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
Winter sat curled into my side on the couch, with her knees to her chest, and her body tucked against mine. She hadn't said anything in a while. But I knew she was okay. As okay as we either of us could be right now. Her arm was looped through mine, her fingers pressed to my skin. Her cheek rested against my shoulder. The feeling was she was still here, and proof I hadn't lost her.
For the past few nights, she'd fallen asleep almost immediately after we'd had dinner. A deep sleep that she needed more than anything, one that came from pure exhaustion. I still didn't really know what had happened to her in the weeks we'd been apart, and part of me didn't want to know. I never wanted to picture what they'd put her through.
A few days ago, she confessed to me that she'd avoided me on purpose. Not because she hated me and because she didn't care or didn't know who I was. But because she wanted to hurt herself. To punish herself for believing the worst and falling for Romans tricks. For leaving.
Since then, we've spent each night together. I kissed her goodnight every night—swearing that I'd never go without doing it again. I either slept well with my body giving out, or I didn't sleep at all. There didn't seem to be a middle ground. Sometimes, the memories creeped in, the fear lingered. Every time we closed our eyes, it felt as though there was a risk of seeing Roman again. A risk of hearing his voice or feeling his wrath tightening around our lives. The only thing that got us though it was each other. She didn't have to tell me when that fear began to grow, I knew it in the way she held me a little tighter.
Winter's anger had made sense to me. All of it did. The betrayal she felt and the fury, the way it had crushed her and split her open. Roman's words had been cruel, deliberate, had chosen the parts of her she was most ashamed of and told her I'd studied them. He wanted her to find that file and he wanted her to believe that I'd watched her and researched her, that everything between us had been built on lies and manipulation. He wanted her to leave me and go crawling right back to him.
And he'd succeeded.
But what he hadn't counted on, what he couldn't have predicted, was that I'd taught her to read. That was what he'd relied on, he never let those girls learn to read so that they'd never be able to understand things for themselves. But winter had found the real file, and she had been able to understand it. She knew the cruel words she'd heard hadn't been from my hand.
I'd never once thought her anger towards me was unnecessary. It had never felt irrational. I had written down information about her, whether my intentions had been to protect her or understand what woman had done to her didn't really matter in the end. I'd promised her I wouldn't do that—and I broke that promise.
And the truth was, I still didn't know what Roman did to them. Nobody knew how deep his mind games went and how deep the damage was. I'd never understand how much of her life had been rewritten, erased or weaponised against her. I wanted answers. I wanted to know everything he'd done to her so I could stop it from ever happening again.
