Error. [H.S.]

20.

Harry.

"I'm not going on until you fuckin' find her."

Scotty was late to the venue by two fucking hours. I haven't seen her since our rendezvous back at the hotel earlier this morning. Figured the guilt of almost getting railed in her dad's hotel room would get to her, but I didn't think she'd fucking disappear on me.

Ten missed calls and fourteen texts later, and still no response.

"Did you know we'll actually be losing money if we go past our scheduled time? This venue isn't cheap." Joel gave no fucks about Scotty, her absence meant nothing to him, even if she was supposed to help him tonight. He was way too fixated on getting my ass on the stage to care. "I've added three more songs to the pre-show playlist. If you don't go on by then, I'll have a mess to clean up. I can only take so many headaches this tour, Styles. Don't start with me now."

His persuasion was a waste of breath. I shrugged from my seat on the couch, staring down at my phone. My wallpaper was still her bruised neck. Back when I took that picture, I thought this would be a hell of a lot easier. She was so quick to wear my hand like a necklace around her throat on the verge of giving her all to me. I didn't expect her to be so damn stubborn.

I thought she'd be another airhead blonde, not some ballsy tease with a backbone and a loud mouth. Turns out she's a genuine person too, so that ought to teach me to judge a bitch by her cover.

"Find her." I repeat, composing another text to Scotty.

"Why does it matter if she's here or not?" Joel asked me, irritated by my ignorance. "You can show off to her any other night. Get your ass up and on stage. You don't need anymore negative press right now."

It matters because I'm supposed to be protecting her. She just doesn't know it. Hell, nobody can.

I made a deal with the devil and traded a life for a life by signing up for this fucking tour. It's selfish as fuck, but I thought it would be hell of a lot easier. My freedom would be back in my hands and I'd tap out of the game as a winner. Should've guessed rescuing the princess  wouldn't be as easy as it was in video games.

Does it even count as rescuing when I'm sacrificing her in the end? This game is over my head.

"If her guts are smeared on the ground somewhere, you know damn well her dad will sue us." I don't know how that would hold up in court since he's the one heading security, but it seems like a fitting threat to terrorize Joel with. "That's bad press."

"She's not the target, you are." He reminded me, tapping at the rolex on his wrist. "And you're going to be my target if you don't get to the stage in the next sixty seconds." Loud claps snapped my eyes up at him as I sent my final text for a while.

My eyes narrowed, my lips down turned into a frown. If looks could kill, his blood would've repainted this dressing room by now. I had to put on a good fucking face and an even better face while Scotty's gallivanting with god knows who at god knows where.

"Clap again. I fucking dare you." I warn, throwing my phone onto the coffee table. I'm not going to waste anymore time trying to contact someone who doesn't want to be reached. If Scotty knows what's good for her, she'll be here after the show. If not, then I'll take it as a sign to go about this game without any remorse.

I couldn't be blamed for the consequences of her own actions. Scotty has a mind of her own, if she wants to go against the contract I had drawn up for her protection, so be it. It's not like I have insight on when he's likely to target her, or when he's going to be lurking in the background and set up a restrictive job description so she could be out of sight, out of mind during those times.