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
By the time I woke up later that same morning, the space in the bed beside me where Winter had lay was empty, cold. Something that told me she had gotten up and left hours ago.
I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the foggy feeling of sleep before glancing beside me again, seeing that she was still gone. The silence in the flat felt heavy, I couldn't hear her in the bathroom, and there wasn't a noise coming from downstairs. Unsure of what time it was, I had no idea how long I'd been asleep for since we woke up and she was in my arms.
After sitting up and throwing some clothes on, I checked the bathroom, and as I thought, she wasn't there. She wasn't in the spare room either. Part of me had wondered if she eventually ended up getting overwhelmed and had gone back through to have more space.
It was something I never thought would happen, when I heard the small sound of her voice, asking me to come through, for her to not be alone. Even sharing the bed with the pillows up was a big step for her, I knew that. To have her head on my chest and my arms around her was a privilege I'd always be grateful for. Because she trusted me.
I didn't even want to sleep because I realised quickly how much I enjoyed watching her sleep. But I could have stayed awake the entire night just listening to her breathe, watching her relax into my side. It was all I wanted for her, to feel safe. To relax. I wasn't sure I'd ever seen her so peaceful, even other times I'd seen her asleep, she always somehow looked worried and unrested as she slept. Last night was different. The crease between her brows disappeared, her shoulders relaxed and she was so still and warm I was terrified to move at all in case I disturbed her.
The first feelings that spread through me when I realised she was in neither of the bedrooms or bathroom was worry and dread. Worry and dread were always the feelings I had when she wasn't with me, because it seemed to be more often than not, that if she wasn't with me, something bad was happening.
"Winter?" I called out, my voice echoing through the bottom floor of the flat as I made my way down the stairs. I couldn't hear any noise, no movement or sign of life. As if she was down there she was as silent as a mouse. It felt off. When there was no response at all, and my feet hit the bottom floor of the flat, I called out for her again, wondering why she hadn't heard me the first time. "Winter?"
