Vivacious [H.S]

Thirteen

A/N: Hey guys, small request, could you guys uhm, I feel weird asking this, but like comment more on the story? There's nothing an writer hates more than their story falling to deaf ears and I want to know your opinions, I want to debate with you guys and see what you guys think is going to happen next, squealing with excitement if someone guesses right. I want to engage with you guys, even form friendships because that's the best part of Wattpad, the comments and the conversations you get to have. I hope I didn't upset anyone by saying this, just felt like I needed to say it. Anyway, enjoy!

"What the fuck happened!" Harry exclaimed, storming into the warehouse with urgency. Around him was chaos, his men rushing about to tend the wounded while others recounted the story of what had happened. Harry's eyes widened, not at all used to this type of disorder and the good mood he had been in after giving Aurelie the painting had completely evaporated. With a scowl on his face, Harry rushed up to the office, going with long strides, two steps at a time knowing without a doubt that that was where Zayn would be.

Zayn was busy bandaging Calum's wounded arm, who, much to his dismay, was squirming uncontrollably in his seat, as he hated the sight of blood, especially his own. Ironic, considering the type of work he did.

"For fuck's sake sit still." Zayn said with irritation just as Harry walked into the room. Harry's eyes twitched with pure rage as he saw the hopeless sight of Calum, who was sat shirtless in a seat, a cloth in his mouth, muffling his screams and preventing him from biting down on his tongue as he squeezed his eyes shut while Zayn stitched up the gunshot wound in his abdomen. The bullet lay bloodied in a bowl next to them and it was a miracle that it hadn't hit any vital organ. He wavered slightly in his stance, different kinds of emotions running through him. Harry had never really cared about Calum, well, at least not as much as he did for Zayn, but at the end of the day Calum was still one of his men, and an act of violence against Calum, was an act violence against him.

"What happened to him?" Harry questioned walking closer to the two men.

"Antonio Bacchini happened." Zayn gritted through his teeth, finishing the last stitch before bandaging the wound and then discarding the dirty supplies in a bin. Calum breathed heavily, beads of sweat on his forehead as he took the cloth out of his mouth.

"We were transporting cargo from the docks, suddenly we were stopped in the middle of the road by like four or five SUVS. About a dozen or more men stepped out and started shooting, they then broke into the truck and stole all the cargo; the cocaine, guns and heroine, everything. " Calum explained in an exasperated breath and by now Zayn had washed his hands and was leaning against the office table with crossed arms and a frown on his face.

"How many men died?" Zayn asked,

"I didn't take that many men with me, I thought it would be a quick in and out job, I only took ten men and three of them died, two severely injured and the rest wounded. I'm lucky to be alive to be honest." Calum sighed, leaning back, eyes drooping back with exhaustion.

"How are you sure its Bacchini though?" Harry inquired because yes, he was the most plausible culprit but in a game of chess as dangerous as the one they were playing, making the wrong assumption could have catastrophic consequences.

"Because of this Harry." Zayn muttered, taking out his phone to show him a picture. It was an image of one of Harry's deceased men, Derrick or Eric, Harry couldn't remember his name for the life of him but that wasn't what was important. What was important was the fact that the letters A and B were carved into his skin, the same way Harry had carved his initials into the skin of the Bacchini men two or three months ago.

"That fucker." Harry's body shook with rage because not only had Antonio Bacchini attacked his men and stolen his goods, he now also had had the audacity to mock him. "We have to do something, we have to show him what happens when you mess with us. He can't get away with it, he can't!" Harry slammed his fist hard against the table, already imagining the different ways he was going to torture Antonio when he finally had the bastard in his hands.