Abductor by Peachylicious (Incomplete 1-8), A - D
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Abductor
Author of 10 Stories
1. Prologue
2. Chapter 1: Burning Bright
3. Chapter 2: Glimpse Of Hell
4. Chapter 3: The Beginning of Deception
5. Chapter 4: Raise Your Hands
6. Chapter 5: And The Puppet Moves
7. Chapter6:Never Get Involved With A Woman
8. Chapter 7: Change of Heart
Rated:
- English - Angst/Romance - Bella & Edward - Reviews:
Updated: 09-20-09 - Published: 05-05-09 - id:5042260
Author's Note:
This story strictly Edward's POV. Read
Abduction
for Bella's POV. You don't need to read both to understand,
they could each work as separate stories, though it would probably be better to know both POVs.
Rated M for language, violence and future lemons.
Disclaimer:
I am not Stephenie Meyer. I don't own these characters, but the plot is mine.
Prologue
Horns blared, cars zoomed by and headlights flooded the room before I was left alone in the darkness yet again. I numbly
stared off in the distance, gazing at nothing in particular. My bare back rested against the leather sofa, the fan overhead blew
my hair in a disarray and cigarette smoke arose from the ashtray on the coffee table.
Bright lights once again filled the room as another car passed. I blinked and glanced down at the coffee table in front of me.
A wide range of guns were scattered along the table near the ashtray. I reached for a magazine clip and fingered it
absentmindedly.
My eyes closed as an image of a person running away with their back to me flashed in my minds eye. Another flash of
pleading wide eyes…tears streaming down…trembling lips…screams…a voice begging for their life. Bang. Silence. A thud.
No movement.
My eyes snapped open and I grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels near the unlit lamp on the side table. The alcohol burned
down my throat as I greedily swallowed until there was nothing left. Eager to put the endless images of blood and death at
b a y.
A fuzzy warmth spread throughout my entire body and I shoved the 10 round magazine clip inside one of the guns. My
heavy lidded eyes drooped and I gingerly raised the gun and pointed the barrel against my temple. My finger grazed the
trigger. Just needed to squeeze. One squeeze and it’d all be gone. The memories. The never ending shouting and pleading.
The shootings. The stabbings. The strangling. The blood. I didn’t want it anymore. It was eating away at me. Bite by bite.
Consuming me. Drowning me. I wanted it out of my head.
My finger on the trigger twitched.
One…
Two…
Three…
A shrill ring echoed in the room.
My heart rate accelerated and I exhaled a long breath before lowering the gun. I threw the gun off to the side, not caring
where it landed or if it went off. My chest constricted painfully as I leaned forward with my head bowed. The ringing
continued in the background and then ceased. A moment of silence before the sound filled the room once again.
I breathed heavily through my nose before I pushed myself off of the sofa and wobbled for a moment before I stumbled
towards the offending object releasing the incessant ringing.
I clenched my jaw before I grabbed the silver phone and pressed the green button.
“What?” I breathed out, agitated.
“New assignment,” the man on the other line said in a deep grainy voice.
My eyes closed and my jaw tightened. “Who?”
This was my life. No questions. No stalling. Just do.
“Isabella Swan. Twenty-two years old. American. Politician’s daughter. Snatch her and keep her in a secluded area for a
couple of days and then bring her in alive. Toss her around if you must but keep her uninjured. Strong possibility she’ll put
up a fight. The team is being assembled as we speak. Lie to the girl. Make her believe she’s safe and will be unharmed. Tell
her you’re there to protect her. Let her get a false sense of security with you. Details provided within the email attachment.”
“When?” I asked in a deadpan voice.
“Two weeks. You’re on the next plane to Italy. Map the place out and develop a plan. You’re going to meet a man named
Marcus and let him believe he’s in charge. Dispose of him once the girl is secured and has your trust. You’ll bring her back to
Ireland with Black and two others.”
I eyed the fallen gun hungrily. One shot and it’d all go away. One shot and it’d be over. Welcomed by the arms of the devil
himself.
“
Edward,” my mother leaned against the doorframe and watched me ride my bike back and forth on the street. “Time to come in. Get
cleaned up. Your father will be here shortly.”
I whined and grumbled at her. I wanted to continue riding my bike. The other boys in the neighborhood were allowed to stay out until the
streetlights went on.
“
Now,” she demanded before retreating back into the house to finish cooking dinner.
I growled and jumped off of the bike before throwing it down in the center of the yard. I stomped all the way up to the house and slammed
the door shut.
“
Enough of that,” my mother chastised.
I ignored her and trudged up the stairs to take a shower. I was seven years old and the only thoughts that consumed me were fitting in
with the other boys. They picked on me for being a momma’s boy and never being able to play after dark. I resented her for that.
After my shower, I dressed slowly and drops of water fell from my hair. I didn’t bother to dry it. I heard a door open and shut from below
and knew my father was home. With a loud sigh, I made my descent down the stairs and grumpily entered the kitchen to see my father
greet my mother with a chaste kiss.
His eyes turned to me and narrowed. “What’s that out on the lawn?” he asked in a stern voice.
I swallowed hard. My bike. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“
Put it away before it goes in the garbage.”
“
Yes, sir,” I nodded and walked past him to the front door.
“
Why is your hair wet, boy? Do you want to catch a cold?”
I paused at the door and looked up at him. “No, sir.”
“
You can go to your room for the rest of the night for your ignorance,” he said nonchalantly, “without dinner.”
“
Edward,” my mother spoke to my father in a disapproved voice.
“
It’s time the boy learned how to be a man,” he replied. “Men put their things away. They don’t leave them on the lawn to get stolen.
Men don’t walk outside in the cold with wet hair.” He turned to look back down at me. “Are you a man or a boy, son?”
“
A man,” I replied in the deepest voice I could muster.
“
What does a real man do?”
“
Take the punishment without complaint,” I recited.
“
He’s seven years old,” my mother shook her head at my father.
He ignored her and nodded his head at me. “That’s right. Show me you can take it like a man.”
“
Yes, sir.” I ran outside to grab my bike and put it in its proper place. I would prove to my father that I was a man and could handle doing
manly things, like staying out past dark. I had to earn it. And I would. I’d prove myself. I’d work hard to be accepted.
I went to my room with an empty stomach and sat in the small closet with a flashlight so I could read my comics. I had to hide in there
otherwise dad would see the light under the crack of the door and I’d get in more trouble. Men didn’t read comics, he had said.
After several minutes, I heard a car pull up in front of the house and my interest was piqued. I shut off the flashlight and scrambled out of
the closet to peek out of the window. A black van was parked out front. The door slid open and three men jumped out wearing all black.
My eyes widened when I saw the objects in their hands. Guns.
I raced to my bedroom door, intending to warn my parents not to open the door, but I knew it was too late when my hand touched the door
knob. Someone pounded on the front door while I threw my bedroom door open and snuck to the top of the staircase. I looked down and
saw my mother at the door. She couldn’t even utter a word before there was a loud bang and she fell to a quiet death. My eyes nearly
bugged out of my head and filled with tears. A pool of blood swarmed around her.
The three men entered the house when my dad rushed to the front door and halted when he saw my mom lying on the floor, lifeless. The
men surrounded him.
“
Your deadline has approached. What do you have to offer us?” One of the men in all black asked.
I crouched down so I couldn't be seen and started to hyperventilate.
“
I-I n-need more t-time,” my father stuttered with his hands raised.
“
Wrong answer.” A man raised a gun to his forehead.
I gasped for air and cried.
Two of the other men wandered around the house. One of them twisted their head to look up the stairs. I ducked out of the way.
“
Who else is here?” he asked.
“
No one!” my father shouted. “I swear, it was just me and my wife.” He had spoken loudly, clearly warning me.
With all the courage I could work up, I crawled back to my room and locked the door. I ran back into the closet and hid behind the clothes
on the hangers.
Footsteps ascended up the stairs and I held my breath. Silent tears continued to seep from my eyes.
The bedroom doorknob rattled. “It’s locked,” a strange mans voice called down to the others.
“
Alone, huh?” I heard one of the men from downstairs say.
“
I always lock that door!” my father screamed. “There’s nothing in there!”
The door was kicked in and my heart pounded. I couldn’t hold my breath anymore so I covered my hands over my mouth.
Someone entered the room.
I snapped my eyes close. Please don’t find me.
I opened my eyes and peeked through the small opening in the closet. The man in black crouched down and checked underneath my bed.
His head twisted to look at the closet. I muffled my squealing and tears poured harder. Don’t find me. Don’t find me. Let me be invisible.
The closet door was yanked open. I pressed my back against the wall, hoping the clothes hanging on the rail would hide me. Don’t find
me.
A hand reached through and separated the clothes. There was no barrier between us. I screamed.
“
NO!” my father screamed from downstairs, hearing me scream, he sounded restrained. “He is an innocent boy!”
I’m a man, daddy. Men take their punishment without complaint.
I sucked in a breath and demanded my tears to vanish. No more crying. I was a man.
I was yanked forward and dragged to the top of the staircase. I could see my dad being held back.
“
Run, son!” my father looked up at me.
I shook my head. “I’ll be a real man for you, dad.”
“
No, Edward!” he cried. “You’re a boy!”
“
I’ll be brave,” I tried to sound strong but my voice quavered.
“
You sons of bitches!” My father struggled in the grasp of the man behind him. “Let the kid go!”
The tears refilled my eyes. Men don’t cry. Don’t cry, Edward. Don't show weakness.
The man standing in front of dad raised the gun and pulled the trigger.
I blink and gasped. Dad fell to the floor. I growled, spun around and punched the man next to me in the gut. “I’ll kill you!” I seethed.
“You killed my family! I’ll kill you all!” I punched and kicked. Becoming weaker. The tears burned and slid down my cheeks.
When I became too tired to keep hitting, the man pulled off his ski mask and revealed his blonde hair and blue eyes. He grinned down at
me, as if my entire life hadn’t just been destroyed.
“
Hello, Edward,” he said with a smile. “I’m Carlisle.”
I shook my head, back in the present. “I got it,” I told the man on the phone. “Where is Carlisle?”
“Resting,” the man replied. “He’ll be waiting for you when you return with the girl.”
Carlisle had become a mentor. A surrogate father. He was there for me since the day my parents were killed. I learned of my
biological father’s betrayal to his family. He sacrificed us by not repaying his debt. I released my anger by working out,
building up muscle and becoming strong so that when someone else would attack me or those I loved, I’d be able to fight
back. Hatred consumed me. I was pissed at the world and everyone in it. No one was innocent. No one.
Everyone had a hidden past and a secret agenda. They were all liars and thieves. Everyone had evil inside them.
I was initiated into Carlisle’s company at the age of 16. I killed people for a living. Bad people. Corrupted people. People who
deserved to die. I had tortured, I had murdered…I was just as bad as those I killed. I didn’t deserve to live any more than
they did.
I was many things: Liar. Murderer. Kidnapper. But one thing I wasn’t was untrustworthy. I was loyal to Carlisle and the
company. I’d never betray those I loved. I’d die for those I loved. There was an incredibly small list of names on my love list,
but nonetheless, it proved I was capable of love and devotion.
After I hung up the phone, I received the details on Isabella Swan and started my research like a good assassin. She wasn’t a
target. She wasn’t scheduled for termination. She was a pawn. Bait.
I scoffed as I read the email. She was surrounded by betrayal and deceit and I’d bet a million dollars that she’s unaware of it.
Two more weeks and her world would plunge all around her.
Some of the missing pieces in Abduction will be found in this chapter.
Preface
I had five simple fucking rules. Five rules I had abided by for eight years. Five rules that I had lived by as if they were laws
and I was an obedient citizen. Until now. I broke every fucking rule for her.
Chapter One - Burning Bright
You know you’re fucked up in the head when you wake up in the middle of every night drenched in sweat and breathing
heavily because you swore you heard shouting and screaming coaxing you awake. I could sense a looming presence over my
bed each night. Ghostly whispers echoed in my ears; blood curdling screams from my past conquests.
I swiped a hand over my damp face and blinked several times before my eyes adjusted to the pitch-black room. Another
fucking unfamiliar room in some fucking foreign country while on yet another job that will undoubtedly end in bloodshed
and another soul added to my growing collection of haunted memories.
One of these days I was going to crack and complete the task of blowing my brains out. I’ve tried numerous times yet
something always managed to interfere. Whether it was a shrill ring snapping me back into reality, a smoke alarm blaring
from the neighbors’ or someone barging into the room, a distraction managed to arise each and every single time.
The lingering memories of a man gasping for his last breath before his bright eyes turned dull and his body fell limp would
forever haunt me. I yearned to end my misery and fade into nothingness so it could all disappear.
One of these days I'd grow some fucking balls and end it all, or one of my subjects would put up a fight and save me the
task.
I shoved myself up in a sitting position on the stiff mattress before reaching over to the lamp on the nightstand and switched
it on.
A yellow glow illuminated the room and I shut my eyes, shielding them from the offending brightness. After several
seconds, I reopened them and slid off of the bed. I slinked over to the round table near the window overlooking a street
crowded with Italian shops and pulled out a large manila envelope stuffed with photographs and various articles relating to
my newest subject.
I pulled out the large black and white photos and sat down on one of the four wooden chairs with purple cushions. My
fingers traced the outline of her face, her full pouty lips, button nose and huge doe eyes. I had studied her face far longer
than necessary. Her features were engrained in my memory.
She was young and led a safe and sheltered life. It was one of the few cases I truly dreaded, not for myself, but for the
subject.
Usually I pitied myself for the cruelty I inflicted on others but there were special instances when I genuinely regretted what I
was about to do because another life was going to be snatched by the hands of man when they didn’t deserve it. It was rare
for us to kidnap and dispose of the young and innocent. Technically she wasn’t our main target. But nonetheless, her young
life would be cut short. We weren’t known to set free hostages after we’d held them long enough for them recognize our
voices or see our faces. Though one special circumstance was made seventeen years ago.
She was being used as an example because of her father’s inability to play fairly.
I had followed her for days, ever since she arrived in Italy. Her shy glances and the faint pink that tints her pale cheeks only
further proved that she was innocent. Just as I had been when my father betrayed my mother and I. I had an overwhelming
urge to protect her and ship her off Egypt or someplace where neither of the companies involved would find her. Her
situation was hitting too close to home. I felt as though I could relate to her. I knew how she was going to feel once she
discovered the reason behind her kidnapping.
I shook my head.
No.
She wasn’t a person. She was a subject.
I closed my eyes and exhaled.
Rule number one, the most important rule: no attachments. Do not feel for the subject.
Rule number two: do not make it personal. No intimate discussions with the target. Don’t view them as a person, but instead,
focus on the bad they’ve done and the people they’ve hurt and betrayed. They’re not whole. They’re simply a subject.
Rule number three: do not hesitate. When it comes time to pull the trigger, you pull the trigger. Do not look into their eyes
and read their emotions instead of pulling the trigger. Do not freeze up.
Rule number four: if an assignment goes awry, terminate the subject immediately and move on. When complications arise,
such as a distraction from another company, close the case and get rid of the target.
Rule number five, do
not
risk your life to protect the subject. If an accident occurs and the subject’s life appears to be
endangered, let it happen, do not prevent it. Do not take any leaps to ensure their safety.
I opened my eyes, my emotionless mask firmly in place. It was time to get to business. She wasn’t a girl; she was only a
subject.
My company, Carlisle’s company, operated a lucrative business. We murdered corrupted politicians, criminals and anyone
that our clients paid big bucks for. In a way, we liked to think of ourselves as saving the world by taking out someone who
wished to destroy people for their personal gain or satisfaction.
The Volturi, the company we teamed up with for the particular recent assignment, functioned differently. Everyone was fair
game in their eyes. If they were offered large amounts of cash, they’d squat down and drool at their clients’ feet.
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