Dust Bones [Harry Styles]

037

note: i listen to a lot of trap and rap music to try and get this harry character and zayn on point. i think it's hot, personally.

The car rear mirror reflected my hidden identity. Behind the black and silver mask Zayn bought for me, you'd rarely be able to tell it was me. Not that my green eyes or the blonde of my hair could explicitly tell them who I was. There are plenty of women working for the mafias, themselves with my features.

I removed the mask for the time being. I sat in the back with a duffle bag next to me. This particular duffle bag was filled with weapons.

The black leather of the seats grazed the back of my thigh, and the air inside smelled like fresh cologne. This car belonged to us. It just feels like my father.

His eyes remained focus in front of him, the roads lit with streetlights to guide the way. As the miles per hour on this car increased, my heartbeats inclined. I chose to tag along, and certainly aware of the consequences. I swallowed down the dry threatening voices in my mind.

My hands clasped on my lap as we pulled up behind a large building. It was grand. Vast walls of concrete and windows that were surrounded by a golden frame. This man was not economically in danger and neither was he too worried of spending. 

"There's eight guards up front. We're going through the back where there are only two. They want identification of everyone in there before the masks are put on," Zayn explained to us. He took the tablet I had and uploaded a map of the vast building on it where he could impressively learn and remember the ways in and the ways out. 

He scrolled through it, pointing to an area as he spoke. I unbuckled and moved forward, acknowledging his strategy and ethnic. Harry parked a few roads down the back of the building, shutting off the engine and staring at the only light inside; the tablet. 

"We'll have to separate. It's inevitable." I told them. "Grogan will be surrounded with security, it's certain. How are we supposed to get him alone?" 

Harry turned his head and examined the map. "It's not smart to target anyone in such a large group of people, but if a commotion were to start, we could slip in and grab him."

After a long pause, three minds collectively thinking about ways to distract a room of highly trained, clever psychos. Zayn shook his head and murmured, "We need something less grand and more low." 

"The more cunning it is, the better chance we could be seen. In the event of a distraction, there's a better chance. Plus, everyone's on edge already, considering they could be in a room crawling with their enemies," I explained suggestively, trying to be as helpful as I could. 

Zayn eventually nodded. "It's like this man thrives off the anxiousness of his customers. No doubt he worked for Gates." 

Harry inhaled. "So a distraction? I'm thinking explosives, fire related." 

"Perfect," I interjected. "Nothing will bring more attention than some explosives." 

"I can't believe we're all working together," Zayn murmured lowly. "Either we get things right, or we die and I beat the shit out of both of you in Hell." 

I glared. "What makes you think we'll be together in Hell, most likely beat me?" 

"There are no boundaries in Hell," he bit back, hazel eyes burning into mine. We could get along, I figured. And I understood why he was mad. I wasn't supposed to be here. None of this was supposed to happen, and in the event of it all, Zayn has the right to be furious. 

Harry got sick of it immediately, and snapped, "You already live with no damn boundaries." He then turned to me and with his pale green eyes, he seemed to shut me up in an instant. "And you, stop firing him up. Or he will hit you and then I'll be forced to fuck his face up."