Reckless {HS}

thirty-nine

Delilah's Pov

My heart is pounding so loudly, it's like the music and chatter in the ballroom have faded into the background. I can barely think. I keep my gaze straight ahead, not daring to look at anyone too long. If I do, they'll know. They'll see right through me and know exactly what I'm about to do.

Harry's voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts, steady and sure, grounding me. "Louis has eyes on the target," he murmurs, and I feel a small surge of relief knowing that someone is watching over us.

We move through the crowd as if this is a normal night, as if we're just another couple here to enjoy the event. But nothing about this is normal. Not for me. Every step feels heavier, like I'm walking toward the edge of a cliff. Yet at the same time, something deep inside me is starting to stir—something darkly exhilarating. I've never felt this kind of anticipation before. This... rush.

Harry's eyes meet mine, a quick flicker of something passing between us. "You ready?" he asks, his voice just loud enough for me to hear over the soft hum of conversation around us. I nod, swallowing down my nerves.

He turns his attention toward our target, a tall, elegant woman who looks like she belongs in a magazine ad for high-end jewelry. She's beautiful in a cold, statuesque way, her raven-black hair styled into a perfect updo, her emerald green gown draping elegantly over her frame. But it's the necklace around her neck that's the real star—an emerald as big as a small stone, sparkling under the chandelier lights.

Without missing a beat, Harry approaches her, slipping effortlessly into his role. "Excuse me," he says, his tone smooth, the charm practically dripping off his words. "I couldn't help but notice your necklace. It's stunning. Suits you perfectly."

The woman glances down at the emerald, clearly pleased by the attention. Her lips curve into a smile, one that's just a little too practiced, but Harry's too good at this. He knows exactly how to play it. He says something else, leaning in just a little closer, and her eyes are locked on him now, utterly absorbed by his effortless charm.

That's my cue.

I take a deep breath, heart slamming against my ribs, and slip through the crowd until I'm standing just behind her. I feel like I'm moving in slow motion. The space between me and the woman is impossibly small, but every inch feels monumental. I can feel the sweat starting to form on my palms, my breath shaky as I prepare myself for what I'm about to do.

My hand reaches out, and everything else around me seems to blur. It's just me and the clasp of the necklace, my fingers fumbling at first, almost missing their target. The rush surges through me—part terror, part thrill, my skin buzzing with the adrenaline flooding my veins. I've never felt anything like this before. It's dangerous, intoxicating. My senses are on high alert, the fear of getting caught mingling with the electric excitement of the heist.

Harry keeps the woman talking, laughing at something she says, his voice distant and muffled in my ears as I focus solely on the clasp. I bite my lip to steady my hand, my breath catching as the necklace finally comes undone. It slides free, cold and heavy in my hand. I want to laugh out loud. I want to scream. The relief is like a shot of adrenaline straight to my heart. My hand moves quickly, stashing the necklace deep into the pocket of my gown, my fingers trembling with the effort to remain calm.

I move away from her before she even realizes something's wrong, my heart thundering in my chest. The sheer rush of it—the fear, the excitement—it's all-consuming. My head is spinning, and I can barely keep myself from shaking as I walk, trying to look casual. But inside, I'm a storm. My body is buzzing, the thrill of what I just did making me feel more alive than I ever have before.

I keep my pace steady, fighting the urge to run, until I catch up with Harry. He's walking calmly through the ballroom like nothing happened, but when his eyes meet mine, there's something in them—something that says he knows exactly how I'm feeling right now.

"You alright?" he asks, his tone light, but his gaze sharp.

I nod, trying to suppress the wild beating of my heart. "Yeah... I think so."

We don't have time to process any of it as we meet up with Niall near the entrance. He gives us a quick glance, checking us over before nodding, signaling that we're all good. The tension between us is palpable, but no words are needed as we make our way toward the exit. We move as one, walking out of the hotel as smoothly as we walked in, like nothing happened at all. But inside, I'm still riding the high, my pulse thrumming with the adrenaline that won't seem to fade.

We slip into the car, Liam already waiting behind the wheel. As soon as the doors close, I exhale a breath I didn't realize I was holding. I lean back against the seat, trying to calm the dizzying rush of emotions crashing over me. I did it. I actually did it. But now that it's over, the weight of what just happened crashes down on me, and it's all I can do to keep my hands from shaking.

Harry glances at me again from the corner of his eye, but he doesn't say anything. The job's done. For now, at least.