The drive back to Washington had been shrouded under a heavy silence. Words left unspoken. Questions Harry had every right to demand answers for went unasked under the pretence of civility. How was he supposed to frame his questions? Where was he supposed to start? All he wanted was a way to escape this situation. To think that the coming months entailed of them skirting around of what they once were, avoiding the old memories from flooding them, drowning them. Ultimately, ending up reopening old scars when things got too tense.

Once at his house, he had shown the omega to what would be his room, handing him the carry bag and telling him to be down for dinner in an hour. Even looking at him was difficult.

But then the mark of one hour had passed and there was no sign of the other man. Harry contemplated letting Tomlinson stow in the room, to pretend he was simply not in the house, but the man's deteriorated health had him deciding against such pettiness.

"Hey," Tomlinson said, shuffling inside the dining room before Harry could go upstairs to call him. The man eyed the place settings with mild distaste before sitting opposite to him with a resigned shrug.

"Sorry I didn't give you a tour of the house, maybe after dinner," he offered in peace while his eyes strayed to the chain around the man's neck, covered under the sweater, the indentation of the ring taunting him under the ceiling lights. He averted his gaze quickly when Tomlinson noticed, dropping them to his plate.

"This situation doesn't quite warrant for you to play a good host," the man smiled lightly, taking the peace offering, "No one would fault you if you asked me to stay holed up in the room."

"That would be no different than a prison. You are allowed to do whatever you want in here, just don't trash my things."

"No promises."

The conversation came to a lull as they returned to their dinner, but not as stifling as it had been in the car. He noticed as the man picked at the vegetables, trying to discreetly push them to the side of the plate. Harry let it slide for the moment, deciding to call him out on it if they were still on his plate at the end of the dinner.

"I am sorry, too, by the way," Tomlinson spoke eventually, his unease palpable upon apologising. Must be a foreign concept for him, Harry mused. "I shouldn't have said those things in the hospital... about kids and... you know. That was out of line, even for me."

"You shouldn't have," he agreed.

The omega huffed, "You could be a little compassionate."

"I'm just agreeing with you," he smiled, "Do you not want me to?"

"Prick."

"Finish your vegetables."

"Don't treat me like a child," Tomlinson grumbled, stabbing them in a mimicry of the morning.

Harry fought off the smile that threatened to break into a grin. He washed the dishes once the omega was done, unperturbed at having his back turned to the man. Surely, Tomlinson knew better than to attack a trained agent in his own territory.

Amusement coloured his face when the omega followed him around the kitchen, not helping, but not straying far away either, "I have some work to do. You're free to explore if you want."

"I'll likely trash your place."

"Just stay out of my room."

"No promises." The omega was quick on his feet, fleeing before Harry could repeat himself.

-

Harry had his face buried in his palms, eyes throbbing from an impending headache, when Tomlinson found him in the study.

"You've got a nice place," the man said, dropping himself into the chair opposite to him, going through the files kept on the table without asking for permission.

"Thanks."

"Not what I thought."

"Do I want to know?"

"Let's see," the omega chirped, sitting up, "In my mind it was either a hot-shot apartment - a bachelor pad, you know - or just a dingy studio apartment with a barely functioning faucet."

"Ah, yes, the two dream places. You've surmised them perfectly."

"Your sarcasm is not appreciated. What I am saying is... you've got a nice house in a nice neighbourhood. Why?"

"Because I wanted it."

"It's not exactly the American dream to be a single alpha living in a family house." Tomlinson realised his words as soon as he said them, wincing when they sunk in.

"Right, well, good thing I'm not American then," he dismissed the implication before it could take root, proceeding to pack up the files, "I'm retiring for the night. Please turn the lights off on your way out."

Tomlinson had a habit of hitting where it hurt the most, even when he did not intend to, so cursed was this situation. A single alpha living in a family house. How long had it taken Harry to come to terms with that fact? How many nights had he spent gazing at the vacant side of the bed which had not once been warmed? How long had it taken him to accept that the one person he had built this house for would never live in it?

And now that person was here, having a front row ticket to witness all of his deepest aches. All the love and care he had poured into making this place a home, only to have life throw a massive curveball and taking a backseat to laugh at his misery.

In that moment, Harry could say with absolute resolve that there was no such thing as luck.

-

They reached an unsaid agreement to not bring up last night; neither the events in Maryland or those in Harry's study. They were best left unacknowledged even if they possessed the potential to fester underneath the pretence of normalcy.

It would reap no rewards to pick and prod at old wounds, would merely surface what once was.

"What's the news on Agent Adeleye's front?" Rowen asked when he stopped by Harry's desk, eyeing Tomlinson who was tossing and catching a stress ball, spinning in his chair occasionally to make it more interesting, or so he had reasoned.

"Last we contacted him, he had managed to leave Tijuana without any intervention from Diablo," he said, "Should be back in DC within the next 48 hours at most."

"Alright, keep me posted." Turning to Tomlinson, he said, "Please, stop that."

The omega huffed, making a show of placing the ball back on Harry's desk, "What do you expect me to do all day? Look at his stupid face? Not my idea of a pass- time."

"Harry, please find some work for him."

It was so easy for bosses to task their employees with the impossible. He should tell Rowen to do it himself, it was his big-picture plan after all to involve Tomlinson in the investigations.

"You can just hand me a laptop and I'll keep myself busy," Tomlinson smiled, drumming his fingers on the table, "I can track down anyone you want, even if it's illegal. What are they gonna do, take me out of custody?"

Harry contemplated the offer, he could have the activities of suspects monitored, people they didn't yet have solid proof against. And if Rowen asked, Harry could say he had done exactly what he was asked of him.

"I'm not stupid, Tomlinson," he raised an exasperated eyebrow when the man laughed.

"Tell that to your face, then."

"Yes, good, very mature," he nodded, turning back to the screen, "Go ask Niall if he needs any help."

"What am I? An intern?"

"Don't say that. Interns are more useful."

The man scoffed, kicking the table in petulance, "Your guy would have been dead meat if not for me."

"I know," he agreed. "Niall is our Intelligence Analyst. You can help him decrypt databases and networks. I believe you're good at that."

"Oh, I'm the best at that." Tomlinson faced the Focus-Area, shouting as he went, "Oi, Niall!"

-

At quarter to one, Harry stood by Niall's desk, trying to be patient as Tomlinson took his merry time in the lavatory.

"I don't know what's taking him so long?" Niall said when another five minutes passed, "He saw you coming over and fled quickly."

Harry sat down in the vacant seat, looking at the encryption Tomlinson had been working on, "He is trying to hide so he can avoid sitting through lunch with me. How did he do today?"

Sarah turned in her chair, grinning, "He decrypted three codes while Niall was stuck on one, and then came over to help Niall with his."

"Shouldn't it be the other way around?" Harry raised an eyebrow, "This is how criminals get ahead of us, Horan."

"Maybe we should hire him instead," Sarah suggested, almost serious, "I like him better anyway."

"Hey, come one, man!" Niall complained, "Those are difficult. And he does some kind of voodoo magic and it's suddenly all simple."

"Ah, yes, the old voodoo magic, that explains it," Mitch joined in, "But I think he is just good at it."

"Leave poor Nialler alone," Tomlinson said, finally emerging from whichever hole he was hiding in, "He is good at what he does, not his fault I'm slightly better."

"Yes, thank you, Louis. I'll take that over these people's condescending remarks."

Tomlinson narrowed his eyes at Harry, kicking the chair he was sitting in after coming closer, "You're in my seat."

"We are going for lunch; it's not needed right now. Come on."

"Can't I eat here, or in the cafeteria? Do I have to go with you?"

"Unfortunately for both of us, you're under my charge. So, yes to the last question."

"This is so fucking unfair," Tomlinson grumbled, stomping his feet as he followed Harry. Sometimes Harry could almost forget this man was in his thirties. "Are you listening to me?"

"I am actively choosing to ignore you."

The omega chose to garner his attention in other ways, tapping his foot all the way down the elevator, increasing the tempo when Harry glanced at him in irritation. Harry almost cursed out loud when the man slammed the car door with unnecessary force, so much petulance for such a small person.

He had to remind himself to breathe calmly when the omega changed the radio station every five seconds.

"Just stick to one," he eventually snapped.

"I thought you were ignoring me," Tomlinson smiled, "Go back to that."

Of all the things Rowen had asked him to do, this was the most challenging. Tomlinson could be a right handful if he put his mind to it. Even the time he had spent in Syria as a spy paled in comparison, and he had had nightmares from that.

"How long is it gonna take?" Tomlinson asked, finally deciding on a radio station. "I miss Niall."

"Of course, you do."

"Everyone on your unit is so nice. Why are you the way you are?"

Harry released a suffering breath, "And what way is that?"

"So uptight. And they still like you, I don't get it. Isn't everyone supposed to hate their boss?"

"You watch too many movies," he turned into the parking lot, "Not all bosses are villains."

"You look like a villain."

"Thanks."

"Oh, come one, give me some rope," the man huffed, climbing out the car and rounding it, "How am I supposed to have fun if you don't fire back?"

"Because God forbid, we act civil."

"You are no fun, Styles," the omega was almost jogging to keep up with him, "And will you please slow down? Goddam you and your abnormally long legs!"

Tomlinson continued talking even as they placed their orders. Harry pitied the poor waitress who took that all with an amused smile. It was when the omega ordered coffee that it clicked in Harry's head.

"No, get him water and herbal tea. Thank you."

The waitress gave him a disapproving look, probably thinking he was some control freak, but didn't question him before walking away.

"Hey!" The omega whispered, glaring at him, "What was that?"

"How many cups have you had since morning?"

At least the man had the grace to look ashamed, eyes darting away as he probably contemplated lying, "Seven... maybe eight."

"And then you expect me to believe that you can take care of yourself. Seriously, I wonder what goes on in that head of yours."

"What? You expect me to be just fine and dandy after everything in my life was uprooted?" Tomlinson scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, "It has not been fucking easy for me either. So, you can stop acting like you are the only one being inconvenienced by it."

"You're right, I am sorry," he said, putting away the menu card, "I should be more considerate of your feelings, shouldn't I? Because you are the epitome of that, aren't you?"

"Here's a tip, you can start by putting a hold to these passive-aggressive digs. I did not ask to be sidled with you. Trust me, this is the last thing I would ever wish for."

"You don't need to remind me. I am aware of just how unwanted my presence is in your life."

The omega laughed derisively, shaking his head, "You are a right fucker, Styles."

Someone cleared their throat beside them, forcing them to break out of the dark hole they had been plummeting into. Harry nodded in thanks to the waitress, deciding to tip her extra for being professional after witnessing their nuisance.

It was humiliating how they could not separate their past from the present, could not go longer than five minutes before doing away with any shred of civility, resorting to finding the other's weakness and pressing onto that hurt until it gave way to form a wound.

Harry had thought he had moved past such petty things, that his years of therapy had cured some of his long-held hostility to the man.

How was he supposed to establish any sense courtesy with this man when they had so much damage to unpack?

-

Despite minor inconveniences, Adeleye had managed to make it back to Washington under forty hours. After a day of recuperation, he had submitted a detailed report to Harry, had reiterated the events to Rowen and him, and had taken another day off before returning to work permanently.

"I don't know why you hate him so much. You like all of us."

Harry paused at the door. Over the past couple days, he had grown used to finding his unit gathered in the break room, their attentions focused entirely onto the omega holding court. He was not surprised by that fact; Tomlinson had an unusual ability to wrap people around his fingers. What did surprise him was how he had managed garner even Adeleye's attention in the short span of time.

"I don't hate him, Nialler," Tomlinson said, "He is just..."

"Strict?" Sarah provided.

"Sure," the omega laughed, "I guess strict would be a better alternative."

"What would you call him?" Mitch asked.

"Uptight," the omega shrugged, "I've already said it to his face and he still hasn't changed."

Harry cleared his throat, lips pressed into a thin line as five heads turned to his direction. He moved over to the coffee machine without making a comment. Entirely uninterested in whatever adjectives they came up with to describe him.

Tomlinson and him had barely addressed each other in the days following what Harry had labelled the abominable afternoon. Every shared meal was spent in silence, a minimal show of awareness to the other's presence when at home. He had started packing them lunches so they wouldn't be obliged to sit together, even if it took him an extra hour in the morning.

"I mean, you could loosen the strings sometimes and let yourself relax, Harry," Adeleye said, leaning on the counter beside him and smirking. Adeleye and him had joined the force at the same time, had moved up the chain together, always having each other's backs. Sometimes Harry wondered if he would have made it to where he was without this man.

He smiled, letting out a light laugh, "Please continue, you don't have to stop on my behalf."

"You see, Niji, he doesn't know how to relax," Tomlinson spoke up, "He is getting all grumpy and old. It comes with the age."

"You and I are the same age, Tomlinson," he reminded.

"Sure, but I at least look young," the omega shook his head in pity, "You're all wrinkles and grey hair, not even the charming kind. How old do I look, Niji?"

The man stiffened beside him, the only one in the room beside him and Tomlinson to have any inkling of their past despite having never met the omega before. "I... I don't know."

"Come on, indulge me," the omega stood from the sofa, meandering closer with a wide-eyed look.

"I honestly don't want to be included in this discussion," the man actually seemed scared of Tomlinson, it was amusing to watch - this hunk of a man shrinking away from Tomlinson.

"Are you scared of me, Niji?" Tomlinson stepped in front of Adeleye, toying with a button on the man's shirt, and Harry felt all of his earlier amusement wither away in a rush. His eyes zeroed in on those nimble fingers and that offending button.

"N-no."

"Oh," Tomlinson tilted his head, patting his palm on Adeleye's chest, "So, you're not scared of me?"

"I mean... yes, yes I am."

Harry could smell the sweat beading on the man's forehead, but in that moment all he was concerned about was the omega's proximity to another alpha. And it bothered him how upsetting he found the imagery, as if he had any say in what Tomlinson did, who he touched. Surely there had been others after him, he had been so easy to leave behind after all.

He was not naïve to leave the emotion burning inside him unacknowledged; jealousy was a fool's tool, and Harry would do well to not let it consume him. He settled his expression into one of detachment, the last thing he needed was for Tomlinson to be aware of the turmoil inside him.

"Oh, relax, Niji," Tomlinson laughed, stepping away, his gaze drifting to Harry as a satisfied smirk settled on his mouth before he addressed Adeleye again, "I'm just pulling your leg. Don't be afraid of me."

Adeleye let out the breath he had been holding when Tomlinson returned to his place on the sofa, grinning as Niall applauded him.

"Should I be scared of him?" Adeleye asked.

"Terrified."

-

Sarah and Adeleye followed Harry out of the car, walking on his heels as he made his way inside the FBI building.

"That could have turned into a disaster," he was still feeling the after-effects of his anger, appalled at the audacity of lousy reporters and their never-ending hunger for views. Anything to sell their piece in the tabloids. It was a disservice to the deceased and their family.

"The local PD wasn't much help either," Sarah said, clicking away on the camera, just as frustrated at having had the crime scene tampered with before they had arrived.

"At least the PD didn't look at the scene and promptly faint over the body," Adeleye shrugged, pressing the button to their floor, "Though, they should have called us first, the case was clearly not under their jurisdiction."

"You know we used to do the same when we were cops," Sarah reasoned, "Who doesn't want the thrill of witnessing a fresh scene?"

"That is not the way to go chasing the thrill. It might cost us valuable evidence," Harry said, stepping out of the elevator, his eyes narrowing at the absence of one particular person. "Agent Horan, where is Tomlinson?"

Niall turned to him, a confused frown on his face as he pulled his mind away from whatever he had been working on, "He was getting bored, so I sent him for target practicing."

"Oh, hell no," Harry pinched his eyes, letting out a tired groan, he didn't need this on his plate as well, "With no supervision."

"I... thought he knew how to shoot a gun."

"Fuck," he turned to Adeleye, "Go update Rowen of today's scene and tell him I'll send him the report tonight," then to Sarah, "Get me the details from forensics as soon as they are done."

Harry's thoughts ran haywire as the elevator took ages to go down a few floors, worry clouding his mind. What if the omega had hurt himself? What if he had not used the safety precautions? What if his technique was off and the recoil hurt his hand or wrist? Tomlinson obviously didn't know how to use a gun, all he knew was based on his movie knowledge, and Harry was not eager to find out just how wrong it was.

He felt air rushing back into his lungs when his eyes landed on the omega, standing safely opposite to the targets. His stance was way off but at least he had not fired any shots yet.

"Your posture is incorrect," he remarked, wandering inside, picking the safety goggles and a pair of earmuffs for himself, "And you are not allowed in here alone."

"Am I allowed anywhere alone?" Tomlinson asked, a displeased twist to his mouth.

"This is for every unauthorised personnel, I am not singling you out," he came to stand beside the omega, tapping the counter to get him to place the gun down.

"Niall said I could be here, and that I need to have a good aim for when we confront Diablo."

"You can be here," he relented, "But not without supervision. You could get hurt. And, as for Diablo, you don't have to worry."

"Why not?"

"Because you are not going to be at either of the locations."

"Why not?" Tomlinson repeated, agitated.

"I can't risk you getting hurt," he spoke, picking the gun so he would not have to look at the omega.

"If I know how to shoot, I wouldn't be at any risk."

"It's not that simple. What if someone recognises you before the operation is commenced? What if you are held hostage? What if you are shot on sight for giving away their plans?"

"You really have given it some thought," Tomlinson mused.

"I have to, keeping the people on my unit safe is my job."

"But I am not on your unit."

"For now, you are," he shrugged, emptying the magazine.

"Why do you care whether I get hurt or not?" Tomlinson asked, a rare vulnerability to his tone.

Harry hesitated, contemplating whether to opt for the truth or not. Deciding, he whispered, "I wish I didn't, but I can't watch you get hurt."

Tomlinson smiled, no malice directed at him, "I still recall how you arrested me."

Harry laughed at the reminder, "Well, you gave just as good as you got."

"I did, didn't I?" Tomlinson smirked, "Now, what was that about my posture?"

"Alright, first, always assume a gun is loaded, and have it pointed in a safe direction. Away from your body and anyone else's, best is to have it pointing down range," he displayed how, "Now, before you go shooting live ammunition, try some dry fire."

"And that is...?"

"You take out the magazine, rack the slide a few times to see there are no rounds in the chamber. Lock the slide so ejection port is open. See the light coming through here?" He asked, tilting the gun just a little to let Tomlinson check for himself. "Now, we remove all the rounds from the magazine, and re-insert it, so you can practice."

"Okay... got it," Tomlinson nodded, "What else?"

He told the omega how to assume the correct shooting stance; knees shoulder length apart, elbows and knees slightly bent to brace the impact, both hands holding the gun, the dominant and supporting grip. "Don't use a single hand, or shoot sideways. Those movies would have your shoulder dislocating."

"I know they are not correct," Tomlinson complained, "I watch them for entertainment."

"I was just being cautious."

"Give it to me, watch how good I am," Tomlinson snatched the gun despite all of Harry's warning to handle it safely. He assumed the stance, almost following Harry's words, but fumbled at gripping the gun properly. "It feels like I'm holding a golf club."

"You'll get used to it. That's why you are practicing dry fire. Go on."

Tomlinson tried changing hands, and then changed back again, frowning when he seemed to have forgotten the placement.

"Let me show you," he held out his hand, raising his eyebrows when the man shook his head.

"Just correct what I'm doing wrong." At Harry's hesitation, Tomlinson rolled his eyes, "I won't bite."

It was not a bite that Harry was afraid of, he was afraid of getting burnt to ashes, he had already been flying too close to the Sun. It would take only a momentary lapse in his attention for him to fall into the fire.

"Come on, Styles," the omega tilted his head just so, and Harry felt his stomach plummeting at the gesture.

He cleared his throat and stepped behind the omega, arms curling around his frame, and fingers encasing his small hands to correct their placing. Or at least, that was his intention, but he realised a moment too late that his own hands were shaking. Tomlinson looked back at him, clear blues locking with his eyes, a soft exhale from those lips had Harry inhaling sharply.

And he burnt, he burnt in the soft fire that promised warmth, burnt not with screams but with a gentle acceptance, a soft humming, a voluntary surrender. He would present himself as a tribute for that promised warmth.

The scent that had only lived in his dreams for years and years, reached him in a teasing whisper, surpassing any artificial blockers to encompass him and leave him defenceless against its power.

"What... what should I do?" The omega asked, and Harry was not sure if he was referencing the target practice.

He prayed for strength, forcing his alpha to back down, to not let it surface and push his face against the omega's neck. Not yours, not anymore. "Eyes up ahead," he said, his voice unrecognisably deep. "Try shooting a few times." He curled his index finger over the omega's, guiding it to the trigger, "Only have your finger on the trigger when you intend to shoot. And don't pull it, rather press it firmly at the centre."

Tomlinson flinched slightly at the first click, shoulders hunching.

"That's alright," he said, realising belatedly that he was soothing when he pressed himself closer in response. "The first one is supposed to shock you. When you get used to it, we will move onto live ammo."

"O-okay," Tomlinson whispered, a squeak of distress leaving his lips when Harry pulled away.

Harry watched the omega practice, unable to help the pride as the man grew more confident with passing minutes.

A glance at the clock had him clearing his throat, "I have a meeting with Rowen. Put everything away securely and go back upstairs, I'll come meet you at five."

"Okay, and... thanks, for teaching me."

"Don't worry about it," he smiled, "It's still a no for the operation, by the way."

Tomlinson laughed, "Yeah, we'll see."

-

Agents opted to stick to the walls and avoid eye contact as Rowen strode down the corridor, a tense expression on his face which only got worse as Harry explained the change in plans that had been set in motion for the past week. Plans that were to be executed over the next five days had been put under immediate commencement due to certain events which had unfolded that morning.

"I am sending Agent Rowland to Site Delta. The SWAT is on standby, and if they do manage to flee to Canada, SERT is standing alert as well. Though, we will have to talk negotiations if it comes to that," Harry said. It would be better if Diablo was caught on their side of the border, negotiating with other countries had always been a hassle.

"I want you on the Canadian Border, Agent Styles," Rowen turned to him, bringing them both to a sudden stop, causing the agent behind them to trip on his feet. "That is where most of the activity has been reported from, it would be a waste if you are all the way over on the Mexican border."

"Agent Rowland will handle the situation perfectly."

"I still want you there."

"One of has to be on the other site."

"Then take a hint," Rowen started walking again towards their original destination, deeming the conversation over.

"No, I will handle this operation on my terms. That's what we both agreed upon."

"So, you're taking Tomlinson's word."

"He knows more than us."

"And he is also a criminal who has made fools out of us time and again."

"Which is what I asked you consider several times before you concerted this whole situation," he reminded patiently, "I will be at Site Gamma. One way or another you will get the arrest you want."

"I want it coming from you, Styles," Rowen finally admitted.

"Why?"

"Because you have never once messed up. Your arrests are textbook, clinical, I do not want any loose ends."

"There won't be. You will get Diablo, doesn't matter who brings him in."

Rowen took his sweet time glaring at him, but Harry had long since grown immune to it, "Fine, don't mess up anything. Give me a clean operation. Go, I want your team on a plane within the next hour."

The Focus-Area was wrecked with a hurricane of activity; his team was busy securing their files, gathering equipment, making last minute calls before they left. He spotted Tomlinson standing in the corner, pretending for all the world that he couldn't care less about everything that was going on.

"Niji will take you home," he told the omega after approaching him, "The operation might take a few days, I'm afraid you can't leave the house until I'm back."

"Take me with you," Tomlinson said, a finality to his voice.

"I can't do that."

"Can't or won't?"

"Still doesn't change my answer. You are staying here."

"Let me come with you," the man said again, desperation slipping in, "Please."

"No."

"I'm saying please, Styles. I want to watch him go down, I need to see him humiliated, please."

Harry frowned, giving into the curiosity, "Why?"

Tomlinson looked away, shrugging, "He is a scumbag. Do I need more of a reason?" The faux-careless attitude would have fooled someone else, but the desperation and despair reeking from the man had Harry concerned.

"Come with me," he gestured to his office, closing the door once they were inside. He pinned his gaze on the omega, "What did he say to you?"

"What?" Tomlinson asked with wide eyes.

"What did he say to you before you gouged out his eye?"

"I already told you."

"Then please repeat, and don't leave out anything this time."

"He... um... he stalked me... for months," the man whispered with a trembling voice after some hesitation, a mixture of anger and fear discernible from fists clenched by his sides, "Broke into my house when I told him I wanted nothing to do with him. Said I should be grateful to him..."

"For what?"

"...Because I wasn't getting any younger," Tomlinson scoffed, a forced laugh falling from his lips, "That I should just let him fuck me. I wouldn't be able to give him any children but at least I could keep his cock warm. And that he might someday take pity on me and lay a claiming bite."

Harry had a murderous urge threatening to consume him. When he found Diablo, he would not shoot him on sight, he would take his sweet time torturing him, making him regret every moment that he had followed the omega, for every word he had spoken to him, for every second that he had had the omega scared in his own house. He would slowly strip him of any and all sense of sanity, only then he would consider ending his pathetic life.

"I did what I had to," the omega said, turning his face up to meet his eyes, gulping at whatever he saw in them, "I stabbed him in his eye, over and over again, heard him scream until he passed out, tied him up, collected my things and left the state."

Harry breathed a little easier, Tomlinson didn't need saving, the man was capable of doling his own brand of revenge.

"But I want to see him stripped of his dignity, I want to watch him down on his knees, scared for his life. So, I'm asking you to please take me with you."

If Rowen ended up being correct, then there would not be any harm if Tomlinson went along with him. The omega would be disappointed, but at least he would be safe. On the other hand, if the situation he predicted came to be true, Harry would go above and beyond to make sure no harm came to this man.

He sighed, closing his eyes and trying to find some semblance of strength to deny Tomlinson. In the end he found nothing. How did he always end up agreeing to everything the man asked of him?

"Fine. You will stay by my side at all times. I don't want a single moment where I don't have my eyes on you-"

"Afraid I will run away?"

"Afraid you will be harmed. And I can't-I can't bear that."

Tomlinson inhaled a sharp breath, "Ha-"

"The moment I sense the plan going awry, I will order an agent to get you out, and you will not complain. Have I made myself clear?"

"Crystal."

Harry nodded, eyes falling to the chain around the omega's neck, "No jewellery on the field."

He stepped around the man, not wanting to hear any protest or willing to witness the effect of his words, but stopped short when arms curled around his middle, face pressing between his shoulder blades.

"Thank you."

Tomlinson would surely end him one day - one way or the other - and Harry just might thank him for that.