#song is toxic by 2wei | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rhaenella · 11 months

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You & Me - Rhys Montrose x Reader - Part 13

Part 12 | Part 14

Summary: What happens when reader assassin is tasked with killing the possible future mayor of London; Rhys Montrose. Politician by day, Eat the Rich Killer by night. But he isn’t the only person wearing different masks.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Violence, murder, immoral sociopathic behaviour, mentions of alcoholism, drug abuse and neglect, (eventual) smut

Word count: 6k

A/N: (spoilers!) at the end.

Song: Toxic – 2WEI

Houses and cars flashed by as you stared out of the window of Rhys’ car. The sun was already descending, the roads buzzing with commuter traffic as Londoners were hastily trying to get home after a long day of work. But for you, your shift had only just started. Clocking in at a time that most would mark as the end of the workday. Assassins and serial killers simply kept to different office hours. Which is why you and Rhys were currently on your way to your next little project. Because as a fictional killer had once so accurately phrased it — tonight’s the night.

Tom Lockwood’s end was nigh.

The past couple of nights were used to finalise the details of your plan to kill Lockwood. Remarkably, the half drunken plan you’d come up with wasn’t quite as bad as you would’ve thought it would be when you reviewed it the next day.

The rest of your days were filled with taking care of your sisters. Preparing their meals, helping them shower and get dressed, as well as making sure their medication was in order. Naturally, you kept Claire updated on their recovery.

Aside from asking how your sisters were doing, Claire also insistently questioned you about Rhys. You didn’t want to say too much over the phone, which meant you kept it short. Only briefly informing her on how you two had sat down and talked. Really talked. You could detect a hint of pride in her voice when she expressed how delighted she was to hear you’d finally opened up to someone. Of course Claire still teased you about Rhys, basically ordering you to tell her everything once you two would have time to meet up. “You still owe me lunch,” she’d jokingly said.

Speaking of teasing, your sisters were evidently starting to settle nicely into Rhys’ home. He’d come up in the mornings and at night to say hello and see how they were doing, additionally asking if there was anything else they needed. You knew how busy Rhys was with preparing his upcoming campaign he was yet to announce, so him carving out time to see your sisters meant a lot to you. Besides, Rhys’ openness towards them made them feel welcome and quickly forget about his famed status, joking with him as if they’d known him forever. It warmed your heart when you noticed how well they were getting along.

But after Rhys left, your sisters would turn right back to you. They essentially ganged up on you, utterly relentless in their non-stop teasing. No matter how much you tried to explain there wasn’t anything going on between you, nothing seemed to work. On the contrary, your every defence was met with an increasing amount of what you’d ultimately decided to call plain harassment. They just laughed at you.

You and Rhys only really spoke at night. After the day’s work was done and after your sisters had gone to sleep. The time of day where everything slowed down and it was dark enough to voice all of your wrongful thoughts. When you could freely speak your mind, knowing the other would simply listen and not judge.

Rather, the other would understand. Which was bloody freeing. It almost felt like you finally broke the surface after being held under water for so long, learning how to breathe again.

When retiring for the night, you parted ways on the second floor of his home. You stayed in what was actually Rhys’ home office temporarily converted into an extra guest room. The first night you desperately tried to ignore your nagging curiosity to peek through the bookcases and cabinets. To not open up every single drawer on his antique mahogany desk. You could proudly admit you only gave in during the second night, scanning the leather-bound classics on display, including Shakespeare and Oscar Wilde. But also, a clearly often read and used copy of Capote’s In Cold Blood. You knowingly smiled to yourself when you pushed the work of non-fiction back into its original spot on the bookshelf.

Now, three days later, you glanced to your right. Rhys was deep in thought as he managed to drive efficiently through the busy traffic. You left Rhys’ house around five, letting your sisters know that you had to pick up some work, otherwise your boss would not be pleased after not having showed up for days. The lies came effortlessly, like they always did.

You were in the middle of explaining that when Rhys had come in to let your sisters know he would also be going back to his office downtown to work on some final campaign stuff. You sympathetically smiled at them, telling them you were sorry. But Sadie was quick to cut you off mid-apology, saying they understood, and convincing you they could handle a night on their own.

After having prepared an early dinner for your sisters, you’d kissed them both on their foreheads, letting them know not to wait up. When you arrived down the stairs, Rhys had already been waiting by the door with two large duffle bags, asking if you were ready. “As ever,” you’d earnestly replied.

Rhys had just turned onto the A232. It would only be another twenty minutes until you reached your destination — Washbourne Aviation Hangar, where you would then patiently wait for Lockwood to arrive.

You’d been en route for a while now. Before leaving the city, you still had to make a few quick stops to pick up some last-minute supplies.

“I still don’t understand why you felt the need to get so-called supplies at that sex store,” you said, breaking the silence between you.

“Who says they’re meant for Lockwood?” Rhys challenged, sending you a suggestive wink.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. He was unbelievable. You rolled your eyes, ignoring him. Out of the corner of your eye, you detected the stretch of an amused grin across Rhys’ face. Truly, why did you decide to put up with him again?

Rhys cleared his throat. “No, but seriously, we’re gonna kill a near Illuminati-level billionaire. If our plan goes awry, we may have to resort to some creative solutions.”

You shot him a quick look before refocusing your attention on the traffic around you. “I’m not sticking anything up his arsehole, if that’s what you’re hinting at.”

“Fine. I’ll do it,” Rhys shrugged like it would be just another day at the office.

“Glad we’ve got that settled, then.”

Your plan was simple. You knew Lockwood was, for some reason, in hiding and that only one thing could for sure lure him out of it — his daughter. Thanks to Rhys cloning Kate’s phone back at Hampsie, he was able to keep an eye on their messages. You’d found out that Lockwood had apparently made a generous offer to Kate that would require her to come back to the company. It was also clear that she hadn’t exactly made up her mind yet. Which made it the perfect angle for you to exploit.

When you worked out the final details last night, you agreed that the following morning Rhys would send Lockwood a text on Kate’s behalf. Conveniently, the cloning software would make sure that those new texts couldn’t be seen on Kate’s phone, essentially taking over the entire text chain. You had no clue how the technology worked exactly, but Rhys ensured you it was sound. He had been right before about the police not investigating more thoroughly whether Roald had really offed himself or not, so you were quick to also trust him on this.

Around nine this morning, both of you silently sipping a freshly brewed cup of coffee, Rhys had picked up his phone to formulate a short text that would set everything in motion.

Dad, we need to talk — alone. Workshop tonight?

You’d managed to figure out where they’d last met when Lockwood had proposed his offer to Kate. It was at a privately owned hangar outside of London in Westerham, where Lockwood kept his private plane alongside a few leisure aircrafts he was apparently refurbishing himself. Honestly, the hobbies the rich would pick up were beyond you. But you didn’t care. The location was perfect. It was secluded and would provide you with the privacy you needed.

Not even five minutes after Rhys had pressed send, his phone pinged. You’d both leaned in to read the incoming text. Course hon. I’ll have Hugo fuel the plane and cancel my meetings this afternoon.

You’d simultaneously looked at each other, smirking at the response. “That was easy,” you’d said, vigorously ignoring how close you and Rhys were as you hovered over the phone that laid on the kitchen island between you.

Later, Rhys had received another text stating that Lockwood would land on the airstrip adjacent to the hangar around eight o’clock that night. Rhys confirmed that you’d be there. Or that ‘Kate’ would be there.

You checked the time on the dashboard when Rhys slowed down to a stop near the hangar’s entrance, parking out of sight — 07.09 PM. Fantastic.

You shared a look. His predatory eyes wordlessly letting you know he was prepared to finally put an end to this pending purgatory in which you both found yourselves. One where you didn’t know whether a Lockwood induced threat was lurking behind every corner. You nodded at Rhys, prompting you both to turn and exit the vehicle and get to work.

––

Your gloved fingers delicately traced the black and white checkered wing of one of Lockwood’s planes. The smooth and cool surface helped you focus. You willed your heart rate to keep beating steadily, even though the adrenaline was spiking through your veins. The clock hanging on the back wall of the hangar told you it was ten minutes past eight. You’d heard the engine sounds of an approaching plane a little before eight. Which meant Lockwood could come barging through the door anytime now.

The hangar contained four small planes in total, all of them in an inoperable state. But that made sense, seeing as Lockwood was refurbishing them himself. There were cabinets filled with equipment lining the back walls and randomly placed lamps throughout the hangar. You’d turned on some of those lights, creating grotesque shadows on the walls. Two large work benches were also present, one of which was placed next to the plane you were currently circling.

You heard the tell-tale sound of boots on concrete nearing you. The CEO was used to commanding any room he stepped into, therefore there wasn’t a single reason why Lockwood should be delicate or quiet in his steps. His stupid miscalculation gave you the advantage here. Of course he would be expecting his daughter, but nevertheless — he really should’ve been more careful and aware altogether. Perhaps it would’ve kept him from unsuspectingly walking straight towards the gallows tonight.

You slipped on an impenetrable mask, walking around the tail end of the plane to emerge from behind it. Lockwood was there. His steps slightly faltered when he saw you but he quickly recovered, coming to a standstill a safe distance away from you.

“Hello, Tom,” you greeted.

Lockwood eyed you up and down, trying to figure out why and how you were here. “Y/N,” he murmured, his eyebrows furrowing. He definitely hadn’t expected you.

“You dare to show your face here?”

You shrugged coyly, not giving him an answer.

“Where’s Kate?” Lockwood quietly asked.

“Kate?” You repeated, feigning confusion. “That’s your daughter, right? I don’t know, Tom. You tell me.”

You smirked when you noticed him clenching his fists, nostrils flaring.

“I’d be very careful now, if I were you.”

The unmistakable alfa mentality inside of him quickly rose to the surface as he slowly started making his way over to you. You remained where you were, casually leaning against his little toy plane.

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” You said, watching him approach you with an amused expression.

“Because you obviously haven’t truly found out what I am capable of,” Lockwood spoke in a steady voice, but with a hint of danger lurking underneath.

You unflinchingly stared him down, not breaking eye contact. But out of the corner of your eye, you spotted an agile shadow stealthily moving closer to where Lockwood was gaining on you. Or thinking he was. You tried keeping up the illusion for as long as you could.

“I suppose that makes two of us.”

Lockwood’s scowl deepened but he was so focused on you, he didn’t anticipate another person coming up behind him. Before Lockwood was close enough to pose any real threat to you, Rhys had jumped him from behind. Lockwood cried out in surprise at the strong arm Rhys coiled around his neck, instantly putting pressure on his windpipe. Lockwood’s feet scratched the floor, hands clawing at Rhys’ arm obstructing the oxygen flow to Lockwood’s respiratory system.

His erratic movements eventually slowed and soon his eyes fluttered shut. Rhys gradually lowered Lockwood’s unconscious body to the floor, making sure he was really out.

Rhys straightened, haughtily glancing down at Lockwood who was currently laying not so comfortably on the concrete floor. He lifted his head half-way, looking at you with a wicked smile playing on his lips. “Now the real work begins.”

And with that you turned to your separate tasks which you had divided beforehand. You retreated to where Rhys had stayed in the shadows waiting for the opportune moment to strike. You picked up the two duffle bags filled with supplies, walking them over to the work bench next to the plane you’d been inspecting, and started unpacking them.

Rhys took care of spreading out the large plastic tarps you’d gotten at a DIY store in Chelsea, as well as cuffing Lockwood to the chair he’d placed in the middle of the now tarp-covered floor.

Seeing as he’d gotten most of that covered, you stated you would start doing your outside sweep to check where Lockwood’s men were. You quietly slipped out the door, furtively glancing left and right. The sun was setting but it was still light enough that you had to be extra careful.

Keeping to the exterior walls of the hangar, you quickly spotted Lockwood’s black car. His driver was leaning against the front. He was smoking and looking beyond bored. The head of Lockwood’s security was occupied with hastily scrolling through his phone, absentmindedly nodding at his two men who announced they were going to get a cup of coffee, quietly complaining about the long day they’d already had.

You’ll definitely be needing that coffee, chaps. Because the day is nowhere near over, you smugly thought to yourself.

When you re-entered the hangar, Rhys was standing in front of where a still unconscious Lockwood sat cuffed to a chair. He seemed to be very much engrossed with thumbing through a tiny black notebook.

“Outside’s secure.”

“Very good,” Rhys acknowledged without looking up.

You walked up to him, curiously glancing over his shoulder, trying but failing to make out what he was reading. Rhys lifted his head to face you, the corners of his slightly parted lips quirking upwards.

“Took this from Lockwood,” he explained. “Don’t know. Might be something useful in here.”

You frowned, analysing the almost illegible gibberish on the page Rhys held up to you to inspect. “If you say so.”

Rhys abruptly shut the notebook, putting it into his pocket. “Let’s wake him up, shall we?”

You turned to face Lockwood as Rhys calmly strode over. Rhys raised his right hand and forcefully brought it down, slapping Lockwood in the face. Hard.

Lockwood started coughing and blinking profusely, pulling against his restraints. It took him a moment to fully come to his senses. But you clocked it the moment his world came back into focus, Lockwood’s eyes instantaneously widening when he noticed Rhys Montrose standing in front of him. How fast would Lockwood piece it together that he tried to assassinate a serial killer?

“What is the meaning of all this?” He asked cautiously.

“Quid pro quo,” Rhys answered. “You tried to come after me, so I’m simply returning the favour.”

“Where’s Kate?” Lockwood repeated his earlier question, looking up at Rhys with a hardened expression. You were almost touched at his sincere concern for her. Almost.

“Oh, don’t worry. Kate’s safely tucked away. Although, she’s a feisty one. I’ll give you that,” Rhys chuckled darkly.

Rhys’ malicious comment made Lockwood involuntarily pull on his restraints once more.

You didn’t have Kate. She was likely home, perhaps even enjoying a romantic evening with Jonathan. Nevertheless, Lockwood fortunately bought Rhys’ bluff, which would provide Rhys with the edge he needed. As long as Lockwood believed his daughter was in danger, he would most certainly cooperate.

“What do you want?” Lockwood grumbled, his eyes flickering with what could only be described as pained defeat.

You chose that moment to sit down on the table where you’d spread out all of your things. You folded your arms over your chest, content to just watch Rhys interrogate Lockwood by himself. It was quite entertaining so far.

“Straight to the point, I like it,” Rhys began, his tone casual. “It’s real simple, Tom. I want answers. Why did you order my hit?”

Lockwood scoffed. “What? You’re telling me you haven’t figured it out yet?”

Rhys didn’t take the bait, feigning ignorance. “Evidently. So, spill.”

“It’s really nothing personal. Our political interests just aren’t aligned.”

You sensed that wasn’t all, and Rhys seemingly picked up on that as well. He moved languidly across the room, silently making it clear who had the upper hand in the situation.

“Right. Marcus Atkinson. My supposed main rival in the election,” Rhys hummed thoughtfully. “You’re backing him. But is that really all?”

This moment was critical, so you carefully analysed his body language. Lockwood froze for only a couple of nanoseconds, but it was long enough for the both of you to have caught it. Rhys briefly glanced at where you were sitting, his eyes sharpening.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Rhys asked. “You’re not just backing him. You are working together.”

Rhys marched back over to where Lockwood was sitting, looking more pitiful by the second.

“I must admit I had my suspicions. It would be really fucking convenient to have London’s next mayor residing deep within your pocket. Yet somehow, I couldn’t quite imagine that dodgy wanker, pathetic excuse of a man to be capable of cold-blooded murder. But it seems he proved me wrong. You both did.”

Lockwood kept his mouth shut, not providing Rhys with any type of verbal confirmation. Not that it was needed. You could read the admission on his face as clear as day. However, it wasn’t enough for Rhys.

“All right, let’s see what we’re actually dealing with here. And please interrupt me if I’m spewing nonsense, Tom,” Rhys said, rolling back his shoulders.

“You conspired with Atkinson to have me killed so that it would significantly increase his chances of winning the upcoming election. Preferably before I would announce my own candidacy, because that would complicate things, no?” Rhys speculated.

“Which was why you rushed the hit. And when things didn’t go as planned, Atkinson hastened his own announcement and you fled the country like the bloody coward you are. Scared of what Atkinson’s reaction would be when he would find out you failed to deliver. Am I close?”

When Lockwood still refused to answer him, Rhys forcefully planted his hands on Lockwood’s forearms, his face hovering mere inches from Lockwood’s.

“Am I close?” He repeated menacingly.

Lockwood tried leaning away from Rhys as far as possible, slowly nodding as his eyes found yours. You regarded him suspiciously, what would the infamous Tom Lockwood’s next play be now that he was cornered. Only one single objective came to mind.

You wanted to roll your eyes when not even a second later, Lockwood indeed opted to go down that road.

“Tell me what you want. It’s yours,” Lockwood spoke, looking back to Rhys.

Rhys straightened, clearly amused. “What is it you think I want?”

“Power. Money. I can ensure you a victorious election.”

“You really think you can buy anything, don’t you?” Rhys laughed incredulously. “Well, I’ve got some news for you. I can accomplish all of that perfectly on my own.”

“On your own, huh? What about the lovely lady waiting over there? What about her? Will you tire of her as quickly as you did your last wife?”

Rhys didn’t sway, he merely walked around Lockwood’s chair. He was grasping at straws and you all knew it, including himself.

“Let me be frank. Since you will be dead in,” Rhys paused, glancing at his watch. “About ten minutes. Maybe less.”

Rhys stopped circling Lockwood, standing behind him as he put his hand over Lockwood’s right shoulder. “There’s absolutely nothing you can do to stop us from killing you. No amount of money. No faulty promises. Nothing.”

An eerie grin slowly crept onto Lockwood’s face. It almost made you want to shiver. What was he up to now?

“What about securing a future?” He asked, turning to look straight at you. “For Zoe and Sadie.”

The mention of your sisters caused an immediate surge of protectiveness to overtake you. A small part of you filed away the confirmation that he knew exactly who he was dealing with. But the majority of you was preoccupied with examining the best way to gauge out his eyes.

You jumped off the table, ready to punch him in the face. But before you could, Rhys stepped in front of Lockwood, obscuring your view so Lockwood wouldn’t be able to see you. Rhys moved his right hand and from the immediate gasping sound that followed, you were pretty sure it was firmly gripping Lockwood’s throat.

“Utter another word and I will—”

The sound of a door slamming in the distance interrupted Rhys’ threats. He turned to face you, allowing you to take notice of Rhys’ hand nearly turning white from the force with which he was brutally choking Lockwood. You’d gladly let him end it right then and there, but it seemed you’d received an unwanted visitor.

“Mr. Lockwood,” you heard an unfamiliar voice echo through the hangar.

“Hugo,” Lockwood heaved.

Rhys promptly shifted his hand from Lockwood’s throat to cover the lower part of his face. Not allowing him to make another sound as Rhys moved to stand behind him.

Instinctively you reached for the knife laying next to you. You and Rhys shared one look, silently communicating your intentions as you nodded once, moving out of sight to crouch behind one of the many planes.

Lockwood again tried to warn his most trusted employee but the sounds were muffled by Rhys’ hand clasped strongly over his mouth. Rhys carefully leaned down to Lockwood’s right ear. “Quiet now,” he shushed.

“I’m sorry, sir. I know you said not to disturb you, but the chief justice has been trying you.”

This Hugo lad rounded the corner. He halted when he took in the sight before him. You didn’t waste another second, using his hesitancy to come out of the shadows and swiftly slide across the floor to slice open one of his ankles. Hugo yelped out in surprise, dropping the plastic bag he was holding to the floor. You jumped up from your kneeled position and forcefully grabbed a fistful of his hair, forcing his head backwards. Without hesitating you brought the knife up to his throat, deeply cutting from ear to ear.

Blood sputtered out in front of him, causing Hugo to make nasty gurgling noises. He was essentially choking on his own blood. Hugo moved his hands to his throat in a pathetic last attempt to stop the bleeding, but to no avail. At last, the noises stopped and you felt gravity trying to pull his lifeless body to the ground.

You exhaled harshly, letting go of Hugo’s head which immediately made his body drop to the tarp-covered floor. Thank god you’d decided to widely spread out the plastic tarp around Lockwood in case of pesky blood spatter.

Lockwood. The thought of him made you look up. You noticed his bulging eyes as he evidently couldn’t take his eyes off of Hugo’s now dead body. Your gaze strayed to the man standing behind him, the one who still had his hand clasped over Lockwood’s mouth.

Rhys was already staring at you with what could only be described as naked adoration. “Well, aren’t you a sight to behold,” he spoke affectionately.

“Oh, yeah?” You sighed. “I’m not very pleased about this. Now we’ve got an extra body to bury.”

“All the more reason to get a move on. We’ve got the information we need,” Rhys said, referring to what Lockwood had disclosed on Atkinson, Rhys’ main political rival, and him being his partner in crime. Rhys moved away from Lockwood to walk towards your little table set-up. When he passed Hugo’s corpse, Rhys shot him one disdainful glance, pursing his lips slightly. He was just as annoyed as you were at this minor inconvenience, but he adapted quickly. And so would you.

Like Rhys had pointed out in the car ride over, your well-crafted plan may not turn out exactly how you envisioned it would go down. Which is why you were prepared for an additional body or two as collateral damage. Still, neither of you were exactly pleased with the extra work.

Lockwood caught your eye, regaining his equilibrium after the cold and efficient murder you just committed right before his eyes. You cocked your head to the side, staring back at him without a hint of emotion.

“I meant what I said about your sisters. I can help you,” Lockwood promised. Not this again.

You scoffed. “Help me with what exactly? Killing you is the one thing that’ll guarantee their safety.”

“You think they’re safe? Safe with him?” Lockwood derided, nodding at Rhys. “Really? From what I gather this isn’t the first time he’s done this. Do you really want to expose them to a monster?”

“Don’t let him get inside your head, Y/N,” Rhys warned, his back turned to you as he rummaged through your supplies.

“Oh, fear not. He won’t,” you said, your cold eyes never leaving Lockwood’s desperate ones. “Apparently he still can’t grasp the fact that I’m just as much a monster as you.”

“Oh, but that’s not true,” Lockwood opposed. “I can save you. From him. From yourself.”

“How exactly?”

“I’ve got the power to do so. That’s what money can do. If you let Kate go, I can and will help you get the life you’ve always dreamed of for yourself and your family.”

You furrowed your brows. Was he honestly this delusional? The last desperate outcry of a fallen man.

“I’ve had more than enough of this,” Rhys sneered, unexpectedly turning around, holding the duct tape he’d just retrieved from the duffle bag.

He steadfastly strode over to where Lockwood was still securely tied up, bending down swiftly to pick up the plastic bag Hugo had dropped to the floor when you’d sliced his ankle. Rhys unceremoniously emptied its contents, not sparing it a single look.

Without warning, he closed the final distance to Lockwood who was staring up at him with a steely-eyed expression. Rhys didn’t give him another opportunity to steer you with pity promises, or even to contemplate his own horrific fate. No, he savagely placed the plastic bag over Lockwood’s head, winding the duct tape around his neck so no oxygen could reach him.

Lockwood started convulsing frantically. His primal instincts kicked in, but the restraints obstructed him from being able to rip the smothering bag off of his head. His actions caused the metal of the chair to clank loudly against the concrete. He was screaming incoherently but neither of you made an effort to listen to the exact words of his pleas. You watched him battle for air, but it was a foregone conclusion that Lockwood would not prevail.

In the end, it didn’t take long. He suffocated slowly but surely and by the time his body had stopped violently jerking, you paradoxically felt like you were the one who could finally draw a full breath again.

You carefully stepped over Hugo’s body when you walked up to Rhys, similarly to how you had done after killing Roald. You impassively regarded the heinous scene before you.

“For the record, it’s not what I want,” you whispered, because you inherently felt it needed to be said. To counter whatever Lockwood had suggested you needed or wanted. You breathed in as you moved to softly stroke your index finger against the back of Rhys’ hand in a reassuring manner, emphasising your words.

Rhys looked up at you. You knew he understood what you meant as he entwined his index finger briefly with yours. He shot you the gentlest of smiles, one nobody would expect a sociopathic killer to be capable of.

You closed your eyes at your little moment and sighed in relief. Finally, the peace and quiet could return.

There was only more thing you needed to do before you could finally get rid of Lockwood’s ugly face. And that was to cut off his hands. It was the penultimate step in your plan.

During your night of absolute candour, you’d come up with something that would have Jonathan stay quiet for the foreseeable future. You explained to Rhys how taking Lockwood’s hand, the one fashioning his over-priced watch, and sending it to Jonathan would send a clear message once and for all. That you were the ones pulling the strings and that Jonathan would do well to adhere to your demands.

Rhys had eagerly approved of your idea, cheekily adding how it would be fitting to deliver Lockwood’s hand in a nice little fruit basket. It was supposed to be a gift after all. Jonathan would no longer have to worry about disposing of anyone else for Rhys. He just had to keep his fucking mouth shut. Plain and simple.

You’d decided to take both of Lockwood’s hands though. Keeping the other just in case. Perhaps you would have a need for it in the future.

“Do you wanna do the honours?” Rhys asked from beside you. In answer, you lifted the knife you were still gripping, wordlessly getting to work.

You briefly thought back to what Zoe had said to you after you returned from Canada. How she could never imagine cutting up a body. You could only be glad she wasn’t here to witness this. To watch you quietly relish when you started cutting through Lockwood’s flesh and bone.

Once both his hands were cleanly cut off, you placed them into the small cool box you’d brought for this exact reason. Meanwhile Rhys had put on his own pair of gloves and had already unclasped the cuffs on Lockwood’s ankles. He had laid him down on the floor, working on rolling Lockwood’s body up in the plastic tarp. You went to help him efficiently pack up the body in the tarp.

Once you were done with Lockwood, you turned towards the other body still on display. The blood had substantially pooled around Hugo’s body. It was a bloody mess. Literally.

Rhys walked back towards your little station and fished out Lockwood’s things, including that stupid little notebook again, which left you to deal with Hugo.

As you were binding the tarp around Hugo’s feet, securing it tightly with duct tape around his ankles, you heard Rhys chuckle from where he was hunched over Lockwood’s personal effects. “God, love a man who thinks he’s smarter than everybody else.”

“What?” You breathed, wiping the sweat off your brow when you straightened. It was getting quite stuffy in here.

“Remember Lockwood’s notebook? I figured out what it’s for. It contains an encryption key for the classified banking information on his phone. We can basically make him sponsor his own murder. Isn’t that just brilliant?” Rhys said delightfully chipper, swiftly turning around to face you.

“And here I was thinking you were letting me do the dirty work whilst you’re simply pretending to be busy,” you sighed, putting your hands on your hips.

“You slit his throat, Y/N. I didn’t. It’s only fair for you to clean up after yourself,” he said with a mock serious expression.

You clicked your tongue, dropping your shoulders in annoyance. “You’re fucking insufferable.”

At your quip, cracks started to penetrate his well-managed poker face, the dimples in his cheeks involuntarily appearing. You couldn’t help but also cave when his infectious smile had at last fully taken over his previous serious facade.

“What can I do to help?” Rhys asked, chuckling as he dropped the notebook to the table and walked over to where you were standing in between two corpses.

“They’re all wrapped up. Help me move them to the car,” you instructed, already turning towards Hugo’s feet.

“Yes, my dearest,” Rhys inclined his head, bending down to take hold of Hugo’s shoulders and effortlessly lift him up.

You immediately quashed the sinful thoughts rushing to the forefront of your mind at Rhys’ display of strength. Hauling a corpse wasn’t an easy task. Nevertheless, these thoughts were far from productive, not to mention highly inappropriate for the current situation. You ignored the irony of having your moral compass only engaging now to scold you on what would be improper behaviour after literally killing someone.

You and Rhys quietly carried the two men to his car, one by one. Even though the sun had fully set, the moon the only source of light, you were still careful. Continuously pausing to listen for any sounds of approaching footsteps or vehicles.

Once the bodies were bundled up in the boot, you returned to the hangar one final time. You packed up the last of your supplies in the duffle bags whilst Rhys was once more keenly looking through Lockwood’s notebook. He then also took out Lockwood’s phone and entered a series of numbers. Finally, Rhys checked his own phone.

He sent you a triumphant smile, not saying anything else, before stashing the notebook and both of the phones into his pockets. Rhys moved towards you, picking up both of the duffle bags, leaving you to carry the cool box containing Lockwood’s hands.

Not even ten minutes later, you were well on your way to where you would say farewell to Tom Lockwood once and for all.

––

A few hours had passed and you were back in the city, impatiently tapping your foot against the pavement as you waited for Rhys to deliver your gift to Jonathan’s doorstep.

A quiet yawn escaped you. It had been a long fucking day. You briefly wondered how those two bodyguards were doing. Hopefully the coffee succeeded in keeping them awake. Then again, their boss had just vanished into thin air. That stress may very well serve as an effective substitute for caffeine.

You looked up when Rhys re-emerged from Jonathan’s building, appearing completely at ease as he casually sauntered over to you with his hands in his jacket pockets.

Lockwood’s hand and watch amidst oranges, kiwis and other types of delicious fruits, wouldn’t be the only surprise Jonathan would find in the morning. You and Rhys had already come up with a nice little text to accompany your gift. A message that would make it very clear to Jonathan that he’d better lay off.

You pushed yourself off the wall you’d been leaning against, wiping down your trousers. Rhys came to a standstill in front of you, making you look up into his dazzling blue eyes. He really did seem more relaxed. Although you had to admit that you also felt a sizeable portion of stress lifted from your shoulders. You were likely sporting a similar lightened and unburdened expression.

Rhys offered you his arm and you took it without a second thought. “Now that everything’s settled and in order. Wanna get takeout from that Chinese place you like?”

You mentally groaned. Of course Rhys knew about your ritual to grab some takeout after a hit. You shot him an exasperated look but Rhys simply laughed at your attempt to jokingly scold him, already guiding you to his car to take you to the hole in the wall that was conveniently opened 24/7.

You secretly smiled to yourself — you could definitely get used to this.

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A/N: So, Lockwood is officially out of the picture. Sorry not sorry for the crazy long chapter, but ah well… Apparently, I get easily carried away when crafting a fictional murder scene. I might need help.

Now that this little plotline is nicely tied up, part 14 will mark the beginning of the next arc in this story. And I for one cannot wait ;)

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