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 Seven-

My smile faded as I walked in, struck by the stuffy air and feeling of tightness crushing down on me. There were more people than I could count cramped into this small church like a can of sardines. Their ages were ranging from the barely new to the old as shit and on their way out.

Fuck me, it was hot in here.

Everyone would likely die of a heat stroke long before any bullet of mine could reach them. Then to make matters even worse, Edward closed the door and locked it. The breeze that made the sweat cool on the skin was cut off. The people were shut in with last minute's wind and my growing irritation.

I glanced up at the wooden pillar to my right, adorned with white and yellow flowers. The stench of pollen made my nose itch, and this fucking church was littered with these…what were they…sunflowers?

Daffodils...maybe?

I didn't know, but why didn't they get roses? That's would've been my first choice. Even Calla Lilies would've made a statement. Anything, really, would've been more romantic than these weird-looking blooms and less likely to make me sneeze.

The band in the front picked at their guitars, a trumpet sounded, and a man began to sing. It distracted me from my meandering thoughts on flowers. I wasn't a florist, but damn, this was a wedding and their choices were odd. They were cheap looking, like shitty prom carnations or something.

Edward nudged me and gestured towards the last two spots in the far back corner. We sat down as the bride made her entrance down the aisle. The view of the dress from the nose bleeds section was awful. I was only able to catch a brief glimpse of her veil. It was delicate in a way, embroidered with lace, worn over her head and shoulders in a high comb. Edward told me it was called a 'peineta'.

I wanted it.

The ceremony began, and it was this long and tedious, if not drawn out for the sake of being drawn out. It seemed to go on and on with no end in sight. There were countless prayers and bowing of heads. I'd gotten a neck cramp pretending I gave a shit. The priest read various paragraphs, lengthy in context, before finally getting to the lazo ritual.

It was a blessing for a long and happy marriage, represented with a rosary made of white and pearl stones. The priest would drape them over groom's shoulders and then connect the remainder around the bride. It unified the couple, and by tradition, they had to wear it the entire ceremony.

I could see the peace and joy in their eyes. They believed that nothing would ever happen to them here. Not in God's home, surrounded by his crosses and protection.

They were wrong.

Who do I kill?

Everyone. Everyone. Everyone. Everyone.

Gripping my gun in my hand, I was breathless and anxious with that urge. The overwhelming heat and pounding heart made it impossible to wait any longer. My needs were growing stronger and stronger by the minute.

I moved forward.

"Not yet," Edward said, yanking the belt loop of my jeans and pulling me back down to my seat.

I smiled at him, only half-apologizing for my eagerness with a shrug.

He knew me better than anyone. Instant gratification was my thing. It took every last bit of my self control to be patient. Edward was the one who liked to draw out the process and savor each moment. He would wait…and wait…and then wait some more.

It was slow and agonizing torture for me—and his victims.

But watching my old man work was like foreplay.

Idly flicking the colt's safety on and off with his thumb, he narrowed his eyes and scanned the room. I'd seen that sort of intensity in his face before. He would furrow his brow and scrap his teeth against his lip piercing. Deep in thought, he was plotting and calculating, waiting for the perfect moment to launch our attack.

"Sixty seven…sixty-eight, sixty-nine," Edward mumbled to himself.

He was counting heads now.

In any circumstance, whether it being a job or simply going out to eat, Edward's brain would take a room full of people, tally them all up, and put each one into two categories: who was going to be easy to control and who was going be the problem.

Edward must've seen nothing but problems when we walked into our engagement party.

I fiddled with my ring, twirling the band around and around on my finger. It was so beautiful and grand, but it didn't suit my stubby hands with the chipped fingernail polish.

Marriage...I gulped back the word...at eighteen.

This wasn't what I'd planned for myself.

A year or so ago, I was scouting out colleges and dreading prom with my half-brained boyfriend. In such a short span of time, I'd become the girl who ran away from home and stumbled across a minefield of illegal activity.

One crime after another kept exploding and blowing me further and further away from the person I was...Isabella Marie Swan.

Who was I now? Was this person really me? If shit was different and I grew up in a stable home, would I still be here with Edward? Maybe I was lying to myself and being the Bella he wanted me to be. Some girls pretended to like Xbox or football for their boyfriends. I was the girlfriend that killed for the guy who made my heart ache so badly, I felt as though it would burst one day and kill me.

God, I fucking loved him…but what if he found out I was a fraud? A sheep in wolf's clothing.

My world crashed down around me as doubt and panic seeped in. I couldn't breathe. The room was spinning around and around and around. It made me dizzy and fucking nauseous. I bent over and closed my eyes, breathing deeply through my nose. The barrel of the gun was pressed hard to my temple; needing pain to ward off this unwanted feeling.

One, two, three, four, five, I counted to myself, each breath correlated with a number and matched the rapid pace of my heart.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

The repetitive beat, loud and insistent, in my ears was soothing. It dulled out the silence. All the people in the church faded away. Even Edward vanished beside me. I was alone and lost, falling deep into the recesses of my mind. It was black and cold, void of pain or fear.

Then a bright light shined through the darkness and blinded me.

But something tangible remained in the nothingness. It was so clear. I could feel the wind on my face and smell the burning fire wood in the air.

It was a vision of another life of girl who could've been me.

They call me Isabella, or Izzy for short. I'm in college, Northern Arizona University, studying to be a journalist. I have high aspirations and lofty goals for a twenty year old. My mom comes up every weekend to visit me. We shop for shoes and gossip over Indian Fried Bread. It's been Renee and me for as long as I could remember. She divorced my stepfather Phil when I was twelve. One day it was over and she never explained why, but we've been best friends ever since.

I can't go a day without calling her.

My boyfriend of two years, Daniel Winston the Third, belongs to one of the biggest fraternities on campus. He's the typical party boy and under achiever. He barely manages to pass his classes, but Daniel is a Winston, a fourth generation of royalty, and destined to succeed in life. He's got a rich corporate father and a million dollar inheritance to fall back on.

Daniel is tall, muscular, and externally good-looking. Every inch of skin on his body is smooth and without decoration. He's a charmer, with a set of deep dimples to match, and cheats on me every chance he gets.

I know this, and ignore it.

Daniel is part of the dream, and I'm focused on the straight, narrow path to make something of myself. This means snagging a well-to-do husband that my mother loves. I don't want to disappoint her.

I'm not naive, but I'm a good girl. Bad words offend me. I blush when someone says I'm beautiful, because I don't believe them. I'm simple, and there is nothing special or unique about me.

I'm like every college girl in America with converse sneakers.

In five short years, I'll be graduated with a degree that doesn't get used. My accomplishment doesn't hang in my office downstairs. It's in a box labeled 'College stuff'. The once pristine frame is hidden from view and collecting dust. It's fine. I have different goals now. I'm married to Daniel, and we're expecting our third child. He wants a big family. This is how life is supposed to be.

I'm like every mother in America with my converse sneakers.

Time continues to fly by, all of the days look the same, nothing new or exciting, and I'm in my thirties. I'm bored. I hate my life. I hate myself. I hate everything. The daily routine wears me down. The PTA meetings, kid's soccer games, and dinner on the table by six, it all drives me to the point of insanity.

Xanax and Ambien have become my best friends.

Then one day, in the parking lot of a grocery store, he comes along: tattered and tatted, worn and rough, callous and methodical. This criminal with a politician's swagger, robs my husband at gunpoint.

I stand there frozen in silence, clutching my Fendi handbag to my chest. I can't run or scream. My gaze is locked and fixated on the ink trailing down his arms. There is no rhyme or reason to any of it. Nothing makes sense. Not the timing of our last minute trip to the grocery store or Daniel's insistent pleading for his life.

He doesn't beg for mine.

Then the man, with the forceful green eyes, looks at me—like really fucking looks at me. He sees right through my faded existence, past all of my forgotten dreams, missed opportunities, and greatest disappointments, and down deep to the darkest part of my soul.

I squirm under his stare, feeling stripped of every lie I've created. I'm naked and exposed to him, flesh and bone. He doesn't judge the fraud, a wolf in sheep's clothing, but smirks at me with a crooked confidence and hands me his gun.

It shines in the light and reflects my face in its chrome-plated barrel.

I don't know what I've done until my dearly beloved's blood is dripping from my fingertips.

But there is a liberated smile on my lips and a glimmer of hope in my dead eyes. This criminal, a fire in the darkness, spreads and engulfs the wholesome Izzy, leaving behind her ashes, and giving rise to the woman she's always been.

"Kid!"

I snapped my eyes opened to see Edward in my face. He was the same as the man in my dream, only more beautiful and mine.

"What the fuck?" He shoved the gun away from my head.

I could only imagine what it looked like to him, but offing myself was the furthest thing from my mind.

"I just lost myself for a second," I said, rushing through my words. I sounded guilty of something, but was the only truth I could give him. No matter how vague it was.

"You lost yourself?" His face was pained. "What does that mean?"

How do I explain what happened to me? A foresight into the past and what could've been went way beyond having cold feet.

I'd always assumed Renee was the cause for my fall from grace. If she'd loved like a mother and took care of me, I would've never ran away from home and into the arms of a criminal.

I was a simple girl in love with the wrong guy and a mere victim of circumstance.

That was the biggest lie of all. The vision of Izzy showed me that. There were two roads in my life, the one less traveled and the one where everything came to me in spades, but in the end those two roads converged.

I've been damned since birth.

"It's nothing," I said, waving it off. I was a homicidal maniac, end of story.

But Edward being the linear thinker took my words at face value and jumped to the most logical conclusion.

"You're not getting all fucking soft on me, are you?"

The thought of empathy towards these people made me snort.

I reached down and grabbed him. "Are you fucking getting soft on me?"

Edward covered my hand with his and pressed down. "What do you think?"

My mouth went dry. "I think..." he twitched against my palm, making me wish he was inside me doing that, "you better marry me before I sin any further."

The plan to play coy to deflect the situation of my freak out, and get him unfocused had backfired...horribly.

Edward stared at my lips and licked his own. "And why would I want to discourage that?"

"You wouldn't," I said, a heat rising up from my chest and into my neck. My guy liked his girl ruthless, without morals or a conscience. I felt smug and vindicated. Corrupting the sanctity of this church wasn't the worst thing we've done in our life or will do all day. "I just want to leave something untouched and pure."

Edward leaned back, assessing my eyes and the honesty behind them. He smiled and nodded. "All right, Kid." Reaching in the back pocket of his jeans, he pulled out the last cigarette from the pack. It was our lucky smoke. He stuffed it behind his ear. "Let's get fucking married."

A wide grin spread across my face. "Okay."

Edward got up from his seat and stood in the aisle. No one looked back. All their attention was on the bride. I picked up my gun from the wooden bench and glanced down at cut-off jean shorts. It wasn't appropriate attire for a wedding, let alone for a girl who was about to get married. This wasn't a drunken night in Vegas. This was my special day to feel beautiful and like a princess.

I may be many things, but at heart, I was traditional.

But where would I get a dress in such short notice?

"Hey," I whispered to Edward, tugging on the back pocket of his jeans. He looked down at me with his eyebrow raised in questioning. "Don't shoot the bride until I've taken her dress."

He blinked and blinked, as if he got dust in his eyes, clearly stunned into stupidity by my suggestion. "What?"

"I'm just saying," my gaze flickering towards the bride and the pristine white of her veil. I shrugged, "blood is hard to get out."

"Jesus, Kid." Edward laughed, reaching out and assisting me to my feet. A few people glanced back at us with annoyed looks, but none of them were concerned with the young couple in the back row. Nor did they care to notice our guns. "That's fucked up."

I yanked my hand away and glared. "I'm serious."

"Oh, I fucking know you are," he said, bending down and looking at me straight on, "but you don't need all that frilly shit. I want to marry you as you are. You got me?"

I sighed with disappointment, but conceded. "Yeah, I got you."

He was a typical guy, not getting the importance of a frilly dress, but I knew where he was coming from. This was our day to celebrate each other for the people we were, down to the final stitch of ragged cloth, and not for what society says we should be.

Also, Edward was on a tight time schedule. We've already wasted ten to fifteen minutes in this church. Our luck, if we still had any, was destined to run out.

"You ready to go have some fun with these fuckers?" Edward asked, gaining my attention by tapping me on the tip of my nose with a loaded and cocked gun.

The danger of getting my head blown off with an accidental slip of a restless finger on his trigger made me squirm with impatience.

"Oh, I've been ready," I said, gripping my Glock with both hands.

"One more thing," Edward said, leaning down and kissing me. It was brief and chaste, but meaningful to us. This may be our last time. "Love you."

I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting off the emotion of his words and repeated it back to him. "Love you."

Edward kissed me again and nodded. "Follow me close."

"Okay," I said, getting behind him.

He spun around on his heel, addressing the room for the first time with his deep, commanding, and yet playful voice. "Excuse me everybody, sorry to interrupt such a joyous fucking occasion," all eyes were fixated on the intruders as we strolled down the aisle. I kicked the petals left behind by the flower girls with my dirty, scuffed-up converse, "but we would like to be married and we your priest."

There was a soft gasp in the corner from a woman, accompanied by overlapping murmurs of questions and confusion circulating in the pews. The bride and groom looked back at the priest. He shook his head. No one knew whether it was a prank or the real deal.

"If you all stay seated and remain calm," I chimed in, pointing my gun at the guests, "we'll be out of your hair in five minutes."

Edward hummed, dragging the colt's barrel along the outer sides of the benches. It scratched the wood, leaving a deep and long-lasting mark of our presence here.

I followed close behind him, aiming my gun at everyone. This included the mothers holding their children close and shielding them from danger. The older couples in the front who clung to one another, sensing their time was near. The several teenagers huddled together, making fun and cracking jokes. They were oblivious to the danger and enjoying the entertainment. Then there were the brave men who needed to protect their families. I focused on them the most. Their Spanish culture of macho alpha-dog behavior made these guys one of the most dangerous and stupidest of the bunch. They didn't think, standing up tall in an effort to be the hero.

All…one, two...four, seven—ten of them, moved to strike.

Edward and I caught the stirring from the crowd and snapped our heads in their direction, our guns directed at their chest.

"Don't you fucking think about it, cabrón!" Edward yelled, taking a broad step in front of me and blocking their path. I was the one they would try to take out first. The men raised their hands up in the air, slowly taking a step back and sitting down. "Everyone keep their asses seated and we won't have any problems."

The main goal was to contain and minimize the panic. We were outnumbered, but we could control the room by instituting fear and hope.

Fear was a powerful and easy emotion to manipulate. You find something a person loves the most in this world and then you threaten it. Depending on the person, it could be either their lives or the lives of their family. Edward and I were experts in this area. We've experienced the same fear, countless times over, and it was being used against us by Marcus.

Then there was hope, another important tool. It made fear possible. If you threaten without hope of survival, people will have nothing to lose and fight. We had to make them believe we would kill them if they didn't follow our rules, but also make them feel that surviving was an option. It was tight rope we balanced on and had to be enforced with meticulous precision.

But if done just right, it made for a compliant hostage or victim.

My eyes were set on the bride...and that gorgeous peineta.

"You're going to be the death of me, woman."

I shot my eyes up to Edward. "What?"

"I know what you're fucking thinking," he said, gesturing towards the bride and her dress.

I gave him a sheepish smile. "I just want her veil."

He narrowed his eyes at me.

"I swear."

"Fine," Edward said, unable to hide his smile or the way my brutality turned him on, "but let's gather all phones up first."

"I'm on it," I said, running up to the priest and grabbing the large bag hanging from his podium. It was filled with gold coins and I dumped out on the floor. And for a brief second, we locked eyes with each other, his pleading brown with my dark, hollow ones. He was judging me. "No redención para este pecador, Sacerdote."

"No, my child," he said, stopping me by grasping my arm. I jerked back and pointed my gun at the spot between his disparaging eyes. He returned my violence with a kind and forgiving smile, "our blessed Mother Mary has love for everyone, even the wicked." He bowed his head and spoke softly. "Tu alma quiere ser salvado."

"You're wrong, priest." I scoffed, backing down the stairs slowly. "I have no soul."

He didn't argue or look at me.

I rejoined Edward's side of the line, my skin prickling with discomfort.

"Hey," he said, cupping my face with his hands, "are you okay?"

The priest words didn't have effect on me. I knew who I was and what I wasn't. There was no sense and acting as if my deeds were redeemable, or it was something I wanted to be redeemed for. I enjoyed every second of this life with Edward and the chaos it brought.

No promises of pearly gates would ever change that.

"No apologies, remember?"

He smirked, his devil shining through. "No apologies."

I walked up and down aisle with the bag held out as Edward instructed the guests to give up their phones. No one moved. Everyone was stationary in their seats, like a petrified casing of their former selves, staring at us with these wide eyes and dumbfounded expressions of idiocy. I'm not sure if they didn't think we were serious with our threats or fucking deaf.

Either way, I knew something drastic had to be done.

"Can I?"

Edward sighed, glancing over at me and shrugged. "They asked for it."

"Here, hold this," I said, handing him the bag

Edward gripped my wrist and pulled me close. "Don't hold back."

"I wouldn't think of it."

He smiled, releasing Kid out into the world. I walked up the altar with a casual ease, unassuming, until it was too late. I snatched the bride out of the loving groom's arms, the rosary ripping from the bride's neck and exploding. The beads of their infinity went flying everywhere.

"No, Adriana!" He cried, reaching out for her, but I was quick and my gun was already poised at her cheek.

I stepped down the stairs and presented her to the crowd. My sacrificial lamb. "I'm going to count to three, and if you assholes don't start cooperating, I'm going to blow a bullet through her pretty fucking face!" The bride cried, going limp in my grip. I held her close and tight to my body, pressing my gun so hard and deep into the side of her cheek, she couldn't help but tongue the end of my barrel. "One…" everyone stared, but no one moved a single muscle, "two," still nothing, and my finger eased back on the trigger. I leaned back and prepared myself for the blood spray, "three—"

"No, no!" An older woman screamed out, rushing up to Edward and depositing her phone into the bag. She begged with him and with me in Spanish to let her daughter go. Her eyes were blood-shot and coated with smeared mascara. "Please, Senorita, please."

I glanced back out into the pews, waiting for people to follow suit, and they did. One by one, they all gave up their cell phones. They even offered up their purses and wallets. This wasn't a robbery, per se, but what the hell, might as well take, right? I saw it as a wedding gift.

Edward patted the guests down and searched their pockets for weapons. No one brought a gun or knife to a wedding. Which, I expected, but stranger things have happened. For the time being, we were in the clear and had complete control of the room. It was a rarity for Edward and me to be this lucky.

"We good?" I asked him.

"We're good."

"All right then," I said, walking the bride back to her groom.

He had his arms outstretched, crying and beseeching for his Adrianna. I'd recognized that expression of despair and anguish. I'd seen on Edward many times before. There was love in his eyes, undeniable and forever. That was a good thing. He'll be easy to manipulate.

Refusing the groom his bride, I backed her up against the golden alter. "Give me the peineta "

"No, no, no," she wept, putting her hands up and stepping away from me.

"No?!" I didn't understand that word.

She argued and pleaded with me to show her mercy. The veil was worn by her Great Grandmother at her wedding in the early 1900. It's been passed down through generations. The veil held more significance and sentimental value than I realized, but it wasn't going to stop me from taking it.

It was a shitty thing to do, but the way I figured it, this bride had her whole life to make up for this day. My days were numbered and dwindling down by the second.

"Shut up!" I shouted, annoyed with her voice. I grabbed her by the throat and squeezed. "Or I'll take the dress too."

The bride nodded and sniffed, her hands shaking as she reached up and pulled out the bobby pins that were securing the veil. I was stripping her of her virtue and dignity. It didn't go unnoticed.

"Bastardo enfermo!" A man shouted from the third row, jumping from his seat and charging right for me.

"God damn it." Edward groaned, aiming his gun at the raging bull and popping one off.

The bullet tore through the man's leg and he went down with no resistance. He brought his knee up to his chest and screamed out in agony. Blood saturated his slacks, pouring out between his fingers and onto the floor. It blended well with the red carpet.

"What did I fucking tell you?" Edward asked the stunned guests. He stormed over to the man and crouched down, forcing his head up with the hot muzzle of the gun. "The next one goes in your head, my friend. Comprende?"

"Yes, yes, I understand." The guy moaned.

I nudged the bride, nodding towards the man with the messy chopper hair and a smoking Colt. "That's mine."

She recoiled from my proximity, looking at me like I was crazy.

"Fuck!" Edward kicked the guy in the gut over and over again. The wedding guests were horrified. He grabbed the weak man, pale with the loss of blood, and hoisted him up by the lapel of the burgundy suit and sat him down on the bench. The women rushed to his aid, adding pressure to the wound and tying it off with a scarf.

The playful, nice criminal act was dropped. Edward was manic now. The stress of the situation making him irrational and brutal. The small taste of violence pumped a heavy dose of testosterone in his veins. He needed to spill more blood to sustain his sanity.

I saw the crazed look in his eyes as he walked towards me. The groom was his next victim, and didn't even hesitate, hauling his arm forward and pistol whipping the groom across his face. It made a sickening sound when metal hit soft flesh and hard bone. The bride sprang forward, yearning to touch her fallen beloved, but I held her back.

There was a loud uproar from the pews, but nobody got up from their seats. They knew what the consequences were if they moved.

Edward picked the groom off the floor and looked over at me. "Where were we?"

"I'm just waiting on the bride," I said, pressing the gun into her chest. "Andale."

The clock was ticking. I wasn't a stick-with-the-plan type of person, but even I was feeling the time crunch. The longer we stayed in the church, the less likely we'd get out with our heads intact. The word of our 'heist' was bound to get out. Maybe someone shows up late to the wedding and finds the church door locked. The police would be called and fucking chaos would ensue.

I wanted to live long enough to consummate my marriage.

"Come on, come on," I said, my patience wearing thin. She removed the last bobby pin and pulled the veil off. I yanked it out of her hands without so much as a thank you. Turning back to Edward and his hostage, I held out my gun. "Hold this."

"Of course," he said, wrapping his arm around the groom's neck, while keeping a firm eye on the captive audience below.

I put the veil on blindly. No mirrors, just my sense of touch. My fingers fumbled around with the bobby pins, trying to secure the bastards into my hair. Edward noticed my struggle, putting my gun in his waistband and helping me stabilize everything with one hand. Once it was all in and on tight, I felt ready.

"How do I look?" I asked, suddenly nervous. It was a modest change, but his opinion meant everything.

Readjusting the peineta on my shoulders, Edward smiled. "You look like a bride."

I felt bashful under his gaze, the tip of my ears getting hot. "Really?"

Edward laughed at my small voice and uncertainty. "Really, baby." He gave me back my gun. "Are we finally ready?"

I nodded, flicking the safety off and pulling the bride in front of me. We used the wedding party as a human shield. You never know. It was best to be prepared.

The priest had the bible clutched to his chest, his eyes closed, and praying to himself softly.

"Hey, Sacerdote," Edward said, nudging him out of his mediation with the colt. "We're ready for you to marry us."

The priest took a deep breath and began the ceremony. He spoke fast, rushing through his words, and it was hard for me to keep up. Edward grabbed my hand and held it tight. It was short and simple, no rosary beads or gold coins or even holy water dabbed on our foreheads. We needed someone of merit to officiate our union.

It would never be legal or documented, but that didn't matter. This was real to us. When we took our last breath and laid our souls to rest, I would be Edward's forever and he would be mine.

"I…" The priest stopped abruptly, closing his book and looking up at us. It was silent in the church for a long, unrequited heartbeat. Then he smiled, so faint and filled with hope. "May you have a blessed life as husband and wife."

I frowned, disappointed with the whole thing. There had to be more to it…right?

"That's it?" Edward asked, echoing my thoughts. "What about the vows?"

Terror and panic materialized in my gut.

"Vows, baby?" I whispered, my face reddening with shame. "I didn't write any."

"Me either, but we can't let this fucker make promises for us," Edward said, glaring at the priest. He turned back to me, his expression softening."This is about you and me, Kid."

"Okay," my lips pressed together in a slight grimace. I felt unprepared, but he was right. The vows read by the priest were generic and told to thousands of couples. This was our chance to declare what we meant to each other. I gulped back my anxiety, nodding with confidence. "I'll go first."

"Hold on." Edward spun the groom to the side and took a step towards me.

I'd done the same to the bride. In hindsight, holding hostages with guns wasn't easy to do. I couldn't get my body as close to Edward as I would've liked.

"Okay, go," he said.

I thought really hard about all the things I wanted to say, but I knew what he wanted to here. It was a promise he would hold me to.

"Edward," I said, swallowing back the lump lodged in my throat, "I will never leave you."

"And I will never fucking let you," he replied, pulling me forward and crushing our bodies together. He kept the gun under the groom's chin and finger on the trigger, but grabbed me by the neck with his other hand. His lips were on mine, kissing me deep and long, that fire rising at the pit of my stomach. Edward's mouth made my legs weak and morals even weaker. I felt myself slip and fall, slowly relaxing into him.

He eventually had to break the kiss and my heart.

"That's it then?" Edward glanced back at the priest. "We're married?"

The priest smiled, but this time it was forced. He'd finally seen that redemption wasn't meant for the wicked. "Si."

"Fuck yeah!" I screamed, bursting out of my skin with excitement. Tossing the bride to the side, I jumped into Edward's waiting arms. He gripped me tight, holding me up and rocking us back. Our lips meant for the millionth time, but this one was different. I was kissing my husband. The one man who would kill and die for me.

Edward grinned, his eyes a deep green. "You want to get the fuck out here, Mrs. Cullen?"

I took the cigarette from his ear and placed it behind mine. "Definitely, Mr. Cullen."

Setting me back down on my feet, I tore the veil off my head and handed it back to the bride. She didn't look at me, or acknowledge my gratitude. I'd ruined her special day. In her eyes, I was the devil—Edward and I both were. But that was what made us perfect for each other. No one in this world could match Edward's killer lust like I could.

We were dangerous together.

It was a quarter to seven, the sun set behind the ocean, we were leaving the church the same way we came in, unscathed and hand in hand, but now there was a noticeable difference. We were officially husband and wife.

I felt happy, blissfully so, but it wasn't meant to last. This day was the just beginning of the end of our love story. The wheels of faith were set into motion and there was no turning back.

And it didn't matter what waited for us on the other side. It was death or nothing for us. I'd accepted that fact. Edward did too. We knew a love like ours, so physically powerful and unrestrained, could only end tragically.

A/N: I wasn't deathly ill or flouncing the fandom, life just got busy for me. If you're still here, I want to thank you! You're the reason I still post this story.

A sloppy boob grab to my pre-reader, Brina. I miss you so much it hurts.