Reckless {HS}

fifteen

Delilah's Pov

The museum was plunged into sudden darkness, and for a second, I froze. My heart hammered in my chest as the emergency lights flickered weakly to life, casting eerie shadows across the ancient sculptures and paintings. The silence around me felt like it had swallowed the whole world, leaving me standing in the middle of something I shouldn't be part of.

I hadn't expected it to go down like this, but here I was—caught in the middle of something I couldn't walk away from. Not now.

My mind raced as I turned to move, the air thick with tension. Guards scrambled in confusion, footsteps echoing down the marble halls, and I decided maybe it was best to slip out unnoticed. But before I could even think to move, a strong hand wrapped around my arm.

I gasped, panic overtaking me as I twisted around, trying to pull free, but the grip tightened, yanking me back into the shadows. I stumbled, my heart thundering in my ears, and before I could scream or fight, I was dragged into a narrow hallway hidden behind one of the museum's columns.

My back hit the cold stone wall, knocking the breath from my lungs. I looked up, my pulse quickening as I locked eyes with him.

Even in the dim light, I knew those eyes. That sharp jaw, the intensity behind his stare. My stomach dropped.

It was him.

He stood there, his face hard, eyes like daggers. But there was something else behind the anger. Something deeper, though I couldn't tell if it was worry or something even darker.

"What the hell are you doing here?" His voice was low, sharp.

I blinked, my heart still pounding in my chest, words caught in my throat. I hadn't planned for this—hadn't expected to see him again, least of all like this.

When I didn't answer right away, his jaw tightened. "Do you have any idea how reckless this is?"

"I—I don't..." I stammered, barely able to find my voice. "I was just—"

"Just what?" he cut me off, his hand still gripping my arm, though not as hard as before. "Were you following me?"

Following him? I wasn't sure. Maybe I had been. I'd pieced things together, tracked the pattern in the robberies, and somehow ended up here. But now, standing in front of him, I couldn't figure out what had driven me to come. Obsession? Curiosity?

"I—" I started, but his eyes darkened, a dangerous glint flickering behind them.

"You shouldn't be here," he said through gritted teeth, his voice low but intense. "You don't know what you've just stepped into."

I tugged at my arm, trying to free myself, but his grip held firm. My breath hitched as I searched his eyes. "Why are you doing this?" I whispered.

For a moment, his eyes softened, just slightly, and I saw a flicker of something—concern, maybe? It was gone before I could read it, replaced with a hardened expression as he shook his head. "Because this is bigger than you, Delilah."

Hearing my name roll off his tongue stopped me cold. I stared at him, my pulse racing faster.

Stepping in closer, his face was inches from mine now, his gaze piercing through me. "You've put yourself in the middle of something dangerous."

The weight of his words hit me hard, but there was something else—something beneath the warning that made me tremble. He wasn't just mad. He was...protective? No, that couldn't be right. But there was a tension in his voice, something that made me think he wasn't just angry because I'd followed him. It was something more.

"You don't have to do this," I whispered, though I wasn't sure why I said it. My mind was spinning.

He studied me for a long moment, his jaw tightening again. "You think you know what's happening here?" His voice was low, a dangerous edge to it. "You don't. This isn't some mystery for you to solve."

"I'm not stupid," I shot back, the frustration in my chest bubbling over. "I know something's going on. I know you—"

"You don't know anything." His voice was a sharp whisper now. "You don't know me."

My heart skipped a beat as his words hung in the air. He was right. I didn't know him. I didn't know his name or anything real about him. I only knew his eyes and the way they seemed to haunt me.

"I know enough," I said quietly, though I wasn't sure I believed it myself.

He shook his head, his expression hardening again. "You don't know anything," he repeated.

I heard footsteps coming down the hallway, and then a voice, faint but clear, "Harry? Where are you, dude?"

My stomach dropped. I looked up sharply. The man in front of me—Harry—tensed immediately, his expression shifting from frustration to surprise, his eyes widening as if he hadn't expected this moment.

"Harry?" I whispered, my voice almost trembling as the name tumbled out of my mouth. I saw his jaw tighten, his grip on my arm loosening ever so slightly.

His reaction told me everything.

"That's your name... Harry." I said, staring at him, my heart pounding even louder now. I wasn't supposed to know that. He wasn't supposed to let me know that.

His eyes flashed, and for a split second, he looked like he was about to say something, but he didn't. His expression turned steely instead, shutting me out again, but I could tell I'd caught him off guard.

The moment stretched between us, heavy and thick with unspoken words. My mind raced, trying to process it all. Harry. The man who had haunted my thoughts for so long now had a name. And that name made everything feel even more real.

His face hardened again as he took a step back. "Forget it," he muttered, his voice lower now. "Forget what you heard."

Before I could respond, before I could push him further, he turned and disappeared into the darkness, leaving me alone in the dimly lit hallway, his name echoing in my mind.

Harry.