When Intel is found that Mia Frost had a target put on her back by her father's old enemy, her life is put into the hands of a highly trained assassin. Working for the British Intelligence, Harry is a highly trained killer. Knowing when and how to execute a plan with complete perfection he is the ultimate weapon. Being the best at what he does, can he keep Mia safe from the entire world or will his and everyone else's world around him crumble?

It's hard to resist a bad boy who is a good man.

* THIS STORY CONTAINS MATURE & EXPLICIT CONTENT* Please refer to the list of possible triggers and kinks. Harry Styles. Twenty-Five. Green eyes. One hundred and ninety-six pounds. Six foot even or one hundred and eighty-seven centimetres. Born to Anne Cox and Desmond Styles. Parents whereabouts unknown. No known surviving family. Styles is best with guns, poison and the concealment of his victims for none have been found. || Astar works with MI6 as a secret undercover agent, taking on a new identity to try and infiltrate the Devil's Tribe. Will she be successful? Will she be able to go through all of the hardships? Will she follow the rules or fall apart somewhere along the way? STARTED: FEBRUARY 2021 FINISHED: FEBRUARY 2022

We're all mad here, it's Wonderland. ~ Harry latches onto my passionate on-beat arms as he keeps me from moving forward. "Are you fuckin' mad?" He grits through his teeth. "I'm in Wonderland, Pretty Boy," I throw my free arm in the air, motioning to the surrounding world. "Of course, I've gone a little mad." He flips me around as the level of infuriation rises throughout his clenched jaw, trying to remain composed. "Don't try and be something you're not, Presley." I rip away from his hold, furrowing my brows from the curt statement, the honest revelation that should've just stayed within his mind. "We'll never be the heroes, and you know that," he says, colder than the Arctic's towering waves. "We'll never win." We'll never find Purple. Purple, the color of the Star-Crossed Lovers.

Lilith loves her job as a detective, but not so much when she is solving the case of an anonymous art stealer. 'Poisonous grey' His nickname because of the snake tattoo that covers his neck, chest and back. Lilith now realizing he looks a little too similar to her past one-night -stand. He's cautious and never gets caught. Nobody ever knows his name. *** WARNING: MATURE THEMES. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK: Violence, gore, weapons, mental illness, descriptive trauma, substance abuse, sexual content. #74 IN MISSING. #102 IN ARTIST #159 IN DETECTIVE #578 IN ZAYN #645 IN CRIME #247 IN PLOTTWIST #994 IN ZAYNMALIK #358 IN ENEMIESTOLOVERS #132 IN HARRYEDWARDSTYLES #420 IN CRIMINAL #402 IN MATURETHEMES #135 IN ONENIGHTSTAND Started: April 18 2021

Hired Gun /ˈhʌɪə ɡʌn/ noun NORTH AMERICAN (informal) a hired bodyguard, mercenary, or assassin.

"She was not for everyone, but she was for me."

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" She smirked as she softly caressed his rough face, her ring-clad hand becoming tainted with the warm, crimson-red liquid. The smirk was wiped off her face as rage seized her and took over her previously relaxed features. Her muscles grew tense as her fingers forcefully grabbed his beaten jaw, turning his head to look at his bloody tongue lying on the floor. As a faint chuckle fell out of my lips, Arabella turned to me and approached me with the bloodied knife pointed in my direction. Fuck me. "Do you want to be next, Styles?" she asked rhetorically. "Depends on what cat would get my tongue." *** Contains themes of violence, explicit, and mature content.

***completed*** NOW PUBLISHED ON AMAZON Harry Styles. The strange one. The freak. The one who was too kind for his own good, trapped in a world where his job was to bring people pain. Sophia 'Spice' Winters. The dancer. The stripper. The one who who trapped in a world where her job was to provide men with nothing but pleasure. -- "What don't you understand?" Harry seethed, his hands gripping the roots of his hair. "I'm not the good guy here, Sophia. I'm bad, everything about me is fucking bad." Harry looked as if he was about to rip his hair out, his wild eyes shinning with madness. He looked unhinged, raw and angry. It should of frightened me. That look alone should of been enough to send me running. He didn't look like the shy man I first met. He looked...crazy. His fingers were coated in red, stained with the blood of another. He didn't seem to care though. "If I was you Sophia, I would run away. Run as far away as you possibly can, because I promise you...An evil part of me won't let you go, and I hate myself for that. I want you to run away, to a place that I can't ever find you. You'll be safe that way."