Sage

18

Harry

I couldn't think.

It'd been only four days since those pictures were released and all of those articles were written but it felt like a month. I'd been running around like crazy, juggling clients, interviews, Tiki, and Jim, all whilst trying to avoid Ellie, which was hard to do because she was staying just across the hall.

She seemed to make a point to steer out of my way. I'd hear her closing the guest room door just as I'd open the front door, or waiting until she heard my room door close to go downstairs and grab food. I don't think she knew I had cameras in the main areas, so I often watched her as she raided the fridge, eating mostly fruit. Last night, however, I swore I saw her dipping a raw jalapeno into a blob of mayo, not hesitating as she crunched down on it.

Each time I thought about Jim's words, "You owe it to your children," I felt a nauseating put swirling in my stomach. The mere notion of having kids sent me to the bathroom, heaving over the toilet. It made me fucking sick.

It's been like that for the last couple of days. I'd been so busy with everything else that I was barely home to begin with, and I'm sure Ellie appreciated that seeing as she hadn't said a single word to me this entire time, not even when I knocked on the guest door and dropped the phone Gale made me buy in front of it.

Considering that dick of an ex of hers broke her old one I figured it was the least I could do, and it was the most of an apology she'd get out of me.

Today, after going back and forth with work, setting up interviews, and puking my guts out, I went back to her apartment, meeting with Tiki to make sure everything was set to come back home. It felt strange to have someone living in the condo with me but it was also strangely comforting, even if that person was Eliana.

I knock on the flimsy wooden door, thinking of whether or not she'd move into a more decent-looking place with her new budget. Fuck, that's another thing I have to do. I need to call Jim to draw up some paperwork.

"Tiki," I call, and the door almost immediately opens, revealing the five-foot Samoan with the long scar down his cheek. Let anyone else ask him, he'd say it was a prison fight. Tiki had never even been to prison, and he got it from accidentally cutting himself on his first Lingchi.

"Mr. Styles." He greets jokingly. I ignore him, my eyes flitting across the small apartment.

The mess they'd made had been cleaned up, some of the destroyed furniture replaced with nearly identical ones. I walk across the floor, stopping in the area where Danny lay when Gale and I had come in. I squat down and run my finger across the carpet, searching for the faintest drop of blood.

"You like hitting on women, hm?" I asked softly, running the barrel of the pistol down the side of Danny's face. Sweat poured down his cheeks as he trembled beneath me. His fear radiated from his body like hot steam, and I reveled in it, a small smirk growing on my face as I suddenly push the gun into his temple, making him yelp out a scream. My insides jumped in excitement at the thought of being the one to take his last breath. But I wanted to make it last, to savor it.

"It's all clean boss, nothing ever happened here," Tiki interrupts my thoughts, slapping at my back with the rag that was thrown over his shoulder. I roll my eyes and stand to my feet, I needed to make sure there was no trace of our little accident.

The good thing is that Tiki hadn't had that much of a mess to clean. A few knifed-off fingers didn't call for much blood, and neither did a snapped neck.

"Where is he?"

Tiki clicks his teeth playfully, his hands behind his back as he bounces on his toes, "You know I can't tell you that, but just know that it's all clear. Phone records, car, everything. Nobody knew he was even coming to visit her,"