Downfall [Punk Niall Horan]

49

(A/N sorry for any grammar mistakes but I really wanted to get this chapter up tonight. It swaps POV a lot so keep up and enjoy this long, juicy chapter. Vote and comment! All the love. xoxox)

HARRY'S POV

"Sir, you really don't need to be walking around yet. Doctor's orders," the woman spoke in a nasally voice. The sound grated even more on my already forming migraine, and I had to pinch the bridge of my nose in between my long fingers to keep myself from hurting the poor girls feelings.

My vision shook for a moment after I shot back up from tying my boots, and dizziness overcame me for a brief moment. I blinked rapidly for a few moments until the fuzziness seeped away, and I stood to my feet, regaining my full height.

A dull throb started to seep through where I had gotten shot, but it wasn't anything I wasn't used to by now. I turned to the girl who was at least a few years younger than me, and fear shown in her wide brown eyes. It made me feel sad and like an Alpha at the same time, but that was how I should feel to these people. They are my people. And I am their leader. An Alpha.

They should be scared of me.

"Yeah, well tell the Doctor to shove his orders up his ass," I gritted, grabbing my leather jacket off of the counter. My curly hair fell in my face, and this reminded me again that it was way too long and desperately needed to be cut. Huffing, I searched around for my headband, but it was no where to be seen. "Shit," I muttered under my breath.

I ripped the bottom part of my dark green shirt and quickly morphed it into the semblance of a headband. It would do for now. Then I wrapped it around my locks, and it surprisingly kept the hair out of my face very well.

Turning back to the nurse, I noticed her gaping at my now exposed inked hip bones. I smirked causally, and she coughed and sputtered while her cheeks turned crimson red. I knew I was well toned, and I often caught the women staring, and it was quite funny to watch them get all flustered.

The nurse pushed her glasses back up and cast her gaze to the floor, "You nearly just died not long ago, Sir." I rolled my eyes, and pushed past her. "Stop being so dramatic. This isn't my first time almost dying, I am a Gang leader after all," I stated sarcastically, though it was nothing to joke about. My life had been on the line quite a few times, and some before I was even the Gang leader.

"Okay, Mr. Styles," she condemned lowly, busying herself with cleaning up my wrinkled bed. My heart throbbed for the girl, something that normally did not happen. I found myself stopping just outside the door, mentally scolding myself for coming off so rude to the girl who was just doing her job. "Sorry for being a dick-," I started, turning around while trailing off because I just realized something that made me look like an even bigger tool.

I didn't know her name.

"Victoria," she answered for me, making a huge gulp of air rush from my lungs. "Right. Victoria, sorry for being a major tool," I said slowly, scratching the back of my head. Victoria smiled kindly and shrugged her shoulders, "It s'okay, Sir. I'm used to it." Again, a painful spark shot through my chest like I was being electrified with guilt. But all I could do was smile sadly and walk out of the door.

I stopped yet again, peeking my head behind the doorframe so I could get a view of the room. "You're a nice girl, Victoria. Just call me Harry, not 'Sir' or 'Mr. Styles'," I said kindly, giving her a bright smile. She immediately lit up, giving me a huge smile of hers in return. "Will do.... Harry," she smiled, and I heard giggles as I walked down the hallway.

Maybe I wasn't such a tool after all.

**********¥***********

After checking up with some people, I had made it into a barren hallway that led to the cafeteria. Or as we call it, "The Marsh". Everything still seemed to be running smoothly, despite what my anxiety was telling me. Everyone had been doing their jobs as usual, and nothing major had happened to us. No word from Jim. No more bombs fired. And nobody was dead. At least none of my men were dead.