Trained To Kill (A Harry Styles Love Story)

Chapter One || The Mission

(Camilla's P.O.V.)

"You wanted to see me, papa?" 

I closed my fathers office door, and walked in, inhaling the smoke fumes coming from his cigar. He sat in his dark leather office chair, facing the rectangular windows that lined the south side of his office. 

"Sidyat, Camilla." He said stiffly as he took a drag from his cigar.

I obeyed his orders and sat down in the futon in front of his desk. He opened his desk drawer, pulled out a manila folder, and placed it firmly on his desk.

Still looking out the window he placed his cigar down, and turned to look at me. I took a quick glance at his scar on the left side of his face, which sent chills down my spine. I looked back down at the folder, and grabbed it.

Opening it, I saw the usual. Pictures of the next victim, as well as blurbs of information.

" Ubit' mal'chika." My father slammed his fist down on his desk, which sent his cigar flying.

"What?!" I immediately closed the folder. "Papa, you never give me assignments like this!"

"Molchat!" My father yelled. "Govorite tol'ko v Rossii!"

"Net! I will not kill anyone." I stood up from my seat, and walked towards the door.

"You walk out right now and you're done." My fathers thick accent caused me to stop dead in my tracks.

I slowly turned around and walked back over, not looking into my fathers icy grey eyes. I picked the folder back up, and took a deep breath.

"Find him, Get close to him, then kill him." he gave me the evil eye. 

"Yes, papa," was all I said, as I left my fathers office that day.

But now, looking back on it: I should've let my father kill me right then and there. It would've hurt a lot less then what I was about to encounter.

-

"Harry Styles, 6 foot 1, brown curly hair, green eyes, 19 years old." I read my file aloud as V poured me a cup of coffee.

"Sounds like a real villian to me." V joked, as he poured himself some as well.

V, or Viktor Artemyev, was my best friend, and partner in crime...literally. Whichever assignments I got, he got too. My father and his father were in the Russian Mafia together, way back when, before starting the organization PRAVO, short for "pravosudiye," or "justice." 

Now, V and I work for PRAVO, following orders, doing what ever we're told. We were born and raised knowing how to follow orders, and doing whatever we needed to in order to get the job done.

"No no, it's not him whose the problem...it's his father. Apparently, Samuel Styles deals some sort of weaponry for the American military." I explained, reviewing the file.

V laughed as I handed the folder over to him. We sat in our own office, a much smaller one then my papa's, with two desks, and a few decorations here and there.

"So your father wants us to kill an innocent boy?" Viktor took a sip from his coffee cup.

"Nopeee. He wants me to kill an innocent boy." I shrugged as Viktor handed the folder back to me.

 "What does this guy have to do with PRAVO then?"

"Listen, all I know about this mission is in this skinny manila folder." I raised my voice and chucked the folder at his face, "So zatknis' (shut up) and finish your coffee!"

"Don't get angry at me, Camilla. If you don't want to do the mission, just tell your lovely father."

I scowled as I rested my head back from the chair, "Yeah, because Alexander Romanov will just blow off the whole mission because I don't want to murder someone."

"Good point." he paused, "Maybe killing someone isn't so bad. I mean, it's not like you don't know the guy. A simple gunshot to the heart and it's over."

I shiver ranup my spine at just the thought of finishing someone else's life. I've been on other cases that required holding a gun for self-defense, but I never took it out of the holdster.

V continued, "Think of it like a video game. A videoigra."

I nod and continue to stare at the fireplace. He was right. I'm just exaggerating. One gunshot and it's over.

One gunshot and it's over.

(Harry's P.O.V.)

The smell of cigarrettes and alcohol lingered in the air. There was booze in every nook and cranny of my best friend's dormroom. Someone's car keys were already flung out the window. And there's girls. 

Hot girls.

Lots of hot girls. 

Yes, this is another one of our weekly frat boy parties, where only the elite frat boys (and girls) are invited. 

There's a surprising vibration coming from my back-pocket as I was flirting with some spunky ginger. 

"So you're in a band," the red-head scooches closer to me, "That's hot."

I whip out my phone and check the caller I.D. 

"Will you excuse me for a second, love?" I begin to sprint out the door.

"WOAH WOAH WHERE ARE YOU GOING MAN?" my wasted friend wrapped his arm around my shoulder, "The night is still young!" 

I point at my phone, "Dad calling. Urgent."

I pick up, "Hey dad, what's up? I haven't heard from you in-"

"Listen to me son, you need to be careful out there."

"What's going on? Is everything okay?"

"You remember when I told you that I wanted you to go to College in America for a better education?"

"Yeah, what about it?" I never necessarily believed him, but the chance of taking a break from the lifestyle that comes from having a powerful father only comes once in a lifetime. 

"I lied." He responded bluntly.

"Knew it." I responded under my breath.

He continued, "I did it for your safety and for the sake of the Organization."

The Organization? What does that have to do with me living thousands of mies away from London? I knew that my father was looking forward to retiring. And me being the only son of the Great Samuel Styles, I'm forced to become the head of the E.O.M., better known as the Elite of Mankind. Cool, right?

Not exactly. 

Ever since I have "become-of-age" to take control of E.O.M., all of my father's calls consist of my preperation to take the thrown and become one of the richest people in the world and all of that jazz when really, all I want to do is go to stereotypical american frat parties every weekend and flirt with spunky red-heads.

"Dad, what are you hiding from me?"

"Nothing, everything's going to be okay." he sighs. "I just called you to say be careful and that I love you."

I blushed, "I love you too, dad." 

"I'll see you soon, Harry."

And after that conversation, I thought it was time to head back to my dorm for the night.

I didn't know what my dad meant... but I was sure to find out.