Tribulation [h.s]

21

"I hate to lose,
There's something in my head.
I can't break from you,
I'll love you 'til I'm dead."

-

Chapter 20 From Harry's POV (3rd person)

Harry likes to think he's a reasonable man. A patient, carefully calculated man who looks at life as nothing but a game of chess.

You see, power wasn't something that was just handed to Harry. He fought for it; he killed for it. He started by removing the weak white pawns and moved up the latter to the rooks, knights, bishops, and finally, the king and queen.

Now, he's the one on top.

He's the king who oversees everything, surrounded now by his own black pawns, rooks, knights, and bishops—his empire. Each move he makes is premeditated, purposeful, and strategic. Each time a white chess piece from his opponent seems to move, he starts playing his little mind games to please his deranged mind. When he grows bored of them and loses interest, which he always does, he'll pick up one of his black pieces when the time permits and knock his opponents off the board.

Checkmate.

Rosaline, he thinks, is a simple pawn. The last white pawn on his board, perhaps. He let her linger for a while, but now, he thinks as he pulls the trigger and puts a bullet in three of his client's heads, he'll kick her piece off the chessboard.

He could send one of his own pawns after her, but he thinks he'll play his mind games just one last time before he finally kicks her off the board himself. Sometimes even he has to get his hands dirty, but luckily for Harry's, that's never been a problem for him.

Chaos fills the room after the echo of the three gunshots that were fired from his gun. Harry kind of likes the screams, he must admit. After tucking his gun in the back of his slacks, he turns his back to Rosaline, who's too stunned to form words. He disappears, making his way in the opposite direction of the panicking crowd.

He waits for things to die down, and once he's in somewhat of a secluded spot, he reaches down into his pocket and dials four digits he knows by heart before bringing his phone up to his ear. There's a click when the call is answered; however, the other line remains silent and static. "12th street, Downtown. Red Room." He hangs up and drops his new phone to the floor before stomping on it and crushing it under the heel of his boot. Better safe than sorry.

He walks back to the scene where three bodies lie on the floor, the pools of blood looking like a murky black under the red lights.

"Harry," Louis, comes striding up to Harry, an old friend who is subsequently also a client, an essential piece on Harry's chessboard. "Too many people witnessed that! Do you have any idea how hard this will be to cover?"

Niall busies himself by digging into the pockets of the three dead men, sighing when he finds nothing worth wild, just a wad of cash and plastic baggies filled with a familiar white powder. Standing, Niall finally turns to Harry and Louis.

"I'll help ya, Lou. I'll hack into the system and wipe any criminating footage. I'll make it look like tonight never even happened. If the cops show up, do what you do best and deal with them, yeah?" Niall pats Louis' shoulder before giving him a slight squeeze and turning his attention to Harry.

"I don't want to be a negative Nacy, but-" Harry rolls his eyes, and his jaw ticks because he already knows what the hell Niall's going to say. "I told ya sooo." Niall grins. That cheeky bastard. "You should have killed that Rosaline girl a long time ago. She's nothing but trouble, and she just fucked over a deal." Niall tuts, shaking his head.