¶𝗥𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝗕𝗼𝘁𝘁𝗼𝗺 [H.S]

3.11

unedited

𝙼𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚎

I nodded at him, unsure of what else I could've used as a response to his threat. Happy with my answer, Harry smiled at me before tucking his gun back in the hem of his pants. I gulped when he gripped my upper arm and dragged me to the passenger seat of the hearse. He could've asked, yet he preferred his violent ways.

He didn't drive in silence as I expected, instead, he complained about how he needed more guys to sell drugs for him, which meant he needed more money to pay them. I didn't answer to him, though. I just stared out of the window as he drove through the streets of Washington DC.

Harry was such an asshole. He didn't even wait for me to stop grieving before he used me for his dirty work. I didn't even know what I was supposed to do! When he stopped yapping to drink water, I used the moment to answer some of the questions twirling in my mind.

"You could've done this without me," I pointed out with folded arms and crossed legs.

It didn't make sense how he probably had done this before, yet, all of a sudden, he needed me for it. He could've picked up a different storyline and it would've worked out just fine.

"Yes," he answered, looking at the rearview mirror.

"Then why am I here?" I asked, staring at the buildings we passed until we were on the highway.

He smiled.

"Because you're Melanie fucking O'Coyle. No one would ask why you're dragging your deceased brother to North Carolina or open the casket to check if you're telling the truth," he explained, "You just make this process a whole lot quicker."

Yet, we still had a six-hour-or-so-long ride.

I pulled my phone out, checking my messages. I couldn't believe people were still sending prayers and love, even though the funeral was over.

"Why didn't you make someone else do this?" I asked, switching between apps, and secretly starting a voice recording.

Six hours with Harry who couldn't shut up? Sounds like a great way to get some evidence about his fucked up job.

"I don't trust them with this," he said nonchalantly.

If he wanted to use me, I was going to do the same thing to him. I already had a recording of his conversation with Mikey, though, it wouldn't hurt to get some backup. Plus, maybe this would have been more helpful if I got him to talk about his work with details and names.

"What about Zayn? He seems trustful," I muttered, shrugging at him.

Harry shook his head. "Nah, he doesn't do this kind of shit," he tsk-ed.

I looked up from my phone, placing it over my lap.

"Then what does he do?" I asked.

He looked at me, his eyes telling me he wasn't going to tell me. "Oh, c'mon!" I whined, throwing my head back, "You can't actually think I'd tell anyone."