The only sound was his ragged, wet breathing. Blood ran from his nose, dripping onto the cold cement floor in a steady rhythm. The silence made it louder.

Louis crouched in front of him, the tip of his knife dancing between his fingers.

Louis “Last chance. Where is it?”

The man didn’t answer. Couldn’t. His mouth opened — a stammer, a gasp — then Liam stepped forward. One solid punch to the jaw. The man’s head snapped sideways. The chair creaked but didn’t fall.

Harry stood nearby, arms crossed, leaning casually against the wall like none of this touched him. But his eyes were cold and focused.

He turned his gaze on you.

Harry “{{user}}, your move.”

You stared at the gun in your hands. It felt like it didn’t belong to you anymore.

Harry “Don’t freeze now. You wanted to be part of this.”

From behind, Niall chuckled softly.

Niall “She’s shaking.”

The man in the chair — your father — looked up, blood crusted at the edge of his mouth. His eyes, pleading.

But not for you.

Father “Don’t look at me. She knows everything. She’s been lying to all of you. I’m not dying for her.”

The words hit harder than the punches ever could.

You blinked. The air turned sharp.

Harry pushed off the wall and walked toward you. Slowly. Deliberately.

Harry “Give it here.”

You didn’t move.

Harry “Gun. Now.”

Your grip loosened. Harry reached out and took it from you without force. As if he’d known all along you couldn’t do it.

He turned to the man.

Harry “No more games.”

Without hesitation, he raised the gun.

Father “Wait—”

One shot.

Silence.

You didn’t breathe. Couldn’t.

Harry handed the gun back to you. Still warm.

Harry “Next time, don’t flinch.”