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
"Give me your hand. Now. Now, Winter." I extended my hand out again when she took a step back from me in caution, fear, I didn't really know. Shock, even.
They knew.
They knew Winter was the killer. They knew the same girl I brought to the New year's party and introduced to everyone was the same girl that had attacked two agents in the office last night and left them for dead. They knew she killed them and escaped. I didn't know if they knew that I helped.
"What's going on?" Winter's shoulders sank, she glanced over her shoulder, and then back at me.
"They know." I repeated, grabbing onto her hand when she didn't take mine. "They know and they are coming here."
"I—"
Her words were cut off when I dragged her into my bedroom and closed the door behind us.
Wishing I could just lock us both in here and we'd be safe, that nothing would happen and that this was all some sort of sick joke. "It's fine. It's fine. You're gonna be fine." I assured her, even though she was still not entirely sure of what was going on. Maybe I was trying to reassure myself more than her. "We just have to—"
The pounding on my front door had Winter grasping onto my hand, stepping closer to me for that sense of security I wished I could give her right now. We'd been talking about it, arguing about it even, not having known we were going to be thrown into this situation almost immediately after.
"Look at me. It's going to be okay." I pulled her in close, and I cupped her face in my hands, trying to keep myself calm in this situation even though I had no fucking idea how to go about this and make sure we both made it out of this safely. "They're gonna search the flat looking for you."
Winter said nothing, but I saw it in her expression, the defeat, and then the acceptance. In her eyes I could see that she thought this was it. This was what we had just been talking about and they were going to come inside and search for her, find her and then lock her away forever. Something she had managed to avoid her entire life. No matter how close I got she almost escaped it. Now it was impossible.
She thought I was going to let them take her.
My heart was pounding so loud it echoed in my ears and my mind, drowning out almost every other sense. I just had to think. I had to fucking think about how I could get her out of this situation. The only other thing I could hear was the relentless pounding on my door, and I knew it was only a few seconds until they broke it down. We were one floor up, and if they truly thought she was the killer then the building was going to be entirely surrounded.
My mind was racing, grasping at every small thought I had, every solution. I could tell by the expression on her face that she intended to do as we had discussed and turn herself in. Even if it was logical to let that happen—to let a killer turn herself in to the people I worked with, I wasn't going to let that happen. I felt though I'd be betraying her, even though she made it clear that if it came to it, she didn't want me to protect her anymore.
