It happens two days later.

Alouette is walking down the corridor when two guards walk past her. They're heavily armed and she immediately holds her breath. They shouldn't be allowed to bring weapons to the upper floors. That can only mean one thing.

Not long after three men of Harry's personal guard walk by. They're wearing black uniforms and are carrying at least one weapon each. They rush towards Harry's office without as much as a word. Jayden comes after them, and Alouette stops him by the arm.

"What's going on?" she hisses, trying her best to sound panicked and surprised. She needs a confirmation.

"A Revolution attack," he whispers in reply, and for a terrifying second she fears Ezra went against everything she told him and attacked the Palace instead.

She was clear when she told Nathan about her plan: a completely unplanned attack to a non-government building. No citizens involved, no innocents should get hurt because of the Revolution. That goes against everything it stands for. Ideally one of the new storehouses on the outskirts of Northfair. But if he brought it to the heart of the city...

"Where?"

"The bank in the north district," he tells her. "I must run, it's ongoing. If we're fast enough we'll catch them."

He walks away and Alouette purses her lips in worry.

No matter how fast they are, she thinks, please be faster than them, Elijah.

• • •

NORTHFAIR BANK, NORTH DISTRICT, NORTHFAIR

When Ezra told Elijah he had a job for him, in no way he'd been to guess he'd end up robbing a bank. He supposes there's no easy way to go about this, and if he'd sat him down and told him what he planned on making him do, he would've never agreed. But he didn't, so here he is, standing inside the vault of the NorthFair Bank.

Sometimes he wonders at what point in life he went so wrong. This is one of those times. He supposes he should count his blessings; after all he and his team managed to get inside and are still alive.

"Hey!" someone shouts at him, and he looks up. It's one of the other men on his team, he never bothered to learn his name.

The alarm is now ringing. He's surprised it took it that long, he'd imagined it would go off in the second the vault was opened. It's been a far too easy job so far—he'd expected the entire world to be against them considering they broke into a bank with close to no planning.

His teammates are walking past him, their pockets filled with jewels and precious stones to the brim. The employee standing in the middle of the room red-faced and trembling is heartbreakingly embarrassed and terrified. He helped them sneak in. They would've never got this far without him. Elijah wonders if Ezra chose this bank on purpose, because one of its employees is on their side.

He shrugs and walks out of the room. So far everything has been too calm, and it unsettles him. They were told to attack a bank in the loudest way possible, and yet there still hasn't been a reaction from the Palace. Do they simply not care?

"Okay, are we good to go?" a voice says in his earpiece. "Let's evacuate in the next ten minutes, I'm in no mood to meet the President's dogs right now."

Elijah looks behind the corner. The corridor is completely empty. Most people would think of it as a good sign, but he does not. It's an usually busy bank. If the employees aren't there, it means they're somewhere else. But he supposes he's lucky, too. He doesn't like when innocent people get involved. "It's all clear," he replies. "Nobody in sight."

"Okay, moving," the other replies, and he nods.

He makes his way through the maze of corridors, always directing his group away from any employees he spots around. It's a pointless game of stealth considering everyone in the bank by now knows the vault has been opened, but he can't help it.

It's when he gets closer to the main hall that he notices something is incredibly wrong. "Pause." He looks behind the corner. The room seems to be empty and peaceful, but it isn't the first attack he carried on for the Revolution. In the past few months he robbed more warehouses than he can count on the fingers of one hand, and he's become skilled in telling apart real silence and waiting silence.

He takes a gem out of his pocket and throws it on the other side of the room, hitting a rubbish bin. It tips over and a shot rings through the air.

Elijah ducks behind a desk. "They're here," he murmurs into the earpiece. He was wondering when the President's soldiers would show up. They took too long.

"Team B says the left side is surrounded too," the voice in his ears replies.

"What's the plan?"

The reply takes some long seconds to come. "Let's take them all down."

Someone ducks behind the desk, right next to him. It's the man from before. "If I die like an idiot here I'll haunt Ezra until the end of time," he mutters.

Elijah smiles, but doesn't let out a sound. Now he wishes he knew his name. "I'm not planning on dying here," he replies. He throws another gem, a diamond this time, and more shots ring out. They're hiding. He sighs. "Unless someone gets them from the other side, we can't get them."

The man chuckles. "You underestimate me." He stands up and shoots at the desk on the other side of the room. Papers fly in the air. A soldier pops out to fire, and he takes him down with one single shot. "That's how it's done," he tells him, crouching next to him again.

Elijah cocks his gun. "I see." He runs to another desk.

And then it's chaos.

He shoots a man in the second he pokes out and then moves to the next. His teammate takes two more down and they gain ground. He knocks someone out from behind with the back of his gun, and then he's out of the door. More gunshots come after him and he ducks, hissing when one barely misses his head and rips out his earpiece. Blood trickles down his neck.

The other follows him and they follow the gunshots. The main hall is a war zone. Elijah has to run from cover to cover just to stay alive. He hides behind the counter and tries to catch his breath. His ears are ringing and his head hurts. His ear is burning and he cleans away the blood before it can get on his shirt. He looks to the side, a man from his team is running.

A gunshot rings out. He can tell the exact moment in which he's hit. He falls to the ground, only a foot away from Elijah.

He can't leave him there. He prays whoever is up above to let him not get shot and then inches out of his cover. He grabs the man and pulls him to safety with him.

"Hey!" He calls out, slapping his cheek gently when he seems out of it. He recognises him. They trained together. He's only nineteen.

"I don't want to die," the boy whispers, and Elijah takes off the jacket of his uniform and wraps it tightly around his leg, securing his wound at best.

"You aren't going to die, but we need to get the fuck out of here," he breathes. "Come on, arm over my shoulder."

The boy follows his order and Elijah glances at the scene beyond the desk. There are soldiers everywhere. There are bodies on the ground, but he doesn't linger on their faces long enough to recognise. They won't be able to get out of the main entrance. They need to get out of there, fast.

"At three," he says. "One, two... three." They stand up. A gunshot nearly takes him down and hits the glass window next to him.

Elijah turns around and shoots the soldier. He goes down without a sound. He runs to cover again, pulling the boy with him.

"Have a gun?" he asks him, and he nods. "Then use it."

A gunshot punches a hole right through the wood of the desk they're hiding behind. He gasps. He needs a plan. Now. The boy is slowing him down, but he can't leave him behind. He pokes out of his hiding place only long enough to take one more soldier down. He hides again and recharges.

He spots a movement from the corner of his eye. A soldier is creeping closer to a Revolution man. He shoots him twice and he falls to the ground. The man he saved turns around. It's his teammate from earlier. He turns his head towards a closed door and then looks back at him.

Elijah nods. He regrets losing his earpiece now, he can't tell how everyone else is doing. He needs to get the hell out of there, though. That's his priority.

"We have to get in that room," he tells the boy, and then motions towards a desk on the side of the room. "We make a stop there, and then in the room."

He won't die here.

They stand up and run again. His vision is clouded now, his head is light. He shoots in the direction the gunshots come from, but can't focus on a target. They jump behind the desk. His newfound partner takes down two soldiers in the span of a few seconds when they get too close.

"Next one." He doesn't know if he can even hear him.

He runs to the door dragging the boy with him and opens it. He turns around. A soldier is pointing his gun at them. Elijah shoots, and he falls to the ground.

They enter the room and slam the door close behind them. The man he doesn't know the name of is already here. Elijah takes the opportunity to catch his breath.

"Where are the others? I lost my earpiece," he mutters.

The man points to the window. It's smashed. "Half of our team is out. Three are down. I lost contact with team B."

"Fuck's sake." He moves closer to the window, taking the boy. "Help me out with this one, he got shot."

He nods and Elijah climbs out of the window first. He turns around and with some difficulty they pull the boy out as well.

"If you run down that street you'll get to the Revolution's cars," he instructs, "don't go on the left, it's full of soldiers."

Elijah nods. "Got it."

The other steps away from the window, and he frowns.

"Aren't you coming?"

He shakes his head. "I'll see if I can get more out." He gives him a severe look in the second he reads his thoughts on his face. "You need to go, he needs medical attention. I'll be fine."

Elijah doesn't want to leave him there. He really doesn't. But he's right, the boy needs help. He needs to take him to safety if he wants him to survive. "Don't get yourself killed."

The man scoffs. "As if I'd give them the satisfaction." He walks to the door, but turns around. He gives him a wave, and then he's out.

Elijah puts the boy's arm around his shoulder again and runs into the streets of Northfair, away from the alarms and gunshots.

It's the last time he sees his saviour.

• • •

THE PALACE

Alouette waits until everyone is too focused on the attack before walking towards the archive.

Even though the Palace isn't close to the bank, there are soldiers everywhere. People run back and forth, screaming orders left and right. The eternal peace of the upper floors is destroyed, and she takes advantage of the crowd to slip inside the archive unseen. Thankfully the attack happened at four, but before the archivist could lock up. He ran into Harry's office, leaving the archive completely unguarded.

It's easy to get inside, and it's even easier to find the information she needs. She supposes she should be thankful to Jayden for being so dutiful. Thanks to his perfect level of organisation and the information he unknowingly gave her, she's sure she'll be out of the room in minutes.

She hums to herself, walking to the employees section. She came up with the perfect plan—even though she's bothered by Ezra choosing to attack a bank. The security is high—it won't be easy for the Revolution to get in and out unscathed. She can only hope everything is going well. It's supposed to be a fake attack to cover up for their real one. It shouldn't be dangerous. Just enough to catch Harry's attention.

A bank, though, is a dangerous deal—especially the one in the north district. While working in the Palace she found out its vault doesn't contain only money, but riches—gold, silver, gems, jewels, you name it. There's no doubt that's what Ezra is going for. Once they get sold, it'll be near to impossible to locate them—nobody in this country is known for their unfaltering honesty.

She gets to the section and looks around.

Daniel Ivenhart.

If her father has ever worked for the Styles family, surely there's something in here that will prove it.

Alouette feels sick. She wants to turn around and leave the secrets of that place untouched, but she knows she can't. It makes her want to scream, but if she doesn't go through with it now she'll regret it forever.

She gets to the I and starts opening drawer after drawer, until she finds the one that should hold the information she wants. She flicks through the folders, her heart hammering in her chest. What will she do if there's something? What will she do if there's nothing?

By the time she gets halfway through the drawer, she could throw up.

And then, her fingers land on a familiar name.

Ivenhart, Daniel.

No.

Alouette takes the folder out, her fingers are trembling. She doesn't have time to waste, she has to work fast. She doesn't know when—or if—the archivist will come back. She takes a deep breath and opens it.

Just to discover there's nothing inside.

It's completely empty.

She stares at it, frowning. This makes no sense.

Alouette realises the voices coming from outside are starting to dim out and she shoves it back in its place. She slams the drawer and then moves closer to the door.

When a group of soldiers and employees comes by, she slides out of the door and walks with them until she's at a safe distance from the archive.

She can't make sense of what she saw—or didn't see.

She glances around. The soldiers are now going back towards the lift, leaving only a few behind. She has to know what happened. She needs to find Jayden.

The last time she saw him, he was going to Harry's office. She has to go there. She dreads the thought of seeing the President again after the way he treated her, but doesn't have a choice. She can't just sit back and wait while the Revolution is in danger.

She gets there and the door is partly open, no sound coming from inside. Is nobody in there? It isn't like Harry to leave his office unguarded like that. She can't ignore her curiosity and gently pushes the door open, glancing inside.

Harry isn't sitting behind his desk and she frowns. She scans the room to confirm her suspicions, but in the end, to her surprise, she finds him sitting on the couch on the side of the office. That's odd.

His curls are a mess, as if he ran his fingers through them a thousand times, and his head is in his hands. His shoulders are slumped, defeated, his jacket strewn over the back of the couch. The sleeves of his white dress shirt are rolled up, and she's never seen him like that before. So unkempt, so dejected. Even late at night or way too early in the morning he was always perfect, his clothes always perfectly ironed, his hair resting perfectly on his head.

It's terrifying to see him like this. What terrible force could send such a man to his knees?

"Harry?" Alouette says questioningly stepping into the office, immediately switching to a more familiar way to call him.

He doesn't reply and she closes the door before walking towards him. She stops in front of him and pushes the coffee table back a little so that she can kneel in front of him.

"Harry? Are you okay?" She hesitates a little, but then dares to wrap her fingers around his wrist, right over the dark line of a tattoo she's never noticed before. An anchor, she notices.

Something scratches her hand. There's a silver bracelet around Harry's wrist. Just a line, with no decoration nor bead, smooth aside from the clasp. She's never seen it either, which means he usually keeps it hidden under the cuff of his dress shirts.

He doesn't move, doesn't even start at her touch, and for a terrifying instant she fears he could be crying. But he's too calm, too composed, if it wasn't for his breathing, he wouldn't be moving at all. She slowly pulls his hand away from his face. Her eyes find his, but his are focused on the floor.

"Harry? What's wrong?" Alouette asks, a little panicked now. She should be worried about what she didn't find in the archive, about the whereabouts of Elijah, if the Revolution is safe or if they were caught, but they suddenly lose importance to her, because Harry is sitting in front of her and won't dare to meet her eyes and she doesn't know why. It's a petrifying instance and she needs to know what's going on, because she's never seen him like that before. So crestfallen, so... human.

Her fingers are still around his wrist, the metal of his bracelet cold against her skin. She doesn't dare to let go of him in fear that he'll flee. But he doesn't move, and neither does she. For some moments, they linger in the silence. One of his curls falls in front of his eyes, shining of reddish-golden highlights when met by the setting sunlight.

"I've been foolish and careless," Harry says in the end. His voice is low, and Alouette's gaze snaps up to search for his. She doesn't know when she became so invested in him. She blames her empathy and idiocy for having brought her to her knees in front of him.

Alouette laughs, but out of surprise. "Those are the last words I'd use to describe you, Harry." Even though her tone is light, an unsettling feeling is in her chest, because whatever it is that pushed Harry to the ground—it's bad, so bad.

"The Revolution."

A chill runs down her spine, so violent that she almost lets go of him. "What about the Revolution?" It takes all she has to subdue the tremble in her voice. A frightening realisation comes to her—what if he knows? What if he's just found out about her role in the organisation, what if it's a perfect trap set for her? A voice inside her screams to run away, but she doesn't make a move. She can't risk giving herself away.

"They attacked the bank," Harry breathes out, and she's suddenly so relieved that she could be floating. "How couldn't I see? How couldn't I—"

"How could you have known?" Alouette asks.

"How couldn't I have?" He stands up and walks away, freeing his wrist from her grasp. "I'm supposed to."

It's in this moment that Alouette realises what it means to him to be able to have control over everything and everyone around him. It isn't a game, a ridiculous hobby he invented to pass some time like she originally believed. It's a necessity. He needs to analyse and test his surroundings, because that's the only way for him not to feel like everything is slipping out of his grasp. It's the only way he has to convince himself life is nothing but a natural sequence of events in which the past determines the present and the present the future. A situation in which everything is a pattern, everything is part of a scheme. In which everything has a reason. In which everything can be predicted, if you're just observant enough.

He needs that control over what's around him. She doesn't know why, but looking at him as he approaches the window, seemingly running away from her eyes, she can see the truth. He would be nothing without control. He'd crumble to the floor and hide away in a dark room forever. He stands in front of her like he believes he owns the world because he trusts that he can control it. He wouldn't be the man she knows if he didn't.

Now, Alouette is getting a glimpse of that stranger.

She should be happy. She's fooled him. She only did because she conjured up a plan at the last second and convinced the Revolution to run along with it, but she has tricked him. He believed her lies and couldn't see through them. She played the only person that could never be played, and this time, she did it all by herself. It was her idea, not the Revolution's. But she isn't. She feels guilty.

She rubs her knuckles on her chest, right over her heart, trying to get rid of the heavy feeling that has settled in there. It feels like winter is inside her. A foggy winter, when the world is grey and no sound can be heard. She's a fool.

"You can't always know everything," she tells him, taking a step towards him. "It's okay not to always be one step ahead. You're only human."

"We were unprepared for that attack," Harry whispers. "They were underarmed and defenceless. It was a disaster." He runs a hand through his hair again. "A disaster that could've been avoided if I'd been better."

There's nothing for Alouette to say. She can't reassure him and tell him that it isn't his fault, that she just left no tracks. That it wasn't a planned attack, they just did something out of nowhere for the sake of attracting his attention. Why would she, anyway? Why does she want to reassure a man that wouldn't think twice before stepping on her if he knew who she is? They're enemies. On a battlefield, they would stand on opposite sides. They're at war. It's a silent war, fought with intelligence instead of a thousand weapons, but still a war. Seeing her enemies in pieces shouldn't be shattering her as well.

But she can't stay silent. The side of her that has got to know Harry can't stand back and watch him beat himself up for something she herself did.

She puts her hand on his shoulder. "You did all you could," she says. "Sometimes things slip out of our control, and that's okay. We can only do so much." She glances at his side profile. His green eyes are bathing in the golden light of the setting sun. The usual mint green of his irises is now of a warmer shade, but his gaze is distant. She wonders if he's seeing the lights of Northfair at all.

Alouette doesn't even notice him moving, but suddenly the tips of his fingers graze the hand she put on his shoulder. It's a light touch and it lingers only for a few seconds before disappearing again, but it leaves her soul in pieces.

"That isn't enough. No matter my limits, I should always do better. I did too many things I shouldn't have been able to do to get where I am, and I'll do a thousand more not to lose what I achieved."

"This mindset is going to destroy you." She should be happy he's driving himself to insanity all on his own, but she isn't. Her heart aches for this man, that is so lost that one thing not going according to plan is enough to for him to be sent to the floor.

Harry turns his head towards her. "I should like to destroy myself in order to protect what's dear to me."

Alouette sighs and walks to the couch. She takes his black jacket and cleans it with her hand. It's a little dusty, which makes her wonder if he threw it on the floor before picking it up and putting it there. She goes back to him and puts it over his shoulders, hoping it'll give him back the warmth his heart is lacking. "Why don't you go back to your rooms?" she asks. "I'm not trying to kick you out of your office, of course, but I think you'd benefit from taking a little break. You're falling apart."

Someone would find it ridiculous that he's so affected by an unplanned attack, but she doesn't. She knows that he'll pick himself back up and come back a thousand time more ferocious than before. He never makes the same mistake twice. But he now believes that all the things the Revolution did led to the attack at the bank, which means he won't expect them to come at him so soon. It served its purpose, even though she still can't celebrate.

He doesn't speak, so Alouette tries again. "Evie and I will take care of everything. We'll call you if there are any new developments as well. Just please, let yourself rest for today. It's okay to take a little break if you need it." She lets out another sigh at his silence, and dejectedly leans her forehead on his shoulder. It's easier to act freely around him when he's so quiet. His mystique occupies less space. "Can I offer you some whiskey?" she asks, repeating the same thing he told her some days ago. "Or what about some strawberries?"

Harry's head snaps towards her and she automatically takes a step back. Surprise lingers in his eyes for some moments before fading away again. He lets out a chuckle, and it's sharp. Sour.

"You're right," he says, "I should take a break. I can't let them see me like this." He turns around and walks to the door, leaving her no time to wonder who he's talking about.

He pauses before going out and glances at her over his shoulder. A moment goes by, but she can't tell what's going through his mind.

"If anyone from my personal guard comes, send them to my rooms," he murmurs, and then looks away.

He opens the door and leaves, a ghost of himself.

The warmth from outside chases away the cold in the room.

Are you liking the story so far? I hope you enjoyed this chapter x
Miki