Cleo Horan
Harry fucking Styles.
My night was ruined the moment that son of a bitch took his mask off and looked at me with those enigmatic green eyes. I could never forget those eyes, they reminded me of his father's, even though they were lighter. It was enough to send a chill down my spine and trigger all of my instincts.
That was the last thing I could ever imagine to happen, and now I was so fucking alert and angry that it was almost five a.m. and I hadn't slept.
I was on my second pack of cigarettes and simply sitting on my couch, only the lights from the kitchen were on so I wasn't completely in the dark before the sky became a bit lighter outside the window. I enjoyed the darkness though, it made it easier for me to think as I inhaled more smoke, ignoring the soreness in my throat.
I kept replaying the recent events over and over again inside my mind and I just couldn't stop.
I ran as fast as I could when I saw that security guard because I knew I'd get in a lot of trouble if more people saw me. If Harry was attending that auction it meant a lot of his father's friends and clients were there... so I was in enemy territory.
I wondered if my mother knew or even if our new client knew about that, or if that place had simply been picked because no one would suspect a thing.
Well, now they had a reason to do so.
The bloody mess I left behind was enough to make anyone curious about what happened. But I just had a feeling Harry wouldn't tell anyone about me... no, he'd take matters into his own hands and I should expect retaliation. It would be what I would do, and I also didn't plan on telling anyone what happened tonight.
My mother would annoy me and remind me how reckless and stupid I was being, and I didn't fucking care.
This was a sign that I'd gotten another chance to kill that sick bastard.
And I wouldn't miss next time, I was going to be expecting him now. I was so close, though... I was about to reach for another knife to stab him right in the heart when we were interrupted, and I knew that I hadn't hit anywhere too serious when I stabbed the side of his body, even though he was bleeding a lot.
I hoped that he at least passed out and felt a lot of pain, but he was a psychopath. He literally pulled the knife away from me by grabbing the blade and cutting his own hand, probably trying to scare me off.
But I wasn't scared and I had him wrapped around my fingers because he was way too easy to read. He was slower than me, but stronger... I had enough time to analyze the way he moved his body, especially when he roughly pressed me against the wall and used his leg to stop me from reaching my knives. He was careful and attentive, but predictable nonetheless.
Men were all the same, I knew touching them delicately while they were being aggressive was a distraction, which was why I did it when he was strangling me.
The bruises I had around my neck were ugly and deep red, the imprint of his fingers could be easily seen and it was a constant reminder of my hatred for him. And I'd have to wear turtlenecks until it faded so people wouldn't ask about it, but now I was wearing just a thin tank top and underwear, after a cold shower to wash off Harry's blood and touch from my skin.
I'd nearly lost my voice too, the pain me in my throat was helping keep m awake, along with the bruise on my stomach where his elbow hit me very hard. I'd hurt him more, I knew that... but the damage he caused was more than I should've allowed. I was lucky to find a way out before anyone could see me at the auction, and leaving through the back meant I had to take off my heels so I could run faster and reach somewhere safer to call an Uber again.
