Hunted: Harry Styles Fan Fiction

Mason

Chapter 15

James and I spoke in hushed voices to each other.

The plan to retain the two targets had failed, and we were going to have to take the fall for it. We didn’t have another partner that we could blame and then murder to keep him quiet. It was our fault that those two brats had gotten away. I could only imagine Havener’s reaction. We had only had one objective, and that had been to keep the boy and the girl in the country.

How hard could that have been?

I went into the situation thinking that it would be an easy objective. Havener had talked them up to be difficult captures, but I’d thought he was kidding. They’re children, for God’s sake. I never for a second thought that they would be able to outrun me, but if everything was a game of how quickly you could think, that girl had it down pat. I could tell that she had been the brain behind their whole escape plan, and I should’ve kept a closer eye on her.

But I didn’t.

Now we were forced to leave the airport or face charges for loitering, and we had nothing to show for it. No hostages, no dead bodies, no destruction, nothing. All we had was a beat up van, which was now crumbling, and some bruises. Those stupid kids had done worse damage to us than we had managed to inflict on them. They should be dead already. I laughed coldly at the thought, and my partner just glared at me.

“What’s so funny, Mason?” James kept his dark eyes locked on me, and I glanced over at his spikey hair, unable to take him seriously. The barber had done a horrible job on his last cut. We stomped out through the large glass doors and headed back to the van. I looked down at my own wrist, checking to see if that wretched cuff was still there, and it was.

“Nothing, you idiot.” He didn’t seem to be bothered by my words, but as he noticed me gazing at my cuff, he did the same. Generally, I prided myself on being a despicable human being; it was what I did best. But Havener took it to a whole new level with these cuffs. He would take you from whatever life you had, even if it was already good, and lock you into a new one, adamant that he could pick you off at any time he pleased. I didn’t think he would do it, and I was certain that they were all just empty threats, but part of me wasn’t so sure, and that was the only reason that I ever stuck around.

I didn’t fear death, but I didn’t want to die and find out I was wrong.

As we got in the vehicle and put the key in the ignition, Havener’s voice came over the radio on the loud speaker. The shrill noise of power saws crafting more of the cuffs filled the car and I shoved my hands against my ears trying to block out the horrendous sound.

“Havener,” I nearly screeched into the microphone that was attached to the dashboard. The sound ceased and was replaced with heavy breaths, eager with anticipation to hear the outcome of the operation.

“Well?” Havener’s rough voice yelled into the speaker, but neither my partner nor I spoke a word for several moments, still a little afraid to find out what his reaction would be. I didn’t expect him to take it well.

“They escaped,” I said quietly, hoping that he wouldn’t hear me. I didn’t like the ridiculous spike of fear that rose in the pit of my stomach. It was weak. It made me weak. I refused to be weak. Havener was weak, and I was nothing like him. I was sure of it.

I wasn’t afraid of him.

Not now, not ever.

Sound exploded on the other end of the phone as what I’d said registered to him. He screamed and yelled, probably throwing another temper tantrum like a five year old. He was pathetic, and I couldn’t believe I was thinking this, but honestly I was certain that I could do a much better job than him. Havener was an insult to all criminals. He was weak and worthless, not even good enough for the clothes on his back. He was too stupid to take the credit for all of our hard work, and there was no reason that he should. He wasn’t qualified to be the leader of the World Revolution. I should be leading it because I was twice as worthy as him. I would do better than he ever could. Now the only question was, what was I going to do about it?

All I had to figure out was when, where, and how.

I heard metal smash onto other metal on the other end of the phone, and a loud scream pierced the air, causing me to cringe. I could only imagine what he must be doing to get a man to make that sort of noise, and I had a very vivid imagination. It was sick; all the possible fates that I could foresee for whatever poor soul had the pleasure of gracing Havener’s presence.

“No,” I heard someone’s deep, throaty voice yell. “No!” Another scream followed quickly behind the first, and I could feel my skin crawling. No, if I ran the system, I would torture them and let those idiots die slowly of thirst or hunger, not quickly. I could hear what sounded like sharp breaths coming slower and more shallowly now, each one sounding more struggled. I knew that Havener had released the nanites from his cuff, and whoever that innocent bystander was, was dying.

I felt sadness wash over me as I heard their final breaths come and go through their body. I never liked witnessing the last moments of someone’s life. I felt sadness, but I didn’t cry for their innocent death. Crying is for women. I don’t need tears to feel sorrow, and if I’d ever felt it, it was deeper than the deepest ocean, threatening to swallow me whole as I sat in the passenger seat of the car, just waiting for this person’s suffering to be over.

Suffering undeserved is suffering indeed.

I realized that Havener kills because it’s fun. It’s sick, but it makes him very powerful over the people who fear death. Just wait until I get you, Havener, I thought. You’ll never see it coming. I remembered a phrase from my childhood that had shaped me into the motivated individual that I had become, and I listened as the old words echoed through my head.

Just when you think you have the most control is when you have the least of all.