THIRTY-FOUR
Gigi
That fucking bitch!
The doctor in medical tells me I have lingering signs of a concussion, but above all else I’m fit and healthy. Harry sits at my bedside asking the medic further questions, but I can’t hear clearly past the rage muting all noise.
Poppy made an illegal shot after the bell, but the ref ruled the fight in her favour. I blacked out from the hit and woke up five minutes later in a hospital bed. Due to the loss of consciousness, I was forced to receive medical attention. I’ll be sent on my merry way soon, with clenched fists and a few painkillers.
I don’t realise the doctor has left until Harry turns and says, “Did you hear any of that?”
“Yes,” I grunt.
“Is everything okay?”
“Will I get kicked out now?” I query what’s really on my mind. “I should be given a fairer chance. That bitch—” The machine I’m strapped to starts to beat frantically with my racing heart, and I tug haphazardly at the wires, ridding myself of them as if they’re an itchy layer of skin. “Fuck!”
“Calm down,” he says, placing a hand on my knee.
I shove him off. “Don’t tell me to calm down. This is all her fault!”
“We’ll talk to Richard, don’t worry,” Harry assures me .
“Talk to me about what?”
The Boss walks in on cue, hands pressed deep into his suit pockets, something akin to disappointment crossing his face. It’s a bitter realisation I’m forced to swallow as words become useless.
“Surely, that fight is void,” Harry says. “We’ll have to call for a rematch.”
“How so?” the Boss asks, causing my jaw to clench. “You saw the ref crown our champion. I don’t know what else there is to tell you both.”
I whip my head towards Harry, pleading silently that he’ll make this right. His green-eyed stare meets mine before he turns back.
“The shot was called after the bell! She fucking—”
“And what rules are you referring to, St. James? From what I understand, none were clarified before the start of the round, meaning Poppy’s shot was technically within legal limits. Neither I nor anyone in the ring referred to it as a professional boxing match.”
No. No. No.
This can’t be happening.
“So, what …?” I answer quickly over my choking, beating heart. “That’s it? I’m out?”
The Boss shakes his head, pausing for a beat for a reason I imagine is only to increase my worry. “I will give you one more chance to prove yourself, Thomas.”
Oh, thank God.
“You will join the Weathers Bank robbery heist on Friday.”
My mouth twitches into a grin. I get another chance at redeeming myself – this is great! Yet the look on Harry’s face suggests otherwise.
“But it’s Monday,” he interjects.
“Are you saying she needs a new trainer?”
Harry stills momentarily, and panic settles in my stomach. “It would help if she knew—”
“If this were a real-world situation, she might have no time for preparation. Consider yourself lucky that I’ve given you both this advantage.” Turning to me, the Boss adds, “Two strikes and you’re out, Miss Thomas. This opportunity does not come lightly. Those in the Circle understand this is a life worth dying for, and if you’re not fit for the job, then I see no other option than to revoke your right to be here.”
I gulp, nodding my head submissively. “I won’t let you down. I promise.”
He steps back. “For your sake, I hope not. I hope your recovery goes well.”
My eyes track his movements until he’s stepped out the door. As soon as he’s disappeared, I shoot up from the bed, but Harry shoves me back down against the scrawny sheets by the palm of his hand.
“Not so fast.”
“You heard the man – I only have four days until my next test. What are we waiting for?”
“What are we waiting for?” he stammers as if what I just said was utterly barbaric. “You just got knocked unconscious!”
“By an illegal shot. It doesn’t count.”
He growls, bringing his hand down his face. “Of course it fucking counts.”
During the next few minutes of silence I watch over him. My anger cools at the memory of waking up in this bed, Harry’s face the first thing I saw. His panic was overpowering, and his hand hovered over my face as if I might fracture in his very palm. Seeing him in that state caused my stomach to swirl with an emotion so deep it almost knocked my head back into darkness.
As if he can read my thoughts, Harry brings me out of my torment, saying, “You’re going to be the fucking death of me.”
I look up at him. “It’s a life worth dying for after all.”
Harry convinces me to stay in the recovery room for a full twenty-four hours before my constant pestering to leave becomes unbearable torment. A few days later, my injuries are limited to a bruise blossoming on my cheekbone.
While there’s little training that can be done days ahead of a heist, I’ve learnt my way around a firearm. I spent the first two days out of the recovery room going over the basics. When asked if I knew how to use the safety – only to question what it was – I thought Harry was going to kill me with the very weapon. Turns out it’s like some dummy clip to make sure you don’t fire an accidental shot. Not that it’s a big deal or anything.
Holding a gun caused a strange foreign feeling to curl in my gut. It felt powerful, and I grew to like it relatively quickly. I snuck the gun into the waistband of my jeans, debating whether to use it on Poppy, but I was met with Harry’s ruthless stare and felt like I was being forced into orgasm all over again. All weapons are accounted for, otherwise it would’ve been a good idea.
If all goes well tomorrow – as in, we meet the money goal with the bank robbery, no fatalities are recorded, and I exit unscathed – I practically have a solid pass into the Circle. I don’t see how that could be a problem. All I have to do is hold up a gun and tell people to stay down.
And if the criteria isn’t met … well, I’m not thinking about that.
Harry leads me into a room that looks like an upscale version of the one in his own house – from the large television screens lining the walls projecting CCTV footage to the detective-like boards detailing their plan for Friday. “WEATHERS BANKS” is printed in the centre, alongside numerous photos that also feature security guards and employees. Beside each image is their age and a rota of work shifts.
Catching me gawking, Harry says, “Everyone needs to be accounted for. We can’t risk having some employee dashing off and calling the police before we’ve even got what we came for. ”
When I turn to him, he’s leaning over a large wooden table scattered with paperwork. His weight is on his hands, causing the veins on his forearms and biceps to strain. He winks when he catches my eye.
“Fuck you,” I mouth.
He smirks.
“Not that they’d ever get a chance anyway,” Whizz Tech Dan chimes in. “We use a signal jammer so people can’t make any emergency 999 calls. I’ll also cut the circuit breaker, so any panic buttons will cease to exist.” He makes a fake explosion with his hands, and the corners of my lips twist.
“It’s always good to be on the safe side,” Harry adds.
Turning back to Dan, he drops his voice to a whisper, concealing his mouth with the palm of his hand. “He doesn’t trust my work.”
I lean closer to hear him, stifling a laugh as I glance back to Harry. His smart-ass grin has dropped, and his eyes are cold as he runs his finger over his throat.
“I saw that,” Dan says even with his back turned. “I have cameras all over this place. I know everything that happens here, and in most of London for that matter.”
Harry rolls his eyes.
We sit around the large table, along with some of the team who’ll be joining us. Andy, Whizz Tech Dan, and Oliver are among the people occupying the chairs. The others are people I recognise from passing them in the halls. Harry stands, detailing the plans, and it’s hard not to be turned on by him being so alpha. His beady eyes normally catch my intrigue, but he’s thriving in his element. People watch him with the fascination they’d have for the Boss, and I strive to be like that – to be adored as he is.
This heist has been months in progress, which is apparently on the shorter end of things. We’re heading to Weathers Bank on Oxford Street early morning, shortly after the bank’s opening, so we can avoid the lunchtime rush and hopefully encounter as few people as possible. Due to the footfall analysis, including staff, it’s looking like we’ll encounter eleven people total.
Our weapons are intended just for show and will not be used to hurt a civilian unless absolutely necessary. Harry says it’s been close to three years since someone got injured during a robbery, but he doesn’t elaborate further than that.
While he speaks I press my face into my palms, watching him with rapt attention. Since it involves the least work, he declares I’ll stick by his side guarding the front entrance. Andy and a man named Leroy will work on infiltrating the safe, and so on.
“Any questions?” Harry asks.
The crew shake their head.
“I’ll see you all tomorrow morning. Everyone get some rest.”
I nod, obeying his orders like a submissive. Collecting my belongings, I stand up to follow the others out the door, but Harry steps in front of me, blocking my path.
“Except you,” he says. Once the room is deserted, he double-checks the door is closed. “How are you feeling about tomorrow?”
“I’m excited to be involved in all the action.” I gnaw at my lip. “I’ve never seen you in your element until today. You really know what you’re doing.”
“This has been my life for years,” he confesses. “But I promise you, it’s not all it’s painted to be.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
It’s amazing to think everything has been leading up to tomorrow, all my training – physical and mental – in aid of what’s about to occur. I feel devoted to the Circle, so I’m not sure how I’ll face the downfall if I’m rejected. I’ve spent the past few years desperate to find my calling, and now I’m within arm’s reach of it, letting it slip through my fingers isn’t an option. My eye is on the ball … until I notice how close Harry’s body has become .
We’ve naturally gravitated closer, his heaving chest just a few short inches from mine. Despite how much I’m drawn to his presence, I can’t afford any distractions when I’m this close to the finish line. I allow myself a second to selfishly enjoy his closeness, then I take a step back.
“I should get going. Long day tomorrow and all.”
Harry nods, clearing his throat.
“I’ll see you in the morning—”
“Wait.” His jaw strains as he struggles to say, “Stay with me tonight.”
“Harry,” I sigh.
“Please.”
“You know we can’t do this. You’re one of the last living people I truly care about, and I can’t suffer the consequences if we’re caught doing something we shouldn’t.”
He groans, running a hand through his hair. “If you care that much, you’ll either quit or stay with me. Pick a side.”
“Don’t take this opportunity away from me, Harry. Whatever happened in the gym was a mistake. It wasn’t worth the risk of losing what I have here.”
His eyes crease in the corners, his teeth grinding. All the while I fight a grimace at my words, feeling the toxicity of them on my tongue.
I reiterate what he once told me. “Have some mercy on me.”
He laughs, but the sound is bitter and harsh, causing my stomach to drop. Taking a step closer, he whispers, “Fine, princess, have it your way. I swear on your life, I won’t touch you again without your permission. But I promise you, that day I made you squirt all over my fingers will not be the last.”