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...
there will be an * for a smut warning in this chapter, I know Ramadan is going on rn!! xoxo
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Winter
The air was cold, thick with the scent of damp earth and pine. It was always so cold here. It bit into my skin as I stood at the starting line, my shoes pressed into the wet grass and I was careful to not let my foot cross. I had to wait for the command. The grass stretched endlessly before me, looming, terrifying, surrounded by towering pine trees, standing as if they were looking down at me. They stretched for miles, I'd never learned what was on the other side of those trees. My breath came out as shaky exhales, visible in the cold air, but eventually blended into the mist that hung around us all. I had to focus on not shivering. I couldn't show I was cold. Weakness meant I was a target.
To one side of me, the dark water of the loch rippled faintly when the wind stirred or when a small, innocent animal rested atop the surface. Mist lingered above it, blurring what was on the other side of the water.
"Go!" A voice echoed through the field.
Along with everyone else, I pushed myself forward, my legs moving as fast as they could to carry me through the grassy field. The course stretched out before us all, a course of ropes, climbing frames and balance tests. My mind currently wasn't focused on how I'd complete them all, right now, all I cared about was being quick. I couldn't be last.
The first was easy, a small climbing frame only about double the size of me. I felt it wasn't fair, I was only ten and some of the other girls were three or four years older. They were taller, stronger, and could get over quicker than me. Instead of climbing down the opposite side, I jumped down, landing on my feet to keep running as quick as my feet would carry me.
Next, I dropped down to my stomach, using my arms to pull me beneath the blanket of barbed wire. The grass was wet, muddy and slippery, my arms barely had the strength to drag me through it, but I had to. Keeping my head down, avoiding the sharp metal spikes only centimetres from the top of my head, I crawled through, ignoring the sting of my hair being tangled in the wire and being ripped from my head.
As soon as I was out, I was on my feet again, my entire body coated in thick, freezing cold mud. I could barely register what was happening in front of me, what the next test to examine my strength would be. My eyes attempted to focus.
But then, I slipped the mud beneath my feet. It was so damp, the ground so uneven and trampled that I slid. My knees hit the ground at the same time as my hands, grazed by a few little rocks hidden in the earth. Tears gathered in my eyes, I had to force the pain away, scrambling to get back up.
I was last.
I couldn't be last.
I glanced behind me, there wasn't another person besides the spectators, all of their eyes on me, my failure. My weakness. I was on my feet again and running, tears mixing with the dirt covering me.
