Title: Fatal Absolution
Rating: M for extreme violence, sex, language
Beta: Alice's White Rabbit
Summary: Isabella Swan learns that sometimes righting past wrongs can have deadly consequences.
AN: This is the story that I contributed to F4LLS. It was a monster o/s at almost 20,000 words so I'm breaking it up into small chapters. Since it's already complete, a chapter will post every day until it's complete. Of course, if you have the compilation you can read it in its entirety.
Beep Beep Beep.
I swatted at the blaring alarm clock that wasn't even meant to wake me up. It was only six in the morning, and I didn't have to be up for another hour.
No, the alarm was to wake Jacob. He had a sit-down scheduled at eight this morning but still insisted on staying over last night. I hated when he stayed over, but that's not something you're supposed to say to your fiancé.
Jacob was second in command, under his father, William, of the Wolf Pack, a Native American gang. The gang was started four generations ago by Jacob's great-grandfather, Ephraim, in an effort to fight against the oppression caused my white men who wanted to take their land. When they were successful in maintaining their land, the early members of the Wolf Pack became greedy and wanted more. They wanted more land, more money, and really, more power. As word of the gang's movement spread, so did its size. Originally, the Wolf Pack only consisted of Quileute members, but even that changed. No tribe was discriminated against, but proof of full-blooded Indian roots were required. Even that was changing, though.
I wasn't really sure how the gang actually formed and continued on, though, because every time I heard the history, the story changed. The white men were more ruthless, and Ephraim's people were more distraught, more oppressed.
I never sat in on a sit-down for two reasons. The first being that, although they were nowhere near the size of the mafia, they tried to conduct business like them, which meant no outsiders or women. The second reason was that I seriously couldn't give a shit about Jacob or the wanna-be hoodlums he ran around with. My balls were bigger than theirs.
Frankly, the whole gang was one big hypocritical mess. They treated their women like shit when, in reality, Native American women are to be revered. Like I said, they thought they were the mafia. Plus, most of them had a white woman on the side. Weren't we supposed to be the enemy? The devil incarnates?
I hated Jacob with an absolute passion. I hated being engaged to him, I hated when he touched me, and I hated that I couldn't kill him … yet.
The only reason I even agreed to marry him was because my father, Charles, had passed away "unexpectedly", and I needed a tight link to the Wolf Pack if I wanted to keep a close eye on Jacob. I was so damn sure that Jacob was behind Charles' death. I didn't need proof or motivation to exact my revenge. He was going to pay for his sins, and I was going to be the one who delivered the final blow.
Charles Swan was the most reliable American arms dealer. He delivered on schedule and never tried to run game on anyone. He was small fries –inconsequential- to the people he conducted business with, so he knew it was in his best interest to not play with shipments, especially when it involved the Cullen family, our best customers for years before I was even born. All in all, Charles was reliable, loyal, and the hardest working motherfucker in the game. His business was small, almost non-descript compared to others in the business, but it worked well for him. It allowed him to have constant knowledge about all the dealings being handled.
When Charles became itchy with the need to venture out, he got involved in drug dealing also. He grew his own marijuana in an underground plantation but looked internationally for the best cocaine. He was surprised to find that the Dominican Republic offered some of the best outside of Columbia. Surprisingly, Cuba did also, but it was way too messy to deal with the Communist country when it came to moving the supply. My father always believed the less people involved the better, and he would have had to involve too many people for Cuba to be an option. The Dominican Republic was already tricky enough.
The only downside to the drug trade was the "protection" we had to pay the Cullen Bogotá in order to sell in their neighborhoods, which were basically all of them. When Charles died, the Cullens demanded another sit-down to renegotiate our agreement. Because my father served them well for many years, they only increased the payout to 30%, up from 20%. It was steep, in my opinion, but it wasn't like we were actually negotiating. The Cullens, more specifically Carlisle Cullen, told us what he wanted, and we either agreed or hit the road with our tails between our legs, and hopefully our lives. Not only did we agree to the ten percent hike because we had no option, but it would have hurt our arms dealings with the family if we hadn't. It was times like this that I really missed having Charles around.
I was quite surprised when I learned that the business was to be mine, despite being the eldest of three. The twins, Alice and Rosalie, were five years my junior. I was under the assumption that Alec, the man that worked for my father since I was two, would take over. I think it was a bitter pill for him to swallow when he learned the business wasn't going to be his. He was even the one who went to the sit-down to negotiate with the Cullens, thinking he was going to be the man in charge. Since we weren't the mafia, it wasn't like Alec had to be family or a certain decent to take over. Truthfully, I would have loved for Alec to run things. I hated running the business. It wasn't what I loved to do. I was more hands on. I was a natural killer.
Charles realized my killer instincts before I even did. He knew what I was meant to do with my life when he saw that I could pull the trigger without batting an eye and kill a man in cold blood. I always thought the reason I killed Mike so easily was because it was self-defense- either him or me - and I chose me. Really, it was stupid that Mike tried to violate me on my father's property.
Charles happened to be there that night, and he just knew. He said I had a look in my eyes that told him. In my opinion, it was just the adrenaline or even exhilaration. After making Mike's body disappear, he made plans to take me to the gun range for practice shots. After that first session, I realized that Charles was right. I had impeccable aim and handled the kickback of each gun remarkably well for a girl who had only shot once before. What sold me, though, was the way I felt when I had a gun in my hand. It was like my hands were shaped to accommodate any size gun. I felt a tremendous surge of power after each bullet fired from the chamber. I had become a sociopath seemingly overnight.
Charles hired two of the best hit men he became associated with through dealing with organized crime, both from the Capolicci family. I worked with James and Marcus perfecting my skills and learning new techniques. James loved explosives, so he taught me how to make a basic bombs, more complex ones, and showed me ways to manipulate different chemicals for the biggest bang. Marcus was your basic sadist and loved all forms of torture. He showed me where to stab or shoot to cause extreme pain, but not death. Evan the exact length in which to slit someone's throat if I wanted them to bleed out slowly, quickly, cleanly, or make it squirt.
When my father believed I was ready for my first hit, he expanded his business yet again and offered my services. Under my father's employment, I had thirty kills, earning about forty thousand per person after Charles took his cut. Only once did I make fifty G's for a kill, and sadly, it came from a jilted lover. I learned early on not to fuck with a made guy, but sadly for the woman I strangled, as ordered by her husband, she didn't heed that warning.
I killed Mike and began my training when I was eighteen. Seven years later, at twenty five, it was still my number one passion.