Filthy Cloaks / H.S.

Chapter Twelve.

And then they died.

Or at least, that's what I thought.

My body flinched the moment I expected Bentley to shoot at Harry, but my ears could only pick up the mere sound of a click after Bentley pulled the trigger, barely loud enough to echo off the walls.

I furrowed my eyebrows at the confusion. I had anticipated a gunshot to rip through the quiescent air, however, not a single gunshot pursued my ears. All that echoed off the confined walls were Bentley's lingering yells prior to his trigger.

Confusion struck and there was an odd silence lifted upon everyone in the room.

Warily, I pulled my eyes open, squinting a few times to adjust to the light. Bentley's hands were turning a shade of yellow as he began to clutch the gun harder. He looked enraged, eyes fuming wide while scanning the gun as if it had betrayed him somehow. He tried again, but it was to no avail.

That was when panic arose from the Boozed Malices as they clamped their sweaty palms against their guns, awaiting the moment a bullet pierced Harry's forehead... But second, after second, it became clear that Bentley's gun had no bullets.

"What?! Hank, I thought you rounded these fully up?!" Bentley roared, referring to the man beside him. He kept his gun aimed at Harry, but everyone in the room understood that the black object held no threat against him now.

"I- I did, sir," Hank flinched, a manservant at most. "Here, try mine."

Bentley wasted no time and snatched the weapon from Hank's shaking hands before aiming once more at the Filthy Cloaks. I watched closely with my heart racing and my eyes partly opened.

Like before, Bentley yelled before squeezing the trigger, harder this time from pure rage, but as expected, the trigger went off with no bullets.

I was just as confused as Bentley when I came to the conclusion that all of their guns weren't loaded. But that couldn't possibly be true since, just a second ago, they were shooting wildly amongst their own men.

The holes in the walls were evidence alone, so how did all of their bullets collectively vanish from within their weapons?

That was when, from my peripheral vision, I caught a glimpse of Harry smiling. My eyes fluttered frenetically, taken aback by the unexpected sight.

I wondered for a moment if my vision was deceiving me, but when I shifted my gaze entirely onto him, it was as if it finally struck me how insane Harry truly was.

Harry had his head leaned forward, allowing his disheveled hair to veil his face with no display of his features besides his curious lips.

Slowly, his smirk began to widen and a soft chuckle erupted from him. It came off quiet at first, muffled and secure, but everyone in the room watched in horror as his chuckle gradually turned into a psychotic roar of laughter, one that Harry couldn't contain.

He threw his head back, eyes pinched shut, as his disturbing laugh consumed his entire body. There was a slight bounce to his curls as they moved parallel to the rhythmic flow of his chest.

Everyone stood eerily still with concerned eyes while the poison of Harry's laughter laced into our ears.

In addition to his sudden demeanor switch, Niall expressed his amusement with a devious smirk and a satisfied broadening sigh. They both began to relax their entire bodies, rolling their shoulders back to rid themselves of the ache of pretending.

I was completely bewildered, my head cocking to the side unconsciously while my mind spurred to reasons as to why they would pull such a deceitful illusion.