I had been standing across the street holding onto my black duffle bag for the past ten minutes, one hand nervously toying with the strap over my shoulder. I couldn't find it in me to cross the street. My legs were rooted to the spot I'd been in when I'd left the cab that had dropped me off those ten minutes ago.
I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to see Kilgrave again. I didn't want to do this.
As I took in the sight of the gorgeous dark gray colonial house in front of me, with its beautiful white pillars on the little front porch and its large, black-shuttered windows, I felt terrified. It was something I hadn't wanted to admit to Jessica and Malcolm; something I certainly hadn't wanted to admit to Matt before I'd left to come here. But the truth of it was–Kilgrave made me nervous.
He was powerful–maybe not physically, but that didn't matter. I'd seen the things he'd been able to do with nothing but his voice. Watched him make people kill themselves in far worse ways than what he'd done to Ruben. I'd watched him make people kill others for him–torture them, even. On some of my worst nights I still heard the screams of those I'd been unfortunate enough to witness.
The fact of the matter was that being there, in that house willingly with him, was certainly dangerous. Even if normally I was immune to him, that didn't stop him from hurting others to try to control me. And I knew without a doubt that was exactly what he'd be doing.
My hands had begun sweating and I tried to wipe my palms against my jeans. I knew he could probably see me right now. He was probably staring out the window at me with some big stupid smile on his face thinking he finally had me. My stomach churned at the thought.
At least he doesn't have the advantage of Matt's heightened senses , I thought. At least he can't tell I don't feel as calm and in control as I'm about to pretend I am.
With a shaky exhale, I counted to three and then willed myself to cross the street. I focused hard on forcing myself to take each step, fighting the urge to turn back and run.
I need to do this , I reminded myself. For Hope, for Ruben, for Jessica and Malcolm, for Matt, Foggy, and Karen. For everyone he's ever hurt.
Cautiously, I made my way up the long paved walkway to the front door of the house. In the summer I imagined there would be various flowers in bloom on each side of the pathway; blues, yellows, purples, and whites alongside lush green leaves. Now in late fall there was nothing but brown, dead leaves slumping over from harsh, cold winds.
Bet he plans to mind-control a gardener to take care of this.
The thought made me sick.
I was ten feet from the front door when it opened, revealing Kilgrave and a man who was easily recognizable as a bodyguard with his dark suit and the gun at his hip.
Of course he'd have an unfair advantage of protection.
"Little dove," Kilgrave cooed happily, a bright smile on his face. "I'm so happy you could join me! I was wondering if you'd show."
I frowned, pausing a few feet from the front door and clinging desperately to the duffle bag slung over my shoulder. My stomach felt like it was climbing up my throat and my palms only began to sweat more. Kilgrave only waved me forward frantically as if he'd been expecting me and I was late.
Last chance to run…
Even as the thought struck me and my pulse sped up, I knew I couldn't.
For Hope. Ruben. Jessica and Malcolm. Foggy and Karen. Matt.
With a deep breath, I crossed the few feet left and stepped through the threshold of the front door. But just as I stepped through, Kilgrave's bodyguard was quickly and silently on me. He removed my duffle bag first and set it aside. Then he turned back to me, not even bothering to ask permission before he began thoroughly patting me down for weapons. My eyes slid questioningly over to Kilgrave, annoyance and disbelief mingling on my features.
"Just a precaution, little dove," he said, waving off my concern. "I'm not foolish enough to believe you chose to come back to me out of the love we once shared. Though I remain hopeful."
My lip curled into a sneer at the comment. The reminder that I once had real feelings for him was unwelcome, especially right now.
"Welcome home," he continued warmly, spreading his arms out wide around himself, ignoring the look on my face.
My eyes narrowed at the guard who had stepped away, his attention turning to my duffle bag. I watched as he unzipped it, sticking his hands in and digging around my things.
"Not very homey with armed guards," I said sharply.
"That's just Hank," Kilgrave said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He turned to the man rifling through my bag. "Say hello, Hank."
The man paused, a confused look crossing his face as he said, "Hello, Hank."
Kilgrave shrugged and sent me a sheepish look. "Sorry, sometimes I slip. Hard to watch my words so carefully. But don't mistake anything–Hank is here because I pay him. A lot ."
I frowned as I gestured to him digging through my bag. "Does he need to be doing that? If I wanted to kill you I wouldn't be standing here."
"Well…yes, he does," he told me. "Trust is a two-way street, Olivia. And that Sufentanil you all shot me up with gave me a killer headache last time."
He grinned but I knew deep down he was pissed about that; I could tell by the dangerous glint in his eyes as he looked at me. I resisted the urge to smirk at him. I knew that killer headache was probably partly my powers that he didn't know I used on him in conjunction with the Sufentanil and Jessica's wicked punch to the face.
Hank finished rifling through my bag, rising to his feet before holding it back out to me. I snatched it back from him, quickly throwing the strap over my shoulder. Of course there wasn't anything in it; I wouldn't have been dumb enough to show up with a knife or a gun and think he'd just let me walk through the front door with it.
"She's clean," Hank told Kilgrave as he stepped back a few feet, clasping his hands in front of himself.
"Wonderful," Kilgrave replied brightly as he smiled at me. "One last thing though." He held his hand out expectantly towards me and I eyed it warily. "Your phone, please."
My brows furrowed in confusion and I took a hesitant step back towards the front door. "Why?" I asked him carefully.
"Like I said," he continued, hand still outstretched, "Trust is a two-way street. I can't have you calling your friends and plotting some new way to drug me and kill me, can I?" When I continued to hesitate he added, "If you prove to me that you're not here for some plot on my life, I'll give it back in a few days time. I promise."
I stared at him for a long moment, my eyes shifting nervously between his still outstretched hand and the smile on his face.
For Hope. Ruben. Jessica and Malcolm. Foggy and Karen. Matt.
I closed my eyes, trying to take a calming breath before I slowly slid my phone out of my front jeans pocket. I stared at it for another long moment; it had a pass code so at least he couldn't easily scroll through the contents on it and my contacts. And everyone important enough to contact me knew where I was and not to reach out. Including Matt.
Reluctantly I handed the device over, setting it into his still waiting hand. My hand quickly darted back to my side; instantly I felt more exposed and unsafe. I had no way to call for help now.
Kilgrave easily slid my phone into his suit pocket without a second thought, still smiling warmly at me. "Let me show you around," he said, holding his hand out towards me.
I inched back from it abruptly, my back hitting the wall behind me. My heart sped up as I stared at him, remembering the times he'd used those same hands on me when I wasn't in control of myself.
"We need ground rules if I'm going to be here," I told him, glaring down at his hand.
Kilgrave sighed deeply before putting both hands into his pants pockets. "Alright, I suppose it's only fair if you have some yourself."
"Do not touch me," I immediately shot out, my voice firm.
Kilgrave frowned before he slowly nodded. "You have my promise I will not touch you without your genuine consent."
"And no drugging me with whatever the hell you used on me before," I said quickly. "I'm not…not doing that again."
Now his smile shifted to something I'd never seen on him before–a look of almost genuine sadness and regret. He took a tentative step towards me and I flinched against the wall. He stopped, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized me.
"I feel I must apologize for what I did to you all those years ago," he said softly. There was genuine guilt in his tone, which only caused me to wrap my arms around myself uncomfortably. "That was…truly wrong of me. I have regretted it ever since you left me. Not a day goes by I haven't…haven't realized how wrong it was. Which is why I am so steadfast on you choosing to be here, little dove. I will never do that to you again. And I hope someday I will earn your forgiveness and your love back."
"Don't get your hopes up," I snapped back, my fingers clutching tight against the leather of my jacket.
He stared at me with that expression on his face for a moment longer before he suddenly brightened, clapping his hands together in front of himself. "How about I introduce you to the staff before our tour, yes?"
Of course…
Two people appeared from around the corner, hurrying to present themselves before me. An older man in a chef's coat and a middle aged woman stood before me. They were smiling nervously as I eyed them carefully, searching for any signs of injury.
"Introduce yourselves," Kilgrave told them.
"Laurent Bouchard," the man said in a very apparent French accent.
"Alva Rivera," the woman spoke quickly.
My eyes narrowed dangerously at Kilgrave as I said, "You know how I feel about you compelling people. I won't live here with slaves ."
"Oh no, now you're being dramatic," Kilgrave teased, ignoring the way my eyes narrowed further. Instead he turned to the two people and said, "Tell Olivia if you're happy with your salaries."
The two brightened visibly and Laurent was quick to answer.
"Absolutely," he told me. "I make twice as much as my last job from which I was fired due to a drinking problem."
"See?" Kilgrave said, raising his brows and shooting me a smile. "Some of us give people a second chance." He glanced back at the pair and muttered, "That's all. You may leave."
Laurent, Alva, and even Hank left the room, leaving me suddenly very alone with Kilgrave. I tensed on the spot, hugging my arms tighter around myself.
"Shall I give you the tour now?" he asked hopefully.
For Hope. Ruben. Jessica and Malcolm. Foggy and Karen. Matt.
"Fine," I grumbled out, repeating the names over and over in my head.
He turned and led me out of the small entryway to the right and into a formal sitting area where a staircase to the left led upstairs. The floor of the entire house appeared to be a light solid oak, wide planked and looking fairly new. There was a dark rug on the floor beneath a black leather sofa. Across the sofa sat two black leather armchairs and in between the seating was a beautiful wooden live edge coffee table that had a few coffee table books beside a potted orchid.
"This is the sitting room, as you can tell," Kilgrave explained. He stepped forward and pointed to the archway to our left before stepping through. "The kitchen, dining room, and living room are this way," he called back.
Awkwardly, I followed behind him, keeping a few feet of distance between us.
The kitchen was large and very modern; dark green cabinets with gold handles sat under a beautiful slab of speckled white granite counters. The appliances looked restaurant quality and were a shiny black stainless steel. My eyes wandered to Laurent who was chopping vegetables on the massive island before sliding to Alva who was cleaning out the dishwasher. She shot me a small smile as she worked.
Just behind the kitchen was a large room with a big television on the wall positioned in front of a comfortable looking gray sectional sofa. Obviously the living room. I glanced across the room to see Kilgrave watching me with a large smile on his face before he turned and walked into the space to the right of the large kitchen.
"The dining room," he told me.
It was open to the kitchen and held a massive oak table surrounded by at least eight chairs. A large, beautiful rope pendant light hung from the ceiling above it. In the center of the massive table was an extravagant bouquet of white flowers: garden roses, ranunculus, anemones, and o'hara roses. Eucalyptus and Spanish moss dangled from out of the vase.
"Your favorites," Kilgrave said softly, smiling as he saw me eyeing the arrangement.
Quickly my eyes darted away as I muttered, "Not anymore."
His lips twitched at the corners and for a moment I thought his cheerful facade would crack, but instead he turned and continued forward on towards a set of double French doors.
"This is the real reason I bought this house," Kilgrave told me.
He swung open both doors wide and stepped back, allowing me to pass through. Cautiously I did, trying to avoid being near him too long.
I fought the reaction that was so close to rising to the surface. I didn't want him to see my approval–I wasn't planning to live here anyway.
It was a beautiful sunroom that looked more like a greenhouse. The floor was the same oak wood as the rest of the house but the walls were covered in floor to ceiling windows almost everywhere I looked. And the ceilings were at least twelve feet high and vaulted with a few skylight windows allowing more sunlight to pour in. There was a perfect view of the expansive backyard that was probably insanely gorgeous in the spring and summer when the landscaped yard was in bloom and green instead of the half dead appearance it currently had.
A massive moss green rug covered much of the floor and atop it were a few pure white arm chairs and a white, cozy looking chaise. The few spaces of walls that didn't have windows were instead covered in massive, white built-in bookshelves filled with books, small decorative statues, and many green plants. There was one wall to the far left of the room that was filled with potted plants in varying heights, colors, and vases–on the floor, hanging from the ceiling, on a plant rack. The effect was stunning.
"You once told me you were happiest surrounded by sunlight, plants, and books," Kilgrave said gently.
I jumped back, not having noticed he'd come to stand so near to me. I stepped a few steps away from him uncomfortably, adjusting the duffle bag on my shoulder. Despite the movement, he smiled wider, knowing full well I thought the space was beautiful.
"Why don't I show you upstairs," he said, backing out of the room. "Show you to your room."
I grit my teeth and followed silently behind him through the house and back to the stairs. As I continued up behind him, my hands nervously fidgeted in front of myself. At the top of the stairs there was a bright loft space decorated as a small sitting area that led to a hallway to our left where there were a handful of six-panel white doors.
"The first room is empty," Kilgrave said, pushing the door open lightly. Then he stepped further down the hall and pointed to a bathroom on the right. "Bathroom." He pointed at the end of the hall. "The master, where I hope you will eventually join me."
Immediately I stepped back from him, wincing and stopping dead in my tracks. That was never going to happen.
"And this is your room," Kilgrave told me, pushing open the door to our left and ignoring my reaction.
"I'm impressed you weren't planning on forcing me to share your room," I muttered bitterly.
Kilgrave grunted from beside me in the hallway, the noise a sound of vague annoyance.
"As I said before: I'm not foolish enough to think you came here because you missed me, little dove," he told me again. "I told you, I want you to choose me. To choose to be here."
My eyes narrowed at him suspiciously. "What makes you so confident I'll want to choose you?"
"You did, once," he told me with a warm smile. He waved a hand at the room in front of us. "Would you like to see your room?"
I turned and headed into the bedroom, my eyes scanning everything immediately for any sort of threat. I relaxed just slightly when I didn't see any.
The room was painted a simple white which made it appear warm and bright. At the opposite wall from the door there was a large queen bed with a stunning headboard; carved wood to look like a massive sun rising up from behind the bed. The bed sheets were a crisp white and the duvet was a beautiful burnt orange color made out of a fabric that looked soft to the touch. Underneath the bed, spread across the hardwood, was a plush rug with an abstract pattern filled with creams, oranges, blues, and maroons. There were modern nightstands situated on both sides of the bed, each with a lamp and a few small succulents. On the wall to the left there was a dresser made out of a beautiful oak covered in plants and a few books. Beside it was a large door–presumably the closet. The wall to the right had a large window which overlooked the landscaped backyard gardens; sheer white curtains were flanked by thicker ones that matched the same burnt orange of the duvet. A few abstract paintings were perfectly spaced around the walls.
I swallowed hard, trying not to show my appreciation for the decor, but Kilgrave somehow noticed. His smile grew wider as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. I nervously adjusted the strap of my duffle bag on my arm. The house was stunning, perfectly decorated; honestly it was a house straight from my dreams. But the fact that Kilgrave was the one presenting it to me as home only made me feel sick to my stomach.
"I remembered how you loved this style," he told me, voice low as he spoke from beside me. "I hired the best designer after I purchased the house. Had them style everything to your tastes. I remembered how much you loved indoor plants."
"Growing up in a cage without seeing the outside world will do that," I grumbled.
He stepped forward, lowering his head into my line of sight. I immediately took an instinctive step back which only caused him to raise his hands to show he meant no harm.
"This isn't a cage, little dove," he told me gently.
I quirked a brow at him as I frowned. "Yeah? That why there's a bodyguard? And why I can't have my phone? And probably can't leave?"
Kilgrave's warm smile fell as he straightened back up. His hands went back into his pockets again.
"I told you," he said, "you have rules in place to trust me, and I have mine so I can trust you." He shrugged lightly. "Trust goes both ways in a healthy relationship."
I laughed bitterly at his words. Healthy relationship? With him? What could he possibly know about a healthy relationship?
He turned and began to make his way towards the hallway. I tensed, wondering what was coming next. He paused in the doorway, turning back to look at me.
"I'll give you some space to settle in," he told me. "I'm just glad you came, little dove." He gestured towards the closet. "There's a dress in there for you. For tonight. I had planned a nice dinner for us here."
"I'm not eating or drinking anything in this house," I told him firmly.
He paused a moment, quietly surveying me with a curious expression. His eyes were partially narrowed at me as his jaw worked in thought. And then a bright smile spread along his mouth.
"Fair enough, we can order from anywhere you like. Have it delivered. Would that make you feel better?" he asked me. When I didn't answer his frown deepened. "You have to eat, little dove. Can't starve yourself. I won't touch the food or drinks. I promised I wouldn't…wouldn't do that to you again. I mean it. I want you to choose me."
I chewed my lip in thought for a moment. If there was no way he touched my food then I supposed it would be safe for me to eat. Hesitantly I answered with a small nod.
"Excellent!" he exclaimed, sliding his hands out of his pockets and clapping them together.
My frown only deepened at his enthusiasm. I watched as he stepped farther into the hall before I quickly crossed the room, ready to close and lock the door to feel some semblance of safety from him.
"I'll leave you to get settled," he told me again.
Wordlessly I closed the door, twisting the lock. I spun, resting my back against the solid wood and letting my head fall back against it. My eyes slowly closed as I tried to focus on my breathing.
I was tired after everything that had happened last night and this morning. And I was terrified of being trapped in this house with Kilgrave without even my phone to check in with anyone.
For Hope. Ruben. Jessica and Malcolm. Foggy and Karen. Matt.
My eyes opened and I eyed the bed cautiously. It looked so warm and comfortable. I was exhausted. He wouldn't shove a pill down my throat while I was sleeping, would he? He seemed pretty adamant that he wanted me to remain of my own free will–to be able to make my own choices.
With a sigh I crossed the room and stopped at the end of the bed, letting the duffle bag drop on the rug at my feet with a dull thud . I slowly pulled off my jacket before letting it fall on top of my bag.
If I'm going to be staying here a few days, I need to be able to sleep. I'll just have to trust that he's serious about not drugging me…
I walked around the bed and reached out, fingers stroking the duvet cover lightly. It was incredibly soft. I pulled the cover and the sheets back before carefully sliding into the bed underneath them, still fully dressed. Even the white sheets were buttery smooth against my skin. I settled into the mattress, pulling the sheets high up to my chin before grabbing the extra pillow and holding it tight to my chest. Very slowly my eyes closed.
It took awhile for me to let my guard down enough to eventually drift off to sleep.
I adjusted the soft green blanket tighter around myself, drawing it higher up to my chin. I had been curled up on my couch watching a Christmas movie after dinner, exhausted from staring at my computer monitor all day. My eyes were starting to drift closed, lulled into a sense of calm from the movie.
A tap came from across the room and my eyes flew open at the noise. Another tap came again and I slowly sat up on the couch, rubbing a hand across my tired eyes as I looked over the backrest to see where the noise had come from. The man in the mask–Matt–was crouched on the fire escape beside one of the large windows beside my desk.
I pushed the blanket off of me, waking up instantly at the sight of him. I made my way over and unlocked the window, sliding it up before stepping aside to let him in. He climbed through, letting out a hiss of pain as he did.
"Are you okay?" I asked him as I closed the window, shutting the cold back out.
Matt grunted as he straightened. While my eyes scanned over him for injuries, he began to take his mask off.
"I'm fine," he assured me. "Some mugger just got in a good hit. Was actually pretty quiet tonight."
"So you're…done for the night?" I asked him slowly.
He turned towards me, his maskless face smiling down at me as dimples formed along his cheeks. His hair was mussed from the mask and some sweat, but otherwise he looked fine–no injuries.
"I wanted to see you," he admitted, taking a step towards me. "I missed you today."
I crossed the space between us and wrapped my arms around his waist, melting into him when he wrapped his strong arms around my shoulders. I quickly buried my face into his chest, inhaling the comforting scent of him.
"Well you're just in time," I told him, my tone teasing and muffled against the thin fabric of his shirt. "I'm just a few minutes into a bad romantic Christmas movie."
He chuckled, the noise vibrating deep in his chest. "Of course you are."
"I could use a cuddle partner…" I mumbled sleepily.
He lightly kissed the top of my head before whispering into my hair, "Good. I thought I detected a beautiful woman in need of a big spoon."
I giggled, pulling out of the hug and placing a hand dramatically against my forehead. "What would I have done without you coming to my aid, Devil of Hell's Kitchen? Cuddle…alone?" I gasped loudly before breaking into more giggles.
Matt laughed, his hand finding mine and slowly leading me back to the couch. "What I do is such hard work but who else would cuddle the lonely women of Hell's Kitchen at night?" he teased, laughing when I slapped his chest, "Someone has to do it."
Matt slid onto my couch first, sliding his legs under my blanket before holding out his arms for me. Grinning, I situated myself in front of him, sprawling out along the sofa with my back pressed up against his front. He pulled the blanket up around us both as I leaned back into him before he got comfortable with a pillow on the armrest. As I rested my head on my arms, he threw one of his over me protectively, wrapping it around my stomach. I reached down, slipping my hand into his before bringing our hands up so his knuckles rested against my lips. A pleasant sound almost like a purr came from him at the gesture.
"So what's this one about?" he whispered, somehow managing to tug me in tighter against himself.
I smirked as I answered, "It's the one where she falls in love with a mannequin that came to life."
Behind me, Matt groaned loudly as I burst into a laugh. My head craned back to look at him and the faux look of exasperation on his face.
"My poor Devil," I teased.
I leaned towards him, shifting so my mouth could place a soft peck on the bottom of his chin. The stubble of his beard scratched my lips pleasantly and I watched as his eyes fluttered closed as he made a soft noise of contentment.
My eyes flew open and were met with sudden darkness before they adjusted to the unfamiliar room. For a moment I was confused before my brain remembered where I was. I groaned, burying my face into the pillow I was clutching tight to my body. Why did I have to dream about Matt right now like that? I could feel a hollow ache in my chest at the thought of him and I tightened my hold on the pillow that I desperately wished was the man I'd just been dreaming about.
And now, after that dream, I had to go play house with Kilgrave.
With a groan of frustration, I tossed the covers off of me and threw my legs over the side of the bed. Pausing to rub my hands roughly over my eyes a few times, I tried to rid my mind of the image of Matt smiling down at me in the dark of my apartment and the feel of him wrapped around me.
Now is not the time…
With a huff I stood up and wandered over to the light switch by the door and flipped it on, flooding the room in light. My eyes landed across the room to the closet door. I frowned when I remembered Kilgrave told me he'd left me a dress.
I wandered over to the closet and very hesitantly opened it. Hanging inside was a lone dress; it was a deep purple–of course, his favorite color–that had a surprisingly modest neckline. It was sleeveless and quite obviously form fitting. And much too fancy and expensive to be worn sitting in a dining room in this house, but Kilgrave always loved to have the best and finest of everything. My eyes darted down, noticing the dark purple heels below the dress.
I rolled my eyes and closed the door. I wasn't going to play dress up for him, not anymore. Me being here was going to have to be enough for him.
Crossing the room, I grabbed the curtains, ready to close them to feel like I had some modicum of privacy, when something caught my eye among the yellowing hydrangeas. It was a man dressed in all black. For a moment my heart sped up in equal parts fear and excitement that it was Matt–but I soon recognized the blonde hair and sharp angular features of Simpson. I frowned watching him take in his surroundings.
Did Jessica tell him I was here?
There's no way she would though…she would know that it would put me in danger with Kilgrave.
Why the hell was Simpson here then? And how did he know where to find Kilgrave? Something uncomfortable stirred in my stomach and I did the only thing I could think of–I slid open the window and slipped out of it, dropping from the second story window with a huff as I tried to roll out of the landing.
Simpson jolted to a stop, spinning on the spot at the sound. When he found me trying to right myself he stared wide eyed.
"What are you doing here?" he whispered harshly.
"What the hell are you doing here? How did you even find Kilgrave?" I shot back.
Simpson's eyes darted around us in the dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of an outdoor sconce around the corner. He grabbed me by the arm and roughly pulled me further into the backyard and up against some bushes, further hidden from the house.
"Keep your voice down," he ordered, eyes back on the house behind me as he spoke. "Trish and I were looking into agencies in the area who's services included protection–serious protection. It took a few days but we eventually found these guys. I was scoping them out the past few days and I finally had confirmation that Kilgrave is here. In that house."
"Yeah he…bought it for me," I said awkwardly, glancing over my shoulder at the house. I turned back to Simpson, eyeing his tactical gear seriously. "Does Trish know you're here? Because I'm pretty sure Jessica doesn't. She knew I was coming here to collect intel on Kilgrave. Pretend to go along with his bullshit for a few days."
"Why?" he asked incredulously.
I rolled my eyes. "To stop him? So we can prove his powers are real? Free Hope?"
Simpson's jaw ticked at my words, the muscles twitching visibly beneath the skin.
"Trish doesn't know," he said after a moment. "Neither does Jessica. I was trying to keep you all safe."
My eyes narrowed at him suspiciously. He was spying on Kilgrave. Alone. And no one knew. Why?
"You're skulking around his hydrangea bushes at night. Why?" I pressed.
"There's…there's a bomb in the basement," he admitted hesitantly. "I came here to take him down." He spoke in a hurried tone when my mouth opened, cutting me off immediately. "He's dangerous, Olivia. You know that better than most. What he can do–it's not normal. It's not natural . He's a threat and he needs to be neutralized. I came here to do that. You'll never be able to prove his powers in any reliable way that will hold up in a court. You have to know that."
"So you just what?" I snapped at him. "Come here and take it into your own hands? Kill him? You didn't even think to check if there were others in the house you'd be killing?"
"He's a threat. Sometimes eliminating a threat comes with casualties," he said coolly. "That's how war works."
My jaw dropped at his brazen words. I shook my head at him, roughly jabbing a finger into his chest and noticing how his eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched even tighter at the gesture.
"You're out of your mind, Simpson," I growled low. "Go home. Stay away from Kilgrave. Leave him to Jessica and myself if you can't refrain from murder. Because I will not have you killing innocent people on my goddamn watch."
"You're making the wrong call," he warned me.
"No, you're making the wrong call," I shot back.
He stared hard at me for a long moment, his eyes still narrowed and his body tense. There was a brief moment where I thought I'd have to fight him to leave before his shoulders finally slumped. He nodded slowly, muttering out a 'fine' before turning back towards the street.
I watched as he slunk off in the dark, hopefully back to wherever he had come from. Heavily irritated and feeling even more uneasy about Simpson, I made my way around the house and towards the front door, the whole way contemplating if Simpson had intended to kill me with the bomb, too. A sick, paranoid, gnawing thought implanted itself in my mind but I pushed it down for now.
When I reached the front yard, I made my way up the well lit path to the front door. As I went to open the door, I was not even remotely shocked to find it wasn't locked. Kilgrave's biggest threat was already somewhat willingly living with him at the moment.
A rustle from the dining room met my ears before Hank was rounding the corner to my left, his gun pointed at my chest. Kilgrave trailed into the room just afterwards, his brows raised in surprise. Slowly, Hank lowered the weapon.
"I thought you were upstairs asleep?" Kilgrave asked. "Been waiting for an hour now for you to appear for dinner."
"You'll have to keep waiting," I said bluntly. "There's a bomb in the basement. Might want to diffuse it first."