Griffin noticed something was off quicker than the rest of the crowd. The match had been lively. Normally, Harry had his opponents on the ground within the first three to four rounds. It wasn't necessarily unheard of for someone to last this long in the ring with his boss, but it wasn't common. Griff thought that Harry was purposely making this last longer to get more of his aggression out.
But this was wrong. All wrong.
His opponent was almost enjoying getting the shit beat out of him. The deranged look in his eyes was one that didn't sit well with Griffin. A lot of the fighters at The Hollow had a few screws missing. It came with the territory of fighting in an underground arena.
Too late did he realize just how wrong this was.
It wasn't until Harry was slumping over, using his opponent as a crutch that Griffin was out of his seat. Rounding the corner, he was able to see Harry's front. His blood ran cold, and his vision tunneled as he climbed up onto the ring.
The crowd was in a panic, screaming and pointing, as Harry's limp body fell to the ground. Blood was pouring out of him, a gaping knife wound just below his ribcage. The man responsible had slipped out of the ring, and Griffin didn't have time to track him down. His number one priority was saving his friend.
His hands covered the wound, stopping him from losing anymore blood, but he could feel how Harry struggled to breathe. If he had to guess, the blade had punctured his lung. He fumbled in his back pocket for his phone, covering it in blood as he did so. The first number dialed was Harry's driver.
"Get to the front now!" He demanded, "This is a code red!"
Security began to swarm the ring, so he grabbed one and told them to press down on the wound. He stood, yelling at one of the other security guards to clear a path to outside. They took immediate action, Griffin bending down to help pick up Harry.
Adrenaline was pumping through his body, keeping him focused on the task at hand. Get Harry to a doctor as fast as possible. Griffin knew how bad this was. If he didn't get Harry to someone, and soon, then there was a good chance he would die in his arms. He needed to keep his head. This was what he was trained for, but seeing his boss, his friend, like this was something he hadn't expected.
Maybe it was because Harry Styles seemed untouchable. He was always in the direct line of fire, yet managed to stay so clean. No one touched him.
They were racing through the hallway awkwardly, two of them carrying Harry while one tried to keep his hand on the wound to stop the bleeding. They were moving too slow, but Griffin didn't risk going faster in case it injured Harry more.
Underneath his arms, Griff could feel him breathing. They were short, shuddered breaths, but they were there. He chanced a glance down, and saw Harry's eyes fluttering shut. There was no recognition in his eyes, though. His lips were moving as he tried to speak, but nothing came out.
They rounded the final corner, a few guards waiting at the end with the big bay doors open. Oliver, Harry's driver was waiting at the curb for them. He was pacing, and when he saw them, his eyes widened, and he rushed over to the backseat to open the door.
He didn't bother asking what happened. They both knew what to do in this instance. They had a protocol, even if this was the first time it was implemented. They struggled to get Harry's body into the car, and his wound becoming uncovered, allowing for a rush of blood to pour out of him.
Griffin climbed in after, kneeling on the floor in front of his boss. His hands once again pressed firmly on the laceration, and everything drowned out the moment the door slammed shut. There was just silence. And Harry's harsh, uneven, breathing.
The partition rolled down as Griff felt the car start moving.
"I think Harrison is closest."
Griffin honestly didn't know. He would have to trust Oliver.
They turned a sharp corner, and Griffin stared down at Harry. His face was ghostly pale, green eyes lifeless as they tried to stay open. They were unfocused, but Griff tried.
"Harry, you need to hold on." He said, waiting for some recognition, "We're getting you somewhere right now."
His lips were moving, like he was trying to answer him. A siren sounded close, blocking the whisper he was emitting.
The next corner took Griffin by surprise, and he fell into the side, hand slipping. Harry's entire chest was now painted red, the lines of his tattoos faint underneath the smattering of blood. It was thick and hot against his hands, seeping through his fingers as he tried desperately to stop it.
"C'mon," he muttered, "stay with me, man."
A groan sounded, Griff's eyes flying to his face. He was staring blankly ahead, but this time when his lips moved, he caught the sound.
"I-Ivy."
Griffin's heart stopped.
"Iv-" Harry's whisper turned into a gargle as he choked on his own blood.
"Oliver!" Griffin yelled in a panic, "We need to get there now! We're losing him!"
"We're two minutes off!" He yelled back, and the sounds of car horns blared around them.
"Harry!" Griffin shouted.
Harry began to violently cough, clots of blood falling out of the corner of his mouth.
"Fuck," he cursed, "fuck, c'mon, Harry, we're almost there."
Griffin was flung back as the car screeched to a halt, seconds later, the door flew open, and Oliver was right there. They worked together to get Harry out of the car, Oliver racing ahead to slam his hand on the front door of the house.
All carefulness was thrown out the window as Griffin dragged Harry up the sidewalk, leaving a bloodstain on the cement walkway. He was at the door before it was answered, and slammed his fist on it. It opened seconds later, the doctor standing in the doorway. He took one look at them and stepped aside.
"Downstairs. Second door on the right. I'll get my things." He said quickly, rushing upstairs.
Oliver picked up Harry's feet, and together, they were able to get him downstairs. Griffin opened the second door on the right by shoving his shoulder into it. A large metal slab table was right in the middle, so they set Harry's limp body on it.
To the right of him, Griffin saw a glass cabinet with medical equipment and towels in it, so he quickly grabbed some and pressed them to his stomach. Harry's eyes were just barely open, eyelids fluttering as he tried to remain conscious.
The seconds ticked by slowly as they waited for the doctor to come. Griffin's heart was still pounding in his chest, but he remained calm. Things needed to happen now that Harry might not survive. Technically, his first call should be to Patrick Styles, but Griff knew better than to do that so soon. Only when Harry's heart stopped beating, too far gone to be brought back, would he call that man.
Footsteps sounded outside the door, heavy thumps as two people descended the staircase. They appeared moments later, the doctor carrying a medical bag with a small teenage girl following behind. She was maybe fifteen, sixteen years old, but she was holding more equipment, face as determined and steady as the doctor's.
"Tell us exactly what happened."
Griffin stepped back, allowing room for the two physicians, and stated formally, "Close combat fight, knife to the stomach. I think it punctured his lung-"
Just then, Harry began to cough, the gargling sound joining in again, while blood filled his mouth. Griffin rushed forward.
"What's his blood type?"
"AB Negative." Griff answered immediately.
"Is he allergic to anything we should know about?"
"No."
"Good." The doctor nodded, "Then leave."
Griffin stood still. "What?"
"I said leave! You're a distraction, and distractions can kill."
"C'mon," Oliver tugged at his arm.
Griffin didn't want to leave. It was his job to keep Harry safe, and he failed. He failed miserably. It was against everything in him to leave him with two relative strangers. They might be the go to surgeons for the families in the circle, but Griffin still didn't know them. The Hollow was supposed to be safe, a neutral haven for everyone in the city, yet here they were.
He couldn't trust anyone.
"Griffin!" Oliver snapped him out of it, "We've got a job to do."
He blinked, letting out a heavy exhale, "Right, of course."
His eyes stayed glued to where his boss lay on the table, the teenager hooking him up to a blood bag to replenish his supply, while the doctor threw the bloody towels on the floor, giving him access to the wound. His feet took him away, though, and as they rounded the corner to the hallway, the young girl raced to the door and slammed it shut.
Griffin just stared at it. He was trying to wrap his head around what had happened and now what needed to happen.
"Um," he started, "go back to The Hollow. There will be a girl there. Teenager, Filipino, will probably give you attitude and try and boss you around. Pick her up and take her to Kiza. That's where Ivy is."
"Okay." He didn't wait for more, taking the order without question, and running upstairs.
Cat had been following him all week. He had noticed a few days ago, but let her get away with it. Honestly, it had been her best attempt, and he was impressed. He had been planning on calling her out at a different time, but he knew she had watched everything that went down. Oliver had some of Harry's blood on him, which meant he couldn't just walk into Kiza and beckon Ivy Malone in front of a whole bunch of rich socialites and business men.
Blood smeared his screen, but he wiped it away on one of the only clean places on his clothes, and called Cat. She picked up immediately, "What do you need from me?"
It wasn't attitude she was giving, not like usual. No, her voice was filled with urgency, which meant his assumption that she had seen it happen was right.
"I have my driver coming to pick you up outside The Hollow." He told her, "He'll be there in ten minutes. If you go up to the players dressing rooms, you'll find Harry's. It's titled the Red Room. There's a folder on the table that has information on Ghostman. Bring that to me. Get his things, too. I'll text you the safe number. My driver will bring you to Kiza. That's where Ivy is with her cousin and Astrid. Tell her it's an emergency and then text me when you're on your way."
"Heard." She said, then hung up, not wasting anymore time.
Griffin then sent a "code red" text to Dev, who he wasn't even sure would check his phone until the morning hit. No matter how many times they had told him to keep it on at all times, Dev had a habit of turning it off while he was out partying.
Slumping against the wall, Griffin slowly slid down until his butt hit the floor. He couldn't hear anything from inside the room, and it was making him more anxious. There was literally nothing he could do except wait.
He lasted a total of five minutes in total silence before he called her.
"CeCe." His voice was hoarse, and he closed his eyes at the sound of hers.
"Griffin? Are you okay?"
He was shaking his head, "He, uh, he," he had to swallow.
"Where are you?" She demanded, and he heard her pick up her keys in the background.
"You need to stay hidden."
"Griffin, I don't give a fuck what you have to say about my safety." CeCe said stubbornly, "Now tell me where the fuck you are."
†††
Somehow, CeCe beat everyone else. He had given in too easily, sending her the address. This place was supposed to be one of the most sacred placed in Queenstown. Any member of the family was welcome here without retribution in a time of need. Secrecy was a given, but Griffin couldn't do this by himself.
He heard the front door open from above, feminine voices traveling down the stairs before the sound of footsteps followed closely behind. Griffin looked up to see CeCe coming towards him, the light illuminating her figure as she descended the steps.
She dropped to her knees in front of him, hands landing on his knees, and asked, "What happened?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he was taking her in. Her face was makeup free and her thick, glorious hair was pulled up in a mess of a bun on the top of her head. Just her being here was calming him.
"Griffin?" She squeezed his knee.
Swallowing, Griffin answered, "Harry, he was, uh, stabbed. In the ring, during a fight. I was right there."
"Hey," she scooted even closer, reaching forward to cup his cheek, "stop that. You know you're not responsible for this."
"His lung's punctured." Griffin told her, "He was choking on his blood when we got him here."
"How long have they been in there for?"
He shook his head, "Thirty minutes maybe?"
"That's good." CeCe assured him, "That means he's fighting."
His hand took hers, threading their fingers together, "Thank you for coming."
"Griffin..." She said softly, and they fell into silence.
CeCe watched him carefully, while he replayed everything from that night. Just minutes later sounds from above stole their attention. Ivy appeared at the top of the stairs, looking more frantic than he had ever envisioned seeing her.