La Reine; larry stylinson (bottom!louis top!harry)

2. "God is forgiving."

"Are you both okay?" Harry asks immediately after the call is answered.

"Harry, you call every day." His older sister's voice sounded exhausted. "Mum is at work and I just got back—we are fine."

It was like this every day. Sometime after lunch, Harry would leave the bustling office and go into the secluded hallway, he would call his mother or his sister. They call him paranoid and he calls himself good-natured.

"Okay, okay." Harry hesitates. "I'll let you rest. Love you." He pushes off the wall and straightens his button up.

"Love you too, H."

Harry's breathing is calm as on his way back to his desk. He passes by the washroom just as Liam comes out. The latter smiles kindly and greets, "oh, hey, Harry. Good that you're here, I have to show you something." He waves. "Follow me." Then, Liam is walking off.

Harry follows, his dress shoes clicking on the linoleum floor and stuffs his hands into his pockets. They reach Liam's desk and the latter sits down before shuffling through papers. "You remember that body we found last week, the one on the side of the road?"

Harry makes a face and fixes his tie. "Can't get it out of my head." He felt uneasy remembering the brutally beaten body.

"Well," Liam starts, pulling a single paper from the pile on his desk and reads over it. "The autopsy report came back." He hands Harry the paper.

"Gregory Martin." Harry reads aloud.

Liam clears his throat. "Word on the street is that he was a local dealer." He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. "Only logical explanation is that he pissed off La Reine."

Harry reads over the file but looks down at Liam with furrowed brows. "It says he was stabbed, but they don't know what it was?"

"All they know is that it was sharp enough to puncture through one of his lungs." Liam shudders. "They told me it couldn't have been a knife because it would've left a wound like a line, couldn't have been a needle because it was too thick."

Harry nods once, "what about surgical tools?"

"Maybe." The brown-eyed man hums, "But it's already a miracle they were able to identify his cause of death considering how beat up he was."

"That's the only pattern of the victims." Harry sits on a clear spot on Liam's desk. "They were all murdered in different ways, but they're always hard to recognize when they're discovered. I mean," he pauses, "what's the point of disfiguring their bodies if they're already dead and can't feel anything?"

"Exactly what you said, so we can't recognize them."

"But we can. Technology has come this far and if La Reine is so intelligent, don't you think he would put more effort into making the bodies completely unidentifiable?" Harry crosses his arms after setting down the paper. "You know, like take out the teeth, burn the body until it's nothing."

Liam is quiet for a few moments, before sitting up, "unless he wants us to know."

"He wouldn't want that. He's clever, not childish." Harry rubs a hand over his face. Every case involving the mysterious mafia was taking a toll on him. "Maybe it was rage, anger. That just means that Mr. Martin did something careless enough."

"Or, La Reine has anger issues," Liam mutters.

Harry gives him a thoughtful look. "Or, he wants to be caught.. more specifically, chased."

"You think so?" Liam inquires. "Someone with that much blood on their hands shouldn't want to be only one step ahead of cops. Rather, a whole country away instead."

Louis picks up a small vase, smelling the red roses. "You have a beautiful house, Ms. Marlyn. This is what you spent your loan on, isn't it?" Louis tilts his head. "Taking a loan from a mafia. I thought you were smarter than that but I suspect you ran out of your late husband's money." He sets down the vase. "Shame you won't have the privilege of living in this mansion another day." He opens a small box on the coffee table, taking out a small butterscotch truffle and popping it into his mouth.

"I'll kill you!"

Louis rolls his eyes. Her threat meant nothing. "No one would ever dare." He sends a signal to one of his men holding the rope from the second floor of the mansion, and the rope around Ms. Marlyn's neck begins to lift her body.

"Then God will!" The woman shouts so loud that her voice cracks and whimpers against the rough texture of the noose. "God will cast you down to hell."

Louis raises an eyebrow, he's never gotten that before. "I am the most religious person in this room, Ms. Marlyn."

The woman flips her brown knotted hair from her eyes and struggles against the handcuffs behind her back. "Then, why do you kill?" Her brown eyes glare coldly at Louis' heeled feet. "If you're so religious, why do you take life that isn't yours to take?"

Louis smirks as Marlyn yanks and tugs on the cuffs, her breaths coming out hard and erratic. "God is forgiving."

"Your precious mafia won't survive when you're gone." Marlyn spits. "You're only one man."

Louis snaps his fingers, "I have my family, Ms. Marlyn." He leans down, their faces inches apart, "they will die for me, and I for them." Louis steps back and begins walking away, his heels clicking on the hardwood flooring.

"Ironic you say that considering what you did to get where you are," she pauses, "or more importantly, who you killed to get where you are." Her gaze is unsettling as the last string of her sanity snaps. "That teardrop is for him, isn't it?"

The Donna's head shoots in her direction and the rope loosens, Ms. Marlyn's body dropping to the floor pathetically. Through his surprise, he regains composure. "What did you say?"

Marlyn doesn't speak a word, she only smiles and laughs maniacally.

With clenched teeth, Louis calls out, "Zayn lève la."

"Zayn, bring her up."

The mafia Donna watches as the rope becomes taut. Marlyn chokes out in pain when she feels her feet rise from the ground. Satisfaction burns in the pit of Louis' stomach as he listens to her suffering—after all, she was the one who took a loan from the wrong people.

"I heard her." Is the first thing Zayn says as he opens the door for Louis and follows after. They walk down the cracked concrete path to the sleek black car parked along the road.

"I thought I destroyed all that evidence." Louis insists.

Zayn shrugs, unlocking the car and swinging the passenger door open. "Maybe you did. But you can't erase people's memories."

Louis takes one longing look at the modern mansion before going into the car. Not a moment later, Zayn is inside as well and silence takes over the interior of the car. Louis reveals a small glimmer of his humanity to Zayn, "it was more than two years ago." Louis breathes out, his voice wavering. "And people are still living in the past." A hard expression takes over his delicate features. "I don't want to ever hear that again."

Zayn looks over at the Donna sympathetically. "And you've come incredibly far—further than what your father expected." He tries to get Louis to look at him, but the boy's eyes are glued on the grey and white house. "Your dad would've been proud of you. Mum too."

Louis keeps his gaze locked on the window.