Reckless {HS}

thirty

Harry's Pov

I couldn't get the image out of my head. The way Delilah looked straddling me just minutes ago was seared into my brain like a brand. The weight of her body pressing into mine, the slight catch in her breath as our eyes locked—it was impossible to forget. No matter how hard I tried to focus, it lingered, distracting me when I needed to be clearheaded the most.

I sat at the edge of the couch, arms resting on my knees, but my mind wasn't on the conversation happening in front of me. It was on her, across the room, her face partially turned toward me, stealing the same stolen glances I was. Our eyes met again, just for a second, but it was enough to send my pulse racing.

What the hell was wrong with me?

"Harry?" Louis' voice pulled me back to the room, his eyebrow raised in question. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall, while Niall and Liam were scattered around the small living room, all of them looking expectantly in my direction. Delilah, sitting at the far end of the couch, had her arms crossed, pretending to listen to the conversation, but I knew she wasn't entirely tuned in either. I could feel it.

I cleared my throat, trying to shake off whatever hold she had over me. "Yeah, what?"

Louis smirked, shaking his head. "You good, mate? You've been staring off into space since we started."

"I'm fine," I snapped, sitting up straighter. "What were you saying?"

"We're talking about the next move," Niall chimed in, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. "Now that Delilah's involved—whether we like it or not—we need to figure out how this is going to work. We can't just keep her in the dark."

Delilah's head snapped up, and I could see her bristle at the way Niall spoke, like she was a problem to be solved. And maybe she was, but I didn't need him making it worse.

"I can handle myself," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "I don't need any of you making decisions for me."

The room fell silent for a moment. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, taking in the way her jaw clenched, her eyes narrowed, clearly annoyed at the way we were talking about her.

Louis spoke up, breaking the tension. "Maybe she's right."

I frowned. "About what?"

"About being involved." Louis looked between me and Delilah, his tone thoughtful. "She's already proved that she can figure things out. And let's be honest, Harry—she figured out where we were going to be twice. That's more than half the people we've worked with. If she's smart enough to do that, then maybe... she could be useful."

My stomach twisted at the suggestion. Useful? Delilah? The thought of her getting involved in anything we were doing made me sick to my stomach. It wasn't just that she didn't belong in this world—she shouldn't be in it. She was too good for this, too pure. Too... everything.

"No," I said flatly, leaning forward. "Absolutely not."

Louis raised an eyebrow, giving me that smug look like he knew something I didn't. "Why not? She's already in it, mate. You can't just pretend she's not. And from where I'm sitting, she might be more help than any of us expected."

"She's not getting involved." My voice was harder than I intended, but I didn't care. The idea of her being anywhere near danger, anywhere near what we did, made my blood boil. The boys were used to this life. They knew how to handle the risks. But Delilah?

No way.

"I can be helpful," Delilah said suddenly, drawing all our attention back to her. Her chin was lifted, her eyes focused directly on me. She wasn't backing down from this. "I'm not saying I'm an expert at... whatever you do. But if I'm already here, if I'm already tangled in this mess, then I can at least help. You need someone who you can trust, right? And I want to be someone you can trust."

"Delilah..." I started, but she cut me off.

"You're not keeping me in the dark anymore. I know too much already. If I can help, I will."

The room was tense, everyone waiting for me to say something, to give in, or push back harder. I could feel their eyes on me, and hers—especially hers. She wasn't going to let this go, and deep down, I knew it. There was no getting out of this for her now. Not without causing more harm than good.

But that didn't mean I was okay with it.

"She's not cut out for this," I muttered, more to myself than to anyone else, running a hand through my hair in frustration.

"You don't know that," Louis said, leaning back and crossing his arms. "Maybe you don't give her enough credit."

My eyes flicked to Delilah, who was still staring at me, unwavering. It pissed me off, honestly—how determined she was to be part of something she had no business being in. But at the same time, I couldn't deny that she had already gotten involved. There was no undoing that.

I clenched my jaw, trying to fight the part of me that wanted to keep her as far away from all of this as possible. "She's not getting hurt. I won't let that happen."

"I won't get hurt," Delilah said, her voice softer now. "I can handle myself. But we need to trust each other, or this isn't going to work."

Her words hung in the air between us, challenging me to say something. To shut her down. But I didn't. Because I knew, deep down, that she was right. If she was going to be part of this, we needed to trust her. And I hated that.

Niall leaned back, looking between the two of us with a smirk. "Looks like we've got a new recruit, boys."

I shot him a warning glare, but he just shrugged, unfazed. Louis, too, seemed way too pleased with the way things were going. Liam stayed quiet, as usual, though he gave a slight nod of agreement when Louis suggested Delilah could be helpful in future jobs.

The tension in my chest was thick, almost suffocating. I wasn't ready for this. For her. But there was no stopping it now. She was in, whether I liked it or not.

"Fine," I finally said, my voice low. "But if anything happens to her, it's on all of us."

Delilah's eyes softened, and for the first time in this whole mess, I saw a flicker of something I couldn't quite place—something that made me want to protect her even more. But no matter what I felt, no matter what this was, I had to keep her safe. Even if that meant making sure she was never part of another job again.

"You're not getting hurt," I repeated, more to myself than anyone else.

Because if she did, I knew I wouldn't be able to live with it.