Liam moved fast the mont he made up his mind. There was no hesitation left in him now, no second guessing, no careful planning like before. The situation had already gone off track the mont Tatiana ran out and whatever happened between them in that room had changed everything. His original plan needed her, needed precision, needed control. Now all of that was gone. What remained was instinct, force, and timing.
He crouched slightly as he zipped the duffle bag, his injured hand hanging uselessly at his side. The cloth wrapped around his fingers was already soaked again, a dull red spreading through it slowly. The pain didn’t fade like it used to. It stayed there, sharp and alive, biting into his nerves every second. It made his jaw tighten but he didn’t complain. He just adjusted the strap of the bag over his shoulder and stood up straight.
His eyes flicked to the watch on his wrist again. Ti wasn’t waiting for him. The party would already be starting to gather montum. Lights, music, movent, distraction. That was where Draco would be. That was where he needed to be.
He stepped toward the door, his pace steady but fast, mind already calculating. If he couldn’t lure Draco quietly, then he would take him. Not clean, not silent, but fast enough that it wouldn’t escalate beyond control. That was the only line he was still trying to hold onto. He didn’t want whoever sat above Draco to notice tonight. Not yet.
His fingers barely brushed the handle before the door suddenly opened from the other side.
For a split second, both of them froze.
Tatiana stood there, her chest rising and falling fast, her eyes wide as they locked onto his. She looked like she had been running, like she had been thinking too much, like she didn’t even know what she would say when she got here. But the mont she saw him, everything else disappeared.
Her gaze dropped instantly.
To the blood.
The torn shirt.
The makeshift bandage wrapped around his fingers.
Then behind him.
The room.
The faint stains on the floor.
The chair.
The rope.
Everything she needed to understand just how bad it was.
Her lips parted slightly, her voice coming out weak and shaky.
"L-Liam... I-I’m sorry..."
He didn’t even look at her.
His eyes went straight to his watch again, calm, cold, focused like she wasn’t even there.
"I have to go," he said quietly.
There was no anger in his voice. No bla. No emotion she could grab onto.
"It’s now or never."
And just like that, he stepped past her.
Tatiana didn’t move.
Her body stayed frozen at the doorway as he brushed by, the faint scent of blood and tal following him. Her fingers twitched slightly like she wanted to grab him, stop him, say sothing else, explain herself, anything. But nothing ca out.
She just stood there, watching his back disappear down the hallway.
Liam didn’t slow down.
His eyes were already active, the world around him shifting as his vision kicked in. Walls beca transparent layers of structure and motion, silhouettes moving behind them, faint outlines of people, objects, heat, presence. Every room he passed was no longer a mystery. He could see through them like glass.
Empty rooms.
Two people arguing in one.
Soone sleeping in another.
Nothing useful.
He kept moving.
His pace didn’t break, his breathing steady, mind sharp despite the pain pulsing through his hand. He needed sothing quick. Sothing that would let him blend in better. The shirt was too noticeable with the blood.
Then his eyes caught sothing.
A room.
Occupied.
But not fully.
He slowed just a little, turning his head slightly as his gaze focused through the wall. A wardrobe. Clothes. Casual wear.
Perfect.
He stepped toward the door without hesitation and grabbed the handle.
Locked.
Didn’t matter.
His grip tightened and he applied force.
Crack.
The lock gave way instantly, the door pushing open with a sharp sound that echoed faintly down the hallway. He slipped inside quickly and shut it behind him, his movents controlled, efficient.
The room was empty.
Probably soone already at the party.
Good.
He didn’t waste ti. He went straight to the wardrobe and pulled it open, scanning quickly. Shirts, jackets, jeans. Nothing fancy. Exactly what he needed.
He grabbed a black round neck shirt first, simple and clean, then dropped the duffle bag on the bed as he started changing. His injured hand made it slower, more annoying, but he forced through it. The fabric brushed against his skin as he pulled the shirt over his head, the dark color instantly hiding most of the ss.
Next were the shoes.
He bent slightly, removing his current ones and tossing them aside before grabbing a pair of sneakers from the wardrobe. Comfortable. Quiet. Better for movent.
He slipped them on, adjusting them quickly before standing back up.
His old shirt, stained and torn, didn’t belong on him anymore. He picked it up and shoved it deep into the wardrobe along with the shoes, burying the evidence like it was never there.
Now when he looked down at himself, the difference was clear.
Cleaner.
Less attention.
Only his hand gave anything away, the wrapped fingers stiff and slightly trembling from the strain.
He picked up the duffle bag again and swung it over his shoulder.
Then he turned and walked out.
——-
Liam stepped into the party like he belonged there, like he had walked through those doors a hundred tis before. Nobody stopped him, nobody questioned the duffle bag earlier, nobody even spared him a second glance now. The music was loud, heavy bass vibrating through the floor and up into his chest, the kind of sound that made people lose control of themselves without even realizing it. Lights flashed across the room in sharp colors, red, blue, purple, cutting through the smoke that hung thick in the air. It slled like alcohol, sweat, and sothing darker underneath it all, sothing raw and unfiltered.
Inside, it was exactly what he expected, maybe even worse. People moved like they had forgotten the outside world existed, bodies pressed together, hands roaming freely without sha or hesitation. So danced like they were possessed, others leaned over tables drowning themselves in drinks, and at one corner he caught a glimpse of sothing more private, more intense, a group tangled together with no care for who was watching. It was chaos, controlled chaos, the kind that only existed in places where rules didn’t matter.
But Liam didn’t slow down, didn’t let any of it distract him. His mind stayed locked on one thing. Draco.
He walked straight through the crowd, brushing past bodies without apology, ignoring the occasional look thrown his way. His eyes moved constantly, scanning faces, reading expressions, searching for sothing that stood out. That man had said he wouldn’t need to look hard, that Draco would stand out on his own. So far, all Liam saw were people trying too hard to look important.
He pushed open the door to the toilet and stepped inside. The sudden drop in noise felt almost strange after the chaos outside. It wasn’t silent, but it was quieter, contained. There were five stalls lined up, a couple of sinks, mirrors slightly fogged from the heat. No one was inside.
Good.
He moved quickly, opening one of the stalls and placing the duffle bag inside. His movents were calm, precise, like he had already done this in his head a hundred tis. He zipped it properly, adjusted it so it didn’t look out of place, then stepped back and flipped the sign from empty to occupied.
Step one done.
He stood there for a second, eyes on the door of the stall, running through the next part in his mind. Getting Draco here wouldn’t be easy, not without drawing attention. But he had a plan. It wasn’t perfect, but right now perfect didn’t exist.
Only what works.
He turned and walked out of the toilet, letting the noise swallow him again as soon as the door shut behind him.
Back in the main area, he slowed his pace just a little, blending in more this ti. No rush now. Rushing gets you noticed. He made his way to the bar and slid onto one of the stools, resting his good hand casually on the counter while his injured one stayed low and out of sight. The pain was still there, sharp and constant, but he had already learned to push it to the back of his mind. It was there, but it wasn’t stopping him.
Not tonight.
The bartender approached him almost imdiately. She was attractive, no doubt about it, confident in the way she moved, the way she leaned slightly forward like she already knew the effect she had on people. Her shirt was thin, almost see through under the lights, clinging to her fra, leaving very little to the imagination. She smiled at him like she had already decided how the night would go.
"Hey handso," she said smoothly. "You want sothing?"
Liam looked at her, gave her just enough attention to not seem distracted, then let a small smile form on his lips.
"Gim the best you’ve got."
She liked that answer. He could tell from the way her smile widened just a bit, from the quick wink she threw his way before turning around. Her hands moved quickly as she started mixing sothing together, bottles clinking softly, liquid pouring in smooth motions.
Liam didn’t care what she was making.
His eyes were already back on the crowd.
He scanned slowly this ti, more controlled. Not just looking, but observing. Who people gravitated towards. Who got space without asking for it. Who people avoided. That was how you found soone important in a place like this. Not by how they looked, but by how others reacted to them.
So far, nothing.
Too many loud personalities, too many fake kings trying to own the room. None of them felt like the one. None of them carried that quiet weight of soone who didn’t need to prove anything.
The bartender returned, placing the drink in front of him. The glass was cold, slightly fogged, whatever was inside it a mix of colors that shifted under the lights.
"Here you go," she said, watching him closely.
He picked it up, took a small sip without even thinking about the taste. It burned slightly going down, strong. Good. That ant it would sell the act.
"Boy, you looking for sothing?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, studying him now.
Liam paused for half a second, just enough to make it look natural, then turned his head back to her with an easy smile.
"Ah nothing," he said casually. "Just looking around for familiar faces."
She raised a brow at that, like she didn’t fully believe him, but she didn’t push. Instead she leaned a bit closer, resting her arms lightly on the counter.
"Well, if you’re looking for soone interesting, you might have just found her," she said with a playful tone.
Liam chuckled softly, playing along, but his eyes were already drifting past her again, back into the crowd.
Because sowhere in there, the real target was still waiting.
And he needed to find him before ti ran out.
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