When I wake, it is to the sound of the private phone line ringing.

River.

A glance at the clock confirms that it is three am, and I fell asleep at my desk. Drunk. I'm still drunk when I pick up the phone, and his words are not clear. That is my initial reaction.

"Ray is back," I hear.

"What?"

My head throbs and my eyes burn.

"Check your email."

I rouse my computer from slumber. My inbox is filled with alerts.

My initial reaction should be relief. This is what I've been waiting for. Hoping for. The day has finally come. Ray is alive. And he will finally know the suffering I have inflicted upon his daughter.

Upon Bella.

River mumbles something from the other line, asking if I'm still there. I disconnect the call and stare at the screen.

My gut churns. It's too soon. That's my only thought. It's too soon. I wasn't ready for this. I’m not ready to let her go. I tell myself that she hasn't been broken. That I need more time.

But it's a lie.

Because it does not matter what I did before. Nothing else matters. After tonight, she will never look at me the same way again. My Bella is as broken as broken can get.

She has seen me for what I am. She has seen me at my worst. She has dared to hope. And her hope has turned to dust.

I flip over to the house security screens and search for her in the dim light. She is not in my room. Or the conservatory. Or even her own room.

I continue searching, and I do not find her in the piano room. Or the library. Or the kitchen. Or any room. Dread coils deep inside as I search them one by one again.

Something is wrong. Something is off. She isn't anywhere.

I leave my office and check the only places without cameras. The bathrooms. But they are empty too. I pace the halls and check the doors and windows.

All locked.

I can find no trace of her. Not one. My mind conjures up the worst scenarios as I retrace her last steps.

My bedroom is the same as I left it. The pillowcase is now on the floor, next to her panties. And her shoes.

Her shoes.

Next to the bed, the floor board is misplaced.

The trap door. The same trap door I sent the prostitute through upon her arrival this evening. And I don't know how I missed it. How I could have been so careless.

My Bella is so smart. So observant. It is too late. I fear it is too late. I have lost her forever.

Following her scent, I descend into the passageway and find my way along the walls in the darkness. Waiting for a sound. A shadow. But there are none.

When I reach the end, my worries are only compounded. The door is cracked, a sliver of moonlight spilling in from the outside. This is the way she left.

It's almost four am now. I don't know how long she has been out here. I don't know if she found her way in the darkness. Flagged down a passing car on the old dirt road.

What if someone took her? Someone worse than me?

My chest caves in. There is nobody worse than me. That's what I'd like to believe. But for my Bella, there are others who could be worse. I have to find her. I have to get to her and...

There is a footprint in the dirt.

It's not right. She went the wrong way. She came out in the darkness and could not see the path to the road, so she unknowingly ventured deeper into the forest instead.

I walk beside her footprints and retrace her steps. They are wild at first. She was running. But as the brush thickens, the footsteps disappear, and I have only broken twigs and bent leaves to rely on.

I listen for her. My eyes seek out her hair, shining in the moonlight. I do not see it. Not after ten minutes. Not even after thirty. But the trail is still here. And so I keep going. I keep searching, hoping that my Bella is still here.

After two hours, I still have not found her. And all traces of her disappear abruptly. There is nothing. But I am in the middle of the forest. It doesn't make sense.

I stop, and I listen. And eventually, I hear something. The faintest of sobs from behind a tree.

I find her curled into herself, her face resting on her knees. She does not look up, even though she knows I'm here. She continues to cry. Shattered. Defeated.

Her feet are bloody, and her knees are skinned. She is scratched from head to toe.

I scoop her up into my arms, and she does not fight me. She does not say a word the entire walk back to the house. She does not say a word as I draw her a bath and clean her wounds. She remains silent even as I bandage her. It is only when I put her to bed that she looks up at me.

Broken.

Empty.

Her eyes are absent of the light that used to shine so bright.

"I was wrong," she whispers.

"Wrong about what, Bella?"

"I don't love you," she tells me. "I despise you."

I swallow. And I wish I had just let her stab me. But I give her the words that she needs to hear now. The only ones that matter.

"Then your transformation is complete. And nobody can ever hurt you again, my sweet."