Harry Styles, a secret service agent working for British intelligence is tasked with finding the killer after a series of brutal but calculated murders across Europe. His mind is sharp, he's smart, arrogant and works with a precision that leaves no...
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Harry Styles
"Care to explain what happened last weekend?
My boss, Marshall, stood waiting at my desk. Leaning against it, his arms were folded in front of his chest. His chest which was heaving, deep breaths of anger as his eyes drilled into mine, both disappointment and rage in his expression. It was rare for my boss to stand waiting at my desk, in fact, I couldn't think of a time it had ever happened before, which made me think that maybe I was in a little bit of trouble after last weekend.
It was my job to watch Ian, the man that had been murdered in the elevator by the fucking devil himself who seemed to have trapped himself in the body of a short, annoying blonde girl. A girl who, the next time I saw her, I was going to fucking murder, because she had pissed me off enough that I just wanted her off my mind.
I'd been given his name, his location and been told to keep an eye on him. There had been a pattern to a few killings recently, all men who were linked and Ian was the next in the pattern. I was supposed to watch him, make sure he remained unharmed and keep an eye out for anyone that seemed suspicious or anyone who tried to kill him. It was a string of murders all committed by the same person supposedly, they just assumed. I knew it for a fact, I was supposed to find that killer.
I was busy fucking some girl in my hotel room and then ran into the killer after she killed him.
Oops?
Not that I necessarily cared if he died or not, I had no idea who he was. But I had been told to watch him, so the fact he had died and I hadn't given a description of any killer was why my boss was pissed. I'd failed at the one thing I was told to do.
I didn't exactly want to tell him that I had been distracted in my hotel room, ran into the killer and then watched as she left the hotel with that smug fucking smile on her face.
I'd rather just pretend I never saw her there at all.
"You had one job. One fucking job, Styles. Protect Ian." He stood up off my desk as I approached, unbothered by his anger. I placed my coffee cup down on the desk beside him. "Find the person who was after him...So tell me why he winds up dead and you can't give a description of the person killing him?" He paused for a second, but I knew it wasn't because he wanted me to reply to him. "You were supposed to be watching him the entire night."
He stared at me with his brows raised, waiting for an explanation from me.
I sat down, grabbing my coffee and took a drink before I responded with a shrug, "Went to piss. Came back. He wasn't there."
"And he's dead."
"Seems that way." I shrugged again.
"Is this some joke to you?" His voice raised when he did realise I couldn't give less of a fuck. "You know that means you were in the same building as a killer, possibly the same person responsible for many other killings."
