Serenity | H.S. [ON HOLD]

Prologue

🎧 | Darkest Hour - Tate McRae

Harry's POV

Location: Santiago Manor, Home of the Spanish Mafia

"Malik," Nico acknowledged, nodding at Zayn before turning to me with a more disdainful face.

"And Styles," he muttered, his tone vile as he sat down in the chair opposite Zayn and I, on the other side of the metal table. The hostility was present in his body language as he regarded me.

Ever the sweetheart, I smirked inwardly.

"How have you been, mi amor?" I asked, purposely riling Nico up. He was second-in-command to the Don of the Spanish Mafia, Roberto R. Santiago. My favourite pastime was to annoy him when I was graced with his stupid presence.

(My love.)

"Don't fucking call me that, pendejo," he spat, making Zayn roll his eyes beside me.

(Asshole.)

Even though my best friend would never outwardly say it, he did find my antics amusing at times, seeing as the Santis often treated us below them. Much like other associates of the mafia, we weren't born into the Santiago family which led many idiots to believe we would never be among their ranks in the Spanish Mafia.

Nico slammed a file on the table, pushing it towards Zayn and I so we could read it.

"Your mission?" Nico smiled wickedly, "you guys have to find the big boss's son. He went rogue a few years ago, stealing a shit ton of money from the Santis. When he still lived with us, he purposely lent huge amounts of money to various worldwide designers, when at the time they were just starting off in the fashion business."

"So that when the time came when he would run, those designers would be indebted to him," Zayn said, completing Nico's train of thought. "He survived off that money, didn't he?"

"Sí" Nico growled, "and no matter how many people have been assigned to catch him, they've never returned. Most likely dead. Now more than ever, he needs to be killed, once and for all."

(Yes.)

I looked down at the case file, studying the face of the young teenage boy in the photo. Flipping the photo around on the table, there was a name written behind in bold, cursive print.

'Sandro R. Santiago.'

"The Americanos have been reporting murder cases of employees working for these designer brands in their fashion industry. As expected, they were all working for high-end designer companies," Nico continued.

"Boss knows it's his son and it's doing no good for the Santi reputation. We're expanding business soon and if we're to be successful with the Americanos, we need to stop Sandro. All these deaths directly affect their mafia since a lot of their income comes from their designers."

"There's one thing I'm not getting though," I said, all traces of humour gone from my voice now. "If Sandro gave out all these debts years ago, why is he only killing these people now?"

"Because he wants to," Nico answered, as if it was as simple as that. "We haven't captured him in years and he wants to make a statement to us since we haven't caught him yet. He's killed everyone we sent after him so far and it's gone to his head. He's become reckless and he's killing innocent employees for fun."

"Sounds a lot like a typical Santi then," I scoffed, not controlling the words leaving my mouth.

"Cállate," Nico snapped, glaring at me when he spoke again, "we're the ones who took you in when you had nowhere to go. Remember that next time you open your mouth, Styles. Learn from your amigo Malik here, he knows how to keep quiet."