Devil's Due [h.s.]

Chapter 53

Chapter 53

TW: Depictions of graphic violence</3 (sorry!)

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"Shit," my eyes stung from how hard I was staring at the tiny screen of my phone. "Shit, shit, shit!"

This wasn't real. There was no way this was real. This had to be a prank. It was a prank, right? It was Harry. Or one of the guys fucking with me. Except for, when I pulled up the attached location shared in the message with shaky hands, nothing about what I saw confirmed that it was a prank.

It was the same place that I'd first met Damien. In that secluded, middle-of-nowhere warehouse that I'd shown up to with Harry. Nobody with access to my phone number would have known where that location was. No one except Harry and Damien himself, the former of whom I'd yet to hear from.

But how did Damien get my number? The number of the burner phone that not even Harry had? The thought unnerved me as I leapt from Harry's bed, hastily making my way into his closet where I pulled out a pair of black sweatpants and a hoodie to match. I was still trembling as I pulled the clothes on, stopping only briefly to assess myself in the mirror on the way out.

"You look fucking insane," I muttered, reaching to grab a pair of black sunglasses from his dresser. I quite literally looked like I was going to rob a bank. "Think, River." My voice shook a little as I turned back around, surveying the dark room. "What's your plan here? What are you going to do?"

Was I really just about to show up to meet Damien alone, like he'd asked? I mean, obviously, I was. If he had Harry, I had to. He'd get killed if I didn't. The clock read 12:22 a.m. when I glanced over, the numbers a harsh and ominous neon red that only sent my anxiety catapulting. I had 38 minutes to get there if I wanted Harry's head to remain on his body.

My plan, I seemed to realize with each passing second, happened to be non-existent. I couldn't get Morgan, couldn't tell her what was going on, without most likely putting her life at risk also. And if Damien had Harry, he most likely had Zayn as well. Which meant I had to do exactly what he said if I wanted them both to stay alive.

The sweatpants I'd chosen were more of a hindrance than anything when I made my way over to Harry's nightstand on legs that felt both numb and a little like jelly. Yanking the bottom drawer open, I dug through the contents, my fingers nimbly passing over what looked like an assortment of journals and sketching pencils. Nothing of use. When I slammed it shut and moved onto the second drawer, my heart leapt into my throat at what just so casually happened to be the first thing that I saw.

To be fair, I had been searching for a gun, but it still made me somewhat nervous to know that Harry just casually kept one at his side while he slept. Carefully, I withdrew the weapon and slipped it into the front of my hoodie. I was about to close the drawer and begin making my way out of the room when something else caught my eye.

The room was still dark, and I could just barely make out some of the smaller items that Harry had tucked away in his nightstand, but I reached for the one that I recognized, my brows twitching together in confusion as I pulled it out. The Italian cigarettes I'd bought for him. He'd kept them and, as I flipped the carton open, it seemed he'd done no more than only smoke a single one. Running the pad of my thumb over the label on the front, I gave myself a maximum of four seconds to dwell on my discovery, before I dropped them back into the nightstand and shoved the drawer shut.

Fleeing from his room on gentle feet, I made sure to double-check on my way downstairs that Morgan was asleep before I bolted into the parking garage. Part of me felt guilty when I walked to the very last car in Harry's showy collection – a black Audi R8 which I hoped would keep me the most inconspicuous – knowing that Morgan would be trapped here if she woke up. As I did up my seatbelt, fumbling to find the ignition button and cringing at the excessive way the engine roared when I turned the car on, I thought about how I probably should have left a note. Or maybe something to tell her where I'd gone and what was happening, but then my mind circled back to how both of those options would ultimately put her in danger as well and I decided against it.