*Sneaks in with a wide smile, throwing a revamped chapter down* And so it begins...

"In life, every ending is simply a new beginning."
-Book I-

Months Previously
Forks Cemetery
Forks, Washington State

Her body was numb, her mind in a foggy haze while her thoughts jumped from one to the next, cutting each other off and leaving others unfinished. She could barely feel the cool drops of rain that fell on the skin left exposed by the cut of her dress, the deep blackness of mourning standing out on fresh, green grass; nor could she feel the sting of the cold wind that whipped around her on the cliff-side, biting at the same skin left exposed due to her forgetfulness concerning her coat. In the back of her mind she could hear the condolences uttered to her as groups of people stalled in front of her and she could vaguely hear herself acknowledging the pointless words spoken, but it made no matter.

The only things that she really remained aware of were the ocean below them, frothy and foaming against the storm brewing out at sea, darkening the skies to a deep gray, and the white-knuckled grip she kept on the canister, no the urn, in her hands.

Their empty words and looks of sympathy, of pity, didn't matter.

He did.

The death of Charlie Swan, Forks' Chief of Police, was the talk of the usually small and mundane town.

Rumors of the how's and why's concerning his untimely passing had been circulating for two weeks, referencing everything from a drifter's burglary gone wrong and a past collar's revenge to the wrath and insanity of his twenty-one year old daughter's recent ex-fiancé. The family wasn't talking and with each day's silence, the gossip mill grew a little more ridiculous than previous. Word on the street was either the man's job, or his daughter, had gotten him killed. The more callous and vicious of the group had decided it was definitely the daughter.

Isabella Swan had reached her limit.

She was ninety-five percent sure that if she heard one more whisper, she was going to start screaming and never be able to stop.

Her only sanctuary seemed to be on the Quileute Reservation, and even that came with limitations.

Between an almost step-mother with the tendency to bake in stressful situations until the bottom floor for the house looked like a local bakery, her father's oldest and overly concerned best friend that could barely repress his 'I Told You So', and his youngest son who had apparently forgotten the long talk she had with him when she was eighteen and he was sixteen, explaining to him that she only could ever love him as a little brother…she was constantly on the verge of snapping.

When she wanted quiet she showed up and Sam and Leah Uley's woodsy cabin, making herself at home as directed while she helped her near step-sister cook or enjoyed the solid, silent support of Leah's once longtime-boyfriend-turned-new-husband, Sam.

When she wanted to scream herself hoarse, yell to the point she couldn't breathe, hit something until her knuckles bled, or give in to carnal pleasures that left her body weightless and her mind fuzzy as she melted into the pleasant heat of a man's body; she paid a visit to Paul Lahote's beach-side home. A fresh plate of her grandmother's secret recipe brownies and a six pack could get her just about anything she wanted from him.

The promise of a mind blowing orgasm certainly didn't hurt either.

And when the time finally came, in the darkness of night at three o'clock in the morning, she sought out the firm, muscled shoulder of her cousin, Quil Ateara the fifth. There she finally broke down, crying the rivers of tears and the chest-aching sobs that shook her entire body and left her gasping for air as he muttered soft, soothing words against her ear. He held her tightly, kept her anchored to the earth as he let her know that despite all she had lost, there was still someone there and always would be.

Still, Bella felt as if she was suffocating, the world closing in on her slowly but surely and leaving her no room to simply…breathe.

"Bella, sweetie?"

Couldn't they all just…stop? Stop talking to her, stop worrying about her every little move, stop staring at her as if she would lose her fucking mind any second?!

"Isabella?"

The cool touch at her elbow shook her from her desperate thoughts and her eyes snapped up the next second, her body immediately jerking away from the sight in front of her without her permission, as if she had been scalded. Her jaw clenched so tightly it creaked and her spine straightened in a defensive posture, her wary eyes darting around to find all those who could and would rescue her from her current predicament were busy, unaware.

"Mrs. Cullen," She gave a curt nod in greeting, forced politeness.

"Please dear," The woman chided, clasping her gloved hands in front of her designer skirt. "There's no need for that, it's still Esme to you."

Bella nearly snarled in response.

Her upper lip threatened to curl back in a malicious sneer, the anger roiling in her gut igniting a fire that burned through her very blood as she grappled with control of herself. Fuck anger, this was wrath, pure and simple. She forced it down though, acutely aware of their audience because, while her allies were all currently occupied, plenty of Forks Washington's finest were watching the confrontation with an almost palpable excitement, eager for any hint that could give truth to their musings.

Disgusting.

"Esme," Bella gritted out, fixing a plastic smile to her face in a perfect mask that many would envy, though she lowered her voice as she snapped. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Displeasure flashed across the elder woman's features before she quickly stowed it away, fixing her expression to one of concern and motherly love.

It couldn't be more fake.

"You haven't taken any of the family's calls and you have yet to cash your check," Esme murmured, making sure to keep her tone low enough that their words stayed between them. "Carlisle and I were becoming…worried."

Righteous fury whipped through her fiercely, leaving her body trembling as she locked her knees and gripped the urn in her hands that much tighter. How dare she? How dare she approach her on this day, with her father's ashes in her very hands? Hands that itched to set the urn aside, reach toward the woman in front of her and wrap them around her dainty little throat as she choked the very life from her pathetic body…but Bella could do no such thing. So, with fire flashing in her eyes and her nails digging into her skin where her hands overlapped on the cold metal, she hissed.

"I want nothing to do with your blood money!"

Esme scoffed, though somehow managed to keep up her polite façade. "We only wish to support you during your tragedy, we understand how distraught-

"You understand nothing! You vile, horrible-"

The older woman's small hand darted out, grasping Bella's wrist with such a fierce grip that the girl was sure she would snap it. Her bones ground together in protest as she let out a small gasp, taking notice that Esme's concerned expression was long gone, replaced with one of contempt, though it remained hidden from passerby under the brim of her hat.

"You forget your place, Isabella! You will take the money and do as I say or-"

Red flashed across her vision, an iron taste blooming across her tongue as she reared back, the desire not to create a scene long forgotten the moment that traitorous bitch touched her.

"Is there a problem here?"

Bella sucked in a breath of crisp mountain air, shaking her head ever so slightly as she desperately attempted to clear the murderous haze that had clouded all she could see and think. She almost stumbled backward when Esme's hand was suddenly gone, but a new touch replaced it. Feminine but strong, sending a surprising amount of warm reassurance through her veins and somehow silently encouraging her to straighten her spine to face the awful witch once more.

"Oh, of course not!" Esme tittered in what she assumed with a soothing tone. "I was just-"

"Mrs. Cullen was just leaving," Bella interrupted, the whiskey brown of her eyes turning to a near molten gold. "For good. I'm sure you wouldn't want to keep Carlisle waiting at the airport, would you Esme?"

It was the one thing she had gotten that was worth anything, a hefty check to add to an already heaving bank account aside. Being able to take the beatific mountain retreat away was worth the scathing expression she was facing.

Man, if looks could kill, Bella would have joined her father.

She didn't pull her gaze from the furious woman as she left the cemetery, refusing to look away until she could be sure that stain was finally removed from her life, despite the steady presence of the stranger beside her. It was only when the overly expensive car disappeared over the hillside that she wilted slightly, finally turning to meet the grimly mirthful gaze of the woman standing beside her. Eyes widening, she glanced over the stranger, her eyebrows climbing ever higher upon her forehead with every new observation.

The woman looked like a biker queen, plain and simple.

Soft, buttery leather jacket over a crimson silken top. Painted on jeans that followed the length of long legs, paired up with knee-high leather boots the color of a raven's wing. Her eyes were hard but there was something there, hidden behind the sternness that sent a rippling chill of familiarity down Bella's spine.

"You need to get your shit square, baby."

Her lips parted, mouth opening and closing before she found her voice, though it couldn't have been more than a whisper, "I'm sorry...do I know you?"

The woman smirked, something sharp but entirely amused.

"You could say that. My name's Gemma," She started, gently threading Bella's arm through the loop of her own. "And I'm about to change your life."

Present Time
Town Outskirts
Charming, California

She was stalling, and she knew it.

Her new baby rumbled beneath her hands, the classic car's engine purring as she idled in front of what she assumed was the town limits sign. The '69 Chevy Camaro was painted seamlessly in a sleek black that shined in the sunlight, the top left down so that she could enjoy the ride in. It left her hair tousled from the wind, but Bella found she didn't much care. It was the first time since everything had started that she'd felt a faint taste of freedom. Lifting the over-sized sunglasses to rest upon her head, bourbon colored eyes narrowing on the giant piece of log that was apparently considered a sign.

"Welcome to Charming, our name says it all!" Bella muttered, almost snorting. "I bet it does..."

Leaning her head back into the warm leather of her headrest, the twenty-one year old closed her eyes, breathing in through her nose. The anxiety had kicked in about fifty miles back, prompting her to ignore the constant vibrations of her cell phone that were quickly becoming borderline incessant. Groaning softly, she squinted at the time reflected back at her on the phone's screen.

"Shit!"

Thirty-five minutes late. Well...that would explain it.

Reaching for the angry device -27 missed calls and 31 new text messages- she nearly dropped the damned thing when it began to vibrate violently once more. Momma Gemma glared out at her accusingly, followed by a goofy emoticon of two tap dancing, cat-ear-wearing, yellow people. Blowing a sigh out through her nose, she swiped to connect the call.

And didn't even get a word in edgewise.