Finding Him // h.s.

Chapter Eleven // Just Incase

~emma~
I'm awaken to an extremely loud banging. I get up, looking over towards the digital clock on my nightstand. It reads 1:39 AM, who could be out at this time?

I quickly slip on my robe and make my way to the front door whilst the loud knocking still continues. I turn on the lamp a few feet away from the front door. I try to look through the peephole although it's too dark. I hesitantly open the door, biting my lip nervously.

A tall figure falls forward, catching itself by grabbing onto the doorframe.

"Harry?".

Harry breathes heavily, his hand pressing on his chest as if it's holding something.

He pushes past me and enters the lounge room. I shut the door behind myself and rush to him.

I enter the lounge room and see his leather jacket strewn on the sofa.

"Harr—", I begin to speak but instantly stop and I see him pull his black shirt over his head, quickly revealing his toned chest. I almost fall over the coffee table behind me as I catch glimpse of a bleeding wound on his side.

I rush over to him, my fingertips mere inches away from his wound before he pushes my hand away.

"Do not call the cops.", he demands, looking intently into my eyes.

"Tell me what happened then.", I spit back at him. That wasn't like me at all...

He groans in pain, ignoring my question. Instead, he tells me to grab him a wet rag, disinfectant and two knives. I hesitate but do as told.

"Who—", I gulp in fear, "T-that's a bullet.".

"Don't look.", he kneels on the floor. Harry pushes all of my magazines off the coffee table and sets down the disinfectant and two silver, shiny knives.

He presses the wet rag against his wound, quickly cleaning it. He then messily pours the disinfectant on the rag and reluctantly presses it on is wound again, holding back a groan through gritted teeth. I flinch and turn away as he picks up one of the two knives.

"Why did you come over here to do this.", I whimper before running off to my room. I slam the door and jump onto my bed.

•••

The door to my room suddenly opens making me jolt up. "What the hell Harry.", I scoff, wrapping my robe's rope round my waist, "Haven't you ever heard of knocking.".

As he enters my room I take notice in his appearance. His hair is matted and sweaty but most importantly: he still doesn't have a shirt on.

I sit back down on my bed, "C-come here.". He stands in front of me, not taking his eyes off of me. I look at his wound, the bullet has been removed and his gash has been cleaned. He seems so be quite an expert or maybe he's quite experienced in this.

"How did you know what to do?", I question him, standing up.

"You come to learn after the first dozen times.", a twisted smile appears on his face as he sits down on my bed.

I gulp, what the fuck.

I walk over toward my closet and search for something for him to fit in. But I stop, "Who shot you.". I grab onto the closets doorframe, feeling sick. Do I really want to know..?

"I think I know apart of Ciara's death.", Harry answers.

I spin round on my heel, looking at him in disbelief. I run over to him, falling onto my knees before him. "Please tell me, tell me everything you know.", I beg, grasping his knees.

His emotionless look slowly turns into a soft look of pity. "I don't think that's a good idea—".

"Harry.", I speak through gritted teeth, pulling on his jeans. "I don't care what happens to me if you tell me this—I don't care about the circumstances."

"I know the gang that committed the death of Ciara.", he reluctantly begins, "I don't know who specifically is the killer but I do have and idea to get in contact with them. Without them finding out its the Valley—".

"The Valley?".

"That's what we're known as since we live in a vintage area that used to be a valley.", Harry explains. "And the gang that killed Ciara is known as the Cobras."

"Getting they're attention without them knowing it's the Valley is a problem.", Harry continues, "They're a large, skilled posse that is heavily armed, so one mistake and we could lose another one of ours.".

"Why Ciara.", I stand up, crossing my arms over my chest.

"They're trying to break the Valley down one by one or something.", he answers, "Maybe something worse and deeper then that.".

His eyebrows scrunches up in frustration, it's kind of sexy. "But we can stop them..right?", I speak up.

He shrugs, "There's a possibility—".

"I want to help.".

He looks me up and down, snickering. "The boss wouldn't even use you as bait.".

I shiver at the thought of that statement but I brush it off. I want to do whatever I can to find Ciara's killer.

"I want to meet this 'boss'.".

He gives me a look as if I'm joking, "That won't hap—".

"I want to meet your boss.", I repeat myself, more sternly.

He steps closer towards me, inches away from my face. "I am not going to put another one of our people in danger.", he growls before walking away to the bedroom door.

"I am not 'one of your people'.", I angrily shout to him, stomping my bare foot on the hardwood floor.

"I'll be staying the night.", Harry ignores me totally, leaving my room, "Just incase.".

Just incase what?