WARNING: mature content
The document that lies on the desk is lonely and untouched. Harry lacks curiosity, and I am exhausted. My father is not ignorant of its existence and its information, and Niall has it down to a science.
"I think this document here proposes the first of our many targets," Niall announces, devious grin laced onto his lips. His eyes were so bright, brilliant. I could tell that by the way he spoke he was confident.
Harry doesn't hesitate when he leans forward and scans over the document, picking the paper up with a brief movement. "This is a name of a bank and all of it's information. A printed map on the bottom," he dryly states.
Niall nods. "Yeah. The same bank Fray trusts to keep his money safe. Now it's not just any bank, they acquire their money from under the table. Substantially from organizations such as your father's, Catalina," he points out, gesturing towards me.
"What's your point?" Harry sighs.
"Don't look so miserable, mate," he mocks with a grin. Harry simply glances up at Niall with no fury, just a gaze that means threat. Niall raises his hands in defense. "Alright, relax. We'll be infiltrating the bank. We will take it under command."
"How do you propose we do that, Niall?" My father questions, leaned back.
The blonde smiles even wider. He's got a niche for these sorts of things. For planning. The process of thought and action produces the vibrant blue in his eyes.
He snaps his fingers, elated to continue. "That's just it. How about we take this a little old school? Say...have fun with it. Imagine...taking down every mafia's manageable money accounts. They'll be pissed, they'll lose their shits. And they won't know who's doing it."
"That will only result in them wanting to take Catalina even more as there was money promised for her capture," Harry hastily points out. "You're digging a hole."
"On the contrary, Harry. See, I've got it down like test answers on my hand. Our completely concealed identities will make sure that doesn't happen," he explains.
Harry shakes his head. "You can't pull every--"
"--and...we keep everything on the down low. Everyone in the bank at the very moment perishes at our will. And we will have the control. We will shut down all access to the bank, remove any tracking devices by the count of ten. They won't know. The bank will become our home for just three hours where we will get money, receive information, and shut down organizations for those hours. They won't know who's running it."
I don't have much to say, though I do speak what was left. "It sounds like a good plan. What other place would have factual information on every organization?"
"I like it," my father compliments Niall. "Though, I'm concerned about the actions the other organizations may take."
"As long as our identities are completely sealed, we remove any form of communication or gaps between our wires, we've got nothing to worry about. This is only a mere distraction while the others do the math here." He tells us. "I suggest you keep lights out, no communication concerning wavelengths; radios, cellphones, blah blah. We have to keep any idea of us out. They can't know it's us."
There is a silence that fills the room. I've become accustomed to silence. I noticed it's very common in my life nowadays, though now I find it peaceful rather than irritating. In my moments of thought, Harry leans forward and places the document down on the desk again.
He stands and states, "I will do it. But, I want it under my command. Everything I say goes while we're at that bank."
Niall snickers as a result. "You? Why would you ever think we will give you power? Bad apple."
"I'm sorry, Niall, was I speaking with you?" Harry remarks haughtily, thick accent on his tongue as he spoke so fast. The blonde remains silent. "Of course I wasn't. Now stay out of it."
He turns to my father. There's a brief moment of tense silence. My father then clenches his jaw. "You are not trustworthy at this point in the game," he concludes. "I will not give you full authority of this mission."
"I've managed every other operation. Every single one that failed was one I didn't participate in," Harry retorts angrily.
"I know, but your help will suffice."
"This will be more successful for all of us if I ha---"
"Your help will suffice!" My father raises his voice, repeating what he said before. "At three in the morning we will gather a team with the best. Niall, start gathering necessities. All of you, get out," he then snaps.
A sigh leaves my lips and I stand. Harry is the first to leave, clearly infuriated by the outcomes. Niall excitedly states that he will prepare everything and manages to walk out behind me. The door shuts and I am left aimlessly walking the halls to the bedroom.
Behind me, I hear, "It would be great if you could join us. Too bad you gotta to stay."
"I rather join you guys as well." I reply, not bothering to look at him.
Niall says, "Talk to your dad. You seem to make the most assured man the most uncertain."
"I'll think about it," I mutter.
We separate. He joins whoever downstairs and I join Harry in the room where he sits on the edge of the bed. I lightly shut the door behind me, making my way to him. I stand before him with furrowed brows, questioning.
"It's just this one time. Prove that your trustworthy," I tried, seeing as he gazes up at me with that expressionless face. I send him an encouraging side smile, though he doesn't return it.
Harry watches me intensively as he murmurs, "Proving my loyalty is useless when it's not what I want."
"What do you want then?" I ask softly.
His gaze never falters. I glance at his hands as the entwine together and he leans forward, elbows leaned against his thighs. "I want you safe. That's it. Nothing else matters. The only reason I'm still here is...only because I need assurance."
I stare at him, not knowing what to feel. "I want you safe," I respond quietly.
Harry stands, showing off his full height. "That's a problem, then."
"Why's it a problem?" I question, furrowing my eyebrows further.
He briefly clenches his jaw. "Because they always get partially what they want. It's not a world of miracles, it's always this way or the other."
"What's that supposed to mean?" My questions seem to not irritate him, as though he knows I was going to ask them.
"One of us is going to die. And I'm doing everything in my will to make sure you live, and it's me who doesn't."
I can't find the words immediately, but I know that the jab I felt against my chest and the hitch of my breath states an obvious negativity towards his words. My lips part, and I have nothing but to argue against him.
"Don't think like that," I insist, though my voice is barely firm as his is.
"There's no other way to think, Cata. There's too many of them, and not many of us. This is like a fucking race to them, and on the way, we don't know who dies or who lives. You've got to start getting used to the idea of people dying. Because you're living an existence that practically revolves around it," he rants.
My chest rises slowly as I inhale deeply. "You're not going to die. So stop saying that. Stop thinking like that. It's not going to happen."
"I just don't want you to be hurt," he answers immediately. "When this is over, I don't want you to cry for me, or for anyone."
I know what he's saying is all in his head, but when he is so certain and I'm so sensitive, I can't help but start to wonder and over analyze the possibilities. I feel a sharp pain inside of me, one that induces the stinging in my eyes and the dull ache in my chest.
"Stop it!" I warily shouted. "You're not going to die. Stop putting that idea in my head."
"I have to. Because it's going to hurt more if you don't expect it."
"Why are you so sure you're going to die?" I sniffled. "Huh? Do you want to?'
He shakes his head. "I don't. But I've come to terms with the idea of it. If it's for you."
My hands frustratingly come to cover my face, and I inhale sharply to try and remove some of the thoughts or the imagery in my mind. They drop as I try to remain as assertive as possible.
"If you die," I start. "Then I won't ever forgive you. I'll hate you if you leave."
"That's a price I'm willing to pay."
"What if I die?" I spat. "What if it's not you?" His silence encourages me to continue. "You can't just say things like that."
Harry sighs and looks at the door of the bedroom, muttering, "I'm going down to set everything up. Don't do anything stupid, Cata."
I watch him leave through the door. I watch it shut and leave me on my own in this bedroom whose walls became my imprisonment.
+
I stood underneath the shower head for a long time. I don't have a specific measurement of time, but I know that it was lengthy. My arms remain lazily at my sides and I forget good posture because my shoulders slump. I've forgotten a lot.
With eyes closed, above the sound of the water I hear the door open. My eyes snap open, and I slip the glass shower door open. Enough to peek out and see who it was. My wonder dies down when I see Harry, and he stands there removing his shirt.
I don't move fast enough, and he glances up at me just as he tosses his shirt to the floor. I look away and resume my shower, leaving the glass door open. A minute later he slides the door open and steps inside. I run my fingers through my wet hair, shutting my eyes as it closes again.
His fingertips lightly dig into my hips as he pulls be back to him. I feel his chest against mine, the beads of water on my skin soaking his. But, I move away from him and as his fingers slip, I hear him sigh heavily.
He reaches for me again, bringing his head down and his lips touching my ear. A hand strokes my wet hair behind my ear, other arm locked around my waist. "Stop," he rasps lowly. The water soaks through his hair, wetting his skin in its warmth.
Eventually, I stop my protest and lean against him. Harry moves us away from underneath the water. He's frowning as I turn my head to look at him, his eyes gazing down at me. My eyes scan his as he murmurs, "You're mine to protect. To take care of. I promised you that since the beginning. And that will never change."
I take his free hand and entwine my fingers with his. "It doesn't mean that you have to die doing it. I could protect you," I insist. "I know you won't think so, but I can."
"You showed me you can," he responds, his arm around me tightens. "I believe you. All I meant was that I don't mind dying protecting you."
If he's prepared to die for me, then it should be the same way for me. I may not have the physical ability to protect him, but I can do it differently than he does.
He leans forward before any other words could be spoken between us. His lips kiss mine with force, moving effortlessly and with an obvious passion. I tighten my grip on his hand, as his other roams the skin up and down my sides. In his heavenly touch, I sigh into his lips.
But then he removes them from my mouth, now kissing his way down my neck. It takes him a second to turn me over, lifting me as I get his silent demand to wrap my legs around his waist. I do so, proceeding to place my arms around his neck.
I attach my lips to his again, same passion, but softly and slow, taking it at my pace. My back meets with the steam covered glass. Harry's hand snake down to my thighs, holding me there. I run my hands through his hair, feeling his teeth lightly sink into my bottom lip.
My legs tighten around him, forcing us closer. Chest and against chest, mouths locked. I pull away for just a brief moment, hoping to get air. Harry looks up at me, bottom lip between his teeth with urge. He leaves the water running as he slides the glass door open.
I'm sat on the edge of a counter next to the sink, and with his lips kissing the skin of my neck with force, I am given no warning when he spreads my legs, holding tightly to my thighs. He uses one hand to guide himself into me, releasing a heavy breath from both of us.
I instantly tighten my hold onto his curls as his hips begin to move. My body feels a release of tension, but at once an aching need. His thrusts are slow and hard for now. Fingertips dig into my thighs, muscles flexing on his biceps from where his elbows bend.
A soft moan slips from my lips, which is all I allow myself to release because for a moment we've forgotten who could hear us. Somehow the need for us to be quiet gives me a more erotic feeling.
I place my hands flat against the counter and lean back, head back as I quietly moan. His lips find the skin between my breasts, tightening his grip around my thighs. I feel him so deep and with every thrusts, he hits that spot that makes my cheeks become rosier, my lips part, and a high-pitched gasp for air escape my mouth.
He pulls me as close as possibly, picking up his pace. The pants that leave his mouth fan against me, nose slightly brushing my skin. He clenches his jaw, releasing a groan from the back of his throat when I tightened around his pulsing length.
The steam inside the room and the increasing heat almost becomes unbearable. Though, I can't complain as our wet bodies touch. My toes curl in pleasure, his hands finding my backside and angling me so it's easier for him to thrust into me.
Wrapping my arms around his neck again and holding him to me, I breathe out, "Harry." His lips press tightly together, jaw clenched as he gives me his all. His eyebrows furrow as he gazes up at me, his lengthy, wet hair against his cheeks. I hold him close, placing my hand over his jaw.
I lean down and kiss him. My lips feel on his, wanting to savor them until their texture taints my memories. I pull away, then, unable to keep myself silent. My end nears, and I let out and accidental loud moan of his name, gasping for air at once.
He pecks my lips. "Shh, baby," he rasps, riding out his own end. I shut my eyes as he continues until he finishes, slowing himself and releasing a low grunt, letting his lips delicately brush against mine.
For a couple of minutes, we attempt to regain our composure. He pulls out gently, running his hands up and down my thighs and I rest my head onto his shoulder. I lightly kiss his neck, leaving identical ones up to his jaw, and then finally his lips.
My hands slip down to his chest, continuing to gently kiss him. I know there's a possibility that I could lose him, but I can't picture myself without him. It's as if the time we've spent together -- the arguing, the declarations of hatred, the childish remarks, his kiss, his touch, his secrets...they've all become apart of my being.
In the distance, we hear a voice. "Mr. Gates wants to call for an ops meeting again!" The annoying voice belongs to Marco. I guess the guy's just doing his job, and we've verbally abused him, but for some reason I can't stand him.
Harry groans in irritation. I still as the bedroom door opens, and Harry roars out, "Take one more step into the room, and you'll lose your fucking head!"
The door immediately shuts, and I can't help but laugh at Marco. Harry looks over at me again, tracing his thumb around the curve of my amused smile. "I love you," he huskily murmurs, as if reminding me.
+
I stood downstairs as the guys that would be heading out prepared themselves. Niall had a whole wardrobe idea going and he was even asking me for my opinion. Although I was worried about Harry's safety, I laughed when Niall continued to ask if the black really suited Harry's "pale ass".
"I wear black every fucking day," Harry snaps, adjusting the bulletproof vest around his torso. His tatted arms were revealed by the black, short-sleeve shirt he wore. I stood at a proper distance from him as the many men stood around.
The enormous living room was made into a computer. There were screens set up and many many wires lined up to them. Keyboards, people sitting at seats around them. Everything was set up in order. Much like everything my father likes. Order and authority.
Niall played around with a pocket knife in his hand, just as Marco came by with a bag. He glances between Harry and I for a second before nervously handing it to Niall.
"Here's the ski masks you asked for."
We all turn to look at Niall. The other two men going were by the names of Devon and Jinx. Devon had curly blonde hair and brown eyes. His lips were full and he looked like he was straight out of a magazine. He was highly muscular and just as tall as Harry. Jinx was on the shorter side, with dark hair and countless tattoos. His eyes were a bright blue and he too looked like a model.
"Fucking ski masks, man?" Devon rolls his eyes, Australian accent thick and highly noticeable. "Got any other accessories? A tutu, maybe? It'd go great with the black."
Niall chuckles. "It's not a crime to look good while committing a crime."
"Whatever," Jinx grumbles. "Ski masks is the best you can do to conceal our identities?"
"Once we enter the cameras will be out. Relax, we'll remain unknown. It's just so the people inside don't suspect a thing," he explains himself.
Harry snatches the bag from Marco, sending the poor guy a glare. Marco shifts away from Harry. He then looks through the bag. "Are there black bandana's in here?"
"Yeah. Just to vary, you know," Niall casually informs him, looking pleased.
"Let me guess. We're gonna stop to rob a boutique?" Jinx mocks irritatingly, shoving Niall. "This isn't some fashion show."
"I'm doing you a favor, Jinx. No one wants to see your face anyway."
Before Jinx could say anything back, Harry throws the bag at Niall, already having taken out a ski mask for himself. He undoes the bun on his head and places the ski mask over his head. It conceals everything but his eyes and mouth.
"Stop complaining, you pussies. And put them on," he demands, voice harsh.
"Thank you, Harry," Niall teases, putting one over his face, and then adding the bandana over the lower part of his face to 'vary'. Harry only ignores him as everyone does what they know is best for now.
My father appears next, making a brief speech about how he picked the top four he has right now. He only expects the best from them. I make eye contact with Harry, worrisome look on my face as he just shakes his head, assuring me he'll be fine.
"We have mics installed into the vest, so you can communicate with us until you arrive in France and then we shut everything off. Good luck, boys," one of the guys on the computer tells them.
"We don't need luck. We're the best," Niall announces, making my father smirk. He pats his back and ushers them to go. As they leave out the door, I take one last glance at Harry, who's too busy leading them out.
The nerves kick in in two minutes after they left. I busy myself by monitoring the screens. There's cameras outside the car, recording everything happening outside. It is a thirteen hour drive, so at least for thirteen hours there's a greater chance that they're safe.
For endless time I sit around and that stupid tablet and read. While the others communicate and count down the hours. My father sits with us for a couple of hours, until he leaves to discuss other matters that concern him with another team of psychotic, clever men.
I notice that the guy monitoring Harry's mic gets up to use the bathroom. When he shuts the door closed, I scurry over to his seat and take over the mic. The other men have their backs turned to me, watching the biggest monitor with a discussion going.
"Harry," I whisper into the mic, and for a second I think he's not going to hear me.
"Cata?" He whispers back. "What are you doing sitting there? You need to go to sleep and stop worr---"
"I love you," I say quickly, knowing any time the guy monitoring Harry's mic will come back.
I hear him sigh heavily. "I love you, too, baby."
My heart flutters, but in that moment the bathroom door opens and I have to leave Harry's mic. I whisper a quick, "I have to go." And then I sit myself back on the sofa, reaching my for my tablet as I count the down the seconds.
note: longest update bc i haven't updated in a while.
but, any predictions?
thanks for reading, homies. :)