Interlude [h.s]

sixteen

Alouette looks away from Harry, her heart beating so fast in her chest that she fears it will break out of it.

The city is bright and loud, rushing past the window too quickly for her to focus on any of the buildings, and it does little to ease her stress. She can sense Harry's presence next to her and his woody but fresh smell impregnates the air in the vehicle, and she can't think of anything else.

She wants to hit herself for deciding to go out even though Harry told her not to, the stupidity of her actions shocking her now that she thinks of it. At the same time, though, she knows that he isn't truly mad at her because of that — the reason why he's so livid is that she caught him. She doesn't know what The Den is but, judging from his reaction, it's surely nothing good. He's terrified of the simple thought of her going around and telling people was she saw. Not that she has any intention of doing that, anyway.

Right when her thoughts are starting to soothe her, Harry finally speaks.

"Why don't you get me a coffee, Mathias?"

The guard reacts immediately.

"Of course, sir." He stops the car on the side of the road and gets out, leaving Alouette to wonder if Harry himself hasn't timed the request perfectly as well.

The vehicle gets locked again in the second he puts his foot on the pavement, and now Alouette and Harry are alone in the car.

The silence is heavy.

She dares to send a little look his way. He isn't looking at her, and from the impassive but burning of silent anger look on his face, she can tell he isn't planning on ever doing that.

"I'm so sorry," she whispers, as if she actually believes it could fix whatever broke between them.

His fingers are long as they fiddle with the lock button. Normally she'd read it as a sign of nervousness, but there's certainty in his little skilled movements, and she's the one that gets nervous.

"I'm going to be honest with you, I'm disappointed," he says. "Do you know what it means to disappoint me?"

"I don't." Her voice trembles.

He hums, like a cat contemplating whether to lie some more under the sun or to kill a bird on the balcony right next to it. "Pray you won't find out."

She is taken aback by the explicit threat, and gulps. That's a side of Harry she's never seen before, one she made herself believe didn't exist. She was wrong, and if she had to put it in his words, she'd say he'd been indeed kind to her.

Until then.

But this is who he truly is beyond all the teasing and the pining and the playing and the bickering. To see him switch like that is terrifying, and it is a grim foreboding of what will happen in the eventuality he finds out what game she's been playing.

No amount of seducing would save her from his wrath.

"Let me tell you something about this world. It doesn't matter how smart you are, how rich you are, how old you are. If you want to survive,  you have to make the right friends." His fingers still on the button. "Do you think making me your enemy is a smart choice?"

A chill runs down her spine. If this is how he's reacting to whatever happened that evening, she doesn't want to think— she just doesn't want to think. "It isn't."

She does have the right friends, but she's sure none of them would be able to save her from the man next to her if he ever finds out the kind of friends she favours.

"Then why, Lark, would you go against me?" His tone is condescending, and anger simmers through her veins.

Still, she clenches her teeth and forces herself not to say a word. She doesn't need to make the situation even worse.