{A Hobbs&Shaw Fiction}
When Hattie Shaw is framed for killing her team, Isabella Ford is thrown into the firing line. Growing up with the Shaw family was the best thing that could have happened to Isabella, yet along the good came the bad, and lots...
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"I apologise in advance for the state that this house will be in." Isabella preemptively warned the group as they hopped out of the cramped taxi. The house looked perfectly normal from the front, but she knew that the interior would be an entirely different story. The whole glass back wall had been shattered, so who knew what sort of wildlife had invaded? She wouldn't be surprised to find a family of badgers nuzzled up under the kitchen counter.
"Honestly, I don't even remember if I locked the door." Isabella couldn't help but laugh. It hardly mattered whether she had or not; they couldn't have made the place any worse.
Hattie linked Isabella's arm with her own, turning to face her friend with a positive smile. "We've never shied away from a project before, what's another one to add to the list?"
As always, Deckard was on edge. He advanced towards the door ahead of the others whilst Owen followed him with narrowed eyes. Upon placing his hand on the door handle, he paused momentarily. A refraction of movement caught his eye through the frosted glass.
Isabella frowned at his hesitation, but he soon waved his hand at them, gesturing for Hattie and Isabella to back away from the house. She didn't want another fight; it was ridiculously exhausting. It was getting quite silly now, when would it end?
Blake passed the two women, carefully avoiding the loose pebbles beside the path. Owen remained where he was. He, too, was fed up with conflict, and that was saying something.
Deckard silently twisted the handle, keeping his body out of shot in case somebody was on the immediate offensive. What struck him first was the distinct lack of smell. Corpses generated a rotting stench that was distinguishable from any other scent of Earth. He was expecting to be hit by an overwhelming wave of disgust, but it never came.
He exchanged a confused glance with Blake, pushing the door ever so slightly open before letting out a huge sigh of relief. It almost sounded like he released a laugh under his breath, but they couldn't be sure.
The three at the bottom of the driveway took this as their sign to advance to the house; the absence of danger was quite obvious.
"Is it bad?" Isabella questioned nervously as she reached Deckard's side. He eyed her with a noticeable smirk and directed her inside with a gentle hand on her back.
"What on Earth?" Isabella gasped as she stepped through the doorway. The images in her head of a nature-infested living room couldn't have been further from the truth. Her house was spotless; it truly looked as good as new. Hattie and the others followed, just as confused as Bella. Who had broken into her house to fix it up?
There was no smashed glass across the kitchen, and new windows had been fitted along the back wall. There was a distinct lack of blood and no bulletholes littering the walls. There had been a complete and utter renovation, and Isabella was gobsmacked.
