Harry POV
"Oh my god" Liam sighs "Make - Him - Shut - Up". His tired voice echoes around the empty warehouse
"What do you want me to say to him" Louis replies "-oh I'm ever so sorry, but if you possibly wouldn't mind being quiet while i tourture you, that would be much appreciated" putting down the blade he turns to face Liam whose response consists of a sarcastic grin and a middle fingered salute.
"You could always just cut his tongue out" a chipper irish voice cuts in.
"We still need answers from him though" Zayn adds.
The voice of reasoning that Zayn's presence provides prevents this group from doing anything stupid which would give my father yet another reason to punish us, without him here our hostage would probably already be dead, we would have no answers to give and an angry Harvey Styles to deal with.
"I vote to cut his tongue out" Liam sticks his hand in the air as if it's gonna make a difference as to what we do.
"So that's two votes for the removal of our friend here's tongue, Harry what do you say" Louis declares
"No" I respond with my head still against the cool steel table, "he needs to be alive and be able to talk so he can tell us why he thought it would be a good idea to try and rob our storage warehouse at 3 am this morning when Liam and I were out."
When my father called I was on top of the world; I was drunk out of my mind, high as a kite and was planning on making my way back home with the two blondes I met at the club. But instead of going home with them I got to find Liam and drag him away from his woman of the day then come here to interview some idiot. Lucky me.
"Can't you just tell your dad that he accidentally shot himself in the head so we can all go home and get this over with" Niall suggested. While i was really tempted to do so in hopes of getting at least a few hours of sleep tonight, i knew that in the long run it would be easier for me and everyone else in this room if we got the answers we needed now instead of waiting until something else inevitably happens and getting the shit that comes with it from my father.
"Let's just get this over with now so..." I'm interrupted by the familiar ringing of my phone, I turn it over to see who's calling at this hour. Ahh, just the man I need I think to myself. "It's my dad, let me get this, '' I say, getting up from the table and stepping out into the hall.
"Why hello father" I sing cheerily "what could I possibly do for you at this hour ?"
"Cut the shit Harold" he spits "you and I both know why I'm calling."
"I seem to have forgotten" i say in the same joyful manner as before, knowing that my refusal to argue with him is annoying him more than he could possibly admit "please, enlighten me"
"Have you got anything out of that warehouse idiot yet, or are you to incompetent even to do that" he hisses. While his words don't affect me anymore (not as much as they used to) there's still a slight twinge of sadness that shoots through me deep down when he purposely tries to make me hurt. I mean he is my father after all.
"His name is Elliot Pierce, he is 23, he is from Enfield, North London and has £143 to his name" I sigh with defeat.
"I don't need his life story, I need who he's working for" my father roars.
"That we don't know, '' I calmly respond " but in his bag was a slip of paper with our warehouse address and a phone number that none of us recognised so we're gonna check that out" i explain.
"It sounds simple enough, let Malik take over from now"
"Why ?" I ask suspicions arising from his statement
"Because" his condescending tone going straight through me "I have a special job for my only son". Of course he has some sort of dirty work he wants me to do. That's probably the only reason he called, otherwise he would have got one of his men to come check later in the morning.
"What is it?" I sigh exhaustedly. There's no point trying to get out of one of his 'special' tasks, I learnt that the hard way.
"One of my biggest customers has some people he wants to deal with," he explains. "There are five names on the list and once you have dealt with them, you will get a payment... 100 grand per name" That itself causes me to stop in my tracks, someone wants to pay me £500,000 to kill five people, I could do that in my sleep.
"I'll do it" I blurt out.
"Great, that took a lot less convincing than usual to get you to do it, i'll get my receptionist to send you the list and instructions now," he says. "And Harry, for your sake. Dont fuck this up." with that he hangs up the call and I'm left in the empty hallway with nothing but my own thoughts. A dangerous place to be.
I slide down the wall until I reach the floor, my phone buzzes signalling a new email in my inbox. The list has been sent over along with the instructions.
To: stylesharold57@gmail.com
From: mariareception@stylescorperated.com
SUBJECT: instructions and disposal list
Harold Styles,
On this list are 5 names of people that you need to dispose of within the next two months. Evidence that the targets are dead is also required. If completed within the two month time frame, you will receive a full payment of £500,000, if not no money will be paid and there will be consequences.
List of names:
Juliet Michaels
Ursula Green
Lucus Taylor
Elijah Doyle
Samual Woods
One name in particular has caught my eye. A name I thought that I would never see again. One that has caused a lump to form in my throat enabling me from swallowing. It couldn't be her, could it ?. It's just another person with the same name.
At least that's what I'm trying to convince myself.
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Red |H.S|
Fanfiction"Sometimes i want to be apart of the clouds - weightless and floating. Freedom without any baggage to hold me down" "but you wouldn't be you without your baggage no matter how heavy it may be, and i can assure you life up there will never be as int...
