Chapter 172: Say It Out Loud
Harry shoved the Glock into the bag, the zipper catching for a second before he forced it shut.
Not his.
Didn’t matter.
His fingers checked the weight anyway, pressing through the fabric like that alone could tell him if it would work when it needed to.
It would.
It had to.
Around him, the quarters buzzed low with movement. People packing. Talking. Shifting crates. No one really looking at anyone else for too long.
Busy.
Or pretending to be.
Maybe someone had seen him take it.
Maybe they hadn’t.
Maybe they just didn’t care.
Harry didn’t either.
Not anymore.
The moment he’d heard Adrian was spotted in the city—
Something in him had locked in.
Anger sat heavy in his chest, hot and steady as he unzipped the bag again, checked the magazine, then slid it back in. He pulled the slide once—quick, practiced—and let it snap forward.
Ready.
"Don’t plan on running off on your own, do you?"
Harry froze.
Didn’t turn right away.
He knew that voice.
Of course it was him.
"Your mom told me about those plans you had," Bill went on, stepping closer. "She really runs her mouth, doesn’t she?"
Harry’s jaw tightened.
For a second, it looked like he might ignore him.
Just walk.
But he didn’t.
He turned.
Slow.
"Not as much as you," he muttered, already stepping past him.
Bill moved with him.
Fast enough to get in front.
"Woah, woah, woah—slow your roll, partner."
His hand came up, pressing flat against Harry’s chest.
Stopping him.
Harry’s eyes dropped to it.
Then back up.
Sharp.
"Move."
Bill didn’t.
Instead, he smiled.
That same calm, irritating smile.
"Come on," he said. "Let’s not act like we’re not on the same side here."
Harry let out a short breath through his nose.
"We wanna kill the same guy, don’t we?"
"Yeah," Harry snapped. "For different reasons."
Bill tilted his head slightly.
"Different?" he echoed. "How so?"
Harry’s grip tightened on the strap of the bag.
"You think I don’t see it?" he said. "You don’t give a shit about any of these people."
Bill’s smile didn’t drop.
"If it came down to it, you’d trade every single one of them for yourself," Harry went on, voice rising just enough to carry. "In a heartbeat."
A couple heads nearby turned.
Not enough to interrupt.
Just enough to listen.
"I’m not you," Harry added.
Bill’s eyes stayed on him.
Waiting.
"I’m doing this for my dad," Harry said. "That’s why I’m going after Adrian."
The words landed.
Heavy.
Real.
A pause.
Harry’s throat worked once.
"And because that bitch he’s running around with?" he added, colder now. "She’s a problem too."
That—
That got something.
Bill’s smile thinned.
Just a little.
"Stay the fuck away from me," Harry said, stepping forward again.
Bill moved again.
Faster this time.
Something hard pressed into Harry’s chest.
He stopped.
Looked down.
Another Glock.
Not pointed at him.
Held out.
Offered.
Harry’s brows pulled together as he looked back up at Bill.
"The way I see it?" Bill said calmly, pushing the gun into his hands.
"It doesn’t matter why you want him dead."
Harry didn’t take it right away.
Didn’t move.
Bill nudged it again.
"Long as we’re headed in the same direction."
Harry’s fingers finally came up.
Slow.
Closed around the grip.
Bill let go.
Simple as that.
"You can go back to hating me after," Bill continued, stepping back half a pace. "But right now?"
He shrugged.
"It’s business."
Harry stared at the gun in his hand.
Then back at Bill.
"You wanna be there for it, don’t you?" Bill asked.
That hit.
Because yeah.
He did.
He didn’t answer.
Didn’t have to.
Bill saw it anyway.
"We already got intel," he added.
Harry’s head snapped up.
"...what?"
Bill’s smirk came back.
"Where they are," he said. "Or close enough."
Harry’s grip tightened around the Glock.
They moved that fast?
Already?
His mind started racing.
Routes.
Distance.
How long he’d have before—
"Return Jake’s gun, man."
Harry blinked.
Bill gestured casually toward the bag.
"He’s been looking for it."
Harry went still.
Just for a second.
Then his jaw clenched.
Of course they knew.
Of course they did.
He reached down slowly, unzipping the bag again.
Pulled the stolen Glock out.
Held it there for a second.
Then shoved it into Bill’s chest.
Harder than necessary.
Bill caught it easy.
Didn’t react.
Harry kept the one Bill had given him.
Of course he did.
"Good," Bill said, tucking the other gun away. "Now you’re properly equipped."
Harry didn’t respond.
His mind was already somewhere else.
Ahead.
On Adrian.
On what he was gonna do when he finally saw him again.
His breathing steadied.
Slow.
Controlled.
Bill watched him for a moment longer.
Then turned slightly.
"Fifteen minutes," he called out to the others. "We move then."
The room shifted again.
Faster now.
Purpose.
Harry stood there for a second.
Gun in hand.
Bag at his side.
Then he moved.
Not toward Bill.
Not toward anyone.
Just—
Forward.
Like there was nothing else left to do but follow through.
—
The tension had grown thick enough to choke on.
It wasn’t loud. Nobody was yelling. Nobody was even moving much.
But it was there.
Sitting in the air. Crawling up my spine. Pressing behind my eyes.
Jackson hadn’t stopped looking at me.
Not once.
Saul sat hunched forward, elbows on his knees, cloth pressed to his nose. Blood had soaked through it already, dripping slow between his fingers. But even through the pain, he kept glancing at me like he was trying to solve something.
Naomi stood off to the side, arms folded tight. Quiet. Watching.
Too quiet.
Cherie hovered in the middle of it all, like she was trying to hold something together that had already broken.
And Lila—
Lila was right beside me.
Close.
Too close for anyone to try anything without losing a hand.
Her fingers were locked with mine. Tight. Possessive. Her breathing had calmed, but I could still feel the tension in her grip.
Like a coiled spring.
Tea had been offered at some point.
Someone—Cherie, I think—had poured it.
It sat untouched on the table now, steam long gone cold.
Questions followed.
Simple ones.
Too simple.
"Where’ve you been this whole time?"
"How’d you even get here?"
"What happened out there?"
Normal questions.
But the way they were asked?
Measured. Careful. Like every answer mattered more than it should.
Like they were stacking pieces.
Trying to see if I’d slip.
I didn’t.
I answered just enough. Left gaps where I needed to. Shifted details without making it obvious.
Keep it clean.
Keep it boring.
Don’t give them anything to grab onto.
Still—
Jackson didn’t blink.
I felt it.
That itch in the back of my skull again.
That feeling.
Being watched.
Measured.
Weighed.
And not in my favor.
I tightened my grip around Lila’s hand slightly.
"...Well," I said finally, voice even, cutting through the quiet. "Me and Lila...we’ve got some things to figure out."
That got a reaction.
Small.
But it was there.
"So," I added, glancing around the room, "might be time for you guys to head out."
Cherie’s face dropped almost instantly.
"Seriously?" she said, stepping forward. "But—there’s still so much I wanna ask you. You can’t just kick us out like that."
I didn’t look at her.
"We can talk later, Cherie. Just...bad timing right now."
"Bad timing?" she echoed, confused. "Adrian—"
"I agree with Cherie."
Jackson.
Of course.
I looked at him slowly.
He leaned back slightly, arms still folded, one brow raised like this was all amusing to him.
"Haven’t seen each other in what...months?" he went on. "You guys got a lot to catch up on."
His eyes flicked toward me.
Sharp.
"Especially about this Aubrey girl."
I smiled.
Just enough.
But inside?
Yeah.
I thought about putting him through the wall.
Instead, I shifted my gaze to Cherie.
How the hell did she even end up with these two?
Saul I could understand—he looked like muscle.
Jackson?
He was something else.
Something that didn’t sit right.
Then Naomi.
I caught it.
That look.
She wasn’t confused like Cherie.
Wasn’t aggressive like the brothers.
She was...thinking.
Piecing it together.
Good.
That made her dangerous.
Before I could steer this back—
A loud crackle cut through the air.
Static.
Then—
A voice.
Amplified.
Echoing.
"Well damn... ain’t this cozy."
Every head snapped toward the window.
I turned too.
Two floors down—
A figure stood in the courtyard, a megaphone in hand.
Bill.
Casual stance.
Like he had all the time in the world.
Like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.
"Seems like we really got off on the wrong foot," his voice boomed, carrying through the building, bouncing off concrete.
People were already starting to gather below.
Looking up.
Watching.
"My name’s Bill," he went on. "Figured it’s time we got to know each other for real."
Cherie looked at me.
Confused.
"...Adrian?"
Jackson’s posture shifted.
Saul went still.
Naomi didn’t move at all.
Bill tilted his head slightly, squinting up toward the window like he could see straight through it.
"I’ll be honest," he said, voice still calm through the megaphone, "I almost feel bad about this."
A pause.
"You seem like a cool kid."
Another beat.
"But I just can’t get past one thing."
My chest tightened.
"You killed a lot of my men."
There it was.
No more guessing.
No more pretending.
"Carson, Daniel,...Harold."
Everything snapped into place.
Cherie turned to me slowly.
"...Adrian?" she whispered.
Jackson’s expression changed.
Not confusion anymore.
Recognition.
Saul’s grip tightened around the cloth in his hand.
"And having your little infected girlfriend bite Carson so he could turn? Prettyyyy fucked up shit, I’d say."
Naomi didn’t move.
Didn’t need to.
She already knew.
"And hey," Bill continued, shifting slightly, "I ain’t the only one with a reason to be upset."
He stepped to the side, motioning behind him.
"Neither can little old Harry here."
My pulse spiked.
...Harry?
"I mean—" Bill’s voice dragged it out, almost amused, "you killed his father."
Everything froze.
"Just how fucked is that, huh?"
Everything stopped.
Not slowed.
Stopped.
Then—
It exploded.
Saul moved first.
A blur of motion—he lunged straight at me, no hesitation, no warning.
I was already moving.
I vaulted over the couch, body reacting before my brain even caught up, his hand barely missing my shirt as I cleared it.
"YOU—!"
He crashed into the furniture behind me.
Lila moved next.
Faster.
Cleaner.
Saul swung at her the second he turned—
She slipped it.
Like it was nothing.
Then—
A flash of metal.
A wet sound.
A scream.
Saul dropped with a guttural yell, clutching his leg as blood poured between his fingers.
"SAUL—!" Jackson shouted, already moving.
Naomi stepped back, eyes wide—
Not frozen.
Calculating.
Cherie—
Cherie looked shattered.
"STOP—! WAIT—!" she shouted, rushing forward, hands out like she could fix this.
No one listened.
No one could.
Lila stood between me and them now, knife low, breathing sharp, eyes burning red.
Daring anyone to try again.
I straightened slowly, heart hammering, every nerve lit up.
Outside—
More voices.
More footsteps.
People rushing up the stairs now.
Drawn by intent.
Drawn by him.
Bill lowered the megaphone slightly, squinting up at the window as chaos spilled out above him.
"...the fuck is going on up there?" he muttered.
But the slight grin on his face said—
He already knew.