A Journalist and a Singer [h.s]

12.

This chapter switches POVs! Get ready...

Harry's POV:

"I need to leave, Harry. I have a meeting I can't miss." she pleads. I shake my head, blocking the door to the gas station upstairs.

"Do you know how many people want you dead? We can't risk you going out there alone!" I argue. I immediately regret saying that, because I know what she's going to ask next.

"Fine. If I can't go alone, you can come with me." she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Maggie..." I start but she interrupts.

"Harry, they say they have information about the fires." she says, making me freeze. What could they know?

I let out a deep sigh and step away from the door, grabbing the keys from the hook next to the door, letting her go through it. She lets out a taunting laugh as she passes by me, bumping her hip against mine. Once we reach the ladder, I stop her, letting myself go first just in case. We make it to the car, both of us climbing in and getting situated.

She automatically hooks her phone up to the aux, playing an album by the Arctic Monkeys. She doesn't have bad music taste, but her singing on the other hand...

"Harry!" I hear her should as I look back to the road, swerving to stay in the middle of our lane. She starts laughing at my mistake, probably shrugging off the near accident.

"I told you I should've driven." she challenges.

"Seeing as I'm the one who knows their way around London, I think I'm the better driver in this situation." I push back, causing her to laugh.

"Whatever you say, Harry Styles." she forfeits.

"Do you have the address?" I ask her, changing the subject.

"Yeah, you'll take a left here and then it should be a few blocks down." she explains, handing me her phone.

"I don't have a good feeling about this." I murmured.

"It'll be fine, it's just an interview, I haven't even told the guy my name. All he knows is that I'm an independent writer. I'll get in, ask a few questions, and get out. Simple." She explains.

"Still. Something feels off. They can't possibly know about what is really going on." I say, concerned.

"Well, we're about to find out. It's this building right here." she says, pointing to a tall building. I pull over, allowing her to get out. She waves goodbye to me, getting out of the car and walking in the building. I quickly pull out my phone, calling her.

"I haven't even reached the elevator Harry." she says jokingly.

"If anything, and I mean anything, feels suspicious, text me the letter 'x'. It's a code all the Angels use. I mean it, we don't want anything happening." I plead.

"I'll remember that, but you're worrying for nothing. I'll see you in a few." she says, hanging up the phone. Now all we do is wait.

Maggie's POV:

I walk into the elevator, pressing the button and waiting for the door to close. My concentration is dialled to eleven, my guard up after all of Harry's warnings. He was just being paranoid, right?

I make it to the sixth floor, following the signs to get where I need to be. I pass about seven doors before I find the right one. I knock on the door, and a middle aged man appears, with balck hair, gray in some spots, a blue suit, the smell of cigarette smoke coming off of him. He invites me in, shutting the door behind us.