12. Luke's POV

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Okay don't shoot me I know it has been way too long since I've updated, I just haven't been happy with anything I've written so hopefully this is okay :)

* * *

The door flies open and Christian stumbles in, looking at each of us in turn. He's wearing a long black trench coat, which is unlike him as usually he sticks to shirts and jeans but I don't think anything of it and sit down next to Sarah. 

Michael releases a breath so big I start to think he's deflating. "I thought there was someone at the door who wanted to hurt us or something," he says, grinning. I can see the relief on his face, his hazel eyes sparkling with charisma again.

Christian just smiles. A humourless, empty smile. Christian usually radiates hapiness but today he's just like a mechanical clone of our gay protector, as we like to call him. Again I choose to ignore his lack of enthusiasm, maybe he's feeling ill or something. Then it clicks, as all the factors fit into place. Christian's eyes are bloodshot, his skin is pale and clammy and his eyebrows are drawn together in a tense expression. He doesn't look completely sober. Then I smell a strong, defined odour, like whiskey or vodka, that seems to be coming from his general direction. Either the doorway smells of alcohol or Christian has been drinking. Alot. But Chrsitian always scolds us for drinking, he always says he hates alcohol. So why does he appear at our doorstep, drunken and angry?

"Are you feeling okay?" Brydee asks tentatively, sensing Christian's drunken state.

He nods, his lips pressed into a tight line. He exhales through his nose and and turns around, locking the door.

Something's wrong.

"Christian, are sure you're okay?" Ashton asks, grabbing his drumsticks and tapping them on his knee nervously.

"I'm fine, you little brat," he grumbles.

"Whoa," Mikey mutters. "Someone's angry."

Christian glares at Michael and flicks his wrist, and I see a flash of something silver and very sharp fly into his hand. He notices me looking and snarls. "I'm sorry, boys. But we've found you. Now it's time to kill you."

* * *

Emma laughs nervously.

"Don't believe him?" A man walks in through the other door and locks it. He turns and we see his face and a very big gun aimed at Mikey. His skin is pale, his hair is dark and greasy and he has a thick scar tracing the left side of his face. "My name's Will. Will Beckett." He talks with a cockney accent and walks with a limp, but that doesn't stop him looking like a psycho.

Mikey gulps, and Christian shreds the trench coat to reveal knives and guns lining the inside of his coat, and he sheaths the one he was holding. He briefly shows us his bicep, where the name 'Will' is written in cursive in a scroll. Dread settles like a sheet of ice over me. We trusted the wrong man.

"Your boyfriend killed Derek?" Michael asks Christian quietly, and I glance at Calum, confused and petrified. "Your boyfriend is Beckett, the guy I saw kill someone in cold blood?" Mikey continues, his eyes hardening with fear and something stronger - hatred, maybe? - as he stares, betrayed, at the man we once called a friend.

Alice and I share puzzled glances - what is going on?

"Derek was my weapons escort. He was supposed to deliver some guns to Christian and I but lost his nerve, and gave my name to the police, 'cause he knew the cops have been on my case for four years. I didn't kill him in cold blood, he deserved it."

"You mercliless bastard," Michael seeths, and I am shocked he has the guts to speak out so daringly.

Beckett shrugs. He adresses everyone, "I've killed many men, and I ain't lost a minutes sleep yet. I told Michael here he's next, and I won't think twice about it, I can assure you." Beckett aims his gun, a red dot on Mikey's chest. He struggles as Christian holds him down. For a drunk man he sure is strong. I see Mikeys face turn red as he fights for freedom and I speak up.

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