Faking

1

Chapter One

Third Person POV (Point of view)

The phone to the Styles household was ringing off the hook, and the curly-headed man had enough of the consistent ringing. He quickly picked it up, with a groggy 'hello?', wondering who in the hell would call him at four in the morning.

The head of the Police department's voice boomed loudly through the phone, too loud for the tired man on the other end of the line. "Styles? You better get your ass down here now, we got an address on the Michleason's case! I'll send you the location, but hurry up!" With that, the phone went dead. 

Hurridly, Harry untwisted from his husband's tight grip, successfully waking the latter up. "Haz?" The thirty-five-year-old asked sleepily. Zayn couldn't say this was the first night he had been awakening like this, however, he could count how many nights like this one on one hand - so he wasn't ever upset. 

"Sorry baby, I have to go, they have a break in the Michelson's case!" The curly-headed man addressed while throwing on his uniform. 

The Michelson case had had the whole police department's attention for a year, as they suspected a drug ring but had never been able to get enough proof or an actual location that they could bust down. Harry had been the lead Detective on it, as he was one of the best; this was huge. 

Zayn nodded with his lips tightly sealed. He laid his head back down and quickly spaced off into sleep once more. 

Minutes later the detective ran out the door with everything he needed and rushed to the address he was sent to. It wasn't that far of a drive, as his house was more of in the middle of no where and so was this location. 

He pulled up to a big abandoned warehouse that looked centuries old and was falling apart by the brick. There weren't any police cars out front, but the detective knew full and well the whole department was here and ready to bust in. Only on his cue, though.

The thirty-four-year-old got out of the car silently, gun in hand as he made his way to the back of the rusty warehouse, where many police officers were already standing. Harry hunched by the back door and signaled that they go in and arrest anyone who was in there, and search the entire building for everybody. None of these commands were unordinary in the slightest, and no one had difficulty following Harrys lead. 

With that, Harry kicked the door down soundly, and ran in, chanting, "Police!" Dozens of officers seized the building and all of the people in it. A few officers including Harry ran down the rickety stairs, and a few 'clears' could be heard.

Harry, searched a few rooms before his name was called urgently, leading him to go into a room with a table that had piles of drugs sitting in the middle of it. "Damn, guess we got them," he spoke, but the other detective in the room, nudged him pointing at something in the corner. 

Harry followed with his eyes, and his breathing hitched when he saw the sight in front of him. There in front of him was a boy who looked to be twelve-ish-maybe- and was beaten black and blue, scars littering his body. He was curled into a ball, only in his boxers, and his ribs were prominently outlined. A cloth gag was in the boy's mouth, muffling his frightened whimpers, and his hands were tied behind his back. He sat in a dark cage, that was rusty and small, but the boy was smaller. 

This, however, wasn't what made the detective's breathing catch in his throat. Rather, it was the haunting wide blue eyes that were filled with terror, tears clumping to his eyelashes It was the horrorified cries that had the detective almost to tears, and all he could manage was, "Call an ambulance. Now." 

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The day before, Louis' POV

The rope that bonded my wrists together tugged harshly as I struggled pathetically to get loose.  It hurt bad, and I was pretty sure I was bleeding but did that ever stop me? No, it didn't. I'm not sure how long I've been held in the cage, tortured for amusement, but I needed to get out. I needed to find Liam. I had to.