Reckless {HS}

twenty-three

Delilah's Pov

The gallery was packed, bustling with chatter and the clinking of champagne glasses. Sophie dragged me along, insisting this would help get my mind off things—off him. And for a while, it worked. The art was beautiful, the kind of old-world elegance that made you feel like you didn't belong but also couldn't look away.

I glanced at Sophie, who was eagerly admiring a Renaissance painting, her eyes wide with admiration. She looked so carefree, lost in the beauty of the art, and I wished I could feel the same. But something was off. Maybe it was the fact that I wasn't really into art galleries, or maybe it was just the lingering tension in my chest that had been there ever since... that night.

Sophie nudged me. "Look at this one, Delilah! Isn't it amazing?" She pointed to a massive oil painting of a golden sunset over a mountainous landscape.

I nodded, trying to muster a smile. "Yeah, it's gorgeous."

But I wasn't really paying attention. My eyes kept darting around the room, feeling this strange pull that I couldn't explain. It was almost as if... I was looking for something. Or someone.

I shook the thought away, rolling my shoulders to release some tension. I had promised myself I wasn't going to think about him tonight. Harry. That name had lingered in my mind ever since that night at the museum, ever since Niall had called out to him, and it all came rushing back. But I couldn't let it consume me. Not again.

Still, as we wandered from exhibit to exhibit, a familiar feeling of unease crept into my chest. And then I saw him.

At first, I thought I was imagining things. He was in the corner of the room, wearing a black suit like the rest of the waitstaff, holding a tray of champagne flutes. His hair was slicked back, his jaw clenched as if he was waiting for something—or someone. But it couldn't be him. It was impossible.

No... no way.

I blinked, shaking my head. "It's just your mind playing tricks on you," I muttered under my breath, looking away quickly, trying to convince myself that my anxiety was just getting the better of me.

But the more I tried to ignore it, the faster my thoughts spiraled. My mind went back to the map I'd been poring over for days, the one with the circled locations of all the heists I'd traced. This gallery was right in the path of their next job—right where they'd be tonight.

How come I didn't think of this?

My pulse quickened. I felt the blood drain from my face as the realization hit me. They're here. He's here. And I walked straight into it.

I turned to Sophie, trying to hide my panic. "Hey, I think I'm going to step outside for some air," I said, forcing a tight smile.

Sophie furrowed her brows in concern. "Are you okay? You've been acting weird all night."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just... too many people in here. I'll be back in a minute." I didn't wait for her response, making a quick beeline for the door.

As I weaved through the crowd, I could feel the walls closing in around me. The art, the people, the music—it was all too much. I needed to clear my head, but the only thing swirling around in it was Harry. I didn't even know what I was looking for—was he watching me? Was I just being paranoid?

I made my way to the side of the gallery, slipping past the heavy velvet ropes that marked off a staff-only area. I wasn't sure what I was doing—maybe trying to find a way out or just trying to breathe.

But that's when I saw it—a group of men standing near a back hallway. One of them was Harry. I froze, staying hidden behind a pillar, my breath catching in my throat.

They were talking in low voices, and even though I couldn't hear what they were saying, I knew what it was about. The heist. The one I had somehow stumbled into again.

I wanted to run, to scream, to do anything but stand there like a deer caught in headlights. But my feet wouldn't move.

One of the men pointed to something—a panel on the wall that looked like it controlled the security cameras. And without even realizing it, I stepped forward, my heart racing, my mind screaming at me to stop.

Before I knew it, I was standing right in front of the control panel, as if I was meant to be there. One of the men, who I recognized as Louis, walked over, holding something small in his hand—a flash drive, maybe? He barely glanced at me, not seeming to realize that I wasn't part of their crew.

"Hey, love, mind passing this to the tech guy inside?" he said, handing me the drive without even looking twice.

I stared at the flash drive in my hand, my mind whirling. "Uh... sure," I stammered, still too stunned to figure out what was happening.

"Thanks," he muttered before turning back to the group.

As soon as he was gone, I stood there, clutching the drive in my hand, my brain barely processing what had just happened. I had just offered to help them—without even second guessing it.

My breathing quickened, and panic clawed at my chest. What the hell was I supposed to do now? I didn't want to be involved in this, but I already was. I was standing in the middle of something far bigger than I understood, and for the life of me, I couldn't figure out how to get out of it.

I had to get out. Now.

Turning on my heel, I shoved the drive into my pocket and bolted back through the gallery, trying to push past the sinking feeling that I'd just made the worst mistake of my life.