Harry Styles was known to be ruthless, merciless, and tough in the ring. He basically lived at the gym, always there, training and working hard to defeat his next opponent.
After being too old to stay at the orphanage, Harry was sent packing to live...
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"I fear no evil, the shadow is mine and so is the valley."
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The DeLuca men stand outside the police department, bodies sore from taking punches as they exhale clouds of nicotine into the air. They all posted bail moments ago and they waited with bated breaths as they await the arrival of their future son and brother in law.
They didn't have to wait long until the door soon swung open and out came a still fuming Harry. It pays to have money when you get arrested for silly things like assaulting a cop.
He sported a black eye, his nose was still caked in dried blood, and the fury in his eyes could make anyone start to tremble.
"She won't say anything, will she?" Marco asks, throwing his cigarette down and crushing the ashes beneath the sole of his suede shoe.
"No, she won't fucking say anything." Harry snaps, rubbing his hand over his tired face. "She's smarter than that. She knows her words... They'll have consequences. She wouldn't want any of us in there with her."
"That's what I'm worried about," Alessandro says solemnly, gaining everyone's attention. "She'll go down for all of us."
"No, she..." Harry pauses, closing his eyes in a wince because that was a perfectly good possibility. "I won't let that happen. Girls like her don't belong in places like that." He hisses before spitting on the brick building he just walked out of.
"Where's your friend, Vincenzo?" He asks the father of his fiancée who looked more tired by the day.
"The chief is out of town on vacation this week, of fucking course. Figlio di puttana! Of course they would pounce once he's out of town. I'm trying to get ahold of him now. Cazzo Madre di Dio!" He curses, presses the phone against his eyes once more before going off again in a tangent of Italian to whoever was on the other side.
