It was true, and it angered me. I had been positioned over her life like the blade of a guillotine. It was as if she had been marked for death by some cruel, unjust fate, and - since I'd proved an unwilling tool - that same fate continued to try to execute her. I imagined the fate personified - a grisly, jealous hag, a vengeful harpy.
I wanted something, someone, to be responsible for this - so that I would have something concrete to fight against. Something, anything to destroy, so that Bella could be safe.