Undercover (Boyxboy)

Chapter Thirteen

Harry

I flung a vase against the wall of the room I was in and watched it smash into a million pieces. Sweat was dripping from my every pore and the mixture of that and the blood that was flowing from the numerous wounds on my body made me feel physically sick.

My shirt, which had been crisp and strikingly white mere hours ago was now torn in numerous places and stained beyond recognition.

How had this gone so wrong? The plan had been flawless – we had gone through every single detail at least twenty times! We all knew our positions. We all knew what we had to do. We all knew what was at stake!

I strung my fingers through my hair, my hands shaking. What would I do now? My throat was closing up as I racked my brain for my next step. It was pitch dark outside and this was both a positive and a negative.

A positive as I was even more concealed from them – a negative because they were even more concealed from me.

I didn't even know if they knew where I was. Were they still looking for me? They already had one person in a body bag, did they need any more?

This thought brought me to my knees as I dropped my head into my hands.  He was dead – gone. There was nothing I could do to bring him back. A sob left my throat and I slammed my fists against the carpeted floor.

There was a creak from behind me. I was in Hugh's sitting room.

I jumped up from my knees, my eyes wild. I wasn't thinking strategically – I was acting on instinct. My actions no longer had a plan, just a survival instinct.

"Who's there?" I shouted. My voice was hoarse from the shouting I had been doing earlier – when I had ordered them to let me help them. When I had roared at the sound of the bullet smashing through his skull.

"I said who's fucking there?" I repeated, getting angrier. I was in no mood for games anymore. I was done. Either they came out and revealed themselves or they killed me. Simple.

I heard more movement and I knew they were in the dark room with me. I saw a shadow on my left and immediately turned to face them.

"If you're going to kill me just kill me," I snarled.

I wasn't given an answer, only the glint of a gun poised at me, the reflection of the moon shining through the window outlining its shape.

I didn't have time to run or fight. They pulled the safety off of the gun. I didn't have time to even think. They angled it more accurately towards me. I was a dead man. I should have known.

They pulled the trigger and I only felt the pain in my chest for a flittering moment before the world went black.

His gut was always right.

Three days earlier

"You're not doing this."

"Yes I am."

"If you think I'm letting you do this, you have another thing coming, buddy."

"Oh, so I'm buddy now, am I? And you can't tell me what to do."

"Yes, I can actually."

"No you can't Ethan. I'm a grown man."

"A 'grown man'?! Now I've heard it all!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Would you two ever just shut up?" Lawman interrupted, throwing his hands up in the air. The movement caused the table we were seated around to rock on its uneven and frayed legs - it was like a jolt back into reality.