redemption: harry styles

Chapter Seventy Seven

If my footsteps weren't thundering against the ground and the gunshots stopped ringing I might have been able to hear Niall's heart pound in his chest, considering what we've just been through.

I was clutching the screwdriver in my left hand. The metal was covered in the blood of the body Niall rammed it into, Niall had the man's pistol in both hands, looted from his corpse. We were running from the house.

The street was dark and isolated except for the skeletons of two old cars across the road. None of the lamps were working; busted. Three houses lined the street across from the F.R.'s house, all of them abandoned. I even saw a yellow 'crime scene' tape on the ground, tattered and old.

There were no signs of working cars, making me question where the gang members kept them.

"I think they moved my car," Niall whispered, his blue eyes searching for his vehicle.

I shivered at the cold breeze. "Why are you looking for your car?" I asked angrily. "We're not leaving without them."

"We can't go in there with one gun and a screwdriver," Niall said, his voice rising. "Harry knows I'll be doing this. He can hold on."

I dropped my gaze, then directed it towards the house Harry and Zayn were in across the street. We were hidden in the shadow of one of the broken homes. Stars littered the sky, the moon hidden through thick clouds. A bolt of purple lightning cut through, thousands of miles away, but no sound or sign of disturbance was made.

"You said they had your weapons, didn't you? We'll sneak in and find them, we can't leave them," I insisted.

Niall's face was blank and intense. A vein stuck out on his temple. He looked between the end of the road and the house.

"Harry said I needed to get you out if it meant sacrificing others," he mumbled quietly and hung his head. "If we step foot in that house, we're dead."

I clenched and unclenched my jaw, loosing my grip on the screwdriver. "You know I'm not going to leave, right?" I said, knowing I sounded either brave or stupid or stubborn. Niall looked away and nodded, pursing his lips. "I'm sorry if this gets us hurt or-" I looked away in shame. "I'm just an incompetent girl who has a 90 percent chance of dying tonight, but I wont be able to live with myself if we leave them for dead. I'll be less useless with you around."

"I know," Niall said quietly. "Leaving people close to me is not entirely a thing criminals don't do, but..."

"I saw my friend in there, too," I said, my hopes rising pathetically. "Remember Luke? They have him in there."

Niall frowned, "From school?"

"Yeah."

"I never met a Luke," he told me.

I made sound at the back of my throat. "I might've gotten you mixed with someone else. He met Harry. We can help him, right? He'll help us, back."

"If we find him," Niall said firmly. "We can't go back if we're stuck in a fucked up situation."

I nodded even though I probably wont rise to his expectations of surviving.

"This is basically suicide," Niall muttered, shaking his head, then began to move towards the house. He held the pistol in both hands and had his knees bent, walking quickly. I stood close, holding the screwdriver upwards by my hip. My heart was strangely calm, but it was probably because what insane idea we had planned to do hasn't hit me yet.

"Stay close to me," he said. "Be my eyes behind, I need to look forward. If you see someone who hasn't seen us, nudge me or something. Don't speak."