Cult

11: Victim Ω

But how did Harry get into this Ball? He needed to show a photo ID didn't he? And if that's the case, then the police would have caught him in seconds. I glance at Harry's mask and shake my head. Of course, the mask. Killers don't tend to go to balls, so the police were lazy and didn't ID people as carefully. 

I turn to focus on Zayn. I should be shaking, screaming, crying, something, but all I can do is stare at Zayn, hoping he can read the panic in my eyes. 

Zayn smiles at me, completely oblivious, and adjusts his mask. I turn and see that Harry has gone. Is he going to find a victim tonight? Is he hurting her now? 

A man laughs from a few yards away, close to the stage. The man is standing near my father, asking him questions. He is a bit shorter than my dad, with light brown hair whisked to the side. His brows arch sharply over his dark blue eyes. He looks familiar. 

My dad rolls his eyes as he mumbles answers to the man's questions. I focus back on Zayn. The saxophone sounds again and Zayn has my hand. He holds me so tightly, it's difficult to breath. 

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't bash that guy's skull in," Zayn demands quietly, nodding at Harry. Harry ignores him but smiles at me. Zayn lunges for Harry, but I grab his arm. 

Because he will kill you, Zayn.

"Zayn, it's ok," I lie. It's not ok. Harry was flirting with Lindsay to annoy me. And he was probably hitting on me just to annoy Zayn, not because he actually likes me. Why would he like me?

It's not that I'm insecure about myself or my looks, but I just highly doubt a man like Harry would be seriously interested in me, maybe just out of lust, just for a night, but I'm not going to give myself to him for one night of fun. Especially not his type of rough, kinky fun. I shake my head as images of whips and chains come to mind... 

I glance down at my feet. Zayn takes slow, heavy breaths. "He was looking at you like you were his fucking dessert," he growls calmly. The anger coursing through his veins is close to boiling point and I'm starting to get scared. I don't want Zayn to fight Harry, partially because I'm afraid Harry will win and partially because Harry is just milking this for his own amusement.

Harry's eyes meet mine again. He walks toward me and kicks out his cigarette right on the sparkling marble floors. Christ.

"Save a slow dance for me, Kitty Kat," Harry holds up one long finger. He purposefully lets his eyes linger on my chest and down the length of my body, knowing it's pissing Zayn off.

"That's it," Zayn lunges at him.

I will not have a scene unfold in the middle of this damned ball. I just want it go smoothly so I can wake up tomorrow, paint whatever I fall in love with, then prepare for university in the Fall.

My mother comes over briskly to mediate the situation. Mother grips Zayn's shoulder and pulls him back gently. He calms down almost immediately.

"Are you going to cause a scene, Zayn? Or are you going to be a gentleman and calmly continue your dance with my daughter?" she asks through clenched teeth. I know she probably wants to choke Harry for ruining the spot light dance, but she would rather stab herself in the heart than cause a scene in public.

Harry rakes his eyes over my mom. Something in my chest tightens with disgust and annoyance.

"Well I should have known you were Katarina's mother, you're absolutely breathtaking," he gushes. I suppress the urge to throw up. Harry is just as big a kiss up as Zayn. Except Zayn is losing his touch as of late --not that I'm complaining.

"OK," Zayn answers through gritted teeth. My mother smiles. Harry stands there and stares at Zayn and I before turning away.

Zayn takes my wrists and lowers my hands. "I have another surprise for you, baby," he whispers. I look into his eyes. We need to leave this ball before Harry catches us. The police must be notified.