"Fucking Tomlinson got away again, didn't he?"
Harry winced as the chief police, Alex Jones, shot him a look that could kill, the older man's skin flushed with rage as he spat out the question.
"Sir—" Harry began, desperate to repair what was already broken, aware that it was futile but trying anyway.
"Rhetorical question, styles."
Harry fell silent reluctantly, exchanging a frustrated glance with Caleb, his best friend, who was leaning against the wall and taking in Jones rage from the sidelines. Caleb had nothing to do with the disastrous fumble Harry had gotten himself involved in, but he was still sympathetic eying Harry compassionately.
Both men had witnessed their chief's fury, and it was hard not to feel sorry for whoever was on the receiving end.
Honestly, Harry was usually the one sympathizing, but today was unique. Today Caleb got a turn.
"Chief, sir—" Amelia, one of Harrys friends, tried to speak, her voice shaking like a leaf.
Harry gave her kudos for her bravery, but the following events were predictable: Jones gave her a glare that was so cold it chilled even Harry, and Amelia fell silent.
The poor girl looked like she'd never speak again. harry was tempted to give her a hug or something, but he was terrified it would send his already-crazed chief over the edge completely.
"This squad is a fucking disappointment." Jones said, voice dripping with anger.
He looked each one of them in the eye, focusing especially on Harry. "Our station—my station—does not tolerate what happened today. You cannot repeat this mistake again, or you will be fired. Styles, shape the hell up."
Harry nodded, relief flooding his system as he realized he hadn't lost his job...yet.
"Tomorrow, I expect all of you to search for Tomlinson until he's handcuffed nice and tidy, like a goddamn Christmas present at my doorstep. You got that? He's a public threat and a menace, and he needs to be apprehended immediately. A common thug like him should not be this hard to catch. He's giving us a bad name."
Jones looked toward Harry again. "Styles, I expect better from you. Don't ever fuck up like that again. There are lives at risk."
"Yessir." Harry nodded, biting back the angry retort threatening to surface
The squad saluted as Jones, who appeared to be finished with his barrage of insults, sauntered back into his office.
The moment he was gone from view, everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief, quickly breaking apart to lick their respective wounds. Harry hurried over to Caleb, his heart beating wildly in his chest.
"I was so close to losing this job, Caleb." he muttered, sidling next to the brunette and leaning against the wall beside him. His head thudded on the stone, painfully, and he groaned, closing his eyes in defeat.
"I'm gonna puke."
"Ah, fuck, don't you dare puke on me." Caleb protested, dodging out of harrys hypothetical splash zone.
"Not actually." Harry said, cracking his eyes open and swatting at his friend's arm. Caleb chuckled, resettling beside harry
"Jesus Christ, I'm not going to turn him in, Caleb. I can't. I'm screwed." Harry moaned, his brain throbbing.
"You are screwed. How're you supposed to turn in the guy you've been fuck—"
Harry kicked the brunette's shin, making him yelp.
