witness || h.s.|| ON HOLD

one || under your wing

six years later, present day

Harry

I smiled deviously at the man I had pinned to the ground, the urge to kill him taking over me as I reached in my back pocket and pulled out the knife I had carried with me for the past six years, swiping my thumb over the familiar inscription, before lowering it to his neck. 

   I leaned forward, enjoying the fear that I saw in his eyes, and I lowered my voice to a whisper. 

"Do you know who R.G.M is?" I asked, but it came out more like a demand.

The man shook his head furiously. "No man, no I don't, just let me go seriously, I have no idea who that is."

My heart sunk a little at his answer, but I shrugged it off. "Nah, man, I can't do that. See, you owed the boss quite a bit of money, and he, very generously, gave you a lot of time to pay him back, but now? Time's up." I chuckled, and before he had a chance to scream I already had slit the knife across his throat, looking down proudly at my work.

"Styles, really? A knife? A gun would have been much quicker," a voice said from behind me. I looked back to see my boss, Whit Geyer, one of the biggest gang leaders in the world, a name that many people feared, and for good reason too. But to me, he was more than that, he was the man who made me who I am today.

    ****** 

four years ago

    London was a cold place this time of year, and it only seemed to grow colder with each passing second. I was sixteen now, and had barely anything remaining from the savings I had stuffed into my duffle bag two years ago.  

     I sat on the corner outside a popular pub in town, feeling absolutely pathetic as I waited to see who would walk in and out, and who would maybe have pity on the homeless boy huddled up in the freezing night air, and could spare some change. Some drunk middle-aged women would stop every once in a while and ogle over me, pinching my cheeks and pouting their lips at me, saying things like "poor thing," and "oh sweetie," before handing me a couple of coins. Other drunken fools would just laugh at me, before heading inside to further intoxicate themselves. 

    My stomach began to growl in desperate hunger, and it was a pain I had become far too familiar with. I was about to give up for the night and try to find some abandoned flat to sleep in when I heard a voice, and it took a moment to register that it was directed at me.

   "Hey kid, you gonna sit here all night mate? Or are you coming in?" 

I looked up to see a tall man, with dirty blonde hair combed back, and blue eyes, staring down at me.

  "I uh, I was just..." I trailed off, trying to find some reason to say I was sitting here other than the depressing truth, but it was no use.

I sighed before continuing, "I'm just trying to get some money man, I'm sorry if I was in your way, I was just about to head out, have a good night." I began to slip the few petty coins I had collected that night into my duffle, standing up to head out, when he grabbed my arm. I turned to look at him, only to be met with a smirk.

   "You got a family?" He asked.

I gulped down the familiar heartache that I had carried around for so long and replied. "No, no one."

He shrugged at my answer, pulling me in close to him so that his arm was around me. "Well, looks like you do now."

Little did I know that his idea of a family was very different than mine.

I spent the next four years training under Whit. Training to be his right-hand man, the main assassin in his gang. I was the person they would call when they wanted someone killed quick and easy, and with no evidence left behind.

After my mom died, so did my soul. Six years ago, I never would have imagined that I'd be making money killing evil men for other evil men. And I definitely never thought that I'd be one of those evil men. Even more so, I never thought that I'd enjoy it.

   And I think part of that was due to the fact that I hoped that one day, the man I killed would have the initials R.G.M., and I could finally get justice for my mother.

**********

present-day

I shrugged, using my black shirt to wipe off the knife of the now dead man on the ground.

"Sometimes I like to savor the kill, what can I say, you trained me well."

Whit smiled brightly at me, cracking up at a joke that only the most messed up mind would find funny, before reaching down to help me up.

"Come on, Styles, let's get out of here while the trainees clean up the body," he smirked, gesturing towards the two newest guys of our gang, who looked like they were about to throw up at the sight of the severed throat before them. Must suck to be a newbie.

We hopped into the black SUV that was idling at the end of the alleyway, buckling up and finally relaxing after a long hard day of work.

AN: Hey guys! This is a super short chapter I know, but after this one, they will be much longer and have much more info, now you finally know Harry's background and the action is about to begin, buckle up buttercups because this is about to be a very bumpy ride! ;) Don't forget to vote and comment what you think, seriously it means so much to me!