FOURTEEN
Harry
I’ve suffered a lot of shit throughout the years that’s taken my anger to boiling point, but nothing has quite elated my fury like this moment, right now.
My hands are shaking with adrenaline, fists tightening as I attempt to conceal the outburst before it breaks out of me. I’ve trained for these sorts of situations a thousand times. I have to maintain my composure even when I’m pushed to the brink of self-destruction. Tell me why one single confrontation ruined everything, causing my molars to grind, preparing me to lash out at the next person who tries even speaking to me.
I warned Gigi to stay away in every way I knew how. But now he knows of her it’s a losing game. Now he’s got his venomous eyes on her, she’ll be roped into this dark, twisted world, whether she likes it or not.
There’s nothing I can do. No one fucks with him and lives to see another day.
She watched the whole conversation take shape from behind the brick wall. I knew to scope my surroundings before spilling my tongue, yet he and his big mouth couldn’t help himself. I bet he knew she was watching, secretly spinning theories that’ll only intrigue her, make her want to find out more.
It isn’t until she finally disappears and I know for certain she’s out of the area that I lash out.
“FUCK!”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I see red.
I picture him . I picture the guy I murdered in cold blood and dumped into the River Thames. I picture Greg – my own flesh and blood. I think of her .
Her.
Her.
Her.
My fist meets the wall. The skin on my hand splits, weathering into a mess of flesh as blood splatters over the brick until the colour stains the hard surface and becomes impossible to differentiate.
Someone tugs harshly at my shoulders, trying to pull me from the darkness, but my tunnel vision is too strong. The edges of my vision blur, but the wall is in perfect clarity.
“Harry.” A voice breaks through the dark cloud. “Fucking hell, man. Stop!”
I swing my arm round, but Andy catches my forearm and hurries out, “Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.”
My heart rate amps, the realisation dawning on me that I almost pummelled my best friend. Thank God he’s my friend and he didn’t try to attack me in the way he’s capable of. The way we’re both capable of.
He drops my arm, grips my shoulders, and forces me to focus. I pull myself free, forcing a step back.
“Don’t touch me,” I warn. “You really don’t want to be around me right now.”
I’ve never let my anger get the better of me. Not ever.
His face drops to my fists, hearing the echo of blood splattering on the pavement. “We’ll take you to medical.”
“And tell them what?” I scoff. “That I punched a wall because I’m a fucking twat?”
He pauses for a beat, realisation creeping in. “Where are the girls?”
“They just left.”
He frowns, the prominent line sticking to the skin between his brows, as his mind wanders with the possibilities of why I lost my cool. He’s been with me at my lowest, through the thick of it all, and not once have I acted like this.
It wouldn’t take much thought for him to know the one line that was crossed. My only trigger that could cause such a reaction.
His expression turns cold. “He knows.”