redemption: harry styles

Chapter Eight

It was very, very nice to wake up without pain. Without my wrists tied; to make the bruises even darker. My ankles didn't hurt. My head wasn't throbbing.

I awoke blissfully.

However, I did not wake up myself. Voices drifted from the living room, and I immediately bolted towards the doors and pressed my ear to the ebony wood.

I was still very sleepy, and as soon as I placed my feet on the ground I was tempted to throw myself into the warmth of the bed, but I restrained myself from doing so.

I listened for the voices, but they seemed to quiet down.

"I think I gave more than enough." I heard someone say. "It's about a K more than what you asked for." 

"I know." Another sighed, and he sounded kind of guilty. "But I owe more than one person; Just two hundred more?"

It was silent for a second, and then I heard a click. As if somebody locked something. "Next, time you give us a less budget. Two hundred less."

"Fine." This voice was unfamiliar. It was different. It wasn't any of the boys'. Somebody else. It was one of the men Harry said was coming over. "Just don't get on my bad side."

And then, there was another click. But this wasn't like the doors or suitcases. It was a loud crack, as if two metal objects collided.

A gun.

" I think that's a little too late."

Harry. It was his voice.

Cautiously, my fingers wrapped themselves over the cold doorknob and turned it quietly. I pulled the door back a tiny bit, and it made a creaking sound, loud and clear. He didn't lock it. Why?

Or maybe he did and he unlocked it this morning?

Cursing, I jumped back, but the voices continued as if they haven't heard. I scrambled back to the bedroom door and peaked out.

Harry, Zayn and Liam, all sat on the couch, casually. Fingering a box of cigarettes. The whole room was thick with smoke. One man, young and handsome, stood behind another. A thick amount of cash in their dirty hands, gripping them tightly. One of them looked frightened, whereas the other stood up normally.

"We're leaving now." The calm one spoke. He pointed to the floor where a small suitcase was. "They're in there. If I need to stock up on drugs at least try not to sniff them all down in a month, 'kay'?" He narrowed his blue eyes. "I have a life, too."

Liam spun a black pistol, dangerously flicking it in his hand. "Goodbye, Marcus." He gave a tight smile as Harry straightened, standing up. He was taller than the rest.

Harry jerked his head in another direction, and Marcus and the other man followed him quietly. "Alfie." Liam called, and the man immediately spun on a heel to face him. "Where are the guns?"

The guy--Alfie-- swallowed deeply, his adam's apple bobbing roughly. He clutched a pile of paper work onto his chest where his heart was breathing rapidly.

"The left overs weren't very good." Alfie looked down as Liam stared at him intently, ignoring his gaze. "Please-"

Liam cut him off. "Where," he said, keeping a straight, angry face, "are they? Surely you have kept them safe."

Alfie flared his nostrils and his eyes grew wide. "Um." He shook his head miserably. "Liam, I owed someone, too. I swear I would-"

Liam stopped him again, and his voice was harsher. "You sold them." He said bluntly.