La Musica del Cuore

Escalating Tension

So, I started my journey into Fanfiction with my first story, La Cantante. I had never been driven to write until I read Twilight and saw the movies (and the beauty of Robert Pattinson ~ dayum, he's one yummy guy.) Writing that first story got me through the end of my marriage and the beginning of my new life as a single woman. Now, it's almost four years since I completed that story. I'm so sorry for the delay, but I did promise you a sequel. Here it is!

Up next will be the trip to Lexington, Kentucky, and escalation in the stalker. What will happen next?

Chapter Thirteen: Escalating Tension

EPOV

"Mr. Moore, there was a package delivered to your room," said the concierge as we walked into the lobby of the hotel in Washington. "It was from the record company. And smaller envelope, too."

"I think that's the single," Kellan beamed, dragging all of us into the elevator. We made it into his suite that he was obviously sharing with Alice. He grabbed the box, tearing into it excitedly. "Yes! Listen!" He took the flash drive and plugged it into his computer, turning up the tiny speakers. It was an amazing mix of our duet and the song as a solo. "I'm impressed with the engineer. This is fantastic work."

"You can hardly tell that my voice was dying," Bella said, her voice still raspy.

"No talking," I chided. She nodded, zipping her lips and twining her fingers with mine, idly running her finger across my wedding band. "I like how they morphed the two versions together."

"From what I'm reading, this is going to be the single," Kellan said, skimming over the letter. "It'll be sent out to radio stations tonight and the single will be released next week. Both versions will be on that record you're putting out at the end of the month with the instrumental and previously unreleased material."

"The end of July?" Jasper asked, sipping some water.

Kellan nodded. "We need to do a photo shoot for the cover. Also, Rolling Stone wants to an interview with the band. They will meet up with us in Chicago and document our shows at Wrigley Field. I'm assuming that this is the letter from Rolling Stone, introducing the reporter." He picked up the envelope, tearing it open and gasping. "The fuck?!"

"What is it?" Emmett asked.

"Call the police," Kellan choked out, dropping the contents of the envelope on the bed. There were two pictures of Bella and I, photoshopped to look like we were dead. Bella's eyes were milky and unfocused, with a gaping wound along her neck. I looked like I was charred. Or, at least, I thought it was me. Bella whimpered, wavering next to me. I took her, sitting her on the couch and crouching in front of her. "Go to your suites. I'll handle this."

"You're not the one who has a picture of your corpse on the bed, Kellan," I snapped.

"But it was sent to me," Kellan barked back. "Go back to your suite. Your wife looks like she's about to pass out."

I turned back to Bella, who was white as a sheet. I scooped her up, carrying her to our suite. I took out her medications, handing it to her. "You're okay, Bella."

"They're going to kill us," she choked out. She gripped arms, her eyes wild. "I thought ... I thought ..."

"Shhhh, baby," I said soothingly. "I know. I'm just as scared as you."

"When is this going to stop?" she sobbed, collapsing against my chest. I held her tightly, hating that my other half was in such agony. We stayed tangled together until there was a quiet knock on the door. I tried to get up, but Bella screamed. "Don't go!"