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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Winter.
It was dark, late evening. The air was thick, damp from how hard it had rained earlier tonight when I was beginning to prepare for this. Lingering in a side street, I waited, watching people pass, just not the person I was looking for.
My eyes focused on the front door of the building where Niall Horan was scheduled to leave in three minutes when his shift for tonight came to an end. Much like how his life was also going to come to an end. This was familiar to me, something I'd done a thousand times before–stalking, hunting, murdering.
I spotted him, standing alone outside of the building, fumbling in his bag to try and find the keys to his car so he could drive home for the night. I'd thought about getting in the car alongside him and killing him there, but that was always so messy. I could make a mess, and I had to be clean. I wanted to do it on the street even though I'd been told to be on my best behaviour. There was nothing like the adrenaline rush of almost being seen.
Following him as he walked, I pulled the knife from my boot, the handle cold, the metal was freshly sharpened and clean from when it had last been used. The weight of the blade and the way it felt between my fingers was another thing familiar to me, keeping me present, settling my mind. The car park was quiet, his car and only a few others were left after the long work day.
I stepped closer to him, my foot scuffed on the cobblestone pavement beneath me. As soon as he heard the noise, Niall spun himself around.
His eyes locked with mine, a flicker of an expression I didn't recognise in his gaze. "Winter?"
I faltered, a rare misstep that had never ever happened to me before. My grip loosened on the knife.
He knew my name.
He took a step closer, squinting in an attempt to see me better in the darkness. "Winter is that you?" He recognised me. In his eyes there was a flash of familiarity. "Where have you been? We've been looking for you for weeks."
He must have been looking into other kills I had done recently. I wanted to kill him, to get all of this over and done with because I hated the fact he knew my name and instead of recognising the killer standing a few feet away from him, it was like he recognised something else. He wasn't scared of me. It was as though he didn't expect me to attack, he didn't think I was here to kill him.
"Come here. Get in my car." he waved for me to come closer. For a killer to get closer to him. "Shit, where were you? I'll call Harry."
There was a tug in my chest, something deep and buried that ached at his words.
I watched him, frozen and still as he reached into his pocket, withdrawing his phone so that he could call Harry.
Harry.
As he was distracted, I took the opportunity to withdraw the knife from behind my back. If it was anyone else, at any other time, I'd have killed him by now, I wouldn't have waited until he was looking away from me to take out the knife. But there really was just something about him that made me not want him to know I was about to do this. I didn't want him to know he was about to die. I just wanted to get it over and done with.
