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.
Another day.
Another stretch of hours spent circling the same questions, throwing out possibilities, pulling them apart, trying to create something that resembled a plan. Anything that might get us out of this mess. And still, we had nothing.
Days had passed like this. Days of theories that collapsed the moment we looked into them too closely. The only thing we had managed to land on was the possibility that Aaron might be the one killing the assassins. And even that wasn't built on evidence. Not really, it had been nothing more than a gut feeling. A possibility we'd created because we couldn't imagine who else it could be.
Outside, the night had swallowed everything. The world beyond the cabin was pitch black, an endless looking darkness. There were no distant headlights, no streetlamps spilling light into the trees. There was nothing but the pale glow of the moon cascading across the ground. We were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by miles of empty forest.
And it was quiet, too quiet to be comfortable. I wasn't used to it. In the city, there was always noise and always movement. Someone was walking past the window, a car engine somewhere in the distance or music coming out of a bar down the street. But here, there was nothing. No footsteps, no cars, no voices.
I couldn't decide if it made me feel safer, or if we were more vulnerable.
We'd tried to prepare for both.
Cameras now surrounded the cabin and were hidden carefully around the perimeter. Louis and Niall had spent days setting them up, moving back and forth through different towns to purchase them, hoping nobody would notice a pattern. They were renting different cars, changing clothes, making sure no one could track where they were coming from. Motion cameras were now strapped to the trees surrounding the property and every so often one of them was triggered by a bird cutting through the branches or a squirrel darting across the forest floor.
Each time it happened, we checked.
And every time it was nothing.
But at least we knew they worked.
If something, or someone, got too close to the cabin, we'd know.
Winter had gone to bed an hour earlier, deciding she'd had enough of listening to us throw around theories that led nowhere. I couldn't blame her. Sitting there, listening to the same ideas being repeated and turned down over and over again, felt like its own kind of torture.
But Niall, Louis, and I stayed up.
They'd each had a couple of beers, the empty bottles slowly gathered on the table between them. I hadn't touched one. Beer made things feel normal, like we were just unwinding after a long day. Like we were allowed to relax, and everything was normal. But there was nothing normal about this.
