harry styles · crime lord · ruthless · charming · mafia · dangerous · elegant · violence · underworld · british
"Is she alive?" "She's breathing. Idiot." "The wound was enormous." "And whose fault is that?" "Don't blame me, Styles. She got in the way." "Now she stays. She's seen too much." The five of us—Harry, Niall, Louis, Liam, Zayn—form a half-circle around your unconscious form. A simple extraction turned into a disaster, and you, an innocent in the wrong place, ended up with Niall's bullet in your side. The medic, Louis, managed to stop the bleeding; your abdomen is swathed in clean bandages. Harry's fingers skim lightly over the exposed skin of your stomach, his touch a whisper against the silence. His eyes, intense and guarded, fix on your face as your eyelids begin to flutter, consciousness returning. "Louis, she's waking up!" Harry's voice is sharp with alarm, already fearing the stor…