Her and I | Hailee Steinfeld (G!P) ✔️

XIX

| 3rd Person POV |

A stack of papers were slammed down on a desk, a few sheets flying around as the sound of two squeaky guards waltzed in the big office. It was dark, that's what he liked, but he was nowhere to be found.

"Do you think he's out on a mission?" One of the guards asked, his voice higher than usual as he examined the dark, unusual room. His mate looked at him, she scoffed, shaking her head as she walked towards the desk that stood 30 feet away from the entrance.

Slowly, the nervous guards treaded carefully to the big, mahogany desk that stood in front of them. The woman, Sheila, knocked on the desk, her knuckles lightly hitting the wood before the tall, black chair was spun around, the man in it stood up faster than the guards could see as Sheila was placing in a chokehold.

"What did I say about disturbing me during my thinking time?" He growled, his dark hair glistening from the single light bulb that shined dimly above their heads. Sheila choked on her words, holding onto his wrists, his veiny hands blocking her oxygen. She signaled her partner, Pete, who fumbled with his own words.

"Uh s-sir?" He piped up, the man looking at him sharply, causing Pete to swallow hard, it was almost audible. "We-we received a c-call from H-Harry who said that H-Hailee Steinfeld, sir, was running around with a f-familiar face." He stuttered.

"Please, Mr. Graves." Sheila pleaded for sir, Mr. Graves finally letting her go as she dropped to her feet, soon falling to her knees and beginning a coughing fit, trying to catch back the air she lost.

"Hailee, you say?" Mr. Graves' interest piqued, the 28-year-old man looked at Pete for more answers. "Who is this familiar face?"

"O-oh." Pete gulped, shakily grabbing his phone from his pocket. "I'm sure you'll remember her quite well, sir."

Mr. Graves snatched Pete's phone out of his hand, scanning the picture that appeared. The sight brought anger coursing through his veins as he crushed Pete's phone, effectively breaking it as it dropped in the trash can below. Pete could hear it sparking which made him wince, crying internally.

"I think it's time we pay, Steinfeld, a little visit." He growled, slamming his fist in the desk, creating a dent in it as the guards scrambled to their feet, rushing out of his office. Mr. Graves stood there, breathing heavily as memories flashed through his head, his cold gaze glued to the photo pinned to the board a few feet ahead of him.

There stood a perfectly good picture of Hailee, her picture covered in needles, screws, knives, and any other sharp object Mr. Graves could get his hand on. Big red lettering surround her face.

'Kill Steinfeld'