Collateral Blood

21

The room had quieted down as Zayn busied himself with the call to Lucas' men, and Tom was hunched over the map, finalizing the last details of the ambush. It was just Harry and Sloan now, standing a few feet apart in the open space of the warehouse. The weight of the plan, the tension in the air, all of it seemed to fade into the background as their gazes locked.

Harry towered over her, a cigarette dangling from his lips, smoke curling lazily around his face. His green eyes were hard, calculating, but behind them was something else—a flicker of something darker. He took a long drag and exhaled, his gaze never leaving her.

Sloan shifted uncomfortably under his stare, the silence between them growing heavier with each passing second. She had spent the last several hours trying to wrap her head around everything—her father's lies, her sudden alliance with her captor, and the role she was now playing in a dangerous game she didn't fully understand. But right now, with Harry looking at her like that, all of those thoughts seemed to scatter, replaced by a single, burning question: What did he want from her?

Harry dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his boot, taking a slow step forward. The movement was deliberate, meant to unsettle her. He could see the confusion in her eyes, the mix of fear and defiance that had become all too familiar since they'd taken her.

He wanted to push her, to see what would happen if he broke through that careful composure she was trying so hard to maintain. She had been too calm lately, too collected for someone in her situation. He needed to see the fire, the anger that he knew was lurking just beneath the surface. He needed her to break.

"You really think you're ready for this?" he asked, his voice low, almost taunting. "You think you're capable of helping us take down your father's gang? Do you even know what you're getting into?"

Sloan's jaw tightened, but she didn't respond. She just kept staring up at him, refusing to let him see that he was getting to her. But Harry wasn't done.

"You're just a little rich girl who's been living in a bubble her whole life," he continued, his tone dripping with disdain. "Do you really think you have what it takes to survive this? To survive me?"

Sloan's heart pounded in her chest, her fists clenching at her sides. She could feel the anger rising, could feel the way he was trying to manipulate her, but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing it was working.

Harry smirked, taking another step closer until he was standing directly in front of her, towering over her smaller frame. "What's the matter, princess? No snappy comeback this time?"

That did it. The dam burst, and before she could stop herself, Sloan snapped. "You arrogant bastard!" she shouted, shoving him hard in the chest. "You think you can just kidnap me, drag me into your mess, and then mock me like this? You have no idea who I am or what I'm capable of!"

But Harry didn't budge. He barely even moved under the force of her shove, his smirk only growing wider. This was exactly what he wanted—her fury, her fire. He wanted to see her lose control.

"Finally," he muttered, his voice laced with dark amusement.

Sloan's breathing was ragged, her chest heaving with the effort of holding back the rest of the words that threatened to spill out. She wanted to scream at him, to hit him, to make him feel even a fraction of the chaos that was swirling inside her. But before she could do anything more, Harry's hand shot out, gripping her chin with a firm, unyielding hold.

Her breath caught in her throat as he forced her to look up at him, his fingers digging into her skin just enough to make her feel trapped, powerless. His face was so close to hers now, their noses almost touching, his breath warm against her lips. She could see every detail of his face—the sharp line of his jaw, the green in his eyes, the tattoos peeking out from the collar of his shirt.

"Look at me," he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "You think you're angry now? This is nothing. You're in my world now, Sloan. And if you want to survive, you better learn to toughen up. Because this is just the beginning."

His words cut through her like a knife, but she couldn't look away. She was trapped in his gaze, the intensity of the moment stealing the air from her lungs. For a brief, terrifying second, she wondered if he was right. If she was in over her head. But then, just as quickly, that fear turned into something else—something darker. Something she couldn't quite name.

Harry held her there for a moment longer, their faces so close it was almost unbearable. Then, without warning, he dropped his grip on her chin and stepped back, turning away as if nothing had happened.

Sloan was left standing there, her heart racing, her body trembling with a mix of anger, fear, and something else she didn't want to acknowledge. She watched as Harry walked away, his shoulders tense, his movements stiff. He didn't look back at her, didn't acknowledge what had just passed between them.

But Sloan couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed. Something fundamental. And as she stood there, trying to catch her breath, she couldn't help but wonder what the hell she was getting herself into—and whether she was truly ready for what came next.