✓ 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙨 & 𝙨𝙞𝙡𝙠 ━━ Harry Styles

22. chapter twenty-two

( 22. the warning )

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VALENTINA COULDN'T stop her hands from shaking. Back in her studio, the familiar scent of oil paints and turpentine usually brought her comfort, but tonight, it felt cloying, suffocating. Surrounded by half-finished paintings—abandoned moments of beauty and solace—she pulled up every article she could find about One Direction.

Each article, each dark insinuation, wrapped tighter around her, filling her with an unfamiliar dread. How many of these coincidences could really be coincidences? Her mind raced with questions, each one laced with the sting of betrayal. What had she overlooked? What had she been too blinded to see?

Her phone lit up on the edge of her desk, and she glanced at it, her heart skipping as she saw his name.

N: Please tell me you're safe.

A day ago, a message like that would have sent her heart racing with excitement, the hint of his concern warming her. Now, it felt like a knife twisting in her chest.

V: Playing your part?

The response came quickly—three dots appeared, flickered, disappeared. Then reappeared, a hesitant pulse of words he couldn't quite bring himself to say.

N: It's not what you think.

She swallowed hard, fingers trembling as she typed her reply.

V: Then what is it?

Silence.

In frustration, she tossed the phone across the room, watching it land among scattered paintbrushes and canvases. Her thoughts ran wild, memories of every encounter with Niall replaying with a darker edge. The little moments she'd cherished, the touches, the looks...had it all been part of his plan?

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"Increase her security detail," Victoria commanded, her voice steely as she stood at her office window, gazing down at the lights of London flickering on as dusk crept over the city. "I want to know everywhere she goes. Everyone she sees."

"Yes, Miss Blackwood," her new head of security replied, jotting down notes, his gaze steady but respectful. "And if Mr. Horan approaches her?"

Victoria's fingers tightened around her glass, a surge of anger flashing through her. Niall was charming, disarming—a risk she should never have let her sister take.

"Watch. And report," she said, her tone icy. "Do not engage unless I give explicit instructions."

The head of security nodded, noting the severity in her tone. Once he'd left, Victoria exhaled, rubbing her temples. She sank into her chair, pulling up old files—evidence, records, leads she'd been pursuing for years, piecing together the truth behind the shadows surrounding her family. Michael Wright's death certificate from 2000 stared back at her. It looked perfect. Too perfect.

Her phone buzzed, jolting her back to the present. A message from Elena flashed on the screen.

E: Your sister was at One Direction today. Top floor.

Victoria's blood ran cold. Damn it, Val.

She pushed away from her desk, reaching for her coat. She had allowed Valentina to get too close, and now it was all falling apart. This had to end tonight.

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"She heard everything." Niall's voice was raw, laced with guilt and panic as he paced the length of Louis's office. His usual calm demeanor was gone, replaced by a frantic energy that made Louis raise an eyebrow. "About Victoria getting close. About the plan. About—"

"About me?"

Michael Wright emerged from the shadows, his presence radiating an almost predatory calm. His eyes gleamed with dark amusement as he looked from Niall to Louis, clearly reveling in their discomfort.

"How unfortunate," Wright murmured, the hint of a smile curling at his lips.

Niall's voice was a frantic whisper, desperation lacing his words. "She doesn't understand what she heard. She won't—"

"Won't what?" Wright interrupted, taking a leisurely step closer. "Tell her sister? Investigate further? Sweet, artistic Valentina, with her innocent eyes and clever little mind?"

Niall looked down, unable to meet his gaze. "I can handle it," he managed, though even he didn't believe his own words.

Wright studied him with a cold, calculating gaze. "Can you?" he asked, his tone dripping with condescension. "Because from where I stand, it appears your heart is handling you."

Niall's fists clenched at his sides. "I know my job."

Wright's voice was smooth, his expression unreadable. "Your job with her was to only get information. Now that she's heard this she could compromise EVERYTHING. No more chances with her. Bring her to the club tomorrow night. The private room."

A chill ran down Niall's spine, his blood turning to ice. "Why?" he whispered, dreading the answer.

Wright's gaze never wavered. "Because I told you to," he replied, his voice deceptively soft, each word carrying a lethal weight. "Unless you'd prefer I handle it myself?"

"No," Niall blurted out, the word escaping before he could stop it. "I'll bring her."

Wright's lips curved into a cold, satisfied smile. "Good boy." He turned his attention to Louis, who had been watching in silence. "Make the arrangements. And Louis?"

Louis straightened. "Yes, sir?"

"Make sure our friend in the hospital knows to expect a visitor. Harry needs a little reminder about loyalty." Wright's tone was light, almost playful, but the threat behind it was unmistakable.

Louis nodded, and with that, Wright glided out of the room, leaving an oppressive silence in his wake.

Once he was gone, Niall slumped into a chair, his hands shaking as he stared at his phone. Valentina's last message sat unanswered, the words taunting him:

V: What are you planning?

He typed out a reply, his fingers trembling.

N: I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

But he couldn't bring himself to send it. With a sigh, he deleted the message, sinking further into his chair. He felt trapped, every choice leading him further into a maze with no exit.

He thought of Valentina's smile, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke of her art, her dreams, her hopes for a life far from the dark games they played here. She didn't deserve any of this. But he'd brought her into it, just for some stupid job.

But now he knew better.

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