Devil's Desire [h.s.]

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

HARRY'S P.O.V.

It'd been a while since I'd gotten like this. The all-consuming, unshakeable rage that narrowed my life to a single, tunnelled path. As I half-jogged toward the house, my breathing was ragged and uneven, hands clenching and unclenching at my sides. Riv's mom was out for the night and Morgan had gone back to Spain for a few days to check on the state of everything there, but I knew who was here.

As I slammed open the front door, my sights fell to Zayn who was sitting at the table in the kitchen, bent over some files on the table. He straightened at the noise and turned to look at me, on his feet in a moment when he caught my expression—having done so with the practiced ease of a man who'd been privy to it enough times to know what was happening.

"Harry," he warned in a low voice.

"Fuck you," I snarled and grabbed hold of the kitchen chair he'd just been sitting on, tossing it across the room and letting it clatter against the cupboards. "What the fuck is your problem?" With a few measured steps, I advanced him, nostrils flaring.

"What happened?" he asked, still calm despite the unbridled rage I currently trembled with a few feet away from him. "What did River tell you?"

"What did River tell me?" I half-shouted, glancing only once behind me out the window to see that she was still on the grass down by the lake, legs now tucked against her chest. "What the fuck did you tell her?" My attention was back on Zayn. "Why are you telling her shit about Damien? About the warehouses? About stuff I said I said we were not going after anymore—"

"We never agreed on that," Zayn muttered through gritted teeth, some of his own anger now evident in his tone. "That was a decision you made all on your own."

I was seeing red. Could quite literally feel my body twitching with adrenaline, the need to pummel something. "Because it isn't possible. It was never possible. We don't have the means to finish it all."

"We can't stop trying," he responded, not so much as flinching at the volume of my words. Much like I was sure I did, he looked exhausted. His eyes were red-rimmed and glassy. If I hardly slept, he was even worse. Always up at the crack of dawn, combing through old files we'd gathered about Damien, about his different cartels, about the fights. Nearly working himself to the bone for answers that I had tried to convince him didn't exist.

"We can," I growled. "And we will."

Zayn flinched, angling his head to the side almost imperceptibly. He set his jaw. "You can't tell me to do that." His voice was thick, gravelly. When his eyes flicked back up to meet mine, they were also flashing with red-hot anger. "Do what you want," he ground out, "but don't fucking tell me what to do."

Suddenly, I was right in front of him. My hands shoved his shoulders—hard enough that he stumbled. "You need to leave it the fuck alone," I all but shouted, inches from his face. "It's a pipe dream. Inconceivable. Zayn, it will kill you. Do you think Morgan wants that? Do you think River wants that—that I want that?"

"I'm doing this for Morgan," Zayn responded through clenched teeth and shoved me back. It was easy to forget how strong he was until the force of him was coming at me like a wildfire. "Don't you fucking talk about her. You think I wanna live like this? Wrapped up in this fuckin' shit forever? I want her safe. And free. And happy." His chest was heaving erratically. "She's not happy. Hasn't been for a long time. And you know what? River won't be either. This life? Keeping yourself trapped here and on the run—? It will destroy her—"

My fist landed on his cheek within a breath. His head snapped to the side, and he whirled back to look at me. "Fuck you," I hissed, hands clenched back at my sides. Zayn looked livid. "You don't know shit. If you want to do this, to get yourself killed? Be my guest. But do not involve her in this. Don't talk about her like you know what she's thinking. You don't know what's best for her." I took an uneven step backwards, shaking so badly that my teeth chattered. "That girl out there?" I pointed out the window. "Is the love of my life. Something I don't even get to fucking tell her because of her goddamn brain bleed. Because she's forgetting more shit as the days go on. So don't you dare pump her head full of stuff that's only going to inevitably stress her out when I'm not even allowed to tell her that I love her." The last of my words were wrapped in a snarl.