Strong For Too Long Trilogy ✔️

EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE: Death Is Only The Beginning

My eyes had been open for a little over two hours, no one was in the room and my older looking phone was in my bag on the side table next to me. I didn't know I could get so lucky. Grabbing the phone, I access the files in which we're on my laptop, unfortunately, it detected multiple individuals in my room before I stopped the device from turning on. The camera on both my screens was easily accessible and Harrison sits on my office chair with the others wrangling round my room.

It took me a little longer to alter the audio on the files as Harrison tries to break past my firewall, he wasn't even close, "These technical advancements are greater than that of Pierce's, boss. Her devices are not so easily able to be hacked, I can't access the files she downloaded on this USB from Paris main office. I think that when she wakes up, you just need to force her into giving us these kinds of details." He sighs in exhaustion, rolling back from the desk and pacing around my room. I squeeze my fist around the clinical bed sheets. In order to get all my files, I need to be in my room, to get all my USB's and finally do what I've wanted to do for so long.

Get the hell out of this country.

"It's good to see you're finally awake." I hear a masculine voice shoot from the doorframe to my room. I ignore him, doubling my firewall, using this phone as I ensure to keep him distracted, I don't bother even looking at him.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, warily. I knew what I heard wasn't a dream, he gives me a long look, not a scolding one, but one where he most definitely wants to talk.

He snorts, "Aren't you a day of pitiful sunshine?" He says, not sounding necessarily angry, which was a surprise to me.

"I'm busy." I inform him, not bothering to sit up as I grunt in annoyance when trying to move my shoulder, it stung, the blinding white pain was gone, but I forever felt uncomfortable-sitting here, especially in a vulnerable position-in front of him.

"You've been out for a little over three weeks and could you please just fucking look at me for a second?" He spits at me, his anger twirling around his head like a silent storm, and a tornado was breaking loose behind those eyes. He takes a seat on my bed, I close my phone, throwing it back into my bag, I glare up at him, he scrutinises me.

"What's wrong?"

"Who shot at me?" I growl at him, my eyes were unforgiving and he looked at me in anger, his jaw clenched as he fists his hands on his lap, giving me his tightened, exerted profile that I wasn't even trying to understand. He kept quiet next to me.

"The Academy may have many gang affiliations, how do you think we recruited you, huh, Olivine? Monroe's gang is pissed off because they lost their main attraction, we know what you were in their gang. The money maker, the one controlling the streets from behind a screen. You've ordered hit an of the greatest stanza to missions across the world, at the inconvenient age of sixteen years." He sighs, before continuing, 'Monroe', when Fern speaks his name, my legs grow numb but I try phenomenally to hide it. My old superior, the one who taught me what I did know, I had to pay for it.

"Pierce has been looking for you for so long and now our government is retaliating in his choices to take ex-gang members from within British borders. The target on you was only for you from those hired targets, not any other student because Branson and Madison weren't as easily noticeable in the gang they were affiliated with." He explains to me, I subconsciously massage my neck, lightly from the bullet wound.

He stares at me, "It was through and through. Monroe knows you're alive and he wants his asset back."

My nose scrunches in disgust, in rage as powerful as any thunderstorm crashing the climates in London, "You telling me this wasn't a close to kill shot?" I snort his way.