Reckless {HS}

forty-two

Harry's Pov

I walked into my office, closing the door softly behind me, though I wasn't sure why. It's not like anyone could hear me through these thick walls. The necklace felt heavy in my hand as I set it down on the desk, the emeralds gleaming under the light. For a moment, I just stared at it, letting the adrenaline of the night slowly fade away. This job was done, another successful heist under our belts. But I wasn't at ease.

I pulled out my phone and hesitated for a second before dialing. The familiar tension built up in my chest as the ringing tone filled the room. After two rings, a gruff voice came on the line.

"Well, well, if it isn't my prodigal son," my dad's voice drawled, dripping with sarcasm. "I was starting to wonder if you'd actually pull this one off."

"The job's done," I replied, keeping my tone steady, trying not to let the knot in my stomach tighten. "I've got the necklace."

There was a pause on the other end, followed by a dry chuckle. "Looks like you finally did something right this time."

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay calm. This was nothing new. My dad never gave me credit, never let me feel like I'd actually achieved something. Even after all these years, after all the jobs I'd pulled off, it was never enough for him. I could have stolen the crown jewels, and he'd still find something to criticize.

"You've been dragging your feet for too long, Harry. Don't get too comfortable. This little heist is just a small piece of the bigger puzzle."

His words felt heavy, even if he wasn't being explicit. I knew there was more to all of this, more that he wasn't telling me. I'd known it for a while now—there were things happening behind the scenes, things I hadn't been let in on yet.

"I know," I muttered, not wanting to give him any more reason to berate me.

"Do you?" His voice was sharp, biting. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're still fumbling around, doing small-time jobs like some rookie. You're supposed to be in charge of this crew, Harry. Act like it."

I stayed silent, swallowing the retort that was on the tip of my tongue. There was no point arguing with him. He'd always have the upper hand—he always had.

"You've got more to worry about than just shiny trinkets," he continued, his voice lowering to a more menacing tone. "Keep your eyes open. You're going to need to start thinking about the bigger picture, or you'll get swallowed whole."

I didn't say anything. I didn't need to. His message was clear: something was coming, something bigger than anything we'd handled before. And he didn't trust me to handle it. Not fully, anyway.

"Don't screw it up, Harry," he added before hanging up.

The line went dead, and I stood there, gripping the phone tight in my hand, my knuckles turning white. My jaw clenched as the usual wave of frustration washed over me. He always did this—always made me feel like I was still that kid who couldn't do anything right.

I tossed the phone down onto the desk, feeling the anger rise. The worst part was, he was right. I wasn't thinking about the bigger picture. I'd been too focused on pulling off this job and... Delilah.

Delilah.

I sank down into the chair behind my desk, leaning back as my mind went back to her. The way she'd smiled after the heist, her eyes wide with excitement, her words tumbling out in a rush of adrenaline. She'd been alive in a way I hadn't seen before. It wasn't just the thrill of pulling off the job—it was more than that. She was... hooked.

And that scared the hell out of me.

She didn't know what she was getting into. She didn't know how dangerous this world could be. And the way she was throwing herself into it, with that reckless excitement, was like watching someone walk blindfolded toward the edge of a cliff.

This life wasn't just about the adrenaline or the thrill of the heist. It was about survival. And if she didn't figure that out soon, she'd get herself killed.

I rubbed a hand over my face, trying to shake the thoughts away, but they lingered. She wasn't supposed to be a part of this. She wasn't supposed to get this involved. Hell, she wasn't supposed to be good at it either. But tonight, she'd proved she was a natural. She'd pulled off that heist without a hitch, and I couldn't deny it—I was impressed.

But that didn't mean she belonged here.

I could still hear her voice in my head, rattling on about how thrilling it was, how she couldn't believe she'd actually done it. Her energy had been infectious, and part of me had almost let myself get swept up in it, had almost let myself enjoy the moment. But I couldn't afford to think like that.

This was a dangerous game, and she was playing with fire.

I leaned forward, staring at the necklace on the desk in front of me, the emeralds catching the light, reflecting back at me like cold green eyes. This was just a piece of the puzzle, my dad had said. But what did the whole puzzle look like? And how did Delilah fit into it?

I didn't want her involved in whatever was coming next, but I knew it was too late. She was already in. She had said she wanted to help, that she could be useful. And tonight, she'd proved it. But the thought of her getting in any deeper made my stomach churn.

I couldn't let her get hurt. I wouldn't let her get hurt.

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I might not have a choice.