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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Winter
I was in Romans private quarters.
A place where nobody ever dared to enter. I assumed almost all of the girls wouldn't even know where to find it within this mansion. If any of us were ever caught here, we'd be killed with no questions, no hesitations. I knew where it was only because of Aaron, because of the times when we were teenagers and he'd sneak me up here so we could drink the contents of Romans wine cellar. I remembered all of the codes to get in. Aaron never thought I was paying attention all of those years ago, I'd never be so stupid to break in myself. But I'd paid attention, even then, I knew one day I might need these codes, or even just want them.
But I had slipped up here without a single person noticing. Everybody seemed to be busy focusing on bigger problems.
Problems like Aaron.
Aaron being dead.
I had been driven up here less by courage and more by desperation. And once I was inside his quarters, it didn't take me long to find his office. Another room I'd slid into without anyone seeing, then closed the door behind me.
Once I was inside, the reality of where I was standing truly hit me. Everything smelled like him, cigarette smoke, an old cologne that made my stomach turn, old worn leather. The room was large, dark, lit only by a fireplace and small candles that lined the walls. His desk was dark, wooden and behind it there was a chair, big like a throne with a quilted cushion. The shelves behind it were lined with old books and files, probably files on his birds. Maybe our real files, or real names, our real documents to prove we existed. None of us existed on paper. But I didn't have time to look through them all.
The windows were tall and wide, overlooking the familiar view that brought me no comfort. Water stretched so far in every direction that it made me feel small, like there was no escape—because there wasn't. And beyond the water, tall pine trees, forests that were towering and endless. It was gloomy. The sun was setting soon, but I couldn't see it past the thick layers of dark, grey clouds coating the sky.
His mansion could be anywhere in the country. Sometimes, it felt like it could be anywhere in the world. As though he had figured out a way to drop us all somewhere off the map just so that he knew we would never be found.
And from where I crouched now, curled into a tight ball beneath his desk, with my knees pressed to my chest, my breath quiet enough to make the room seem silent, I realised how well he had succeeded. I didn't know where I was. I didn't know how far I had been taken. I didn't know how close or impossibly distant Harry was from me now.
Harry.
I'd not seen him since that ball.
I'd left him days before, after finding out just how deeply he'd betrayed me, when I'd found the files and realised he'd lied. My chest tightened at the memory because I could still feel that moment like it was an open wound, I could still feel the look on Harry's face when he realised I was leaving him, and I was serious. The agony in his eyes when he lowered himself to his knees and said those words.
