Hello friends, here we go again! This one is a little different. There's angst. I know! I NEVER write angst! But, there's a first time for everything LOL This first chapter is, well, there's some descriptions of physical violence. Just sayin'. Not a lot, but still. PM me with any questions. A new adventure begins!

"Bella? Please open the door, sweetie."

I stared at the reflection in the mirror, ignoring the tear-filled voice of my best friend. I heard whispering, but couldn't discern what was being said and at that moment I didn't care. I was morbidly fascinated by the person looking back at me.

Her left eye was blackened and swollen, and both of the normally clear white sclera were now a vibrant red thanks to burst blood vessels.

Peeling a bandage off revealed a stitched cut across her left cheek bone, a blue and green bruise flowering open around it. The discoloration crept down to almost meet a ring of angry red welts and scratches that circled her upper throat.

"Bells?"

Now the voice of my brother. As I continued to stare at the reflection in the mirror, I saw a single fat teardrop fall from the battered eye and slide over the stitches, stinging as it went. A sob broke from my chest, but still I couldn't look away. I couldn't make myself stop scrutinizing the damage that had been inflicted upon my face. I heard some metallic clicking noises, and the next thing I knew I was wrapped in giant, comforting arms. They rocked me like a baby and his voice was low, but so filled with emotion I almost couldn't stand it.

"He's gone, Bells, I promise. Never coming back. He's never coming back."

This was repeated over and over until my numb mind couldn't even absorb the words anymore.

"I'm so tired, Em," I finally whispered through my bruised throat. "But, I'm scared to close my eyes."

My brother Emmett carried me out of the bathroom like a child, and gently deposited me on the bed in my private hospital room.

"I'm going to ask them if you can have something to help you sleep," he said before exiting the room.

Almost immediately I felt comforting hands tucking a blanket around me and I turned my gaze to my best friend. She smoothed my hair back from my face with a sad smile.

"Love ya, Ali," I murmured.

Her gray eyes sparkled with tears, but she didn't let them fall.

"Love you, too. No more locking yourself in the bathroom, okay? Even though Emmett is able to pick the lock with a paper clip, we'd rather not resort to that." This last was directed at my brother as he strode back in, a nurse right behind him. Emmett shrugged with no remorse.

"Miss Swan, I'm going to administer you a sedative to help you sleep, if that's okay?" the nurse said kindly, holding up a syringe.

"Yes, please," I mumbled. I'd never been more exhausted, yet more on edge, in my life. It was an extremely unsettling feeling.

"Try to sleep, okay? We'll be right here," Alice said, stroking my forehead.

I barely felt the prick of the needle. My world darkened, and I welcomed it..

*EotN*

When I awoke, my hospital room was flooded with glowing orange light from the setting sun. Turning my head, I allowed a tiny smile to creep over my lips at the sight before me. Emmett had somehow managed to cram his six-foot-four frame in the small recliner in the corner. One leg was flung over the armrest and dangled almost to the floor, his head was slumped to one side, and he was snoring softly.

I loved my brother so much it made my chest tight. When our parents died ten years ago, he'd completely stepped into the role of my guardian. He'd always been more of a parent to me than either of the people who created us, anyway.

I was only seventeen when Charles and Renee Swan were killed in a fiery car crash on the way home from a charity gala they'd been attending. My father, driving his prized Maserati, had a blood alcohol level that was twice the legal limit and the autopsy had also found Percocet in his system. My mother's level was even higher, and she tested positive for cocaine as well. Nothing we weren't aware of, of course. Charles and Renee didn't exactly hide their activities from their children. At the time, I remember being thankful they hadn't caused harm to anyone else on the road with them. Instead, they wrapped the car around a light pole on Bayshore Blvd. and were both killed instantly, according to the coroner.

Emmett had been twenty at the time of the accident. He'd left Florida State and, with the guidance of our father's older brother, Marcus, he threw himself into the family business. Uncle Marcus had assured him he didn't need to leave school, but Emmett was determined. He'd planned to start there after graduation anyway, something he'd been groomed for all his life and was looking forward to doing. Swan Holdings, Inc. was founded by my great-grandfather in nineteen thirty-five. He'd began in real estate, but the business had expanded over the years to also include investment banking and asset management. My brother proved to be tenacious in doing everything he could to contribute to and increase the success SHI had always enjoyed, and in the ten years since he became a permanent fixture there he had more than succeeded. Though my own interests had taken me in a different direction, I was fiercely proud of him, of the man he became. He had worked so hard at a time when all of his other friends had still been out partying and having fun, all while making sure I was okay. He was my anchor.

Emmett and I were brought up in high luxury, never wanting for anything material, but if it weren't for him I would have had the loneliest childhood imaginable. Our parents weren't abusive to us in any way, but they certainly enjoyed the jetset lifestyle that generations of wealth afforded them. Lavish parties, trips around the world, being seen with the right people. Of course, none of these things were deemed appropriate for young children, so more often than not, Emmett and I had been left in the care of the household staff while Charles and Renee went off for sometimes weeks at a time. Some of my earliest memories were of kissing the glamorous couple good-bye at the bottom of the ornate curving staircase in the giant foyer of our family home. I thought they were the most beautiful people ever, my tall and handsome father and his beautiful, dark haired wife. Everyone said I looked exactly like her, but with Charles Swan's eyes. They always brought us loads of presents when they returned, and when I was very young those gifts almost made up for them being so absent from our lives. As I got older, they didn't even come close.

They weren't horrible parents, just. . . absent. I knew they loved us in their own way, but the problem was they were always so wrapped up in each other. Their relationship was intense, tempestuous, they fought hard and loved hard and, truthfully, I couldn't imagine one ever being without the other. While the crash had been absolutely devastating for all of us, I knew in my heart that if only one of them had died, the other would have chosen to willingly follow them by their own hand. It was tragic, yet better that it had happened the way it had. I'd accepted that a long time ago.

My pensive musings were interrupted when the door to my room opened and Alice stepped quietly inside. When she saw that I was awake, she stopped trying to tiptoe.

"Hey, how do you feel?" she asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"My throat still hurts and I have a hell of a headache, but I'm alive," I answered with a small shrug.

She was quiet for a time, simply looking at me in that all-knowing way she had.

"Did you have any nightmares?" she finally questioned.

"No. I actually just woke up; whatever they gave me was strong as hell."

"You slept for about six hours, then. That's good. Your body needs the time to heal."

"Ali, has anyone been to my apartment? Ginger and Mary Ann-"

"Your kitties are just fine, Bells. I called Jacob, he and Seth have them at their place."

"Thanks."

Just then there was a knock at the door and the same nurse who has given me the sedative entered. Her name tag said Courtney.

"Miss Swan, there are two detectives here from Tampa PD. They want to ask you some questions, but I wanted to make sure you were awake first. Shall I send them in?"

Ali looked at me with a raised eyebrow and I shrugged.

"Sure," I told Courtney.

She nodded and disappeared from the doorway; a few moments later, two men entered the room. One was tall, tanned, and blond with an easy smile. The other was paler with dark reddish hair. He didn't smile. They both wore suits and, despite the blond's friendly demeanor, were quite imposing.

"Ms. Swan, I'm Detective Jasper Whitlock with Tampa PD, and this is my partner, Detective Edward Cullen," the blond man said. His blue eyes were kind and put me more at ease. The dark-haired one nodded, but didn't speak.

"Hello. This is my friend Alice Brandon," I gestured to Ali, who acknowledged them with a smile. "Ali, will you wake Emmett?"

She moved to where my brother was still obliviously snoring away. Alice kicked the bottom of his foot, causing him to jump and let out a raspy "What the fuck?!" as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Emmett, Detectives Whitlock and Cullen with the Tampa Police Department are here. Detectives, this is my brother, Emmett Swan."

Emmett nodded and shook both their hands.

"Ms. Swan, we have some questions if you're feeling up to it. It shouldn't take too long," Detective Whitlock said. "Even though this is a fairly straight forward case, we do still need to take your statement. If it gets to be too much, we can take a break. I understand your throat is probably sore after the ordeal you've been through, but the sooner we have everything we need, the sooner we can get out of your hair, okay?"

Both of the detectives took seats next to my bed. Whitlock's face was open and his eyes were kind. Cullen, on the other hand, was simply watching me. His eyes were very green. I had a fleeting thought of what I must look like – the reflection in the mirror still fresh in my mind – but I pushed it away. The detective, I was sure, had seen worse than a battered woman.

"Um, okay. Where should I start?" My fingers nervously plucked at the blanket covering my lap. Detective Whitlock took out a digital recorder, turned it on, and set it on the table next to me.

"September twenty first, two thousand eighteen. Detective Jasper Whitlock along with Detective Edward Cullen are taking a statement from Isabella Swan about the events that took place on the evening of September twentieth. Ms. Swan, how long did you know James Chaser?"

I took a deep breath.

"We met just over a year ago, at Luxe."

"Your hotel?" Detective Cullen asked, speaking for the first time. His voice was deeper than that of his blonde counterpart.

"Yes. I own it and I live in an apartment on the top floor. When I met James, he was a guest. We struck up a conversation and I'd see him from time to time when he stayed there. He was living in Tallahassee back then, but came into the city every month or so."

"And your relationship turned into a romantic one?"

"Not right away, no. Only in the last, ummm, four months?" I looked to Alice.

"He moved to Tampa in April, and you two started dating in May," she answered with a nod. "So yeah, about four months."

"Ok, try to walk us through what happened at your home last night, Ms. Swan," Detective Whitlock requested.

"Um, well, I was home by myself. At about nine-thirty my doorbell rang and I thought it was odd because I wasn't expecting anyone. When I looked through the peephole and saw him, I was surprised. To gain access to my penthouse, you have to use a fingerprint scanner that are in all the elevators. It will only recognize fingerprints that have been entered and approved. James never had the approval; his prints were never entered into the system. Usually when he came to see me, the front desk would call me and then I'd have Jake -"

"Jacob Black?" Detective Whitlock verified.

"Yes. He's a member of my staff and very close friend. Anyway, when James would come to the hotel, they'd call up and I'd have Jake send him in the elevator. He didn't really come to my apartment very often, though. I think he'd only actually been inside a half dozen times. I'd usually either meet him downstairs or somewhere out, ya know?"

"Who else has access to your floor?"

"Besides me? Alice and Emmett," I said gesturing to them. "Jake and his boyfriend Seth, who is also a very dear friend and my head bartender. That's all. Even my housekeeper isn't in the system; she has an actual key to my apartment, but that's useless without being able to access my floor. Jake or Alice or Seth sends her up when she comes."

"Well, someone let him up there," Emmett growled.

"I know Jake and Seth both had the night off last night. They went to a concert," I explained.

"We have officers questioning the staff, Ms. Swan. I'm sure we'll find out how he managed to access your floor. Please continue."

"So my doorbell rang, and when I saw who it was I almost didn't let him in."

"Why is that?" Detective Cullen asked. "I mean, he was your boyfriend, but you didn't want to see him?"

"Not particularly, no. We had been arguing a lot over the last month or so, and I really wasn't in the mood to have another fight. Plus, it was weird that he had just shown up without calling first. He'd never done that before."

"What were you arguing over?"

"Money," I said simply. "He kept trying to convince me to back him financially in a new investment. He knew someone who was developing a special kind of firearm that he promised would be the next big thing. I didn't want anything to do with it, but James was so determined. He brought it up every time we were together, tried everything to convince me. I was getting really sick of it and actually planned on telling him that things weren't working, that I thought it would be better if we went our separate ways."

"She told me two weeks ago that she was going to break it off," Alice piped up. "James had even tried asking me to convince Bella to give him the money. That's when I knew he was a giant dick."

"If he had tried that shit with me," Emmett growled, his hands balling into fists.

"Not very likely, Em. He was terrified of you," Alice said with a short laugh.

"Because he knew I'd kick his ass all over the city if he messed with my sister."

"Which is why I didn't tell you, Emmett," I said with a sigh.

"Ok, so getting back to last night," Detective Cullen spoke up. "You did end up letting him in. What happened next?"

"Well, almost immediately he started with the same stuff again. And again I told him no. It turned into a fight, obviously. And that's when. . . when. . ." I took a deep breath, trying to calm my suddenly racing heart. Alice gripped my hand, but all I could hear in my mind was his voice.

"Fucking princess is what you are! A high society bitch! I could make millions on this and you won't even consider it, even though it's only a drop in the fucking bucket to you!"

"Had he been violent with you prior to this?" Detective Whitlock asked gently, after I had relayed James' hurtful words. Emmett was now pacing.

"No. I mean, yes, we had been arguing, but he'd never raised a hand to me before, which is what made it all the more shocking when he punched me. It was like . . . Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I'd never seen that side of him before. He was just. . . crazed." I shivered, remembering the coldness of his eyes. I had never noticed before last night how cold his blue eyes could be.

"And after he struck you, what happened?"

"Um, well, he punched me in the face," I gestured towards my swollen and bruised left eye. "It came out of nowhere and knocked me down. I literally saw stars. Then he leaned down and punched me again. When I finally managed to get up, I ran toward my bedroom, thinking I could lock him out and call the police, but he tackled me. He sat on top of me and held me down, telling me that if I didn't give him the money he would kill me." I started shaking and Emmett came over and sat on the other side of me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders while Alice squeezed my fingers.

"My cell phone was in the pocket of my jeans," I continued. "Because he was sitting on my chest with my arms pinned to my side, I managed to get to it. I held down the button that turned voice commands on and started screaming to call nine one one. That made him really mad."

The two detectives were studying me intently. Whitlock's blue eyes held sympathy. Cullen's stare was just as intense as always, but in the depths of his green gaze I swore I could see rage. His jaw was tense, brow furrowed.

"And then?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Uh, he picked me up and shoved me against the wall and held me there with his hand wrapped around my throat and punched me again. He always wore this heavy gold ring with a ruby in it on his right hand and that's what cut me." I pointed to the stitched wound on my cheek. "When I looked in his eyes I just knew he had just. . . checked out, ya know? There was nothing there. He just kept holding me there and yelling at me. He told me he'd only pursued me in the first place because of my money, that he'd never really had any feelings for me, that I was a greedy bitch. All kinds of stuff."

Emmett jumped off the bed, growling as he hurled a -thankfully empty- plastic water jug at the wall. It banged loudly and clattered to the floor.

"That goddamn, good for nothing, motherfucker! If I had thought for one minute he was capable of something like this, I would have ripped his dick off and fed it to him!".

I sighed and gestured to Ali. She could always get him to calm the hell down when no one else could. She got up and went over to where he stood in front of the window. She whispered to him for a few moments and I don't know what she said, but I could tell when the tenseness left his shoulders. His head dropped forward and Ali rubbed a soothing hand up and down his broad back.

Detective Whitlock was watching the two of them with a pensive expression. Detective Cullen, however, barely gave them a glance before returning his attention to me.

"Ms. Swan," he said, "Did James Chaser attempt to sexually assault you?"

"No. He wasn't interested in that at all. He only kept screaming that he wanted the money and that he was going to get it one way or another. I, um, I think I might have blacked out because he kept squeezing my throat."

I swallowed hard and reached for the cup of ice water on my nightstand, taking a long sip and trying not to think about the terror of those moments.

"The next thing I knew, there was banging on my door. Until that moment I hadn't even been sure that the nine one one call had went through, but I guess they heard the whole thing once the call connected. I did manage to give a good kick to his shin and he finally let go for a second. I tried to run to the door, but that's when he pulled the gun out. I didn't even know he had one, it was tucked into the back of his pants. He aimed it at me and started yelling about how I should have just gave him the money, and about how much trouble I'd caused him. Th-that's when the police broke down the door and he turned around and just s-started screaming and firing at them. They shot him," I finished shakily.

I took a deep, quavering breath once I'd recounted the whole story. It still seemed absolutely surreal that the man I'd been dating - had kissed and touched and even made love with - tried to kill me. How could he have fooled me so completely? I felt ridiculously stupid all of a sudden, and tears of shame and anger burned my eyes.

Detective Whitlock cleared his throat.

"Ms. Swan, there are some things I think you'll be interested in hearing."

"What kind of things?" I asked, quickly wiping at my eyes. Detective Cullen wordlessly handed me a tissue from the night stand and I smiled my thanks at him as I took it.

"Last night, officers were sent to Chaser's residence. What they found there may well explain why you said it appeared he had 'checked out'."

"What did they find?"

"Drug paraphernalia, mostly pertaining to methamphetamine, but also heroine and marijuana. I'm gonna bet that when we get the toxicology report back, it'll show a very potent mixture in Chaser's bloodstream."

"Drugs?" I echoed weakly, completely shocked. "I never once suspected him of taking anything. I mean, drugs are a deal breaker for me. I grew up around all that shit, and I hate it."

"Most likely he knew of your aversion and hid it from you very well, all the better to get you to trust him." Detective Cullen stated. "He might have even done a little bit a research. With your last name, it wouldn't be hard to find out the details of your parents death."

He was right. In this city, Charles and Renee's death still held a morbid fascination for people.

"If," Detective Cullen continued, "as he claimed, he was after your money from the beginning, he'd want to present his most perfect side and hide anything that might make you reject him."

"I guess that makes sense," I agreed, still dazed. "God, I feel so fucking stupid."

"According to everything we have uncovered, James Chaser was a manipulator, and he was damn good at it. Don't be so hard on yourself."

I looked up at him and again his green eyes were so very intense as he gazed back at me. It struck me then that Detective Cullen was really quite good looking. His skin was somewhat pale, but his lips were dark pink, almost reddish. The same color also touched his cheeks just the slightest bit. His jaw was square, cheekbones high, and those eyes that seemed to be able to see deep into me were startlingly emerald.

"We checked into Chaser's background," Detective Whitlock announced, jarring me from my scrutiny of his partner. I turned to give him my full attention.

"He was arrested on drug charges twice before. There was also an arrest for breaking and entering and another for assault. Does the name Laurent Deveraux mean anything to you?"

"Laurent was his friend down in Miami, the one who was designing the new gun," I answered. "I didn't know his last name, and I never met him."

"Laurent Deveraux is a jack of all trades, it appears. Detective Cullen and I have been looking into his activities for the last three months. Chaser is a known associate, and that is what has brought the two of us specifically to you today. Your official statement needed to be taken, of course, but we also wanted to know if you were familiar with Devereaux. He's suspected of dealing in drugs as well as weapons and there's even some whispers of human trafficking. Nothing we can definitely pin on him yet, but we're getting close. Now, we've talked to several informants, and word on the street is that Chaser owed Devereux a lot of money. Close to a hundred thousand dollars. I have an educated guess as to why he was so desperate to get that money from you, and I don't think it had anything to do with investing it in firearms."

"Oh my God," I moaned, closing my eyes. Everything the detective had just told me was bouncing around in my head and I felt like I was going to throw up. In fact, I was sure of it.

"Emmett, I'm-"

He was there in an instant, holding a trashcan in front of me as I lost whatever was in my stomach. It wasn't much, mostly bile, but it burned and stung my still-bruised throat. I heaved and gagged painfully as Emmett rubbed the back of my neck. When the nausea subsided, a wet cloth was handed to me and I wiped my face.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered, mortified that I'd done that in front of the detectives, but Whitlock brushed my apology away.

"No worries, Ms. Swan. That's nothing in comparison to some of the stuff we've seen," he assured me.

Alice handed me a mint and I took it gratefully, eager to erase the acidic taste from my mouth.

"Look, I'm sure you understand that my sister has been through a really fucking bad time. Is there anything else you need from her right now?" Emmett asked, protective big brother mode instantly taking over.

"No, I think we have everything we need," Cullen responded, reaching for the recorder and switching it off. He handed me a card. "If there's anything else, any questions you might have, don't hesitate to call, okay?"

I nodded. "Thank you."

The detectives took their leave and I slumped back against the pillows, suddenly exhausted.

"Em, when can I go home?"

"The doctor said in the morning, Bells, because they still want to monitor your eye. But, you're coming home with me. Your place is still a crime scene. Even after it's been cleared, it's gonna take a few days to fix the damage."

"Damage?"

"The police broke the door down, remember?" Alice clarified. "There's also bullet holes and, um, they're gonna need to rip up the carpet in the hallway."

I took me a few moments to realize that the carpet had probably been soaked with James' blood. I wanted to retch again, but managed to force the urge away.

"I've got a team ready to go in there and clean every inch of your apartment, Sis, as soon as they give the all clear," Emmett assured me, and I smiled at him thankfully.

The rest of my night consisted of Alice helping me to shower, Emmett going out to get us some decent food that wasn't from the hospital, then the three of us watching some TV together in my room.

Everyone still with me? I feel the need to post this disclaimer and I'm only going to post it once on this first chapter. I have researched as much as I can, but obviously I'm NOT an officer of the law. I'm really, really trying to give this as much authenticity as I can, but remember this is a work of FICTION, okay? Law and Order isn't authentic either, just sayin. LOL Creative license, yes? I'd love to hear your thoughts xox