Rules of Engagement | A&F
@bewarethesirenscall
Arielle Delacour was a fighter. Though, not in the way that he was used to. She was a survivor. Living not to tell the tale of what had happened to her family, but to avenge them. Or to find her brother at the very least.
He’d done his research on the girl in the weeks since her job offer. Hard as she’d tried to cover her tracks, pasts were tricky things to shake. Especially from him. Finding people, then killing them, was Fenrir’s life’s work. He knew what he was doing, and she had made it easy for him by refusing to change her name. It’d made the information effortless to sniff out, and there was so much of it.
With a property tycoon father and non-human mother, the late French aristocrats had been authentic high society types with money to burn and status to flaunt. Fenrir knew the types intimately. Though he doubted that the Delacour’s would’ve taken the Dark Lord’s brand. From what he’d found of them, they hadn’t seemed the type.
Parents dead, brother missing, the girl had fled to London and he was curious to discover why. No he wasn’t. Fenrir didn’t give a fuck why. He wanted to know why him. While he knew her desire to find her brother was legitimate it didn’t mean that the job was. She worked for the bloody Ministry. Setting him up would be as simple as approaching him in an alleyway behind the Hog’s Head and propositioning him with a hunt he couldn’t refuse.
Fenrir knew the danger and yet here he was. The voice of self preservation warned him that betrayal was more likely to get him dead than a striped jumper and cozy cell in Azkaban. It was either arrogance or a strong self awareness that kept him from disappearing into the shadows before he did what he’d come out to the streets of London to do.
If Arielle betrayed him, he’d save her for last. He wouldn’t kill her. He’d peel the flesh from her pretty face and scoop her eyes out of her head, before sending her wobbling blindly back to the Ministry carrying a basket of her teeth. Among an assortment of other body miscellaneous parts.
The streets of London were crowded as muggles left the surrounding office buildings and continued on with their worthless lives. Fenrir stood over a head taller than the crowd, his keen eyes on the Ministry building. He nursed a cigarette as he waited with an fixed, narrow glare.
If she kept to her schedule, Arielle would be getting out of work within the next minute or so. He was waiting for her to step out of the office and into the early evening light. Paranoid little thing like her, she’d spot him standing in the distance, leaned against the side of the building, watching her like she was prey and he was starved.
He gave her just long enough to glance him in the distance and question if she was seeing things before he ducked into the alleyway and started down the maze between buildings. He kept a slow pace, wanting her to catch up to him only to lose him again around another corner. Last time they’d met on her terms, now they were meeting on his, and Fenrir like to play with his toys before breaking them. Or conducting business, however this ended up playing out.
A few more turns through dark alleys and across back streets would’ve had anyone turned around. Fenrir opened the dingy door to a derelict building and it didn’t shut behind him as he stepped through the darkened doorway. The light burning in the room down the hall was the only light in the building.
Fenrir stood behind the lone, rotting table in the room. The cigarette continued to burn between his lips as he waited for his guest to show her too stunning face.