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
The shrill ring of a bullet being fired from somewhere inside my flat was what woke me up. It had me shooting upright, my body overcome with an immediate panic and adrenaline. There was silence afterwards. But I knew I hadn't made it up. The first time Winter had stayed over at mine, I'd opened the door to a gun, so I didn't second guess myself.
I'd made no progress in figuring out who that could have been. Winter had been in my bed, handcuffed because I was sure she'd kill me on my sleep if she woke up in my flat, especially without remembering. There'd been a knock on the door and I'd opened it to three or four armed men. Part of me still wondered if they'd come for her, although they hadn't come to rescue her and take her anywhere, they'd come to kill her. They didn't work for Roman, her boss. She'd told me that before, but I couldn't always trust what she said. It has been a situation that had fallen behind on my list of things to investigate, I was far more interested in Winter herself, and the people she worked for.
Beside me, the bed was empty. There was still the faintest outline of where her body had been laying, asleep and resting for a few hours until she woke up and wanted to leave to go to the spare room. Winter fell asleep so fast. She had been exhausted, I knew that. Even though she'd slept in the spare room the night before, I could only assume she hadn't slept the entire week prior.
"Harry!"
The panicked scream was the second noise to echo through the building.
I was up on my feet, trying to follow the sound, the panic to see where it had come from.
"Help me!"
Before leaving my room, I grabbed the gun I had in one of my drawers. If there was more fucking guys that broke in, I was going to lose my shit. I didn't want to deal with it, not the mess it felt behind, not the murmurs and curiosity it brought when people at work found out about it.
"Please, Harry!"
The voice was only getting louder. More terrified.
"Help!"
I shoved open the spare bedroom door.
"Winter?" I called out for her, still a little groggy from being asleep. My body and my mind weren't caught up with each other.
The room was empty. She wasn't in here.
"Winter!"
My feet carried me down the stairs and towards the kitchen, it being the only other room that the panicked shouts and cries could be coming from. My gun clenched tightly in my first, my finger on the trigger, I was ready to shoot. I had no fucking idea what I was walking into, but at this point I never knew anymore.
The sight I walked in on had me freezing on the spot, my shoulders dropping, no longer tense. I lowered the gun, and instead of attacking, shooting or killing whoever was in my flat, I just stared across the room, completely fucking confused.
