Runaway. || Luke Hemmings

"What do you mean?" I said, tilting my head. "Infinite," Luke replied, tracing it into the wood using a rusted old knife with a careful hand, the other loosely holding onto mine. "Means forever."
Gunshots. Deafening, piercing, stabbing themselves up into the cold air. I screamed, only to have a black bag thrown over my head and my body being pulled backwards with strong hands at my waist. There was more than two. This was a gang, and I was their target. This time, I may not be so lucky.