Harry.
I sat there, amidst the silence of the house, engulfed in an overwhelming tide of anxiety. Every creak of the floorboards seemed to echo accusations, each corner held shadows that whispered blame.
My mind was a tumultuous storm of guilt and sorrow, tangled in a web of relentless self-blame. Receiving Niall's head in a box haunted me, the events in the house haunting me every waking moment.
Even if I tried to deny it, even if I've done similar things to others before, nothing could erase the horrific sight of my friend's fate—my wife witnessing it only added to the torment. The fury boiled inside me, furious that someone would dare to target my family.
Every horrifying scenario replayed in my mind, each one ending with the haunting conclusion: it was all my fault. When I find this person, I swear I'll tear them apart, no mercy. I'll kill them with my bare hands.
"Hey, baby, I'm done," I called out, tossing extra pillows on the bed.
Not hearing her voice I grumbled under my breath. " By the way, is the house too cold? I can turn on the heater a little more—" making my way into the empty living room I frowned.
What the fuck
"Juliet!" I called out with escalating concern, my voice quivering slightly as I scanned the rooms and noticed the slightly ajar backyard door. Panic surged within me, cursing silently as I hastily pushed the door wider and peered outside.
"Baby?" I called out anxiously, my heart racing as I searched the backyard, my eyes darting around, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. The eerie quietness of the night only amplified my growing unease, each passing second intensifying the dread pooling in the pit of my stomach.
It was so dark I couldn't see a single thing, just trees and trees and another box and I swear I felt my breath get caught in my throat. I looked around my surroundings, grabbing the gun from my waistband and cocking it. " Juliet." I yelled even louder being met with silence. " Fuck." I ran my free hand over my hair and grabbed the box shutting the door behind me. " Fuck. Fuck."
I couldn't go out and look for her leaving my daughters alone, I couldn't wake them up.
Grabbing my phone from my pockets I dialed her number. A few minutes go by, the purse near me lighting up, and a familiar ringtone echoing around:
Fucking hell Juliet
Dialing another number I silently prayed she was just wandering off. In the midst of the chilling silence, Zayn's voice crackled through the phone. His words sliced through the air like shards of ice, sending shivers down my spine. "Harry? What the hell do you want?" Zayn's voice crackled through the phone. " It's two am."
Ripping the box I expected exactly what I was thinking and anger flew in me as I witnessed a pair of hands laying inside the box. I didn't have time to think too much about who the hand belonged to, why it was here but it held a sinister note one that made my blood boil, one that brought every worry out of me and made me think of every bad scenario.
I give you his body, and I get to have her.
" Fuck" my hand pounding against the countertop, a loud sound echoing around the quiet, lonely house. "Fuck."
" Harry?" Zayn says again. " What's wrong?" I shake my head biting my inner cheeks till a sharp metal taste rested on my tongue.
"Juliet," the name escaped my lips, sounding surreal. It was baffling—moments ago, she had been in my arms, and now she was nowhere to be found. Fatigue drained from my body, replaced by a growing sense of unease. As my gaze lingered on the box, I noticed its contents: a pack of cigarettes, a lighter—Juliet's pink lighter—and a bottle.
Despite the blood staining my hand, I reached inside and seized the small liquid bottle. Placing my phone on the counter, I smeared my finger across the label.
Succinylcholine.
"Zayn," I uttered, grabbing the phone once more. "Harry," he repeated on the other end. "What's happening with Juliet?" He demanded, his voice laced with urgency and fear.
I've broken my promise. I failed to protect her. She's gone. Away from me. I've hurt her. After this, nothing will ever be the same,
She's going to find out everything.
Ignoring his words, I pressed on. "What
is succinylcholine?" I pleaded for an answer, met only with silence. The chilling realization crept over me—"I think Juliet had been kidnapped," but by whom, I couldn't fathom.
Panic surged within me, my heart pounding relentlessly against my chest, breaths hitching. A wave of nausea swept over me, a confusing blend of calmness and distress flooding my senses. Why was I so composed? Why wasn't I reacting to this situation?
"I—I need you to come," I managed to voice, my vulnerability on display—a rarity for me. Juliet's jeopardy consumed my thoughts, the realization that her danger stemmed from my actions leaving me feeling utterly responsible.
I ran the clean hand over my hair hitting the counter again out of anger. " Fuck. I think it just started." Hanging up the phone I sent him and everyone else my address, locking the door, windows and grabbing gun. I walked towards my daughters room— stepping inside and pressing my back against the door, and facing the window.
If this person is still here they're not getting to my daughters. Raising my hands I pointed the gun towards the window and stayed in position.
I can do this.
They'll be safe.
I'm going to get them the hell away from here—-far. Safe where nobody can hurt them.
My mind is a whirlwind of chaos, racing alongside my frantic heartbeat. Juliet—my girl, my wife—is gone, and the weight of that truth crushes me with an agonizing ache. The guilt claws at my soul. What can I even do now? I've never felt this powerless, this scared in my life.
I'm on the brink of an emotional meltdown, teetering on the edge of an abyss of uncertainty and fear.
Moments drag on, each second an eternity, until the sudden ring of the doorbell shatters the eerie silence. Frozen in place, I scan the windows, every nerve on edge. Then, as if on cue, my phone erupts into a shrill ring. My hand trembles as I reach into my pocket, bringing the phone to my ear, my heart pounding louder than the voice at the other end.
"Break the door down, but I'm not taking my eyes off them."
"Harry, it's safe. We have the house surrounded." The voice on the other end reassures me. I hesitantly inch toward the door, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. The air feels thick with tension as I grasp the doorknob, my hand trembling. With a deep breath, I swing the door open, Louis and Zayn on the other side. " I brought backup."
Relief floods in, but it's quickly replaced by urgency. Abby pushing through Louis and Zayn. It's like somehow she knew I needed a hug. She pulled me into one despite us never hugging. I stayed still for a few minutes—-swallowing harshly before I hugged back.
" Do you know where she is?"
" I don't know." I shake my head. " I don't know—I don't know—. Don't know." I ran a hand through my hair. " fuck." Grabbing the table near me I tossed everything clattering against the floor.
" Harry." Abby calls out—and distant cries have me sucking in a breath. "Harry, you're scaring your daughters." But it was like I couldn't understand.
Nothing makes sense right now. My head felt clouded. I felt dizzy; I felt sick. I don't know where Juliet is. If she's even safe, Alive.
What if she's dead?
What will I do with myself? How will I survive? How will I live? God. This is my fault. It was my fault for lying and for not protecting her better.
I should've never let my relationship interfere with me protecting her. She's probably alone. Scared. And I'm over here, safe. They should've taken me.
Abby put her hands on my arm, and I clenched my jaw. "Don't touch me." I held in my anger for too long. I held in my eeriness for too long. Juliet is gone. No leads, nothing.
"Daddy," my eyes snap towards the door, Marceline standing, hands near her mouth, a pout on her lips, tears rolling down her face. "Daddy, I'm scared."
" Fuck." I turned around and tipped my head up. I don't want her to see me like this. My heart thumped in my chest, each crying ripping at my heart. If she's dead now, how will I ever tell our daughters? How will I tell them that their mother is gone?
How will I explain that to them? Fuck. It made me sick. I wouldn't ever be able to love someone the way I love Juliet. Something about her. Her smile—the way her brown eyes glowed—giggles.
She was perfect. And now she's not here with me. Meeting Louis stare, he stayed silent. We couldn't find the right words to say to each other.
"Hey princess." I hear Abby say, "It's okay," but instead she cries for me a little louder, but I couldn't. I couldn't hold them right now. Not when my own tears build in my eyes, not when my heart beated like it was about to stop, not when my wife—the woman I love—has been gone. What if she's dead?
I was failing at being their dad right now. They needed me and I couldn't. No matter how hard I was trying.
I hated myself for that.
"Daddy!" Her cries pierced the air, each plea escalating in desperation, joined in by her sister. My heart clenched with a pain, my hands instinctively running through my hair in annoyance. Not because they're crying but because I felt so helpless
"Harry," Zayn's voice was a whisper, laced with urgency. He followed, concern etched deep in his eyes. "Comfort your daughters; Louis is already hacking into camera systems. There's nothing more we can do."
Shaking my head in a state of disarray, I muttered, "I can't." His puzzled gaze met mine, unable to decipher my words. My anxiety. "I'm...I'm God...I need to be alone right now," I murmured, barely audible, my voice trailing off into the heavy air as I took a step outside.
The weight of helplessness pressed upon me, suffocating every breath. In that moment, amidst the chaos, an inexplicable storm brewed within, a tempest of emotions clashing like thunder in my soul.
I felt so dark. So alone. Darkness can be such a scary thing. It can be very silent and solitary. I now understand Juliet's hatred of the dark—the darkness has the power to be so terrible to the mind.
It wasn't just the absence of light; it felt like a sinister force, a malevolent entity feeding on my fear.
The sharp cold air hitting my skin, sending chills down my spine—every hair on my body lifting up. The woods were quiet. Alone. Or maybe I wasn't alone. Maybe there was someone watching me from the shadows. Watching as I drove myself insane.
Watching as I panicked and enjoying every single second. I swallowed a lump that felt stuck in my throat looking down at my hands. The ring on my finger. My wedding ring caught my attention. It was my favorite ring. The most special one to me. My knuckle grew white from how hard I was fisting it.
I exhaled sharply, shuddering from the cold that gripped my body. My gaze drifted toward my car, an impulse driving me to storm into every house, gun in hand, demanding answers about her whereabouts. But I knew that was an impossible. I steadied myself; I had to be fine. Not just for my sake, but for my daughters'.
Cameras needed checking. I had to confront the truth, confront the depths of our past. It was the only path to unraveling this truth. As I re-entered the house, my eyes settled on Abby.
"I need a favor," I said, my voice weighted with urgency. She nodded in understanding. "I need you to take my daughters and leave."
It pained me to tell her that. To leave my daughters. But when I became a father, I promised myself to keep them away from danger. I promised myself to always protect them, even if it meant getting me killed.
She stared at me a little shocked, her mouth parting, but nodded. "Okay, I'll do it." That's all I need to hear before I spin on my heel, picking up my crying children.
I walked back into the room, setting them on the bed, lowering down to my knees, and wiping away their tears.
"I'm sorry, little loves—it's okay, I'm sorry." I apologized, my heart squeezing in my chest. With a hiccup, Marceline says. "Daddy I got scared."
With a furrowed brow, I whispered, "I know, angel. You and titi Abby are going on a trip. How does that sound?" I flashed a hopeful smile, eager to persuade them.
"You?" Azriela's curious eyes met mine as she settled onto my lap, thumb finding its way to her mouth. "And Mommy?" Her innocent query hung in the air, and I shook my head gently.
"No, sweetheart. Just you, titi Abby, and your sister for now, and later, Mommy and I will join you, okay?" I glanced at Marceline, drawing in a deep breath before continuing. "You'll have so much fun—playing, eating ice cream, buying toys."
"But I'll miss you," Azriela exclaimed, Marceline agreeing.
"I'll miss you more, but it's only for a little while, alright?" Suppressing my emotions, I added, "I promise you'll be back with Mommy and me soon. It's just for a little bit. Plus, you get to go on a plane."
Mentioning the plane seemed to captivate them, eliciting a small gasp from their lips. Their tears and sobs subdued as I held them close. They just wanted their father and I couldn't do that.
"And can we have soda and chips?" Their excited squeal pierced the heavy air. "You can have whatever you want," I assured them with a faint smile.
I wanted them far away from this place, away from any danger. Protecting my daughters was non-negotiable—any threat to them and I'd go to any lengths. I'll go to jail or worse to keep them safe.
Holding them tightly, I peppered kisses on their heads, as if it could shield them from the dangers lurking around. "Are you ready to go?" I asked, and Marceline nodded eagerly.
Guiding them to the living room, I murmured to Abby, setting them on the couch. "I'll call my pilot. Take them anywhere, Abby, and don't tell me. Write down Louis and Zayn's phone numbers, leave your phone, and I'll get you some cash—use only that. Don't use any cards. Get whatever you and my daughters need."
Abby stared at me carefully, with hope, and I added softly. "Please take care of them. Please Abigail."
Abby takes a step forward and reaches for my hand. "Always, Harry—you can always count on me, okay?" Her touch felt so soft, but it wasn't the one I wanted.
My heart broke into a million pieces, knowing I was about to leave my daughters. I knew they were probably going to leave the country, and I wouldn't know. But it was the best. If I don't know, no one can ever hurt me and get that information out.
With a nod. I whispered, "Thank you." She nods. "Thank you so much, Abby, please. Please take care of them. When you come back, I promise to pay."
" Nonsense Harry, I'm here for you. This is what friends are for, okay? Your daughters are important to me and so are you and Juliet. Just bring her home okay?"
I nodded firmly. "I will. I'll bring her home," I whispered, striding away to get money from my safe. Placing the stack of bills into a duffle bag, I handed it over to Abby.
"There's over twenty thousand in there. Zayn will send more if necessary. Send a message when you land. Find a secluded place. Do you need more firearms?" I inquired, passing her mine before fetching additional ones. "This should be enough," I assured her, glancing over at my daughters, sitting together on the couch.
"I've got this, Harry. I'll protect them with everything I have," Abby reassured me, Louis approaching her. Sensing their moment, I stepped back, allowing them privacy. Returning to my daughters, I helped them into their sweaters, giving them another tight hug and a soft kiss on their cheeks, noting their tired eyes.
"Remember, Daddy loves you both so much, okay?" Their curious gazes met mine, and I whispered softly, "I love you."
" I love you more daddy" Azriela chimes in, pulling her thumb away from her mouth and wrapping her arms around her neck as she hugged me " and I love you daddy!" Marceline says bringing her in the hug. I wrapped my arms and closed my eyes.
Talking to Abby, the tension in the room escalated as they got ready to leave, trailed by a squad of security. As the car vanished from sight, I turned toward my team.
"Ready to give them hell?" I demanded, my voice edged with determination.
"I've been checking your security footage," Louis interjected from the dining table. "A guy dropped a box. What was in it?" His question hung heavy in the air, and I swallowed hard before responding.
"Niall's head. And inside this box were his hands," I admitted, the weight of those ghastly contents sinking in as I approached the spot where the package had been dropped. Silence enveloped us as I retrieved it, my hands once more tainted with blood.
"This still has fresh blood," Zayn observed, capturing everyone's attention. He was right. The blood was fresh, no more than an hour old. "Niall's been dead for a month. This can't be his blood."
"You're right," I muttered, a sudden realization dawning on me. "Do you think these hands belong to someone else?" The hands, though mangled, appeared masculine—possibly white.
"Was there blood on his head?" Zayn inquired urgently.
The head was dried. I'm certain it was his. It had his hair, his features—or at least what I could make out. Maybe staying at the house would've been the better choice," I confessed, taking a sharp breath. "I was being followed, and I didn't even realize it."
"We'll find her, Harry," Zayn assured me, his support a surprising comfort. His own emotions must be tumultuous; I wouldn't blame him if he hated me.
"There was this bottle—I think Juliet's cigarettes might have been drugged with it, or something. But it doesn't add up. How did only one of her cigarettes get laced?" I questioned, perplexed by the oddity of the situation.
"Maybe they all were?" Liam interjected, peering up from a computer. "But how?" I pondered aloud, rifling through the box of cigarettes and laying them out on a table. Minutes passed in silence as we deliberated.
"What kind of drug is this?" I inquired, my voice tinged with unease.
"Paralytic. It relaxes muscles during surgery or medical procedures," Liam informed us, eyes fixed on his phone. "Its effects can last from 15 minutes to maybe even 90 minutes, depending on the dosage."
My brows knit together, a knot of nausea churning in my gut. As my phone buzzed in my pocket, I wasted no time in picking it up, eyeing the unknown number.
"Hello?"
"If you want her back, do as I say." The voice on the other line sounded firm— confident as it spoke to me. I looked at Louis hoping he was trying to track the number.
"What do you want?" I snapped. "If you hurt her, I swear to God I'll—" The voice on the other end cut me off with a chuckle, a deep resonance that sent shivers down my spine.
"You'll what? Kill me?" The voice laughed again. "Good luck finding me. She's quite lovely, you know. Pretty hair, pretty face—lips."
"Don't you dare—"
"I want you to drop off one million at the South Park dock. You're not getting her back, but it's a step closer." They teased with a laugh.
"If I'm not getting her back, why would I even consider that?" I murmured with a clenched jaw.
"Because I can return her dead or alive, and I'm sure you prefer alive," he taunted. I clenched my jaw, seething silently. "I also want forged documents of what you and Malik stole from Trinidad and Tobago."
"What documents?" I ask in curiosity, I knew what he wanted. But I wanted to hear him. I wanted to waste time.
"Birth certificates, passports, and death certificates," he listed. "Can't do any of that without you here or names."
"Make it possible," he demanded. "Make up names, Money first, documents in another location. Go alone or she dies."
"How do I know she's not already dead?" I pressed. "Or that you won't kill her the moment I hand over the money?"
"Only one way to find out," he retorted, and the line went dead. Swearing under my breath, I slammed the phone against the counter.
"He wants a million and fake documents from the machine," I informed Zayn, his eyes fixed on me intently. "You don't think it's one of the guys we stole from?"
"Doubtful they found us. His accent sounded local," I reasoned. But that didn't narrow it down much. The perpetrator could be anyone—a victim's family, someone I've wronged, or even the Rose Killer.
God if it's Rose killer we're never getting her back.
"Can you trace the call?" I asked Louis.
"I'll try. Niall was usually better at this stuff," Louis admitted. "He taught me a few things. I can give it a shot." He began typing furiously, and I watched him.
I hastily picked up my phone as it rang again, only to receive a message. A picture appeared, and it was Juliet. She was in a small, dimly lit room, her head resting against the wall, knees drawn up to her chest. Her hair covered her face, and she was no longer wearing the same clothes or shoes she had on earlier.
A surge of frustration and fear coursed through me. I cursed softly, tossing my phone onto the counter and spinning around, taking a sharp breath as I ran a hand through my hair in distress.
" Who texted you?" Liam asked—" what did they send?"
" A picture of Juliet." I say under my breath. A few minutes of silence go by before Liam whispered. " It was deleted."
"What?" I turned on my heel " what do you mean it was deleted?" I snatched the phone from his face and he was right. It was deleted. Nowhere to be found.
"I got a picture of her," I stammered out, my voice trembling with emotion. "She was in some room—it looked like a cage. Dirty, grimy floors, walls covered in filth. It was dark, like a fucking basement. She wasn't wearing the clothes I last saw her in."
My words faltered as I struggled to describe the scene, the panic rising in my chest. "She was wearing... some dresses, but it was so dirty..." The words caught in my throat, and I paused, unable to continue.
"I have to give them the—" I gasped, panic seizing me as I turned away. My heart squeezed painfully in my chest, and my breath caught in my throat, each inhalation feeling labored and strained. It was throbbing, an overwhelming sensation escalating within me.
It's like the world around me collapses, and a suffocating sense of fear engulfs my entire being. My heart races uncontrollably, pounding as though it might burst out of my chest.
My breathing becomes rapid and shallow, each breath a struggle, as if the air is suddenly too thin or too heavy to inhale. I walk away, pressing my hand against the counter looking down.
My mind races with terrifying thoughts, of someone hurting Juliet unable to focus on anything except the overwhelming sense of her.
Feeling completely out of control, I retreated to the room and hastily rummaged through the safe, grabbing whatever cash I could find. "I'm heading back to my place to get more money," I muttered, my throat tight with panic. "I gave most of it to Abby."
"Go with Zayn, and I'll stay here with Liam," Louis suggested, his voice edged with determination. "We'll jot down all the information we have. What we've gathered about Rose's killer." I glanced at Zayn, then at Liam.
"Okay," I agreed with a nod. "I'll print the documents, get the cash, and send it off? Stay alert for any messages, and I'll keep you posted."
He nodded. Just before I departed, he reassured, "We will find her, Harry." I remained silent, hesitant to embrace any false optimism or assurances. My hope would only rise when I held her safe in my arms.
Exiting the house, Zayn followed. "I'll drive," he offered, striding to his car as I trailed behind. As we rolled down the road, Zayn spoke. "Rose's tombstone was destroyed," he revealed, leaving me stunned and confused.
The motives behind Rose's murder will always be a murder mystery, or so I thought.
"How do you know this?" I asked, shocked by the information Zayn was telling me. "I received a call from someone at the cemetery," Zayn explained. "They noticed it earlier today but I didn't want to ruin Juliet's Christmas so I didn't tell her. They asked me to come after the holidays to inspect or repair it."
I stayed silent, not knowing what to say. Zayn and I have been friends for years now. I know he hated his mom—I know he wanted her dead. 'I'm sorry' wouldn't make him feel better. His mother was horrible to him. She was a person who's better off dead. And not everyone is better off dead, but Rose was a cruel woman living in this world. Hurting those who wanted a simple life.
Zayn's mother is the reason I turned to this life. When I ran away from my house and had nowhere to go, she welcomed me with open arms. Teaching me how to properly defend myself, how to shoot a gun, how to make deals, and how to never show emotions. She showed me everything I knew. And when I became too powerful, she tried to kill me.
Rose tried to take away my power, but never had the chance. It was a shame to see that she was murdered by the unknown, but deep down, we all know Rose deserved it. It was cruel—and maybe the worst way to die. And Juliet experiencing it firsthand made it worse. Juliet should've never watched the way her mother was killed. The picture was enough to make everyone feel sick—I can just imagine what goes through her head when she's alone.
I do thank Rose for making me the independent person I am today. But I also hate her for introducing me to something I'll never be able to escape—no matter how much I want to.
"I don't know what to do, Zayn," I confessed, my mind reeling. "I don't know how to find Juliet." It hurt to admit, but we were short on substantial leads. I needed to delve into everyone's background.
" I also don't know Harry, and it scares me that I won't be able to find her." Silence linger between us. It felt so loud—so lonely, that it made my head spin. Emotions. God I hated them. I hated showing emotion, I hated receiving emotions unless it was my girl Juliet.
"I don't blame you," Zayn attempted to reassure me. "Stop," I interjected sharply. I couldn't shake the gnawing guilt that it was my fault for failing to safeguard her better. I don't care what he says, it's my fault.
Arriving home, I bypassed the box with Niall head and headed straight for my office. Zayn walked in behind as I unlock the safe, I retrieved all the cash I had stashed inside, trying to prepare for whatever might come next.
This could be close to a million. Maybe not exact but I can go grab a couple more stacks from the basement to be sure.
Whatever happens after this is life or death.
A/N
Hello :) this is a little shorter and fast chapter but I hope you guys enjoyed :) good luck !