subject 13 // h.s. au

chapter twenty-six.

"I don't like this," Harry warned from the corner of the room.

My eyes scanned over the weapons, clothes, and food that were sprawled out on the bed, searching for anything that was missing.

I ignored Harry.

We had been planning for days and had collectively decided that I would be the one to go after Asher. 12 was injured, and Asher knew what the other boys looked like.

He didn't know me, and that gave us an advantage.

"You've been avoiding me for days," he chimed in again from the corner, his voice loaded with irritation.

Harry had been very  vocal about his distaste for the plan, but it wasn't up to him. It was my decision.

I needed to focus, and his distracting comments were not helpful.

"So, what," he huffed, "you're just going to leave without saying anything to me?"

"Harry, stop," I sighed, still trying to run through my mental checklist of what I would need to get back to Montana.

I heard heavy footsteps behind me, his breath suddenly rolling across the back of my neck.

I shivered slightly, turning around to face him with my hands dropping to my sides in frustration, "I have to focus, can you please stop," I pleaded.

I tried to look away from the familiar green eyes, but the intensity of his gaze was locking me in.

His tone switched abruptly, the irritation replaced with a more serious inclination.

"What if you don't come back?" he murmured, reaching out to cup my jaw, running his thumb over my cheek.

My body reacted instinctively at his touch, my face leaning into his hand, and I tried to push down the rapidly intensifying uncertainty that had appeared at the sound of nervousness in his voice.

But, I knew that in order for all of us to be safe, Asher had to be out the picture.

"Then I don't come back," I replied nonchalantly, ignoring the heat rising to my face as his thumb continued to sweep across my cheek. I turned back to the bed abruptly, his hand dropping from my face.

His fingers wrapped around my arm tightly and he whipped me back around. His eyes swam with layered emotion as his curls fell to cover them partially.

His grip on my arm was firm and I knew I wouldn't be able to turn around without having to pry his fingers off one by one.

"You can't just say that," he seethed lowly and the knot of guilt in my chest swelled.

I cleared my throat, ripping my gaze away from the stern look in his eyes.

"I know," I sighed, my voice soft, "but, it's a possibility."

"No."

"Harry, you can't just tell me to not get killed," I replied, a smile twitching at my lips at his demanding tone.

"This isn't funny," he stated harshly, his curls brushing against the top of my head as he leaned forward.

"I know," I agreed, my smile dropping. I wished I could make him understand why I needed to do this, but I knew there was nothing I could say.

The trademark vanilla wafted through the air, and I looked away from his bottom lip that was caught between his teeth.

We hadn't kissed, barely even touching since Quinn died, and I found myself blindly inching closer to him.