Blacklist [h.s]

seventeen

THANK U SO MUCH FOR 4K READS!!! WHAT ARE YALL DOING DURING QUARANTINE??
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Grace

Everything goes silent for a long moment as I stare at Harry pondering our options, until we have no options anymore.

"Like actually run or slip out?" I raise my eyebrow. 

"Like slip as close as we can to the exit and then run." He says, moving his hands and finger pointing to the door. I've never noticed, but he's very much a hand talker.

I nod and without hesitation he grabs my hand and is pulling me towards the exit. Butterflies well in my stomach, I don't know if it's because Harry's big hand is practically swallowing mine or if it's because we're .5 seconds away from our possible death. I pull my hood down and we slowly begin making our way to the exit. With each step we take, my heart pounds faster.

The passing floor is the only thing I can focus on until I hear the heavy door creak open and we're across the threshold. Everything stands still for a second as we stand in long alleyway. No yelling, no sirens. I let out a sigh of relief. Harry lets go of my hand and starts walking to left of us, down the alley and away from the busy street. I follow him, glancing between buildings, looking on top for snipers or people spying on us. I don't see anyone, but I'm also distracted by the impending doom that we're stuck in a city where the FBI is looking for us.

Harry doesn't seem to care as much. He walks slyly down the alleyway, hands tucked in his pockets, short hair blowing in the wind. He doesn't look back to see if I'm following. He knows I am.

"What are we going to do now?" I ask.

 
"Shut up," he growls lowly. He doesn't stop. I am taken aback by his words telling me to shut up. Who does he think he is? 

"Don't talk to me like that." I tell him firmly, arms crossed across my chest and I follow behind him in the alleyway. He takes a quick behind him to look at me and I swear I see a small smile curl at his lips. 

 
I don't say anything further and continue walking at a fast pace behind him. My legs can't keep up with him. We walk like this, zig zagging down the street for half a mile before we stop. My calves are aching from practically speed walking behind him and I'm sweating in this ridiculous tourist hoodie. Harry stops in front of a corner store, looks around and pushes the door open. I follow.

He walks directly to the back of the store through a white door with an " employees only" sign. I hesitate, but push the door open anyway. When I get inside the small office space, Harry is bro-hugging a guy in a "worlds best grandpa" shirt. Ironic, because he doesn't look old enough to be a grandpa.

I stand awkwardly by the door, watching as the two chit chat for a moment. Harry's whole demeanor had changed between the moments when he slipped in the door and when I slipped in the door. Now, he's over-politely-annoyingly-British Harry and not stone-cold-wants-to-rip-my-face-off Harry.

"Rogue FBI agent," the man finally turns to me, giving me the most obvious Bronx ascent I've ever heard in my life. He hold his hand up to dab up, but I just stare at it awkwardly before he puts it down. We all exchange awkward glances.

"Uh, anyways," Harry clears his throat. "Is it ready?"

"Uh Almost," The guy answers. I furrow my eyebrows at him. His body language is awkward. Too stiff. He claps his hands together awkwardly.

 
"We're just waiting on the driver, traffic." Harry catches on as well and raises his eyebrows at the man. That's because it's nearly 7pm and there's no traffic.

"Interesting," Harry mumbled, sliding his finger across the metal cabinet in front of him. He takes a quick glance around then suddenly pulls his gun and aims it as the man's head.

"Grace," Harry mumbled "Get out," he says sternly. I hesitate for a moment before he raises his voice and repeats himself. I quietly step out the door only to notice police lining up outside in the front. Before I can call Harry's name, a silent suppressed gunshot pierces through the mans head. It was silent, but deafeningly. Harry rushes out of the room, pulling me up by my arm so hard that I bump my hip into the cabinet I'm crouched behind. He darts out the back door and I follow suit. He jumps over a short chain link and I follow, thankful for my rigorous days at Quantico. I'm breathing heavy, in through my nose and out my mouth as an alleyway whirls by me and then I'm in a crowd of people. I don't know at what point Harry stopped to make sure I'm okay and let me go in front of him, but now I realize he's gone.

I dart past the busy bar and zig zag through alleyways until I realize that no one is following me anymore. I stop to catch my breath and crouch low just in case someone appears. Now that I have a second to stop and think, I panic. I can feel it start to sprinkle, I don't know where Harry has gone and we have no one to connect to. I let myself panic and catch my breath for a moment before I pull my hood over my head and walk back towards the street. My eyes lock on the bar across the street and I cross diagonal to get to it. Now, it's raining pretty hard so I walk as fast as I can. I push to the front of the line to the bouncer, not knowing a game plan or anything. He recognizes me immediately and grabs my shoulder. For a moment, I think he's going to arrest me until he mumbled "Trust me," and somehow, some stupid way I do.

He leads me inside and towards the back of the busy, smoky bar. I see Harry as soon as we round the corner, coddled up in the corner of a booth, drink pressed to his lips as if he's been here for hours. He smirks when he sees me, as if we weren't just being chased.

"Took you long enough."