Harry Styles
A fucking FBI badge.
That's what I was seeing at the moment and I couldn't fucking believe it.
Cleo was holding it in her hand and at least I could see she found something useful in June's room, or whatever the fuck her name really was.
Fuck.
Well, that also explained how she managed to come up behind me so fucking silently and unarm me at a very impressive speed, grabbing my gun and pressing it on the back of my head. She told me to be quiet and kneel on the floor, and I actually had to force myself to be smart about this and not get myself killed because I wasn't alone... Cleo was in the bedroom and she had no idea June had magically walked into the apartment and attacked me like a fucking ninja.
I knew I wasn't very good at fighting, and now that she had my gun, which she loaded, I literally didn't know what to do without being reckless. Plus, my abdomen was hurting a bit because I completely forgot about my bullet wound when I fucked Cleo a bit too hard against the mirror.
Not that I regretted it.
On a brighter note, Cleo had her knives on the holster around her thigh, but since we were dealing with a highly trained FBI agent, I assumed June could shoot me before she could throw one of the knives.
Cleo wouldn't risk anything, she was smarter than me. But we had to figure something out together... we were a very good team after all.
I could see the panic in her eyes the moment she walked back into the living room, though. Maybe seeing me in this position reminded her of her father... even though she finally found out how much of an asshole he was, she didn't know it back then, and watching him die traumatized her.
Her fear of guns was clear proof of it, and I felt guilty every time I saw her reaction around a gun. I was also the one to blame for this, I knew it wasn't easy to handle fear... you couldn't simply turn it off.
I fucking wished I could.
At least I didn't feel embarrassed around Cleo, I was so fucking nervous when I had to turn on the flashlight because the alley was just so fucking dark. My heart was racing in my chest just like it was right now, but thankfully I wasn't afraid at the moment.
My brain was connecting the pieces and the only thing I could gather from all this was that June was a fucking undercover agent working at Eroda and dating Zayn... which meant she was probably working on a case on my family and also Cleo's.
Zayn was the easiest and less obvious connection she could have to me, and being a dancer and also making her way into Cleo's life were also very fucking smart moves. She was completely infiltrated and in a very strategic position, just like I assumed.
But I sure as fuck wasn't expecting this, if the cops were fucking involved then we were so fucked.
Cleo and I were killers, I often forgot that what we did was illegal because it was so damn normal to me. I'd lost count of how many people I'd killed already and I was pretty sure Cleo also didn't keep track anymore.
And we had actually broken into the home of an FBI agent... what a fucking way to end the night. There was no fucking way I was going to prison, I'd die before anyone could lock me up.
Fuck, and Zayn was going to be so devastated about this... this fucking bitch played us all, but he actually loved her. I warned him love was a dangerous thing, it was probably more unpredictable than I was.
But how was this connected to the list? Did the FBI actually set us up? Why?
"You weren't supposed to find that," June spoke up, keeping the gun pressed on the back of my head. "You weren't supposed to be here, but I knew you'd end up coming... I thought you'd be alone, though."
