Life As One Direction's Bodyguard

This is a new story that I'm starting.

Please tell me if you like it. :)

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How far would you go to protect someone you love?

I ran clad in a black jumpsuit to avoid being seen in the dark. I was going to bust a violent gang that had been accused of murdering random citizens, but things went all wrong.

The gun that was strapped to my leg was bumping me every time my legs moved to run. I got closer to the warehouse and took some rope out of my backpack. I ducked down and walked slowly around to the side to see if I could scale the wall. I couldn’t be stupid and walk through the front entrance, because I would be shot and killed easily. I couldn’t underestimate the gang that was inside the warehouse, because I had no idea what damage they could do.

All I knew about them was that they were called “Elevated” which defined their inflated egos. I also knew that they were violent and sold outlawed drugs.

I saw a ledge sticking out of the top of the wall of the warehouse so I stepped back and knotted the rope I had. I threw the rope as far as I could upward and it went around the ledge. I almost gave a celebratory shout, but then I remembered that I couldn’t make any noise, so I shut my mouth.

Holding the other end of the knotted rope, I began to scale the wall at a fast pace. I could see the rope breaking near the top, so I quickened my pace.

Once I made it to the roof, I saw a stairwell that led downstairs. I decided to take that way, but I was shoved against a wall.

I looked into the eyes of John Jackson, one of my father’s enemies. His eyes narrowed at me and his lips rose up into a terrifying smile.

“Hello Darcy. What would your father think if he knew you were hanging around a gang territory?”

“Why are you here?” I asked him.

“I could ask you the same,” He replied.

“Are you a part of Elevated?” I questioned. We were now walking in circles around one another, as if we both expected the other to lunge for one another’s throat.

“No,” He responded gruffly.

“I don’t believe you,” I scoffed.

“I came here to make a deal with them and it does not include you. You should run along now, child,” He spoke down to me.

I hated it when people referred to me as a child. I was eighteen years of age and I was treated like a toddler. I knew what I was up against. I’m strong. I’ve been mastering in self defense classes for ten years. My parents didn’t raise a fool. Both my brother and I grew up to be very independent.

“Don’t speak as if I’m stupid, Mr. Jackson,” I said.