HIRED GUN // H.S AU

fifty-three

AMARA

"This is our worst idea yet," Harry whispered to Louis and Zayn, aiming for me to not hear it. He recoiled when I turned and gave him a deadly look, smoothing out my dress. We'd landed in Manchester a couple hours ago, and we all got ready at a hotel. Harry had been in a mood the whole time we were travelling here and when we arrived, adamant on this being a trap. There were loopholes in this whole situation that did confuse me to no end, but I wasn't going to risk missing my own fathers funeral.

The fact that the person who sent the invitation knew where we were living confused me. If they knew we were staying there and wanted to hurt me, why didn't they when they had the opprtunity? Why would they wait until I was gaining closure in order to harm me? The person was either sadistic and wanted to kill me when I'm at my lowest point, or they didn't want to harm me at all. I was willing to take the risk.

I wore a simple black and cream dress, all the boys in suits. I took a second glance at Harry from behind me, my eyes falling to his suit jacket. They widened when I noticed the familiar outlining that was barely hidden, Harry's gun on full display.

"Are you serious?" I gaped when I pulled his suit jacket open, two guns resting in the pockets. Harry smacked my hand away as I looked up at him, the elevator doors opening to the ground floor. I looked St. Louis, reaching for his jacket as well, being unsuccessful as Harry pulled me beside him.

"Stop it," he hissed, intertwining our fingers roughly as we walked outside of the hotel, pushing me into a sleek black car that was parked on the curb. I unlinked our fingers when he sat beside me, crossing my arms. Zayn sat in the passenger seat, giving the driver the directions while Harry fidgeted beside me.

"It's a funeral," I watched his leg bounce up and down, a nervous habit. His head turned to connect our eyes, his holding stress and worry. "Why are you so worried?"

"You wouldn't understand," Harry tapped his fingers on his knee, Louis patting his shoulder beside us.

"Try me."

"I am responsible for you. I won't be able to live with myself if you get hurt, this is too risky," I grabbed onto Harry's hand, his tapping ceasing as I intertwined our fingers. My heart fluttered at his words, taking my mind off my father for a small time.

"Don't worry," I pulled his hand onto my lap, playing with his fingers until the car came to a stop. Zayn paid the driver when he announced we had arrived, our bodies climbing out of the car. Harry's hand tightened in mine as we walked closer to the building, his other hand tucking into his jeans. I knew he wanted a hand near his gun, in a place he could easily grab it if something sudden happened.

"We're here for Victor Svenson," Zayn talked to the ladies at the front of the building, hundreds of people gathered inside already. I frowned when I didn't recognise any of them, assuming they were in the gang.

"Who?" One of the ladies raised an eyebrow at us as my eyes fell on the large board resting on a canvas. The ceremony occurring at the moment was for a Sheryl Benson, not my father. "There is no funeral under Svenson for today, or this week at all."

"Fuck," Harry cursed, wrapping an arm around my body to mask me from any danger. My eyes watered as her words repeated in my brain. Does this mean he's alive? "It is a fucking trap."

"We need to go," Louis rushed back to the car, opening the passenger door. I gasped as a loud gunshot sounded through the air, Louis' body flying back from the noise. The driver pulled his body from the car, ducking when Zayn shot at him. He raised his gun to Harry, pressing down on the trigger.

Harry and I ducked under a statue of bricks as gunshots echoed in the air, my ears ringing from the piercing sounds. I only noticed now how Harry's hands had cupped over my ears, drowning out most of the noise.

"We need to go find a car," Harry whispered into my ear, flicking his head to the busy roads outside of the cemetary. I nodded at him, listening as he counted to 3 before running to the road. Gunshots went off again, Harry's body behind to mask me from them as we ran. I hit my fist on the window of a green Mazda, the middle-aged man yelling at me from the inside. Harry grumbled as he yelled insults, flinging the door open to pull the man out. I gasped as Harry picked me up and practically threw me into the passenger seat from the driver's side, climbing in after.

"We can't leave Louis and Zayn," I pointed out, Harry already driving to the gates of the cemetary to retrieve the boys. Harry pushed my head down as a bullet smashed one of the windows, his body leaning over mine as much as possible as the boys ran to the car. I could only keep my eyes on the floor of the car as one of the car doors opened, the car shaking as two bodies jumped into it. I finally sat up when Harry had driven out of the cemetary, everyone's breathing ragged as he sped in the direction of the hotel.

"Shit!" Harry slammed his hand down onto the steering wheel as he drove, his knuckles turning white as they clenched around it. His neck veins were prominent as he grew angry, swerving arubtly into the curb outside the hotel.

"Who was that man?" I asked as we poured out of the car, practically running through the lobby.

"He was doing his job, somebody hired him," Zayn spoke between breaths, pressing the elevator button for the third floor. We waited impatiently as it lowered to the ground, pushing ourselves in once the doors had opened.

"Who hates me that much that they would want to cause me the pain and grief I felt from losing my dad, just to lure me here?" My voice broke as I wracked my brain for an answer, wondering who I'd angered. Never in my lifetime did I think some would have so much much hatred for me.

The three boys remained quiet as the elevator rose to our floor, dinging as the door opened. I wasn't sure what emotion to feel when they opened to reveal the person I'd least expected to see, praying that what I was thinking was incorrect.

"Mother?"