Heroin {harry styles}

15

"Your gang?" I call out to Harry, running after him in the restaurant's parking lot.

"Yes! It's my fucking gang!" He shouts back, not turning to look at me as he reaches the car. Thankfully nobody's around in the parking lot to hear or see him right now. Harry slams the door open and shut with impossible force as I practically sprint to reach him because I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared he'd drive away without me.

I thought he was just in a gang. I had no clue it's his gang— that he's the leader.

But it all makes so much more sense now.

I frantically get in the sleek BMW, out of breath, and this time Harry doesn't tell me I need to work out.

He's fuming.

I shut my eyes and try to brace myself for his driving, but my body still lurches back as he immediately floors it out of the parking lot.

For such a fast driver, he seems to have unbelievable control over the car. The more I ride in the car with Harry, the more I'm able to relax a little bit instead of being terrified for my life. But he still shouldn't be going so fast because a car could come out of nowhere and kill us.

I know it's a big risk, but I break the silence after a minute.

"Why are you so worried about Corruption's attack?"

He looks at me strangely and scoffs. "You really want to talk gangs with me?"

Uh oh.

"I'm not worried about their attack, Layla. Destruction is a hundred times stronger than them. I'm fucking annoyed because I have to send men out to America to waste bullets on killing them when I've got a huge shipment coming in tomorrow night. I'm talking massive. This is one of my biggest clients but he's not fucking trustworthy so I needed more men than I'll have now," he rants.

My head is spinning. I definitely don't understand how gangs work.

"What's a shipment?" I ask timidly. He's talked about this twice now and I still don't get what it is.

Harry pinches the bridge of his nose as if that's the dumbest question I could've asked. "Drugs, Layla. Cases of them. Worth millions. Sometimes weapons, but usually drugs."

My eyes widen. So that's what gangs do? Kill people and sell drugs?

Before I can say anything else, Harry and I arrive back at his house. He storms upstairs, probably into his office, so I decide to clean up the kitchen.

It's already clean, but I've got nothing better to do so I wipe down the counters and cabinets anyways before sitting down at the island with a glass of water.

I'm not sure how much time passes, but Harry eventually comes downstairs and sits next to me. He seems calmer now, so I decide to ask him the question that's been bugging me since we got home.

"If you're the leader of the gang, why did you kidnap me?"

"I told you I need someone to do housework and be my arm candy in public," he rolls his eyes.

"No, that's not what I meant. Why did you kidnap me? As in, why didn't you send one of your 'men' to do it for you? Kidnapping a teenage girl seems pretty trivial for a big shot gang leader, don't you think?"

He smirks and his bright green eyes meet mine, "Well if I tell you then that means I'd be giving away my strategy."

"Well I'm already stuck here, so your strategy must have worked. I wanna hear why, just humor me," I try convincing him and much to my surprise it works.

"Fine. It was to make you scared of me," he shrugs.

"What?"

"If I had say, Louis, come and take you that day, you'd be terrified of him because you'd know him as your kidnapper. He'd be the guy who chased you through the woods, threatening to kill you and I'd just be the guy who kept you afterwards. But since I did it all, you're scared of me."

"I'm not scared of you," I lie, trying to sound tough but it's hard when he's sitting so close to me.

"Yes you are," he chuckles sadistically and leans in closer towards me. "I see you thinking through every single word you say because you're terrified to say the wrong thing and make me mad. You catch yourself every time you want to roll your eyes or walk away from me because you're scared of what'll happen. Every time I drive, you keep your eyes shut most of way because you're worried I'll crash. Just admit it Layla, you're scared of me."

"I-I'm not," I try to argue but my voice fails me. His face is only centimeters away, his eyes boring into mine, and I can't focus on anything else right now.

"You are. And that's precisely why I'm the one who kidnapped you," his smirk widens devilishly.

"You're sick," I spit out before backing away from him and moving to the other side of the counter.

"Maybe," he merely shrugs. "We're all a little bit sick though, aren't we?"

"No!" I shout in disgust. "Not like that, not even close, Harry!"

"Oh come on. You've got to have something," he rolls his eyes and places his tattooed hands on the dark marble countertop, twirling a few of his rings absentmindedly.

I shake my head adamantly. I'm definitely not like him. Not in the slightest.

"I bet your sickness is something kinky," he taunts and I want nothing more than to wipe that stupid smirk off of his face.

"Is it whips and chains? Is that what gets you off?" He presses, leaning forward towards me on the counter.

"No, it's not whips and chains!"

I can feel the heat creeping up to my cheeks only after having to say those words aloud. Let alone the horrid mental image that comes with them. I can't believe him! I must look like a tomato.

He definitely notices me blushing as he's analyzing me intently, because he seems to look almost satisfied with himself.

"Layla Summers, are you a virgin?"