Cleo Horan
I had no idea what was going on and I had never been so frustrated in my life because I couldn't speak.
Even when I tried to whisper it hurt way too much and this was very annoying. Especially right now that Harry was gaping at a very agitated Zayn.
This had something to do with the call that interrupted our conversation with Amber, and I had never seen someone move so fast like Zayn did, grabbing his phone and tapping frantically on his screen so he could decline the call, which he ended up answering.
I heard a woman's voice, but I couldn't really tell who it was. He hung up before he could even answer properly, just holding his phone as he kept staring at Harry.
Zayn had also ended our call with Amber amidst so much nervousness, and I was very fucking confused. He looked like he'd seen a ghost and so did Harry, and the atmosphere in the kitchen just changed so abruptly that I couldn't keep up.
I was already in a bad mood because Harry was being an annoying little shit and teasing me more than he should, and the fact I literally couldn't express myself like I wanted to almost made me regret last night.
Almost.
But now my anger had been replaced by confusion, and I really just wanted to keep talking to Amber so I could understand why the fuck the FBI wasn't giving a shit about the fact Liam killed my brother.
Another reason I had to blame myself for this, the attention was focused on me and Harry, and no one cared about Niall.
He didn't deserve this.
I was going to avenge his death, that wasn't even something I had to think twice about. The numbness inside me was almost as strong as the pain, and I honestly didn't know how to handle this.
"Zayn... who the fuck called you?" Harry finally spoke up and his voice cracked at the end, catching my attention.
His eyes were already watering and I had no idea what was happening, I was quickly on my feet and walking closer to the spot he and Zayn were standing, only a few steps away from the large kitchen island.
None of them looked at me, though. They kept staring at each other and I felt very left out because I had no idea why Zayn was acting like this, and also why Harry seemed so fucking hurt and devastated.
I hated seeing him cry.
My stomach clenched and every instinct was telling me to take care of him, he had the same look on his face as when I found him sobbing in the corner
of that dark room back in the masquerade. I only had terrible memories of that night and making this comparison wasn't helping me feel any calmer.
"No one, just a woman from New York who's helping-"
Before Zayn could get to finish his sentence, Harry was already grabbing him by his shirt and pushing him against the wall, his rough and quick movements were unexpected and Zayn had no chance of defending himself.
Harry had improved his fighting a lot with my help, and he even caught me off guard with his aggressiveness.
But it didn't seem like Zayn even tried to stop him... they both looked so heartbroken.
"I fucking know you, Z! And you're a shit liar." Harry raised his voice, and he was crying much more now as I approached, not daring to interfere just yet. "Were you seriously about to do this to me? Fucking tell me who it was! I need to hear you say it. This can't be real."
Zayn shook his head, and I could tell he was feeling conflicted about something. But Harry moved too fast, clenching his fist and punching Zayn's face all of a sudden, making blood splatter all over the white marble floor.
