KILLSHOT // [H.S]

047. THREAT

047. THREAT

"How do you feel?"

Harry tightly gripped the steering wheel, pulling the car out of the lot and onto the main road. If he was honest with himself, he had no idea how he was feeling. Understanding feelings was one thing (one thing Harry didn't do quite well), but recognizing something felt wrong or off about his own emotions was its own battle he loathed. 

That was the worst part of becoming normal again; he couldn't keep everything shut off.

"It feels like we got somewhere, yet nowhere all at the same time," Harry muttered.

"What do we think about the dead people from the grave shit he was going on about?" Dallas asked, pulling a stick of gum out of his pocket. "Are those the ghosts we're dealing with?"

"V isn't alive," Harry stated plainly. "It can't be true. V can't be alive. Tanner was just fucking with me."

Colson and Dallas exchanged a look.

"Okay," Colson said cautiously. "But if they are alive?"

"Then I'm hunting them down and ripping their fucking head off with my bare hands."

Dallas wore a pleased grin. "Aggressive. I like it!" Leaning forward, he rested his arms on the centre console and asked, "Does anyone else think that the other person who could have risen from their grave is Luca? I mean, it was obvious Stefano killed him, right?"

"Right," Colson confirmed, rolling his eyes at the loud gum chewing behind him.

"He seems like a bit of a nut job," Dallas murmured, slumping back into his seat. "Either he has a terrible shot and doesn't think he actually killed his brother-in-law, or he has an obsession with the afterlife and thinks that not one but two people have risen from the dead and are out to get us."

Ignoring Dallas's rambling, Harry turned his head. "There's no way V can be alive. That has to be a load of shit, right?"

"Anything is fucking possible these days." Colson's attention moved to the ringing cell phone in his hands. "Hey... No, our phones were off, so of course, I didn't get any of your calls... Slow down, Kip... Slow the fuck down... What is it?" Colson fell silent, listening to the kid speak in a panicked tone. "Shit," he cursed, looking over at Harry. "Where's your phone?"

"Glovebox."

Colson opened the compartment and pulled out the device. "Yeah, she did," he said into the phone, "Ten times."

Harry looked over at his friend in the passenger seat. "What is going on?" With the lack of an immediate response, Harry yelled, "Fucking speak, Colson!"

"Go to Rory's," he answered, turning his attention back to the phone.

Harry quickly veered left, cutting off three cars as he sped down the street.

"Keep an eye out... Yeah, call me if anything happens... Okay." Colson hung up the phone. "Kip spotted the car's outside her apartment again. He's freaking out because she called you a bunch of times."

"And you're just telling me this fucking now?" Harry yelled.

"Calm down. We're on the way there already. Kip said he doesn't think she left the apartment, and the cars have been there before. Plus, you already got extra men outside watching her. Honestly, what could be so different this time?"

"You said she called me? She hasn't spoken to me since she fucking left. What time was the last call? Did she leave a message?"

Attempting to remain calm while Harry angrily freaked out, Colson answered, "she left the last voicemail a few minutes ago," and played the first message.