Achilles Heel



“Run,” he breathes out, maintaining eye contact with me.

Don’t have to tell me twice.

I’m quick to turn on my heel, ascending the stairs maybe two or three steps at a time. I definitely should’ve put on some sort of footwear before I got the genius idea to come down here. I didn’t know we would be going downstairs into a bloody torture chamber though. Then again, where else would a secret hidden room lead to?

This is a gang after all. Or is it? It’s getting further and further away from a gang and more like the mafia, mob. Whatever the hell Harry is the leader of. At this point, those are minor details that don’t matter in the slightest. What matters now, is finding a damn hiding spot in Harry’s house. Is that even possible with the house being under what I now know is obvious constant surveillance?

The only option I see is to run into one of the bathrooms and possibly sneak out of the bathroom window. The only downside is that I’m barefoot and I don’t fancy running through the backyard where the sprinklers are no doubt on.

I sharply run around the counter that is in the weapons room, having half a mind to quickly type in the code so that the door shuts on Harry. I know it was probably a waste of time, but that’s time he has to put the code in, wait for the door to open back up and find me. In my humble opinion, it’s worth it.

I even enter the code into the pin pad in the closet, making sure the door shuts before I then shut the closet door. That’s three doors Harry has to open before he can continue on with his hunt to find me.

The only downside to this is I barely know my way around. Sure, I know the way to the bathroom, kitchen, living room and Harry’s bedroom but other than that I’m completely lost.

I wouldn’t be surprised if most rooms in Harry’s house are locked and off-limits. What would surprise me is if they aren’t locked and off-limits.

Once I’m out of Harry’s bedroom, I make sure I shut that door as well and take off running in the direction of the stairs.

I don’t even think twice before I’m lifting myself up so that my ass is sitting on the railing, sliding down until I’m at the bottom. Much quicker than running and it gives me a short break to catch my breath. Once my feet touch the tile of the entryway, I dart towards the kitchen, easily being able to stop myself as I glance around.

There aren’t many places to hide unless I fancy hiding in the walk-in freezer or pantry. Neither of those sound particularly pleasant so I cut around a corner which leads me into what I can tell is a den. There’s a brick fireplace, a massive tv above it and board games sitting on the entertainment centre that is in the middle of the room near the couch.

An untouched game of chess is sitting on top of the rather large entertainment centre. I shouldn’t be taking time out of running from possible and imminent death but I can’t help myself. What other time will I get to snoop around? Even if it is for a small period of time, just a quick look to remind myself of the layout.

There’s a set of dye laying on the table that I bend down to grab, a bit confused about what they’re doing there since they aren’t needed for chess. I nearly choke on my own spit upon realising what they are, spotting the words ‘touch’ on one of the dyes and the words ‘cock’ and ‘titties’ on the other. Leave it to Harry to have dirty dice.

I place them back down on the table, trying to make as little noise as possible as I make my way past the den and into a rather long hallway. Harry’s voice breaks through the heavy silence, the one that’s bringing on a reckoning inside my head. The two halves of my brain arguing with each other.

“Do you really think you can outrun me, darling?” Harry asks out into the silence in a condescending tone.

A zip of adrenaline runs down my spine when his voice hits my ears, spurring me to run on the heels of my feet to run a bit faster. Bless my days of running from the cops and the brief time I ran track in school.

I can hear Harry’s footsteps behind me, loud and clunky because of the thick padded boots he has on. He’s gaining on me quickly and it’s throwing me for a loop. I didn’t even hear him walk down the stairs, hell I didn’t even hear him walk into the den.

So where did he come from?


It’s loud, deafening even. I can hear the sound of my heartbeat in my ears, the sound of the fire as it crackles from the living room. An occasional breeze of wind as it blows through the trees because there’s an open window somewhere, but no footsteps. No harry.

Do I even dare stop running?

Do I even dare turn around?

A shaky breath falls from my lips as I come to a stop, finally letting myself succumb to the deafening silence that fills Harry’s house. If I were to drop a pin, I’m sure the sound would echo throughout the house.

The sound of a clock arm moving steadily by the second is what tears me from my own mind, the sound becoming heavier than the silence that covers the house. I finally gain enough courage to slowly turn on my heel, brow furrowing in confusion because there’s no one there.

No ugly black boots belonging to Harry. No redundant comment about how I probably won’t be able to outrun him. There’s just nothing, no one.

It’s as if he’s just vanished into thin air but I know that isn’t possible.

I also know I don’t just have time to stand around and try to figure this out, I’m not a part of Scooby and his little ghost gang.

I don’t let myself try to figure it out, instead, I turn back around and start running again, trying every single door I come across. Most of them are either guest rooms or bathrooms. I do run into a gym, which doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. The gym is massive and he even has a little spot for yoga, my hand is moving to cover my mouth to stop a snicker from coming out because that’s the last thing I expect out of him. Harry finding his zen? Yeah, okay. Maybe Louis.

Once I realise there are no little corners for me to hide, I shut the door and move on with trying the other rooms, finding a movie theatre with what looks to be the comfiest of couches ever and a room with musical instruments in it. There’s a gorgeous piano smack dab in the middle of the room, a bottle of aged bourbon sitting right on top of it. The further I walk in, the more I realise just how much dust is collecting on not just the bottle of aged bourbon, but the piano itself.

There’s even dust collecting on the seat, yet there’s an outline there as if someone was sitting in it recently.

What is it with rich people and owning pianos? Especially since most of them probably don’t even play. Why own an instrument as just a decorative piece? It’s never made sense to me.

I slowly drag my finger over the keys, turning my finger over to see the dark layer of dust that now coats it. It’s as if this room has been forgotten about, it was once locked up and they threw the key away. Either that or everyone just simply ignores it.

Do any of them actually pick the instruments up? There are a few guitars along with a drum set. Of all rooms for Harry to have in his house, this isn’t one that I thought he would have.

The door slams shut suddenly, leaving me standing in the middle of the room with no place to run. There’s no one there when I turn around, just a door that is now closed. Thankfully the room is lined with mirrors, which gives me the opportunity to see Harry step right out of one of the walls.

There are hidden passageways throughout the house. That’s how he has been able to catch up with me. I never had a fucking chance.

We make eye contact in one of the mirrors. I watch as he brings his hands up into a slow clap, dragging his tongue slowly over his teeth as he shakes his head from side to side. “You really thought you could outrun me. It’s laughable really,” he chastises, hand coming to grab onto the bottle of bourbon that lay barren on the dusty piano top.

“Ah. I have been wondering where this grew legs and walked off to. I suppose I just left it in here one day,” He chuckles, still not addressing the elephant in the room.

The elephant being me and what I had just witnessed.

My eyes never leave Harry’s figure. I watch every little move that he makes, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as he slowly makes his way around the piano to stand directly behind me. We aren’t touching, at least not yet but I can feel his breath hit my neck as he leans down. His head slowly lifts to meet my gaze in the mirror, the sides of his lips twitching before they turn up.

“Oh, my little minx,” He tsks, creating a sucking noise by dragging his tongue over his teeth and sucking in.


Little Devil.

My little minx.


He’s been referring to me as his a lot lately and the first few times I just let it slide, but now I can’t. It’s making my stomach do things I haven’t felt in years at least. It’s a feeling that I can easily find myself getting lost in, losing all sense of time and morals. A feeling of happiness. Warmth.

Harry moves to place both hands on my waist, letting his fingers dig into the sides. He isn’t being gentle, no. He aims to leave bruises there, little indentions to remind me tomorrow that I’m walking on a tightrope.

Said tightrope seems to be thinning by the second as I remove my eyes from his down to his hands, watching as they slowly make their way up my body, lifting up the shirt to reveal his boxers that I have on.

“Mmm...” He breathes out into my ear, his hot breath causing goosebumps to rise on my skin and the hairs to stand on end. That’s when I notice the revolver in his hand, eyes hot on his hand as he slowly trails it over my body. It’s the same one he had on hand in Monte Carlo.

The one with his initials etched into the bullets.

“Curiosity must’ve gotten to the cat,” He mentions, letting the barrel of the gun then move down to roam over my clit in the boxers. “Curiosity is soon going to...kill the cat,” He grins at me in the mirror as I look up, realising that his voice holds little to no emotion whatsoever.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, tearing my gaze from him as I look around for a way to escape. I could make a break for the hidden passageways, however, with my very minimal knowledge of the layout of Harry’s place I just know I’ll go in a circle. Isn’t exactly the greatest way to escape. The only other way is to make my way out through the door, which is a bit far for my liking.

Eventually, I get bored of Harry’s baseless claims, moving just a bit before I force my elbow back right in between his ribs, feeling him double over behind me.

“What was that about curiosity killing the cat, darling?” I bite out, taking the revolver from his hand while I momentarily have him powerless. I turn to walk out, but to my demise, I don’t get far.

There’s a hand wrapping around my neck from behind, adding pressure right to my arteries to cut off the blood flow to my brain, sending that euphoric feeling to my head. “Fuck,” I grit out, keeping my grip on the gun so that I don’t lose it. I’m being spun around seconds later, his hand is leaving my neck and being pressed into my chest as he shoves me roughly right up against the floor to ceiling mirrors.

The glass shatters around us, falling around my bare feet. The broken pieces from the mirror form our reflections. One wrong move and there’s no doubt I’ll have a piece of broken glass stuck in my foot.

“Do you not know how to watch your fucking mouth?” He spits, my eyes moving to shut whenever I feel his saliva hit my face. It trickles down my cheek, falling right onto his wrist as his hand comes up to make its home around my throat once again.

“Oh, I do. You were the one being a smartass,” I huff, bringing my hand up to wipe at my cheek as I narrow my eyes at him. Between the turnaround and the slam into the mirror, he has somehow managed to take the revolver from my hand. It’s now resting against my cheek, making its way down my jawline to my neck.

Harry just keeps clicking his tongue up against the roof of his mouth, his eyes following the gun as it continues its way down south. He purposefully presses the barrel of the gun against my wounded shoulder, making my shoulders roll back into the broken glass as I hiss.

My back arches as the pain radiates down my shoulder, spine and then makes my toes curl against the wood floor. My lips fall open, unable to stop the whimper that falls from them as I let my head hit what is now a wall behind me.

“Awe, does my little minx like that?” He questions, pulling the gun back to let it travel down the oversized lilac jumper, making sure that he adds pressure so that I’m able to feel the gun as it makes its way down.

He tightens his hand around my neck, lifting me up off the ground a bit as he does so. I have half of a mind to reach over, wrapping my hand around a piece of broken glass that is sticking out. I cut my hand in the process, the blood turning the once clean glass the prettiest shade of red right as I yank it off of the other broken pieces.

I ignore the pain that is now shooting through my hand, at least it’s distracting me from the pain in my shoulder.

Once I have the piece of glass, I bring it up to rest against Harry’s neck, watching as my blood stains his neck. That’s when I realise that his hands still have Rodney’s blood on them, or at least they’re stained with his blood.

Harry just tilts his head to the side, releasing a bit of pressure on my neck so that I’m able to take a deep inhale, letting the oxygen fill my lungs up before slowly deflating. I barely had any oxygen to begin with from all of the running that I did.

At first, Harry cut off my blood flow, then it turned to him cutting off my oxygen, something that made my toes continuously scrape against the wooden floors. I’m just happy to breathe again, digging the glass into his neck so that it nicks the skin and I can see his blood mix in with mine.

“What?” I breathe, swallowing thickly and I know he can feel my throat move as I swallow. His eyes are locked on his hand but they eventually move up to look at me. “All bark and no bite, just as I thought,”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say though because he’s leaning forward suddenly, pressing into the glass without a second thought and he doesn’t even seem phased. Blood is spilling over the piece of jagged, broken glass and onto my hand.

“Do you like seeing me bleed, does that turn you on?” He questions, moving his head to the side just a smidge so that the glass moves over to make the nick turn into an actual cut. One that will most definitely need stitches if he doesn’t want it to create an obvious scar.

“I think it does.”

As he speaks, his hand releases my neck and instead comes down to run over the front of the boxers that I’m wearing. His fingers move under the lilac jumper, letting the tips of his fingers dip into the band of the boxers as his eyes wander over my face.

“Cmon, darling. Push it deeper, fucking love it when you hurt me,” He breathes out, his breath shaking as he speaks. Harry moves to take a step forward, his leg coming to push both of mine apart as he presses against me. I can feel just how hard he is, practically straining against the black jeans he’s currently wearing.

I don’t even hesitate before I dig the piece of broken glass in deeper, mesmerised by not only the look that crosses Harry’s features but the way the blood flows over my hand and combines with my own blood.

A guttural moan falls from Harry’s lips, his head rolling back which makes my hand fall from his neck. He’s practically riding my thigh at this point but I have no complaints, he just looks so fucking pretty like this.

So desperate for me.

“Just like that, baby. Hurts so fucking good,” he groans, tongue coming out to lick over his lips as he brings his head back down to make eye contact with me. His hand finally dips into the boxers, coming up to cup my pussy.

I watch as a shaky breath falls from his lips, the hand that is near my shoulder with the revolver slides down the wall. He ceases all movement in favour of running his fingers through my folds, making sure to get his fingers good and wet before he’s pulling them out.

“Think you can beat me to my bedroom?” He questions, tapping the revolver against my temple.

His question goes in one ear and out the other, far too distracted by the way his lips look as they wrap around his fingers to clean my arousal off of them.

His lips are moving afterwards but honestly, nothing is making it through my skull at this point.

“If you can beat me to my room, pretty girl...” He drowns off, finally detaching himself from me. His hand comes up to touch his neck, withdrawing it a few moments later to see the blood that rests there. His lips twitch up into a sadistic smile. “If you can beat me to my room, maybe, just maybe I’ll let you cum.” He finally finishes his sentence.

My jaw drops open in response, having not seen much of this side of Harry before.

“Because from where I’m standing, I don’t think you deserve to cum. Good luck,” He winks, disappearing right into the walls once more--which in a way I think is cheating.

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