Silent Shadows | Harry Styles x Male! OC

No Turning Back

The night stretched long and quiet, but inside Max's head, it was anything but.

Harry was sitting across from him, methodically cleaning his gun, his movements sharp and precise. He hadn't said much since they got back from the club, and Max wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"How do we get proof?" Max finally asked, breaking the silence.

Harry didn't look up. "We get someone to talk."

Max scoffed. "Yeah, because people are just going to line up to confess that my father put a hit on me."

Harry finally met his gaze. "Not willingly. But everyone has a weak spot."

Max leaned back against the couch, exhaling slowly. His father surrounded himself with men who were loyal, not because they admired him, but because they feared him. Fear was a powerful thing—it made men dangerous, but it also made them predictable.

"Someone in his inner circle knows the truth," Harry continued. "And if we push the right buttons, they'll give it to us."

Max tapped his fingers against his knee, thinking. "Luca Moretti."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You trust him?"

Max hesitated. "I trust that he values his own life more than my father's. If he knows something, he won't take a bullet for it."

Harry considered it, then nodded. "Then we start with him."

Moretti's Estate – 10:42 PM

Luca Moretti wasn't a man who operated in the shadows. He liked power, money, and the comfort of knowing he was close enough to the boss to be untouchable. His estate was proof of that—gated, heavily secured, but not impenetrable.

Harry and Max moved through the property silently, staying low, using the cover of darkness. Max's heart pounded, adrenaline humming through his veins, but Harry was calm, focused, like this was just another job.

They reached the side entrance, where Harry quickly picked the lock. It clicked open with barely a sound, and they slipped inside.

Moretti's office was on the second floor. They moved fast, avoiding cameras, staying in the shadows until they reached the door.

Max didn't hesitate. He shoved it open, gun raised.

Luca Moretti looked up from his desk, startled. His hand immediately went for the drawer, but Harry was faster—he was across the room in seconds, slamming the drawer shut with one hand while pressing his gun to Luca's forehead with the other.

"Bad idea," Harry muttered.

Luca's breath came fast, his eyes darting between them. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Max stepped forward, voice cold. "We're going to ask you a question, Luca. And you're going to answer it."

Moretti forced a laugh, though it came out shaky. "You've lost your mind, kid."

Max didn't blink. "Did my father order the hit on me?"

Silence.

Moretti's jaw tensed. "You don't want to be asking that question."

Harry pressed the gun harder against his forehead. "Wrong answer."

Moretti swallowed hard, his face paling. He looked at Max, and for the first time, there was something almost like pity in his eyes.

"Max," he said slowly. "You need to walk away from this."

Max's stomach turned. That was all the confirmation he needed.

"You knew," Max said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Moretti closed his eyes briefly, as if regretting something. "I tried to talk him out of it."

Max's fingers tightened around his gun. "And yet I still had a bullet coming for me."

Moretti exhaled sharply. "Your father... he doesn't see you as his successor, Max. He sees you as a liability. Someone who will burn everything he built to the ground."

Max let out a humorless laugh. "And here I was, thinking he was preparing me to take over."

Moretti shook his head. "He was preparing to get rid of you. He's been waiting for the right time."

Max felt like he was drowning. All this time, all the lessons, all the expectations—none of it was real. His father never intended for him to lead. He intended for him to disappear.

Harry's voice was steady. "Where is he now?"

Moretti hesitated, then sighed. "Safehouse outside the city. He's expecting a report on your death within the next forty-eight hours."

Max nodded slowly, something sharp settling in his chest.

"Then we won't keep him waiting."

Warehouse – 1:30 AM

Max sat on the edge of the table, staring at the blueprint of the safehouse spread out in front of him. Harry stood beside him, arms crossed, scanning the layout.

"We go in quiet," Harry said. "Minimal noise, minimal attention. If we make this messy, every loyal man he has left will come after us."

Max nodded, but his mind was elsewhere.

His father had always been an untouchable figure in his life. A force of nature. The idea of standing in front of him, gun raised, ready to end it... it felt impossible.

But there was no other way.

"You're hesitating," Harry noted, watching him closely.

Max looked up. "This is my father."

Harry's expression didn't change. "He stopped being your father the moment he put a price on your head."

Max exhaled slowly. "And if I can't do it?"

Harry was silent for a moment, then said, "Then I'll do it for you."

Max wasn't sure if that was comforting or terrifying.

Either way, in twenty-four hours, this would all be over.

One way or another.