i just posted chapter 64 last night, don't miss that one.
short chapter ahead but oooo it's a nail biter...
Harry Styles
Cigar smoke and scotch are the thick in the air of this casino.
"Raise."
I look at my cards, I look up at Niall across the green table, he looks at me, I look back down.
"Fold." a frustrated voice speaks followed by laughter.
Two days ago, Niall and I met our target. Pauli Montori, the man who tried to put out a hit on Vincent and his wife. Today, we're at a casino with Pauli and his colleagues, casually playing poker.
Pauli believes that he's going to be giving Niall and I a loan later on—that he'll fund our 'business' but the catch he hasn't told us yet is that he'll launder the profits we would make and he'd get more money than we would.
He doesn't know we know that though.
Cards are being picked up and put down around the table of seven men, including Niall and I. Pauli sits two seats down from Niall across the table. He's a big guy. Your classic 'goodfella'. A cigar hangs from his mouth, a cream coloured silk blouse is only buttoned up to right where his chest begins, gold chains around his neck and rings around his fingers.
The men around us are dressed like classic Italian mafia men, and Niall and I are both in suits with our western American accents. No wonder they think we're clueless and fresh meat.
The fact that we're playing poker is a test for us. Niall and I know not to make any outrages bets, or go all in, or do anything that could possibly hint to us knowing what we're doing or having money of any kind. We're supposed to be broke, naive kids in need of a loan.
Pauli didn't invite us to play poker to be friendly.
"Fold." I murmur, putting my cards down.
I get a tough grip on my shoulder from the guy next to me. I look at him as he chuckles at my 'misfortune'.
"Better luck next round, kid." he says and I force a disappointed half smile.
I glance at Niall, who's got his bottom lip between his teeth and his cards close to him. He glances back at me.
He's got a good hand.
I know Niall, and I know he's good at his job. But, I also know that he's impulsive and he loves winning.
I subtly just shake my head at him. He looks back down at his cards and sighs.
"Fold." he throws the hand down.
Pauli chuckles like he expected Niall and I to forfeit. "Don't worry, rookies. You'll get it someday."
I lean back in my seat and watch the guys continue playing. We kind of have to just wait out this game until Pauli is ready to talk to us.
Then tomorrow, we kill him.
When I hear a ringing in my pocket, it confuses me. I'm getting a phone call, but this isn't my phone. It's a burner. The only person that knows this number is Vince, and he wouldn't be calling me knowing I'm in the middle of a job.
I take out the phone to look at it, Niall looking at me as well.
It's an unknown number. My first instinct is to hang up, but what if it's Vince trying to warn us about a compromise? What if something behind the scenes has gone wrong? What if one of the guys or Angela back home is trying to get in contact?
I look up to the group. "Deal me in for the next round. I'll be right back." I say. I can see Pauli watching me in my peripheral vision and can feel his eyes burning into me as I walk away.
I jog to the bathrooms, accepting the call before it drops.
"Hello?" I answer.
The second I speak, I get a weird instinctual feeling—the feeling like somethings not right.
"Hello, Harry."
The voice on the other end is off putting and staticky, like they have some sort of voice filter on. Like something out of a fuckin' 'Scream' movie.
"Who is this?" I murmur, standing still on the bathroom as my chest feels tight.
"Couldn't help but notice you took a trip to the hometown." the voice speaks. "No invite?"
"Wh—"
"We missed you so much, we decided to come to you."
I suddenly feel a sense of anxiety rising inside of me. I look over my shoulder, making sure no one is coming in.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
I'm not faced with a lot of questions as to who this is. Deep down, I know.
I think of Elaina. I think of how I haven't been able to talk to her or anyone back home since our last phone call.
I have no way of knowing if she's okay or not right now.
"It's a shame on your part, really." they say. "You left and it gave me the perfect opportunity"
I feel my heart drop. Not a sinking feeling, but a hard and painful drop like it has fallen out of my body.
I freeze up in the bathroom, imagining the worst case scenario as my anxiety worsens.
Please, don't let this be what I think it is.
"Opportunity for what?" I say, dreading what comes next.
A chuckle on the other end. "You know, Harry, I'd feel pretty guilty if I were you...you left, and all it took was a bit of waiting before I took my chance to grab her."
That was it. My blood has gone cold. My world has stopped.
Whoever this is, they have Elaina.
I can't move. I can't speak. I can't breathe. I can't do anything.
"She was so scared, too... all because you weren't there to stop me."
"Let me talk to her." I mutter, my hand shaking as I grip the phone, my fear mixed with anger.
She's been targeted, she's been taken, and I hate to say I've imagined how I'd feel if this were to happen...but I could've never anticipated what it would actually be like.
I feel anger that Ive never experienced before.
"You don't get that privilege."
"Is she alive?" I sternly ask the dreaded question.
"I'm looking at her right now." they say. "She's just sobbing quietly, I'd almost feel sad for her if I didn't know how much this would hurt you."
They know about our relationship too, then. They knew I'd be affected by this. Maybe it's leverage, but I have an excruciating feeling that this isn't just to get to me. They want her too.
"Let her go, you sick fuck." I mutter.
"You think it's smart to talk to me like that when your girlfriend's life is in between my fingers?" they threaten. "Every wrong move from you is a cut on her skin."
My hand comes up to my hair, tangling in my roots as I feel my breathing getting out of control. I pace the bathroom, heat rising behind my tear ducts.
"What do you want me to do..."
"Come see your girl for yourself. It's the least you can do after you've put her in this mess."
"Give me a location and I'll be there."
"Alone."
"Where are you!" my voice raises in growing frustration and trepidation.
They laugh. "I figured I'd offer you some nostalgia, and it wasn't difficult to track down your childhood home."
They're at my old house here in Manchester.
"I'm coming." I say, pushing open the door to the bathroom. "If she's hurt, I'll fucking kill you."
"We can't wait to see you."
They hang up.
I'm running down the stairs now, completely disregarding the job I was meant to be doing. I don't even bother to let Niall know. I have no time.
My only focus is Elaina.
My heart is thrashing against my chest. The idea of her being in this situation is making me sick.
If she's been kidnapped by who I think, then she probably knows everything. And she probably hates me. She'll see me and she won't even feel relief, just more fear.
But, I'll save her regardless of how she feels about me.
I get to the back door of the casino. I don't know how to get to where I'm going. I'll steal a car or even go on foot if I have to.
Hot summer evening air hits my face as I whip open the back door. I'm behind the casino, quickly looking around for anything I can use to break into a car.
Screeching tires suddenly pull in front of me, belonging to a big black van. In the same moment, three of the men from inside the casino storm out the door.
A punch to my ribcage knocks the wind out of me, my feet stumbling back. In a moment of weakness, I get another punch to my side that knocks me down. I scream out in pain, feeling every indent of the rings with the punches.
I kick my feet out and try my best to block the incoming hits with my arms as I'm flipped onto my back. My ribs throb in pain, fists and feet bruising up my body. A hard kick to the side of my stomach, a punch to my jaw.
This job was a set up.
"Tie him up." one of them instructs.
Fuck that.
I clench my teeth and use any strength I have left. I lift my leg quickly to kick the man that's grabbing a roll of duct tape from his inner blazer pocket. I get a lucky kick to his chest, knocking him back enough. I use my elbow next, getting the man on my right in the nose.
I know damn well that it's three against one, each guy being twice the size of me. I'm at nothing but a disadvantage but I'm not going down without raising hell.
I shove the guy I kicked, getting him down on his back. My face throbs and my body aches horribly but I don't stop. I get on top of him, grabbing him by the hair and lifting his head just to smash it down onto the pavement beneath us.
Hands are grabbing me, I'm fighting as hard as I can.
A sudden slicing motion on the side of my stomach is what disengages me. My teeth clamp together as my hand comes to the site of the injury in pure reflex. One of them had swiped a knife into my stomach, hard enough to stop me.
I'm grabbed again, this time successfully. A hand slaps forcefully over my mouth as I'm forced to stand,
my back to the chest of one of the men. I try to struggle but there isn't much left in me. Muffled grunts leave my throat against the man's hand.
"Hurry the fuck up!" he shouts to his conscious colleague, who pulls a syringe from his jacket.
I thrash, my legs kicking out as I find any way to break free. But, I'm beaten, I'm weak, these guys are stronger than me.
I try to move my head as the syringe comes toward my neck, protests coming from me that turn into muffled and tired whines as I feel the prick of the needle.
My peripheral vision becomes dark as my sight blurs. I can feel each limb going limp. The last thing I can feel is fresh air hitting my face as the man uncovers my mouth and allows my body to collapse to the ground.
//
rip