"This is what you get for not listening to your gut instincts, Andy," I scolded myself. "You end up having to willingly walk towards your doom of facing a man you left. A man who probably wants you dead at the moment!"

The weird looks given to me by the vagrants that roamed the streets quickly shied away as I glared at them as I made my way through the winding alleyways around the Isle of the Lost. I've lost my tolerance for the stink that seemed to always permeate the air around me and it's giving me a slight headache. Walking nearly to the edge of the Isle, I come into view of the ocean. The scent of salt washing over the stench partially, making it a bit more tolerable. The skies were their usual grey and the waves sloshed onto the shore at an interval.

I looked up at a rundown building, the piping along the sides rusted and busted at places. The once bright coral paint now dull, chipping and peeling, revealing the plain reddish bricks beneath it. In a distance a loud bell rings, signalling the incoming of high-tide. It was as if the sea itself was telling me to get this over with.

"Catch you on the other side, guys," I mumbled to Evie, Mal, Carlos and Jay . "I'm now walking towards a certain doom for the sake of Auradon's King Ben." I rolled my eyes at my own dramatic tendencies. But I can't help it, I have to get rid of this knot in my stomach somehow.

Flitting my fingers over the bricks by the rickety front door, I felt foor a loose one. Downside of always wearing dresses, you never have any pockets for your stuff. I've hidden my key to the apartment behind the brick since I never could bring it along with me. Pulling the semi-hollow brick loose, a slight gleam of a lonely silvery key twinkled within the cavity. Looks like Harry never removed it. I slotted the teeth of the keys into the lock and prayed that he changed the locks at least. I turned the key and the familiar click told me that I had no such luck.

TIMESKIP

The inside looked about the same since I left. A sofa with more patches than its original fabric took up the center of the livingroom, its once cushy middle now sunk in and secretly more uncomfortable that the floor. A coffee table with countless stab marks from my daggers or Harry's hook when we're in a rush and couldn't be bothered to put them away properly.

I raised a brow when I noticed a familiar plush wolf in the corner of the room. It had a little bare patch on its bottom where I had to shave it when it caught on fire, a ring of singed fur around it. The plush's middle was also weak, after years of being hugged to hard. Gingerly, I lifted it into my arms and noted the lack of dust on it. I nuzzled into the soft fur of its neck. My eyes widened and I took another whiff of it. It smelled like Harry.

A cold metal pressed itself against my neck and I felt the sharp point of Harry's hook at my neck, dangerously close to drawing blood. Harry's hot breath panted at the skin of my neck before he spoke: "Lost your new toy, traitor? Or did you toss it away for your old one?"

I shivered and willed my knees not to buckle from the nerves. "He's not my boyfriend, Harry." I answered, glancing at him through the corners of my eyes. He pulled the wolf from my hands and shackled my wrists with his free hand, turning me to face him as he pushed me against the wall. His eyes were sparked. I don't know if it's with anger or betrayal or manic behaviour.

Any thoughts of mine flew out the broken window when Harry crashed our lips together, his tongue invading the cavity of my mouth when I gasped in surprised. I wanted so badly to wrap my arms around his neck but he had it still in his grip, refusing my wish to touch him. His tongue coaxed mine out of my mouth and into his, like two children playing a game of catch. Harry nipped at my lips and I groaned when he pressed our lower halves together, grinding.

I heard a clatter of something falling to the ground and then I felt it. An intruding warmth sliding down the skin of my face and neck, outlining both breasts and sliding up the ends of my dress, trailing a path of tingles on my bare skin as he continued sucking on my tongue. One of his hands remained on the bone of my hip and another gripped at my throat when he pulled away from the kiss, his normally bright blue eyes darkened to a near black.

Harry was sending me horribly mixed signals. He was drawing soft circles on my hip, barely brushing against the skin yet his grip on my neck tightened just enough to make it uncomfortable. "Why did you leave?" His voice was huskier than normal, his eyes boring into mine, ripping me bare not only of clothes, but of my flesh and skin and right into my soul.

I couldn't answer him, even if I wanted to, not when my mind is so fogged up from his kiss. So I did the smartest thing possible for my mushed-up brain. "Why do you think I left?" I echoed his question back to him. He frowned at my response. I guess he wasn't impressed.

He sighed and pulled away completely, his grip on my body gone and so was all my strength. I crumbled to the ground, my knees folded in like a newborn calf who just tried to walk for the first time and failed. Harry knelt by my side and smoothed back the strands of hair that fell in my face, his thumb grazing my lips. "Why did you leave?" He asked again, firmer this time.

"My dad wanted to break free," I answered after a while, not meeting his gaze despite his hand gripping at my jaw. "I was just a tool to his goal."

Harry's grip tightened and I winced. A flash of guilt sparked in his eyes and he loosened the pressure he had on my skin. "Don't lie to me, Andy." He said. "You can't look me in the eye whenever you're trying to lie."

Breathing in a breath of salted air, I willed myself to stare into his eyes. "I'm not lying-"

And he snapped, his grip from my face fell and he punched the mirror behind me, the glass shattering upon the impact from his fist. A light shower of reflective shards rained onto the ground, some tinted with crimson from Harry's bleeding hand. It wasn't new. We were both temperamental people and when tempers ran high, injuries were common. I wobbled onto my legs and reached for a first-aid kid on a chair, piled beneath a tower of dirty laundry. I chuckled, Harry was never good with laundry.

A wordless tension settled between us: I silently checked his knuckles for miniscule pieces of glass and he silently let me wrap the linen bandages around his hand. I was still silent when he bound my wrists in rope, his eyes dull and lifeless, not like how they used to sparkle with life. I didn't like those eyes, they didn't belong on my Harry. "We're both broken people," He muttered as we both stared into what remained of the mirror, our reflections obscurred but still mostly visible. "I broke when you left. When did you break?"

I didn't answer him, and Harry didn't ask again as he pulled me onto the deck of Uma's ship. "You'll be joining Ben as a prisoner, lass. Don't worry, I would never hurt my Andy," He chuckled at my widening eyes as he tied me next to Ben on the mast. "Too bad you're no longer my Andy." He casted me a cool, long glance before turning to leave, trailing after the glimmer of a tear that ran down my face.