𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞.
"Y-you want to kill me?"
"No, I want to ruin you."
Death Hood.
A cloaked serial killer that leaves behind blood trails, corpses with the same cause of death and nightma...
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HARRY STYLES
I don't think Esrin realises that we bugged her phone.
During Niall's interrogation, I placed a small one on the inside of her phone that can only do as much as record her calls and her location. The one I truly wanted to install allows me to have complete access to her phone but that one would take too long and I was on a clock.
Taking a part of someone's phone and adding in the little device with a transmitter and microphone can only be done so fast.
That was over two weeks ago.
It's the little fact that has been taunting me all of the two weeks that I didn't know why she was trying to reach Luther Lane. Was it to warn him someone was potentially after him? Or was it to share that we had found out? I was dying to know if she tricked us or not.
The fact that she avoided me for two weeks spoke volumes. Unfortunately, now isn't the time to ask her more questions.
Usually, we'd do something more extreme than the last time if there are any issues. So far I've crossed a lot of lines but doing more harm to her was something I didn't want to do right now. Maybe we could give her a little break first.
The day after Halloween, it's quiet because everyone is recovering from last night. I, on the other hand, was driving my sluggish car to the repair shop. The steering wheel feels weird when I'm turning corners and sometimes it accelerates more than I intended for it too.
Bloody annoying, wonderful timing too.
It's my father's car. An old model that captures eyes when I park or drive by on busy streets. I'd love an upgrade but I'm not ready to let go of it yet.
So on this blazing Saturday evening, I'm driving to the new repair shop I heard Remi mention last night. I knew Cheekbones would be there-Esrin's very cheeky friend with nice cheekbones.
Louis Tomlinson.
Dressed in her coveralls, he seems happy to gain a customer on a slow Saturday evening and when I expressed my troubles, he popped open the bonnet. I observed his concentration in silence for a few seconds.
"Tomlinson car repairs? How very creative," I referred to the name of his shop, breaking the silence while Louis inspects my car. "Hey, I didn't choose it," he says, not giving me any attention.
"Then who did?" I asked while he slides over to the other side, messing with something I didn't know about. "My grandfather. It was a proper name back in the day," Louis answers. I frowned, suddenly feeling the nostalgia of when my father attempted to teach me about cars but I rather cooked in the kitchen with mum.
