Interlude [h.s]

twenty-three

"You killed my son!" He shouts ferociously, pointing the weapon at Harry, that's still sitting at the table. "You sent him on a mission and he never came back, and you don't care. You don't give a shit about any of us, your people. We are nothing to you. You're the reason why this country is the shit hole it is, and because of you my son will never come back. You're a monster!"

The truth rings true in her ears, and if she wasn't as terrified as she is she'd feel bad for the poor man.

A guard tries to come close, but he notices.

"Don't move, or I'll shoot him!" The man screams, the hands holding the gun trembling. His eyes are fixated on Harry, and Alouette feels sick. "You're a murderer, that's what you are!"

Harry gives him a bored look, not seeming to mind the firearm pointed in his direction. "You're disrupting our dinner," he says, coldly and unbothered. "Why don't we take this elsewhere?" He makes to stand, but the man shouts at him again. He sits back again, his hand grazing the table.

Alouette looks around. Every guard in the room, Jayden included, has the barrel of their guns pointed to the man, but none dares to press the trigger. There are two hundred people in the room, nobody can tell what would happen if this situation turned into a shooting.

"You'll pay for what you've done!" The man screams.

Harry lets out a dark chuckle. "The more people say that to me, the less I believe it."

She sees a quick movement in the corner of her vision, and it takes her a moment to realise Harry got his knife from the table sometime during their exchange. The same knife he's just thrusted in the man's direction.

He gasps and clutches his chest, looking at his president in shock as his gun falls to the floor loudly. There's blood on his hands and dripping down his shirt, a pained look in his eyes.

The guards take advantage of the moment to seize him.

There's a foul little smile curving Harry's lips as he watches him get pushed to the ground, as if he enjoys the quick punishment for his betrayal. That's the wicked man she's always known as the president, and it scares her to find him again after almost two months in the man she'd learnt to know.

He pushes his chair back and stands up, casually rounding the table and walking towards the action. The guards immediately step back, but keep their hands on the unknown man.

Harry kneels in front of him. Alouette can see his lips move but can't make out what he's saying. Then, he takes the knife from the handle and extracts it from the other's chest with a sickening sound. The man lets out a scream and Harry stands again, walking back to their table holding the bloody weapon. There's something so twisted in him carrying a blade while he's dressed for a party, but he doesn't seem to mind.

Alouette stares at him as he cleans the blood off on the white tablecloth, the two guests on either side of his arm moving away from the red mark in shock.

He turns to look at the bleeding man on the ground. She can't see his face, but can imagine the gaze on it by seeing the reaction of everyone around him. "That's for ruining my celebration," he says, lowly and deadly all at once, letting the blade fall on the ground with a sharp clatter. "Take him away. I never want to see him again."

She doesn't want to think of the implication of his words.

"And that's for thinking you could beat me, like the fucking idiot you are."

He walks back to the table and a cook runs to him bringing an elegantly decorated napkin and Harry takes it from him in a quick move, cleaning off his hands and throwing it on the floor behind him.