The rain pelted down, heavy and fast, onto one Harry Styles as he made his way through the dark streets of Bradford. It was nearing midnight and the storm had been going at it for the past three hours. It was at it's peak now, the most dangerous point, but Harry moved swiftly through the downpour, uncaring about the possible dangers that the high winds and dark clouds posed.
He had urgent business to attend to, and no amount of bad weather was going to stop him right now.
In his eyes, it was lucky that the storm was raging so wildly through town. It meant that no one dared to barely step a foot outside. The streets were empty of a single living soul, aside from himself of course. It was nice not having to bother being even semi-friendly to random pedestrians as he hurried down the wet sidewalk.
The building looked much the same as always, red worn bricks, a faded set of double doors, and a sign that had been obscured by several coats of thick white paint.
This didn't perturb Harry in the slightest though as he pulled open one of the heavy doors and peered into the dark space. Faint lights glowed along the walls, illuminating a metal elevator. Running a hand through his damp curls, he stepped forward into the dimly lit room and didn't hesitate in pressing the elevator button.
Almost immediately, the doors screeched open, the metal slabs so old that they scraped noisily against each other, but still Harry didn't even hesitate as he entered the enclosed space and began his ascent upwards.
Harry had been here many times before, seen the pretty tiled floor of the elevator beneath his feet that reminded him of a beach strewn with beautiful seashells. He had felt the soft material of the deep purple walls lined in faded metal that matched the rest of the elevator, and he had heard the soft tinkling of an unfamiliar tune in the background. It was nothing new to him.
The elevator shuddered to a stop with a sudden jerk, but Harry remained at ease, used to the fact that it wasn't quite as shiny and new like a hotel's might have been. Once more the doors clanged open, the sound echoing out into a spacious room.
Everything was white: the ceiling, the walls, the floor. Even the wooden desk near the corner of the room had been painted the color of ivory, matching papers spilled across the desktop.
Harry was sure that the only thing that seemed out of place was the massive black leather chair that was currently turned away from him, facing a set of floor-to-ceiling glass windows that provided the only source of light from the moon basking between the storm clouds that had settled over Bradford.
For the first time that night, Harry hesitated. His previous visits had been more... welcoming. This time, it seemed, he was being counted on to take the initiative, so he cleared his throat. "I've got the money," he stated into the silence, his deep voice resounding off the walls.
There were a few long moments before, finally, the leather chair began to turn slowly. Harry prepared himself mentally, practically seeing the man he had been working with for the past few weeks before he had fully turned around, but when Harry's eyes refocused on the person in the chair, it wasn't who he was expecting.
The man who sat there was dressed in a suit, silver hair slicked back, and a wry smile on his face. Harry knew that his face conveyed shock, but he didn't even try to compose it. "Sykes?" he breathed after what felt like several minutes. "What are you doing here?"
"It seems that your meeting has been rescheduled," Sykes replied smoothly, his smile never wavering. "Take a seat, would you? We have much to discuss."
Harry remained stationary, however, unwavering despite Sykes's words. He had never been one to particularly care for the ruthless gang leader, knowing that he worked to tear people down, to invoke fear into the souls of those who knew who he was. Harry was the only exception to all of the others. He didn't fear Sykes. He didn't fear anything.
"I always admired your stubbornness, Harry," Sykes admitted. "You never were one to play by the rules."
"I wouldn't have thought that you'd like that," Harry replied stiffly, "having been so used to everyone following your orders."
Sykes shrugged. "I like the attitude you have and the vibe you give off. It makes you different from the rest, which is my main reason for being here tonight."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?"
"If you'd sit," Sykes said, gesturing to the single chair situated in front of the white desk. Harry wanted to be defiant and stubborn, but part of him decided that arguing would do him no good. He wanted answers, and if complying with Sykes's request was the only way to get them, he would do it.
Sykes seemed a bit surprised by Harry's immediate response to his words, but he smoothed out his expression quickly, leaning back into the big leather chair and folding his hands across his lap as he regarded Harry.
He took in the way he sat, poised perfectly so that if he were to have to make a quick getaway, he was prepared to do so. His eyes were alert, locked on Sykes with the occasional glance around the interior of the room. One hand sat on the armrest of the chair, dangling off the side, while the other rested on his leg, close to a weapon, Sykes guessed. He knew Harry wasn't stupid enough to come here without some form of defense, and as he thought this over, his eyes flashed with fondness for the young gang leader who had accomplished so much in so little time. He almost felt pity for him now though--he had walked straight into a trap without even realizing it.
"You've been getting rather popular recently," Sykes said slowly, picking out the word carefully. He had hoped that he might be able to slowly ease into what he had come here to say, but Harry knew what he was getting at immediately.
His facade dropped, his hands curling into fists as his stare hardened. "It makes sense now," was his simple reply, referring obviously to Sykes's presence in the room. Sykes laughed humorlessly.
"You know how I feel about other gangs expanding. I don't like it."
"We pose no threat to you," Harry retorted before Sykes could say anything more, "and we never have. If you've come down here to tell me that you're not happy with the success within my gang, then I've heard you out, but we have never been your enemies."
"You've never been my allies either." Sykes's wry smile had returned. "And that is what worries me the most, Harry. I look at you and see a younger version of myself: a boy who never drops his guard, who doesn't dare threaten the authorities but slowly builds up something behind the scenes. Though you may claim that you are no threat to me now, how do I know that that will remain true? How do I know that you won't someday find it in you to challenge me?"
Harry almost smirked. "Are you scared of me?"
"Scared? No," Sykes shook his head firmly. "But I am a cautious man, and I take care of my threatsbefore they even realize that they are one."
His words settled into Harry's brain within seconds, realization flooding through him at the speed of light. He was out of his seat in a flash, his anger evident as his eyes darkened noticeably. "What are you going to do then?" he asked loudly. "Kill me? Kidnap and torture me? I don't fear you and I don't fear death."
Sykes laughed, clearly amused with Harry's outburst as he shook his head slowly, rising from his chair with an eerie sort of calmness. "Killing you would be too simple. Kidnapping would be too mainstream. No, I'm not going to do either of those things. Torture you, this may though."
Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. "I don't understand."
"Perhaps this will make it clearer," Sykes offered, flicking a photograph across the desk towards Harry. Cautiously, he reached for it and brought it to eye level, his heart plummeting as he took in the beautiful girl smiling up at him through the picture. He looked back up at Sykes, fresh anger pumping through his veins as he noted the confident, almost smug smile on his lips.
"What the fuck does she have to do with this?" Harry snapped, tossing the picture back onto the desk angrily.
"Everything and more, Harry," Sykes sighed, grabbing the photograph off the desk with his thin, bony fingers. "She was quite a beauty, you know. It's unfortunate that you let someone like her get away."
"She was never mine," Harry replied monotonously.
"Oh really?" Sykes was amused. "I'm not a stupid man, Harry Styles. Do not ever think that way of me. From the moment she walked into that room I knew she was something other than just your second-in-command's girlfriend. I was never fooled by that weak attempt at a kiss. And you're not fooling me now."
Harry's eyes flashed darker, his heart beating almost painfully in his chest. "Don't bring her into this. She has nothing to do with this."
"You don't seem to listen or pay attention," Sykes shook his head with a soft sigh. "That girl is the one thing that you fear. You fear losing her, in an even worse way than you lost her before."
"I haven't seen her in a year," Harry quickly put in, his tone desperate now. "I don't care about her."
"You seem to thoroughly believe that I'm stupid, but no matter," Sykes smiled. "You refused my offers before, declined every deal I ever attempted to make." He moved slowly around the desk, inching closer and closer to Harry, yet Harry felt frozen. "You are no enemy of mine, but you are no ally either. I'm going to make you regret that decision."
Harry didn't have the time to respond as Sykes struck out his hand, an undetected blade flying from his fingers and landing squarely just below Harry's shoulder. He hissed in pain, stumbling backwards and tripping over his own two feet.
"Alice Maddox will die by my hands, Harry," Sykes smiled down at him, his finger hovering over the elevator button. "Right in front of you, she will die a slow, torturous death. You will hear her last breath, and you will know that there was nothing that you could do about it. And then you will die."
Harry could barely breathe. His vision was dotted with red. He wanted, more than anything, to have Alice in his arms right now, safe and warm and away from anyone that could harm her, but instead he held nothing, just a cold emptiness as the doors screeched open just as they had for Harry.
"I'll be seeing you soon, Harry."
As he watched Sykes leave, clutching the bloodied knife in his hand, he fell back against the floor and let out a horrible scream that seemed to effectively shatter his already broken world.
In that moment, Harry Styles didn't care about anything else. His mind was set on the one thing that it had been set on only once before, once one year ago. The one thing that had captivated his attention completely, that had altered him in ways he couldn't express.
Alice Maddox.
It was her. Always her.