Harry Styles, a secret service agent working for British intelligence is tasked with finding the killer after a series of brutal but calculated murders across Europe. His mind is sharp, he's smart, arrogant and works with a precision that leaves no...
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Harry Styles
Kicking the door closed, I didn't dare take my hands off Winter. I was too afraid to let go. Her cheek was on my chest, her arms so loosely wrapped around my hips I could barely feel her touch. The glimpse I'd gotten of her before she tucked herself away told me more than I wanted to know. They had done unforgivable things to her. Things I couldn't let myself imagine.
Her breathing was slow. Too slow, the pace that reminded me of how soundly she slept beside me. I didn't know where her mind had gone, what pieces of her were here with me, or if she even knew who I was.
My heartbeat thundered in my chest. I had no idea what to do, there was nothing I could do to make this okay. All I could do was hold on to her. Be soft. Even if my words didn't reach her, if she didn't know who I was or what I was saying. Because the last time I saw her, I had to convince her that we'd met, that we lived together. That we cared about each other. But then, she'd reached for me too. She hugged me tight. She wrapped herself around me and asked for help. For the first time since I'd met her, she admitted she needed help. So that was what I was going off of— She needed help, and she needed me.
"I've got you." I whispered, letting my thumb draw back and forth along the back of her head. I didn't want to touch her too much, I didn't know if she was hurt, and I didn't want to startle her. "You're safe. You're safe, flower."
As I spoke, she only breathed slowly, steadily. I didn't even know if she could hear me.
Slowly, while still holding her, I took a few steps backwards, towards the couches so that I could sit down with her. I knew I had to take my time to work with her here, but eventually I'd have to get her cleaned up, and into bed. Where she could rest, and I could keep her safe. As I stepped, she pulled her cheek from my chest but kept her head hung, hidden by her tangled hair so I couldn't see her expression.
Once Winter was sitting, and her arms dropped from my hips to rest on her lap, she curled herself up on the couch. Her knees to her chest, her arms wrapped around her. The sight of her wrists and her arms made me nauseous. How pale her skin was, more so than usual. The bruising, blue, purple marks on her skin. Everything about her was frail, fragile. I didn't know what my next move should be, I felt completely fucking useless this situation. The only thing I did was grab the blanket that was draped over the back cushions of the couch, and wrap it around her shoulders.
I took a few quick steps towards the bottom of the stairs, raising my voice to only its natural level. I didn't want to shout and startle her, but I needed him to hear me. "Niall." When I didn't immediately respond, I impatiently raised my voice a fraction. "Niall."
He was making his way halfway down the stairs moments later, exiting the spare room—Winter's room that she had yet to sleep in. Bean followed behind him, stopping herself when she settled between his ankles. Her tail wagged, innocent to everything that was going on right now. Usually, Bean was a way to cheer Winter up, the innocent little dog never failed to make her smile. But now, I didn't think Winter would so much as glance at her. Winter needed space and comfort.
