Estranged • h.s.

02

October 15th, 2023.

I can feel the blood pumping through my veins the harder my heart beats. It's like a siren within me that only I can hear.

The men around me don't see it coming, they can't sense it.

I've practiced long and hard on how to sense it in others, that sudden impulse. The nervous system kicks into overdrive, fight or flight powering up like a high-powered machine. It's there if you know how to look for it. The skin flushes, the chest heaves, and the eyes dilate. Locked in for the run, or the kill.

My favorite part is the moment I realize they're leaning toward running. Once they realize I'm deadly, and why I'm coming for them. It puts a smile on my face, one that's wicked with revenge.

I listen to the harsh footsteps on the slightly wet pavement, feel the small and scattered droplets of water soak through my shirt, and watch the man in front of me turn a corner. I follow, but not too closely. My hands rest inside my pockets, the right one gripping the cold metal of my pistol. I observe the cars driving by at a glance, looking at each possible open space for any threats to my plan.

The man in front of me is alone, walking to his apartment just two blocks away from the grimy bar he just left. I've watched him for a few days, now, hoping he would lead me to some of his friends. He's let me down, just like the rest of them.

No one wants to give up Jackson. How all of his idiots are so loyal beats me. There's no way he's able to give them the lives they want. He has nothing.

Somehow, though, he always has something hanging over their heads. Something that scares them enough to die. Something that convinces them that my treatment is the better option. Works for me.

I watch him throw the door open to his apartment, and slow my steps enough to not stumble into the elevator with him. They always look at me, and start to see me, and I can't have that before I get him inside. Just before I enter the building, I look at the old beat-up Mustang parked on the street.

The window rolls down, and Niall looks at me to ensure I know everything is going to plan. He's ready, waiting for me. I spot Louis' figure in the backseat.

I jog up the small amount of steps into the building, my mind flashing between images of her face and this man's.

My heartbeat doesn't pick up, not even as I near the door of his quiet apartment. Third floor, unit C. I know exactly what it looks like inside already. I've been in once to survey each square inch. Where he keeps his guns and other weapons. The entire layout is the back of my hand thanks to the many photos I took and studied.

I listen closely to the sound inside, hoping he makes it easy for me and slips into the shower or bed.

Moments pass with silence the only thing I hear in response. Fuck it.

I quietly try the door handle, and it gives with a small click. The idiot doesn't lock his door. It wouldn't keep me out anyway, but he's still just as dumb.

I slip in seamlessly, my eyes looking around. Most lights are off, and I can hear him shuffling around down the hallway. I walk with as little weight as possible. I remember the one faint creak I got during my last walk, testing the floor in front of me softly before stepping over it.

As I approach the bedroom door, I stay close to the wall, somewhat hidden in the shadows. His back is to me while he types bullshit on his phone.

Instead of dragging this out any further, I decide to get on with it. I can feel the buzz beneath my skin, the mere chance of getting some new information sinking into every space of me. It's been too long. I'm failing her every day that no one tells me anything. I don't make a large scene, simply just cock my gun that's now pointed at him.