WHITSEN, 180KM FROM NORTHFAIR
Alouette is running through the narrow streets of Whitsen, her heart in her throat. She can hear the shouts and footsteps coming closer and closer, even though they're still too far away for her to see them.
It's barely been thirty minutes since Harry pretended to kidnap her, and the Revolution is already closing in on them. Their car is useless because of the accident Harry caused, and they're now on foot. They can't outrun them.
She spots someone walking out of a building and tugs Harry towards it, her grip on his wrist firm. She stops the door right before it can close and they slip inside unseen.
They run up a flight of stairs and then she finally stops, pressing her back against the wall and taking a deep breath. Her stomach is hurting and she's sure she's about to faint. She's never had to run for so long.
When she stops feeling like she's about to pass out she finally looks at Harry; for once he seems to be just as breathless as she is.
There's movement coming from outside the door, she can see the ghosts of frames from the frosted glass of the door. Some shouts ring out and terror washes over Alouette when she recognises them.
The Revolution is on the opposite side of the door. If they decide to take it down they'll find them right there, and they'll be done for. They need to find a way out.
She looks up, but the only thing she can see is stairs. No window, no hole for them to crawl in. Stairs and a thousand doors, because they're in a residential building. She can't open any of the doors though, because if the locks are broken the police will be automatically called. Unintentionally, she stepped into a perfect trap. There's no way out but through the front door.
Harry seems to notice her distress and lets out a sigh, the kind that automatically makes her want to step on his foot. This is much more than a minor inconvenience—it's a disaster.
He slides something out of the inner pocket of his jacket and it takes Alouette some seconds to recognise it as his thin wallet. It's a surprise that he hasn't already lost it somewhere.
Harry pulls a black card out and approaches the first door on the floor they're on. He slides it on the side of the digital lock and a blue light flashes. Then he types in a four digit code, and the door opens soundlessly.
He motions Alouette to get inside the apartment and she does, looking at him with shock painted on her face.
"How did you do that?"
He steps inside and closes the door, putting the mysterious black card back into its hiding place. It's a little too similar to the one he used to reach the roof at his Palace a while ago, and Alouette suspects it's the same one. "Admin code," he only says, as if Alouette is the dumb one for not having thought about it sooner.
"Admin code?!" She exclaims, after a quick glance around the apartment confirms that nobody is inside. "You mean to tell me you can access every home in the country with that card?!"
Harry raises an eyebrow. "Are you truly surprised?"
Alouette's head is spinning and she suddenly has to lean against the wall not to fall down. "Of course you can," she says venomously. Yet another perfect way to control everyone else.
"Truthfully, every district has its own admin code," Harry explains, and she doesn't know if it's because he's genuinely decided to be helpful or because it's the perfect opportunity to praise his own cleverness for thinking up such a system. "But you can think of the card like a master key." He offers her a troublesome little smile then, that makes her blood boil.
Is everything just a game to him? She doesn't like how comfortable he seems to be. It agitates her.
"It's a useful little object, then," she comments, eyeing the spot where he hid it, right next to his heart.
Harry hums. "It is," he replies, "and no, I'm not giving it to you."
Alouette shrugs. "You'll have to fall asleep sooner or later. I'll take it then." It's her turn to smile now.
"I'm a very light sleeper."
"Sure you are," she says with a little laugh, to hide the very real panic that spreads through her. He can't stay awake forever, but neither can she.
A dangerous look flashes in Harry's eyes and he steps closer. "You'll sleep too, soon." The drop in his voice makes a shiver run down Alouette's spine. It feels every bit like a threat. "What do you think will happen then?"
She puts her hand on his chest and pushes him away. "Don't bite the hand that feeds you, Harry," she says between her teeth. "If it wasn't for me, the Revolution would've killed you right out of Northfair."
He chuckles. "There's more than one way to destroy a person, Alouette. You out of all people should know that."
If life were a chessboard, his words would be proof that he's already lain down his pieces and made his first move. Alouette has no intention to take the bait, though.
She scoffs and turns around, walking down the corridor.
Harry grabs her wrist and pulls her into his chest. She lets out a squeal. His hand is grazing her throat and his breath in her ear, and she's sure her heart is beating so violently he can feel it too.
"I'll tell you what will happen when you fall asleep," he whispers. His touch on her neck is light, teasing, but chilling all the same. "Even in your dreams, I will be the only thing in your mind." He lets out a dark little laugh when she bristles at the thought. "Who knows, maybe you'll dream of what we did in my office the other day."
Alouette's face goes up in flames and she's suddenly too aware of the warmth of his touch, of the closeness of their bodies.
"And then, when you wake up I'll be right there, with your knife pressed against your throat." He slides his finger on her neck and pushes her away from him. She stumbles forward. "And then, well, I hope no one is waiting for you back at the Revolution. I've never been particularly good at delivering unfortunate news in letters."
She turns around and gives him a hard glare. "You are deranged," she spits.
"Deranged? No, I'm not," Harry replies. "I'm only doing what you're forcing me to do. But it's always easier to blame others, isn't it?"
Alouette clenches her teeth to force herself not to bite back and starts her search for a bedroom.
She finds it quickly and walks straight to the wardrobe, opening it and smiling to herself. Whoever lives there seems to have clothes that could fit Harry. Sure, they're nothing like his tailor-made suits, but they'll work just fine and make him much harder to recognise all the same.
She rifles through the multiple pieces of fabric and throws a pair of dark jeans and a cream-coloured sweater on the bed. "Change into these," she tells Harry, and he narrows his eyes at her. "It wasn't a question."
After a quick glance around confirms there are no windows he can escape from in the bedroom, she steps out and closes the door.
"You have thirty seconds."
"Thirty—"
"One... Two... Three..." Alouette smiles when she hears the sound of fabric coming from the other side of the door.
When she reaches thirty she walks back into the bedroom, and her heart stops in her chest.
She was right, the clothes fit Harry pretty well. The jeans are the perfect length and the sleeves of the sweater are just a couple of inches too long. It wouldn't even be noticeable on someone else, but she's so used to seeing Harry in clothes that were made just for him that it shocks her all the same.
He looks so normal that it makes her feel sick. Now that he's not wearing one of his suits, he looks more like a typical twenty-six year old man than the President. She doubts anyone would ever go as far as to call him sir while he's dressed like that, which means that those clothes are perfect.
"Does it satisfy you?" Harry asks lowly, tension in his voice even though he's trying to mask it. Alouette takes notice of it instantly.
He doesn't like to wear something that isn't his freshly ironed suits. She bites the inside of her cheek to hide her satisfaction at the thought of having done something he wasn't expecting her to.
"It'll be easier to go around now," she says instead. "And to avoid the Revolution too, since they won't be able to spot you from afar."
He looks like a dark-haired man wearing a light-coloured shirt, now. Which is exactly what he is but it takes her aback all the same, since chestnut brown curls are the last words she'd use to describe him.
"You know what I think?" He asks, and by now she knows that the look he has on his face means nothing but trouble. "I think you aren't giving me back to the Revolution because you like how powerful it makes you feel to have me under your control." He takes a step forward and she takes one backwards. "I think you're enjoying being the one with the power of changing the game." Her eyes widen at that, and a dark little smile curves his lips. "If that's the case, we aren't so different from each other, are we?"
Alouette is ready to shove all her thoughts about him being a typical twenty-six year old in the toilet and flush. He's anything but. Even out of his uniform, he's untapped danger. He's manipulative, he's smart. If anything, those clothes make it even easier to underestimate him, which is just as dangerous as trusting him would be.
"I'm not like you."
Harry tilts his head. "I agree," he says. "You definitely have faults, but you have potential as well."
Alouette's breath hitches. She doesn't know if she should feel offended, or... An unknown feeling is settling into her chest.
His gaze is sharp, and he doesn't miss her reaction. "What is it, Alouette? Do you like how it feels to be seen?" He takes another step towards her.
She hates his manipulative ways. She hates the way he always seems to see right through her. She hates how weak he makes her feel. He's never acted like this with her, and she wonders if he was holding back when they were in the Palace because he thought them to be on the same side. Now, though, his words are like poison, and she can feel him testing the waters, trying a new attack each time to discover the one that will get him right through her defences.
"Stay away from me," she says warningly, the fire in her eyes lighting one in her chest. "You once asked me what I think bad is, if a bad person really exists." She steps forward, digging her finger into his chest. "It's you. You are a bad person. You're the worst person I can think of, and I despise you."
He grabs her hand, that foul little smile of his back on his face. "Isn't it painful to lie to yourself, Alouette?"
"Stop calling me Alouette!"
He raises an eyebrow, looking like he believes that situation is nothing short of hilarious. "That's your name though, isn't it?"
"You're making it sound like... like a curse!" she exclaims.
Harry pushes her against the wall, his hands on either side of her head. "How many times have you cursed my name? How many times have you wished I'd never wake up?" His voice is low, but she can hear the rage burning deep inside of him. "Tell me, Alouette," he urges her when she doesn't answer.
"Every day of my life," she hisses, looking at him straight in the eyes. "Every single day of my miserable life, during every moment I lost because of you and your damned family." She pushes him away from her. "So don't come to me acting like you're so much better than me, because you're not. You said you're only doing what I'm forcing you to, well, so am I. If we're in this position right now, you only have yourself to blame."
Harry glares at her. "I didn't even know you before you came into my Palace and seduced me—"
"I've never seduced you!" Alouette shouts, immediately pausing when she realises she's just said too much. Warning bells go off in her mind, and she desperately tries to cover it up. "I've never—"
"Oh." He lets out a cold laugh and leans in, a new dangerous flicker in his eyes. "Don't tell me your heart is truly beating for me," he says conspiratorially, like it's a secret between the two of them. "Was it not a game, then? Did you mean every kiss?" His hand slides up her arm. "Every touch?"
She swats his hand away and another dark chuckle leaves his throat.
"Well, this changes things."
"Shut up—shut up!" Alouette shouts. She pulls out her knife again and slams him against the wall, her blade to his throat. "You will—"
Harry grazes her cheek with his thumb, the touch so gentle that for a moment her grip on the handle loosens. "You're so angry, Alouette," he murmurs. "Why are you so mad? Shouldn't I be the one who's livid right now? You deceived me—"
"As if you haven't done the same to a hundred other people!"
"Hundreds, thousands..." Harry pushes himself off the wall and walks towards her, her knife still against his neck. She automatically steps back. "Millions... they're only numbers, aren't they?" He rests his finger on the handle of the knife and pushes it away. "No, Alouette. I can see the truth in your eyes. Don't insult my intelligence by trying to deny it."
Alouette lets out a shocked laugh, the truth making her chest hurt. Yes, she couldn't bring herself to kill him because yes, some blind, obscure little part inside her likes him more than she'd ever dare to admit.
"Don't be ridiculous, you care too much about yourself to see anyone else," she spits.
Harry pauses. "I do care for myself. You know why?" The silence is heavy, and she can't move away. "Because if I don't do it, no one else will."
Alouette lets out a laugh. "And you even wonder why?"
He takes a step back, as if insulted, and something flashes in his eyes. "Think of me how you prefer," he snaps. "Pin this whole situation on me, if it makes you feel better about yourself." His voice is so cold that the tips of her fingers go numb.
She's about to bite back when she suddenly hears some steps and voices on the stairs—voices she can once again recognise.
"The Revolution!" She hisses. "How—" She takes his discarded clothes from the bed and stalks out of the room. "Just how do they keep finding us?!" She mutters, rushing towards the window at the end of the corridor.
Alouette opens the window and she lets out a relieved sigh when she discovers it isn't a long drop down, considering they only went up one flight of stairs.
She jumps out and lands feet-first on top of a dumpster. Harry slides down more elegantly than she does, and they're on the streets again.
She checks the pockets of his suit and mumbles under her breath when she discovers he's already taken his belongings, and then opens the dumpster and throws his suit inside. It makes her a little sick to see the expensive fabric land on top of garbage, but she ignores it and steps away.
They run out of the street, and the chase is on once again.
Alouette keeps running until she's out of breath, and then stops in an empty street. "I think we're far enough now," she breathes, rage bubbling up inside of her. "How the hell does this keep—"
"Did the Revolution give you anything?" Harry asks her, sounding a little breathless as well.
She thinks about it for a moment. "The gun."
"Give me your gun."
Alouette laughs. "Sure, I'll certainly hand you my gun. Keep dreaming."
Harry gives her a hard look. "Give me your gun," he repeats, his voice low.
She frowns at his sudden harshness and pulls out the weapon. "If you don't give it back to me..." She lets the threat fade away as she empties the magazine, and then she hands it to him.
Harry looks over it and then pulls out the empty magazine. He reaches for Alouette, and before she can even realise what's happening he takes something out of her hair. Her heart slams into her chest, but she calms down when she realise he's only stolen one of her hairpins.
He scrapes into the magazine and then pulls out a little dark object and shows it to her.
A tracking device.
Her eyes widen as he gives her the gun back without as much as a word. They're walking now, and someone walks past them and gets into their car.
Harry nears it and attaches the tracking device on the inside of the car body, right above the wheel, a moment before the vehicle speeds away. "That should keep them busy for a while."
Alouette looks at him with new wonder in her eyes. "How did you know?" She would be lying if she said she wasn't positively surprised by how knowledgeable he seemed to be.
Harry lets out a nonchalant sound. "I track my guards in the same way."
And, truly, Alouette should've known.
I hope you enjoyed these two chapters x
Miki