever, Edward, that's not the point—NO, you told me that we were here to plant drugs and that was it. You never said anything about all this other, spy-like, fucking James Bond-type of shit!"

He laughed. "Come on, Bella, let's be fucking honest, all right? You never believed it was all about the drugs."

"What? Yes, I did!"

"No, you didn't. I saw it in your eyes this morning, you knew I was full of shit—and I wanted to fucking tell you the truth, believe me."

"Which is what?"

"The drugs were a ruse."

"A ruse?"

"Yeah, just a means to an end, but my true goal was this office." He pointed to the dark cherry wood door less than a foot behind him. "Everything we need to fucking destroy that bastard is in that safe and on his computer."

"Why didn't you just tell me that, huh? Why all the charades?"

"I wanted to, but…" Edward trailed off, eyes panning down, momentarily distracted by his phone. It was buzzing in his hand, and he stared at the lit-up screen, conflicted whether or not he should answer it.

"Who is that?"

"Alice," he said, finger hovering over the send button.

"Alice?" I crinkled my nose in confusion. "Why would she be…" But even before I could get the question out he answered it by taking her phone call.

"Hey, Al...Yeah, I know, I'm an asshole for not picking up, but we're right outside the office and..." he paused, seeing the fury rising behind my eyes and soaring to astronomical proportions. "Um, can you hold on for just a second?"

"You fucking told Alice?!"

If she knew, the whole family knew, and once again, I was the fool. The one person who was walking into a situation blind, believing a complete farce provided by the man who said he loved me. Edward promised to tell me everything...and he lied.

He lowered the phone and covered the mouthpiece. "I know you're pissed."

I was hurt more than anything, but right now being pissed would suffice.

"You told her before you told me." It wasn't a question, just a sad and heartbreaking truth.

"It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" I scoffed, running my hands through my hair, wanting to rip out each strand. "You're always keeping me in the fucking dark, Edward! And here I am, stupid me, risking my neck—for you—just so you can get even with your dad."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, "Don't do this, Bella. Not now."

"Do what?"

"Overreact," he said, snapping his head up and shooting daggers at me. "We don't have time for you to throw a tantrum."

That knocked the air right out of me, and the anger spiraled, heat gathering in my face and flushing my cheeks a bright red. I could feel my eyes bulging out of my skull.

"You know what? Fuck you!" I spat, shoving him.

He played me. Plain and simple. There was no team, it was just him. He flat-out withheld the truth from me, and then had the nerve to treat me like I had no right to be mad at him.

I had enough.

"Fuck it. I'm done," I said, chucking the stopwatch at him. It hit his chest and bounced off, landing on the floor. "How's that for a fucking tantrum?"

He said nothing, eyes darker than I'd ever seen them, his face severe.

"That's exactly what I thought you might say," I said, shrugging my shoulders and backing away. "I'm leaving."

"No!" Edward sprang to life as soon as my words were said and grabbed my wrist, squeezing, locking his fingers. He took a quick step into me and pressed his hot mouth against my ear. "You're not going anywhere."

I jerked my head away and glowered up at him. "Oh, yeah? Fucking watch me." Twisting my wrist, I broke free of his grip and turned to leave again, but of course, I didn't get far.

"God fucking damn it!" Edward let out a loud and frustrated groan. He stormed up from behind me, his fingers seizing me around my neck. It didn't hurt, but he was strong and his command was forceful as he dragged me back down the hall towards the office. "Look, you can be mad at me all you fucking want after this shit is over—"

"Oh, you can bet on it." I elbowed him in the gut.

"But," he grunted from the sharp pain, "right now, I need you to come in here and open the fucking safe for me, can you do that?"

I was half-tempted to kick him in the junk and make a run for it. The only thing that kept me in my place was the ticking time as it dwindled into nothing and my promise to stop acting on my rash emotions—no matter how justified they were. Despite all of his lies and secrecy, I still fucking loved Edward with every breath I took and would die for him.

"Fine!" I relented. "Whatever you want, I'll do it." Ducking my head down and wiggling my neck out of his clutches, I swung around and rammed my fists into his chest, driving him back into the wall. Getting up in his face, I narrowed my eyes. "But you don't get to fucking touch me or kiss me or any of that shit, you got that?"

He sucked in a breath, debating my terms, but eventually succumbing to my demands—knowing full fucking well that I would bolt out of this apartment so fast and never come back.

"Fine!" he said, brushing past me and thrusting the door open. He spoke through his clenched teeth. "After you, princess."

"Fuck off, Edward," I said, stomping past him. "If that's even your real name."

He laughed, calling me a pain the ass under his breath, and locked the door behind him.

I stilled in the middle of the room as my eyes were besieged with sensory overload. The senator's office was huge, exquisite, and decorated with dark amber colors. Bright sunlight streamed in from the floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the vast and wondrous city of Chicago. The walls were made of mahogany paneling, and this room had a distinct smell of new money and vanilla. There were shelves on every wall, filled with law books and encyclopedias of knowledge. There was one spot, suspiciously cut out, and framed by a painting. The single piece of art work struck me as odd, and seemed out of place compared to everything else in this room.

"That's where the safe is," Edward whispered in my ear as he passed.

"Are you serious?" I shot him a look, eyebrow raised with skepticism.

He laughed. "Take it down and see for yourself."

"Okay," I said, grabbing the edges of the frame and lifting it off its hook. Setting the painting down on the floor and leaning it against the wall, I looked back up and smiled. Lo and behold, there buried inside the wall was the safe. "Not much of a hiding place, is it?"

"Finding it is not the problem, breaking into it is," he said, sitting behind his father's desk with the phone attached to his ear again.

"Right," I said, standing back and getting a real good look at the safe.

It was fairly big in size, and I frowned at the digital keypad. Not that I would have been able to do much with if it was the spin-combination kind, but this one seem more high-tech than my feeble brain was capable of.

"Yeah, there is no way in hell I'm going to be able to open this."

"Sure you can," he said to me, but then quickly going back to his conversation with Alice—the Goddamn computer whiz.

I was a tad bitter and saddened that Alice got Edward's trust. He lied and purposely kept things from me—his fucking girlfriend—but told her all about his true intentions. It drove me to the point of insanity, thinking and stewing over it, until it came bursting out of me in a fit of anger.

"Ugh, no, I can't! God, this is so fucking...stupid. This whole thing is bullshit!"

"Hold on for a sec, Al." Edward lowered the phone to address me. "What's the problem?"

I whirled around and waved my hand over the problem. "In case you haven't fucking noticed, I'm not some genius safe-cracker, all right? I'm going to need a little help over here."

"Did you try my birthday?" he asked, redirecting his attention to the computer screen, the light flickering off his beautiful, sexy, lying


I hated myself for wanting to jump over that desk and sit on his face.

So I opted for cruel deflection.

"You actually think he would use your birthday as a safe combination, really?"

He chuckled, but it had such a sad edge to it. "Yeah, I know, it's fucking doubtful, but a son can hope."

The want in his voice to have his father's love broke me, and I felt like absolute shit for being a callous bitch.

"No, it sounds legit," I said, entering his birthday into the keypad. The small screen flashed a red 'x' and beeped a loud, God-awful noise. I was disappointed that it didn't work.

"Well, that sucks," Edward grumbled.

"Any other ideas?"

Edward listed off several different combinations, and all were having the same negative results. There was less than ten minutes to go now, and he was going have to accept that whatever he wanted out of that safe wasn't going to happen. It was a waste of our precious time.

On the up side, he was having better luck with the computer.

I listened as Alice walked Edward through the steps to hacking into the senator's computer. There were a lot of passcodes, keyboard clicks, and interweaving of software. It was far more complicated than randomly entered numbers into the safe.

No, that benign task was my job.

I wondered what Edward was going to do with the drugs that were sitting cozy in his pocket. Would he hide them in the office for the hell of it or sell them later? At this point, I had no idea who he was or what he was liable to do.

"If your hunch is right, Ally, do you realize what this will mean?" Edward asked, grinning from ear to ear. "Yeah, it'll fucking crush him…wait, what is this?"

My curiosity got the better of me, and I wandered over to see what got him all excited. He was leaning forward in the leather seat with his nose inches from the monitor with this intense and focused look on his face. Coming around to the side of him, I saw that there were multiple windows opened on the computer. He moved the mouse over one shortcut that was labeled The Shepherd and his Sheep.

Bending down, I could hear Alice's high, melodic voice over the phone. She was just as loud as Emmett, if not louder.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Bank statements under the Wallis account," Edward answered. "They're billed out to a company called American Solution Systems and Software."

He scrolled down further through the dates, highlighting and clicking on various payments throughout the year, ten thousand here and twenty thousand there.

"Are you sure?"

Edward nodded but said nothing. He opened another file, this one named back-up, and there it was, clear as fucking day, multiple transactions and withdrawals from the National One Bank during the 2012 calendar year and the years before. Amongst these charges, there was one payment that stood out above all the rest. Every four years and on the same day, a large sum of money, to the tune of half a million dollars, was paid out to American Solution Systems and Software. It was like clockwork.

"Are you fucking seeing this, Kid?" Edward asked me, making sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him.

"Yeah," I said, but not quite processing it myself. "What does it mean, though? Who's the company? And what is up with the date November third?"

"I don't know," he said, rubbing out the creases in his forehead.


Edward brought the phone back up to his ear. "Hey, yeah, I'm sorry about that, Ally. I got fucking sidetracked for a moment."

"Listen close, because I'm sure you guys don't have much time left, do you still have that Kingston flash drive?"

"Yeah, it's connected to the USB port. I've been downloading shit as we've been going along."

"God, I love you. You're such a forward-thinking guy."

Edward peeked up at me and smiled, moving his hand to cover mine. "Only some of the time."

I rolled my eyes and pushed myself away from the desk. "This doesn't change anything. I'm still pissed at you."

"Of course, you are—no, Ally, I was talking to Bella." He laughed. "Yup, she sure is…just about every other fucking minute."

I blocked him out, putting forth all of my energy and concentration into this fucking safe. There was still a matter of cracking it open and exposing all the senator's secrets—which to me seemed like an impossible feat, and I had only five minutes to get it done.

"Are you shitting me? That's what the company does?" Edward pounded his fist on the desk, startling me. "That bastard has been rigging the elections for ten fucking years." He laughed. "Son of a bitch."

"Wait, what's going on?" I asked.

"That company sells electronic poll machines," Edward explained, and seeing that I still wasn't following, he continued. "They control the votes, Bella. He pays that company to swing it in his direction."

"Are you serious?"

He nodded.

"Makes sense," I said.

I'd always wondered how he continued to get votes in spite of the sex scandal. Carlisle Cullen was a resourceful man, determined to win no matter what. He would buy, sell, and steal from anyone, just to get a seat on Capitol Hill.

Elections were no sweat for him because he was a sure win. That was his day to gloat...

It hit me, like a sledgehammer to my thick skull, and I knew what the combination was...well, sort of.

"Edward, when is Election Day this year?"

He rose from the chair and came over to me. "November sixth. Why?"

"I've got a hunch," I said, clearing out the keypad and entering the numbers. "One...one...zero...six...one..." I took a deep breath and prayed, "two."

It flashed green, beeped softly, and popped open.

"Holy..." I said.

"…Shit," he finished.

We stood there with slack jaws for a moment too long, but we were unable to look away. It was such a marvelous sight to behold. Sitting in neat and tidy piles were several stacks of crisp bills. That new-money scent that overwhelmed me when I entered the office finally had an origin. It made my mouth water to see that many Benjamins in one place. Thousands of dollars was suddenly within my grasp, and all I wanted to do was stuff it in my bra and call it a fucking day.

"Please tell me that this is what you were after," I said, grinning up at him with hopeful eyes.

"No, I have bigger plans for us. What I wanted is this," he said, reaching past me and into the safe, slipping a manila folder from underneath all that beautiful money. He opened the flap and peered in, a smug smile of self-congratulation spreading across his face. "I had no fucking idea that all those shady deals with the mob and bribes to judges were to assure his status in office."

"What is all that?"

"These are cash receipts and checks, social security and birth certificate mock-ups, all made out to Frankie Wallis." He folded up the envelope and stuffed it inside of his blazer.

"You're taking it? Won't he notice that it's gone?"

"I'm sure he will," he said, closing the safe and replacing the painting, "but since we're not taking any money, he'll just assume that he misplaced it somewhere. By the time he does catch on, CNN and the fucking FBI will be pounding on his front door and it'll be too late."

"What about the drugs?"

"We're still going to stash them in the office like we planned," he said, tossing them over to me, which I barely managed to catch. "Hurry up, Kid, we're running out of time."

He was wrong about time running out because it was already gone, and we were spilling over into our grace period—the extra five minutes we gave ourselves just in case we fell behind. Ramon was still waiting for us, but I knew if we didn't come out soon, he was going to leave…and after that, well, it was game over for the two outlaws known as Edward and Bella.

We both moved fast. I was going around the room, hiding vials and baggies behind the law books and in flower vases. Edward stood by the computer, pulling out his flash drive, closing all the open windows, and deleting the recent history. The evidence of our presence was getting erased but also added. The only thing that would alert the senator to our activities was the missing folder—and the painting that Edward hung on the wall cock-eyed.

"Seriously," I said, stuffing the last baggie into the drawer and walking over to fix his faux pas.

"We gotta go," he said, coming up behind me and tugging on the back of my uniform.

"I gotta fix your shit first," I said, readjusting the corners, making sure that the painting was straight.

"Baby, I appreciate your sudden desire to get shit perfect, but security is on their way back up and Ramon is gone."

"What? How do you know that?"

He showed me the text on his phone from Marcus.

Ramon gone. Ur busted. Get out.

"But…that's not…we still have two minutes left."

"No, we have less than a second left to get the fuck out of here," he said, taking my arm and hauling me out of the office.

The painting was still fucking slanted, and if we got out of here without being seen by security, it was going to be the smoking gun that got us caught. Edward didn't think his father would take a second glance, but a man who had his life riding on the secrecy in the files locked away in a safe would notice when something was amiss.

Rounding the corner into the foyer, Edward skidded to a stop. He went up to the front door, turning around and warning me to be quiet. I nodded, trying to control my heavy breathing. He looked through the peephole.

"Shit!" he said, softly banging his head on the wood. "It's too late."

"No, it can't be…this…can't be the end."

He was pacing the floor like a mad man. "We're fucked. There's nothing we can do. It's done."

"There's still time..."

"To do what?" He snapped at me. "It's over, Bella."

It shocked me to see Edward this hopeless and trapped. He was the one who pulled us out of trouble and fixed all my stupid mistakes. He was the thinker and I was the doer. And now he was, what…calling defeat…surrendering?

"No," I said, decided. "I refuse to give up. There has to be another way."

"What way is there?" he asked, rushing up to me with one stride of his long legs and placing his hands on my face. The rule to not touch or kiss me was put on hold…for now. "We're fifty stories up, my parents are due home in twenty minutes, and there are too many fuckers out there with guns. If it was just me, I would go out shooting, but…" He closed his eyes and kissed my forehead, letting it linger a lot longer than needed before pulling away. "I can't—no, I won't risk you getting hurt or killed."

The fear of watching bullets rip through me was too much for him, and I understood that. All our talk about death being better than prison was all fucking talk, because watching each other die was far worse a punishment than being separated by miles of thick concrete and barbed wire fences.

"God," I said, burying my nose in his warm and inviting chest, "how did we fuck this up?"

"I don't know, Kid," he said, rubbing his hands up and down my back.

As I breathed in deep, feeling the starched fabric of Edward's maître d'blazer under my fingertips, I wondered where we went wrong. All the trouble Ramon went through to get these uniforms for Edward and me so we could walk through the lobby undetected wasn't for nothing. I refused to believe that all was lost. The plan as hired help was genius and it had taken us all the way up to the penthouse.

Why couldn't it take us back down to the main floor?

"And what if we do go out there?"

"They'll arrest us."

"And if they don't?"

Edward pulled away and searched my eyes. "Bella, we have no reason to be here, you understand? If we go out there, they'll know something is up. Even Ramon will sell us out."

"But what if we do have a right to be here?" I glanced around the foyer, looking for a probable excuse to be in the senator's home. "We're the hired help. We're getting paid to be in this hotel, right?"

"They'll know."

"Maybe not," I said, gazing down at my maid's uniform, a plan to deceive formulating itself in my head. I smiled. "I've got an idea. You stay here, okay? I'll be right back."

"What? Where are you going?" he spoke in a hushed whisper, following after me.

"Just stay down there, okay? Trust me," I said, jogging up the stairs, taking two to three steps at a time.

It was a crazy plan, and it would likely fail, but I wasn't going to sit there and wait for the cavalry to come take us away. If Edward didn't want to go down shooting, I was going to go down trying.

Reaching the second floor, I went straight for the master bedroom. I wasn't sure what I was looking for, but I needed a believable alibi, one that the security guards wouldn't question. I was dressed as a maid, there were perks to be had, and I wasn't going let this disguise go to waste. All I needed was a reason to be here...

Walking into the room, my eyes landed on the walk-in closet. I grinned like a fool, knowing exactly what I needed to get Edward and me past the security guards.

Throwing the double-doors open, I flicked on the light and gasped loudly. The damn thing was fucking huge. There were three walls, floor to ceiling, dedicated to shoes. Clothes galore flowed out, fur coats and satin shirts, and if I gave two shits about fashion, I probably would be a puddle of want on the floor.

"Here we go," I said, cracking my knuckles and getting down to work.

Combing through the garments bags, Prada, Calvin Klein, and another designer I couldn't pronounce, I thought of Alice and Rose, imagining the fun they would have rummaging through these clothes. It was having the opposite effect on me, and after a few minutes, my vision became blurred and I went cross-eyed. It had reached the point where I'd already spent too much time searching, and I needed to take whatever was within my grabbing range and leave. It really didn't matter what was in the garment bags, just as long as the security guards believed that they were ordered by the senator to get dry-cleaned.

Throwing the clothes over my shoulder, I turned off the light and exited the closet. As I headed for the door, something caught my attention out of my peripheral view. It was a large lump, covered in a duvet, in the center of the king sized bed. I tilted my head to the side and watched for a moment, confused to why the maids would leave it unmade. Then it moved, but only slightly, up and down, like a slow and steady breath.

I blinked a couple of times, taking a step towards the bed, one after the other, until I was right on top of it. I stared at a mess of red hair, and it didn't occur to me who it was laying there. The day's events, an anxiety filled rollercoaster, were all coming together in one big clusterfuck, and turning my brain into mush—or, I just didn't want to admit that I was looking down at Edward's mother.


She was sleeping on her stomach with her face buried in a pillow. I glanced over to the side table, and it was overflowing with spilled prescription drugs. I picked up the containers, reading them off in my head: Xanax, Vicodin, Valium, and Flexeril. She was drugged out of her fucking skull. I could leave. She didn't see me. She would have no clue I was even here, but even so, I couldn't make my feet move.

This feeling came over me, stronger than anything I'd ever felt before, and I couldn't vanquish it. There was anger towards this woman. I never met her, but she was Edward's mother, the callous woman who had thrown her only son to the wolves, watching as they ripped him apart, limb from limb. She stood there and lied on national television, defending her cheating and corrupt husband.

She was shit.

That anger grew in the pit of my stomach and evolved into hate. I despised Esme. She was a reminder and an extension of my own worthless mother, Renee. That vile woman who gave birth to me, but spent years making sure that her daughter felt unwanted and insignificant. A mother's love, simple and unconditional, was all I wanted from her, and yet, it was too much for her to bear.

That's how I perceived Esme. She pained Edward with her righteous morals and narrow judgment, casting him aside. He was an orphan. We both were.

These women didn't deserve to breathe, let alone be called mothers.

The hurt stops here.

Laying the garments down neatly on the bed, I undid the buttons on my uniform, slipping my hand underneath and pulling out my Glock. It was a challenge to get out without fully stripping down, but I managed. The only problem now was muffling the sound of the gun. It would alert Edward and the security guards to my deed, fucking up our plans to escape. Besides, I needed something to block the spray. I doubt anyone would believe any story I told them about being an innocent hotel maid if I was covered in blood.

Scanning the room, I noticed a large throw pillow on the end of the bed on a hope chest. It was thick, fluffy, and the perfect silencer.

Cocking my gun, I picked it up and pressed the muzzle into the cushion. Taking a deep breath, I aimed all my anger and hate at the matted haystack of auburn-bronzed hair.

The hurt stops here.

Slowly, I edged the pillow closer and closer until I was an inch from her head.

"Carlisle," she mumbled, flipping over on her back and opening her eyes, showcasing a familiar and dazzling shade of green.

A/N: *Runs and hides*

Thank you to my fantastic and wonderful friend and pre-reader, Brina, who helped me get this choppy written. She talked me through it, spit-balled some ideas, and got me back on track. You're amazing, girl and my bestie for life. I love ya!

A special thanks to the sweet and talented Cris for betaing this for me. She is awesome in every way!