For the First Time- A Harry Styles Fanfiction

Chapter 10 (Part 43)

(Tess' POV)

I waved at the man who had bought one of my pieces as he drove away, out of the alley. I watched as he turned the corner and was gone.

I smiled to myself, ecstatic about the events of the past 3 hours. It's was such a better outcome than I was expecting. I was beyond proud of myself.

I turned to walk back to the door of the gallery, and my heart leapt into my throat.

A man stood between me and the door. He was dressed darkly in jeans, a black flannel over a hood concealing his face. I couldn't tell where he was looking, but I could only assume it was at me. I took a small step back, swallowing the lump in my throat.

"Can I help you?" I said sternly, trying to mask my shakey hands.

He chuckled lowly. "Are you the artist?" American. My eyes teared up as he removed the hood and I immediately recognized him. The last time I'd seen him, he was sitting on the couch in San Francisco, drinking a beer and waiting for a strip show. "I'm a big, big fan."

Every step I took back, he took one forward. He was stalking me, like a lion to its prey. "You sure look different. You grew up a little. And is that a tattoo?" The casual tone of his voice made me sick. He acted like we both didn't know what he was here for.

"Look, just tell Jax to let it go. It's been two years. He doesn't need me."

"Of course he doesn't, sugar. You think that's what this is about? That he misses you?" He laughed. Of course he didn't miss me, I'm not an idiot. "You embarrassed him, sweetie. Brought police into his house, along with that little fairy of a popstar on your arm. Caused us a whole lot of trouble." He stopped and crossed his arms, "Now, you're gonna walk out of this alleyway with me, get into a car the next block over, and then we're gonna get on a plane tomorrow mornin'."

I spat at him. "Fuck you. I'm not going anywhere with you." I wasn't the same frail little girl he remembered.

He reached for the waist of his pants and pulled a shiny, black hand gun from it. I swallowed.

"I have orders to bring you back alive. I won't kill you, but I will shoot you."

"Then I guess you'll have to shoot me, because I'm not fucking leaving." I knew he wouldn't fire a single shot, Jax would be livid if they delivered damaged cargo, and it would also alert every policeman within a 2 mile radius.

He suddenly lundged forward and grabbed a fistfull of my hair. I cried out in pain, only to have the hand holding the gun clapped over my mouth. The metal hit my lips and clanked against my teeth. I felt my lip split, my lip gloss immediately seeping into the wound with a stinging sensation.

I abandoned the idea of yelling for help and instead sunk the heel of my stiletto into his sneakered foot. He grunted in pain, and spun around, still holding ne by the head. I took a new form of defense and sunk my teeth into the soft skin at the bas of his thumb. I bit until I felt my teeth break skin. He yelled and release his grip on my face, the gun clattered to the floor.

I lundged for it, but was stopped as he wound his bloody had into my hair and grabbed the material of my dress. If I couldn't take possession of the weapon, the next best thing was making sure he couldn't either. I desperately kicked at it. To my relief it skidded far down the path and landed somewhere around the entrance to the building, about 40 feet away.

He pulled me tightly against his body by my waist, pulling my hair so the back of my chest was uncomfortably contorted against his shoulder, "I will fucking kill you without an ounce of remorse, you little slut. And then I'll go in there and I'll kill every single one of your friends, starting with that popstar of yours." He pulled harder and I felt some strands of hair rip from my scalp. And then, as my last resort, I screamed.