This is a double update, do not read this part unless you've read 19!
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'Hand to God with one foot in the grave'
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It's around 4:30am. London is beginning to wake up. The sun won't rise for a few hours and the streets are still shrouded in darkness, but the blinding lights of the cars that follow us make it seem like the day has begun. Bright, almost intoxicating, enough to give you a headache if you stare at them long enough. Enough to burn your skin under its rays.
'Is anyone hurt?' I hear from one corner of the van. It's Liam speaking through a radio, Claude frantically checking the rest of us. Niall is with Liam, his other team members in the van to our left, and the rest of us are all situated in the cramped space, aiming our guns at the sequence of cars that tail closely behind us.
Someone responds in another car, letting them know that another by the name of Tony died, and a Mel was losing a lot of blood. Some more voices chime in. Hailey is also dead. Claude's face is masked by grief, a pain so heavy, something we all know so well know that we would recognise it on anyone, but something Claude hasn't had to face in this operation yet.
He grabs the radio, sweat dripping from his hair and his hands clenched so tightly the tips of his knuckles are pale white. 'Did you get their bodies out of there?' he asks. Silence follows. They were left behind. His family, left to be picked apart by authorities, to be tarnished in the eyes of their loved ones. On the side of a busy street in London, their blood runs along the pavements, waiting for someone to step in the puddles and leave a trail of claret towards them. A spectacle to those that didn't know them.
He's broken. The hard exterior I've come to associate with Claude, completely shattering before me. He's not sure where to look or how to control his breathing. His hands are shaking, and his teeth are clamped tightly into his lip. It looks like he's about to have a panic attack. I can see him fighting every urge in his body to give into it, to let it consume him and cloud any rationality he needs in this moment, but that resistance only makes the tension in his chest worse.
Words never seem to suffice in moments like this. It's a suffering that many will not get to know because it seems unimaginable. Completely inconceivable to consider that those you care for were brutally taken from this world, their right to a proper send off, a loving and safe one, stolen from them. Perhaps they rest in a purgatory until then. Souls circling the dark matter of nothingness, waiting for their saving grace.
But now is not the time for grief. His ability to mourn his loved ones is not accepted here. Not when bullets fly around us and even more of his people could die. I can see the battle he's enduring on his features, the turmoil of losing someone but carrying on despite the sheer weight of pain that's pushing against your heart. Harry and he are very much alike. They take on the responsibility of many, promising to protect them. When one of those people leaves, they feel entirely to blame.
I turn away from him when a bullet flies past my head, almost grazing the skin of my cheek. My gun is aimed perfectly as I take the shot and manage to injure the perpetrator's hand, their gun dropping to the concrete of the road. I take another shot, but miss by a few inches, ducking as they try to retaliate.
Claude finally speaks as we continue defending the van. 'Who told him?' he says, barely audible over the gun fire around us. Even with silencers on our weapons, in the quiet of the early hours of day, it's hard not to hear the fire of them.
Harry meets his gaze, reloading his gun. 'Who?'
Claude raises his voice. 'Hugo!' The name makes me turn to face him too. 'Who told him our plans? Who told him we would be there?'
Anger. So much of it. Taking him hostage, no escape in sight. The motions of grief, pulling him through despite his protests.
Babz and Zayn lead the charge as I step back to address Claude, Louis behind them and shooting those they cannot see. It seems that more cars are following than before, an entire ambush planned for us this morning with no hint that it was due. All of us blindsided once more.
'I wish I fucking knew Claude, but we've been trying to figure that out since long before you got here! You promised you'd help us, but instead we've been pushed into another heist for your own gain,' Harry snaps, reaching his arm around Louis to shoot at a driver. He makes the shot, the car immediately breaking and another ploughing into it from behind. But the others effortlessly move around it.
Claude stands to his feet, approaching Harry with volition in his step. 'And you happily agreed to it because you're just as greedy as I am, Harry!' Their faces are close to each other's, chests puffing with rage like the comical beasts of children's novels, but there's nothing humorous about this. Nothing child-like or innocent. 'I put my team's lives on the line for you, and now they're lying dead on the street because of someone in yours.'
Harry grips at the roots of his hair, trying not to explode on his friend but feeling the tension in every inch of his body. Every now and again, we find ourselves ducking as bullets rip through the vehicle, followed by the curses of our companions. 'And I've lost countless people because of them too! You're not the only one that's putting people at risk here, Claude. I have to live with that every fucking day, knowing that another person could die because of me. You don't think I know that?'
Claude chucks his balaclava to the floor, the material previously clutched tightly in his hand as he tried to stop the anger spilling out. 'You shouldn't have brought more people into it,' he snaps. 'I should have said no, I should have denied you this after spending years making sure you didn't fuck up!'
Harry finds his resolve breaking the longer the argument goes on. His nostrils flare and his jaw clenches, like he's fighting against every urge in his body that's begging him to hit Claude. 'I never fucking asked you to help me all those years ago, you chose that for yourself because you were obsessed with the idea of making someone like you!'
Louis' voice cuts through the air as he calls Niall's name. I move to the doors, shooting at the cars and noticing Niall duck from the vehicle next to ours while a bullet soars towards him. Louis shoots the attacker as soon as Niall is out of the way, saving him from a fatal death. He turns to him and salutes, preparing to launch gunfire on those that tried to kill him. Louis lets out a sigh of relief before he does the same.
We've been driving along the Strand since we left the Gallery, the road almost clear save a few black taxis parked along the edge of the pavements. A few pedestrians are out as they head to work, noticing the immediate collision that is happening between the two fleets of cars. Some pull out their phones and begin filming the scene, others looking around for a sign that this is staged. They probably think it's a scene from a movie being shot, but if that were the case, hordes of camera crews would be near, tracking our every move. Only when one of my bullets hits the head of a woman in the opposite car do the screams start. They begin panicking, running down the side streets for safety as bullets fly around them. I even notice a few of Hugo's team shooting into them, laughing like it's a game of catch me if you can.
I'm not sure I'd ever looked true evil in the eye until I met Hugo Charles and his people, but each time I'm in their presence, they manage to render me speechless with the cruel acts they enact on innocent people.
We pass the Royal Courts of Justice shortly after. The irony is not lost on me. Vans full of stolen items with people murdering each other passing the very centre of justice in England. Though mainly dealing with civil cases, some of the most famous appeals have happened here. Terrorists, murderers, attackers; the very scum of society, standing in front of a judge while they tried to fight against their convictions or were forced into hearings that detailed the evidence against them. Perhaps it's poetic that we're passing them, a sign that the hands of justice will finally hold us too.
Man cannot be immune from its grip. The lady of justice values truth and honour and righteousness. She does not discriminate in her mission, and one day we will all face her.
Be sure thy sin will find thee out. That indignant line from a Christie novel. It seems like a threat and a promise.
Further down the road, we pass St. Paul's Cathedral. The highest point of the City of London, looming over us like its God's presence. I'm not sure what I believe in but seeing its size and feeling the weight of our actions seemed like a sign that perhaps these holy beings do exist. And in our most trying moments, they are there to remind us of it. Because as we pass the structure, another person dies, one of Claude's team members, and it feels like God is punishing us.
Justice and faith, tied together in a knot that none of us could ever successfully break through. Something that waits on our doorsteps, counting down the minutes until we fall victim to them. Everyone must face them. Everyone must be punished or saved, or maybe even both. But it's inescapable. It's a bond, a passage, a rite.
We will all meet our maker someday, and when we do it will be deserved.
I hear a cry from the vehicle to our right, Liam almost falling from the van. I call out his name, but he does not respond. Niall drags him back while others shoot in their stead. I grab the radio from Claude as he continues arguing with Harry. 'Niall, is he alive?' I yell. Claude finally turns his attention away from Harry.
There's some static on the other end before a faint voice comes through. 'I'm alright,' Liam answers. 'They hit my arm, but I'll live.'
A sigh of relief, Claude snatching the device from me. 'Focus on monitoring police intercoms, you fool. They all work for Hugo, try and find out their plans and stop being a hero.' He passes it back to me, shaking his head.
'If you die, she'll never forgive me, Liam,' I tell him.
He knows who I'm referring to without even specifying. 'I'm sorry.' Some quiet. I assume he's followed his orders. 'I'm trying not to. For her.'
'She needs you. Remember that.'
Claude watches me from the side, and despite his reservations, I know he agrees. Sometimes we can't control the tides of affection, the longing for another that comes with the rising of the sun each day. A debt we owe to ourselves to love and be loved in return.
And it's true. If Liam were to die suddenly, I'm not sure how Belly would ever cope. Losing her fiancé and the man she has found such comfort in over these months. It would destroy her. She's lost so much already, the very innocence of her life stolen as she tries to navigate motherhood, to protect her child from the harm his father brought upon them. She's just trying her best, but there's only so much she can do.
I promised to protect her. That's one of mine. We all have a list. She's at the top of mine.
I hand the radio back to Claude and head back to the doors of the van, aiming at the cars that follow behind at a distance. We've created a good amount of space between us, but as we prepare to turn down another main road, another car exits from a side street and almost blocks us.
It takes no time for the people inside to begin shooting at us, as if they were waiting the whole time. As if they knew the exact route we would take after we left the Gallery. It's true, someone in the team informed Hugo of our exact plans, and this whole thing has been planned alongside our own heist.
Babz meets my side, shooting at the car as it nears our side. 'Where the fuck did they come from?' she yells, missing a shot as one of them ducks.
I shoot at the person she missed, landing a bullet in their shoulder. 'They know our exact route. They've been waiting this whole time.'
'Shit. Did you hear that Zayn?' she asks, and he nods beside her, taking the radio to inform the others.
We continue shooting at them in unison, barely registering our surroundings as we focus only on the faces of our enemies. They seem to be enjoying this too much, smiling and laughing whenever they manage to hit one of us or get close to it. It only encourages me to aim for their faces, willing the moment I can see their joy as it is ripped away from them. I manage to shoot the windscreen, exposing them to us, and Babz starts aiming at their hands to drop their weapons.
But they get too close.
When we least expect it, the car swerves and one of the shooters jumps into our van, knocking Babz down. The woman hits Babz around the head with her gun, aiming it at her moments later, but before she can do any damage, my arm secures around her throat. The rest of the group look to us, asking if we need assistance, but my hold on the woman allows Babz to pull a knife from her bag on the floor, slicing her throat in an instant.
She rolls the body off of her, wiping the blood that sprayed onto her face with the back of her hand before accepting mine and standing up. 'Thanks,' she says, picking up her gun.
'Anytime,' I say with a smile before we're focused on the road again and shooting at the vehicle the woman came from. With the wheels shot at, the car comes to a stall, and Zayn makes the fatal shots.
'You alright, babe?' he asks Babz. 'Not gonna die just yet, yeah?'
She smiles to him, reloading her gun. 'Wouldn't dream of it, baby.' A quick peck is shared before they're shooting again.
It's chaos all around. Bullets flying through the air, cars weaving past others, glass shattering with each shot and people yelling in pain. Dizzy and messy and frantic.
When we reach a sudden bout of traffic as we approach East London, our vans begin swerving more heavily and our shots almost hit the innocents in the cars around us. Our van mounts the pavement, the driver yelling at the pedestrians to run before we're followed by another car and desperately trying to free ourselves from them.
I see people calling the police, so much panic on their features. If they knew the real motives of the authorities they rely on for protection, they'd be even more scared. They'd question everything they know about crime and punishment, everything they mounted their morals on. I seem to be doing that every day.
Louis stands to my right, but as he makes a shot, a bullet comes through the side of the vehicle and hits his leg. I expect to hear a cry of pain or the collapse of his body, but it's like he's numb to it. His adrenaline has taken over and he can barely feel a thing other than the rage that courses through his veins and exits with each bullet he fires. He barely bats an eyelid, only looking down for a brief moment to check if there's an exit wound.
When he realises there isn't, he orders Zayn to help him remove the bullet and I take over and help Babz aim at the cars that remain close. Louis doesn't even make a sound as Zayn pushes his fingers into his wound, standing immediately to resume his position once it's out as if nothing of the sort happened. As if he was the epitome of health and hadn't just been injured.
Behind us, however, Claude and Harry still argue as they shoot over our heads. They scream about safety and priorities, about the reality of their heists and the danger that follows them with every waking day.
'You will always have a shadow following you, Harry, because your father made too many enemies,' Claude snaps. 'You think Hugo is the only man Steven pissed off? There's countless others that would like to see the Styles son suffer, too.'
'And I will deal with that when the moment comes, just like I've been dealing with this,' he responds, shooting at the wheel of another car. I watch as it instantly crashes into a bollard, the airbag trapping the people inside.
Claude shakes his head. 'How many more lives will you add to the tally of deaths, just so you can spite your father and say you did what he couldn't?'
Harry freezes slightly. Body rigid and tense. He's angry. He hates when his dad is brought up in conversation. 'An eye for an eye, Claude.'
'You do not have the right to be judge, jury and executioner!'
The van takes an abrupt turn, our route finally changing as we begin taking the back roads away from the growing crowds in the city. Babz almost falls before Louis catches her, handing her the gun she dropped so they can continue shooting. It works in getting the cars to space out, the ones that were planned to meet us on route now left behind and leaving us with those that still haven't been taken out.
Claude steps up to Harry, some sorrow on his features. 'It is time you put this obsession to bed. Run as far as you can and start a fresh. This isn't worth it anymore, Harry. You must see that.'
Harry scoffs at the advice, reaching through the gap beside me and shooting one of the attackers that reaches out of a car window. Their body falls limp, almost falling out of the car before being pulled back in by their assailants. 'It's a bit fucking late for that, Claude. You were the one that encouraged this. You moulded me into a fucking replica of yourself.'
'And that is my greatest mistake!'
Some silence falls around them, both of their chests rising and falling heavily. But it is Louis that cuts through it, his face full of fury and his gun waving in front of him. It's hard not to focus on them when I'm trying to kill our attackers.
'Shut up already!' he orders. Even Babz turns to get a look. Zayn sighs and shrugs his shoulders, like he's used to this sort of thing. He's known Harry the longest, I suppose he's had to have these same conversations with him countless times. There are more pressing issues right now that we should all be focusing on.
Harry opens his mouth to speak but Louis aims the gun at him. I immediately move to stand in front of Harry, though I know Louis would never actually hurt him. Everything is heightened right now, every single one of us on edge and not thinking rationally. But maybe this isn't a place for rationality anymore.
'Just accept that this nightmare has happened. Accept that it will continue to happen so long as Hugo Charles and his rat pack remain alive. It was always going to happen regardless of whether Harry followed in Steven's footsteps or not,' he states, finally lowering his gun when I give him a warning glare. 'Be grateful that you're still alive while others aren't, that you are able to fight another day. It doesn't matter if you run or think about what you should have done differently because it won't change a damn thing. Just stop making everything about yourselves for once and help us before we all die!'
He turns back to the doors, still swinging around in the speed of the drive and shielding us every now and again. I pull one towards me to protect me from an onslaught, but one pierces through the metal and scrapes my arm. Harry immediately meets my side and checks me over, aiming his weapon at the perpetrator and shooting them dead.
'Are you alright? Are you hurting?' he asks, eyes frantically searching mine.
I nod to him and prepare to shoot again. 'I'm fine, Harry. I promise.'
A moment later and one of our wheels is shot at, the one on the side I'm standing on. The impact is instantaneous. A moment of silence while we all prepare for the fall, our bodies jolting with the vehicle as it drops in the corner. My body begins propelling forward, hands clinging to the door.
I don't realise I'm swinging outside the car until a bullet narrowly misses my arm and I almost drop my gun. I hear Harry yelling behind me, reaching for my body while I manage to keep a tight grip on the panels. My aim is slightly off, but I land a shot to a wheel of their vehicle. The cold air cuts at my skin and makes me hyper aware of the situation, of the very fact that this is far too dangerous and I'm the centre target for them, but for the first time I don't let my fear dictate how I respond.
I push it away, raise my gun, and continue shooting while Claude and Harry manage to pull me back into the car, the others on their backs and shooting after being knocked over in the collapse. Harry holds me close, whispering sorry into my ear again and again, while Claude apologises for his outburst.
Our van is slowing with the loss of one wheel, the screeching of the metal sounding around us. Those following us get closer, and their aim is better. One bullet travels past us and into the neck of one of the people at the front, falling against the man driving our vehicle. He swerves again, desperate to control the wheel but struggling until Louis pulls the dead body from his side.
Though the proximity is dangerous, it allows us to perfect our aim. But another issue arises shortly after. We're running out of bullets. Our one method of protection against them. Despite changing routes and losing many of the other cars, too many still follow. Unless we kill them or manage to get into a car that isn't dragging at the back, we'll be the next victims. All of us dead. Hugo winning.
I start searching through the bags in the back of the van. 'What other weapons do we have?' I call out.
All I can find are knives or guns that have already run out of ammunition. Babz crouches down and takes some of the blades, aiming for those that lean out of the vehicles following us and managing to hit a couple of attackers, but once those blades are thrown, we can't get them back.
'Is this all we have?' I ask again.
There's a solemn nod from Zayn. None of us anticipated it to be this bad. Maybe a quick scuffle, nothing on this level.
Claude is quiet, his brows tugged together as he thinks for a moment. In an instant, he's reaching across the seats at the front, opening the glove compartment. He stands again with a device in his hand. 'It's a grenade. I forgot it was in here, we had it with us for another heist last year but never used it. A last resort because we were in the middle of nowhere and could easily get away with using it.'
Harry takes it from him, inspecting the bomb. 'Does it work if it's been in there that long?'
Claude shrugs his shoulders. 'In truth, I've never used one.'
It's Zayn's turn to inspect it. 'Explosives don't really have an expiry date. Especially the type used in these. You're lucky one of the bullets didn't hit it.'
Babz and I continue shooting, but Louis becomes quiet. He rests his back against the wall of the van, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. An inner debate that only he can hear. Fighting against himself. He looks over to Zayn and holds out his hand. With the grenade in his grasp, he inspects the mechanisms of it before slowly putting it into his pocket.
We watch as he checks his gun. Three bullets left. He pulls the balaclava from his back pocket and readjusts it over his face.
'Lou, what are you doing?' Harry questions, but he's not met with a response. Babz and I work to close the doors to the van, locking us in as we keep close to the floor to avoid any stray bullets penetrating the structure. 'Answer me!'
He sighs, meeting Harry's gaze. 'They want you right?'
Harry nods. 'What are you planning?'
'They won't stop unless you or Atlas are caught or killed,' he states matter-of-factly. For a moment I worry that he's about to throw us out the van so they can at least escape, and Hugo gets what he wants. But he doesn't. He's calm. Resolved. He's made up his mind on something. 'It's the only option we have.'
Harry's face becomes paler. His eyes wider. His breaths heavier. 'No, Louis. Stop.
Babz chimes in. 'Don't be stupid, Louis.'
Only when his eyes move to the door and his knees start shuffling closer do I realise what he's planning. He wants to sacrifice himself. To pose as a distraction so we can get to safety. To throw himself out of the vehicle, claiming to be Harry so that the real one can live.
'Absolutely not!' Zayn orders, pulling at his arm. 'We'll get out of this, alright. We all will. But we're not letting you do this!'
Louis laughs at that. 'We're outnumbered. The only way they'll stop is if they think you've given yourself up.'
Harry is at his side, gripping his arm and pleading. 'You'll die, Lou. Please, don't do this!'
Louis sighs, adjusting his body so he can hold Harry by the shoulders. He lets their heads rest together, Harry's body aching with each breath as he prepares to lose another person he cares about. 'I never had my chance to be a hero. I always wanted to be a rebel. I think a person can be both, and I'm ready for it.'
'Allowing yourself to die isn't the way to do that, Louis,' I yell. 'Don't be a martyr!'
It's salt in a wound. A cut reopening and bleeding out once more. Sheer agony when all you want is relief. Telling yourself that one day it will be easier, one day it will feel better. But then that same wave hits you and you're dragged back under. Kicking your legs until something grabs you and drags you back down. Helpless. Broken.
Cutting the rope that once held you together when you tried to fix yourself the last time. Letting everything spill out again, the pieces to collapse and shatter. Falling apart. Falling through the sky. Falling into the darkness.
We hold onto hope, a fragile concept, that perhaps we'll wake the next day and find tomorrow brings sun. Tomorrow is a promise. Tomorrow is a saviour. Tomorrow is freedom. But when we open our eyes, the darkness is still there and the shackles that hold us in place are tightly locked.
Every day, it seems this abyss grows deeper. Because every day, another person falls victim to it. No matter how hard we try to fight against the elements, all it takes is a gust of wind to knock us down and start falling again.
Another person about to die. Another soul stolen from us. The real victims. The real thieves.
'We stick by each other, Louis. We don't sacrifice ourselves. That's not how this works,' I plead, but he shakes his head.
Harry is turned away from us, his body shaking. He speaks to Claude, begging him for some rationale, to tell Louis to stop, but he is silent in the noise. Still.
Louis takes my hand. 'Atlas, sticking by each other means making sacrifices. I think we all knew that was the case when we decided this was the life we wanted to lead.'
Babz is screaming at him. Zayn is pulling at his arms. Harry is crying. Claude is quiet. I am frozen. All of us, going through the motions, trying to change the mind of a man that is set in his decision. Louis checks his gun again, hearing the bullets hit our van as we turn another corner. Niall radios in and asks why we've stopped shooting.
'Tell them I'm ending this,' Louis says. 'Tell them it will be over soon.'
Harry moves over to Louis once more, pulling him away from the doors and trying to hold him back. They fight for a moment, fists flying and mindless words leaving their lips, but Louis only smiles. He seems calm. Comfortable. Relaxed. Like he's looking forward to it. Like he's been waiting for this moment.
They stop once Louis pulls Harry close, his arms wrapping around him and ending the struggle. 'Harry. It's ok. You can't change my mind, ok.'
'Louis, please think this through!' Babz pleads. She's crying. I think we're all crying. It's hard to know what's going on.
But the sound of the radio turns our attention elsewhere.
'We need to switch vehicles. We're going to do something, and when we round the corner, you will stop and let us in,' Claude says. His eyes are heavy. He's agreeing to the plan.
Zayn moves towards him, taking the radio from his hand. 'Louis wants to sacrifice himself, Niall. Tell him it's insane. Tell him we can handle it.'
Niall doesn't respond at first. The quiet slices as much as the words that preceded. But then he answers, voice low and hurting. 'Louis?' he asks. He takes the radio from Zayn and waits for Niall to speak again. 'You're right. There's nothing else we can do. We're outnumbered. The bullets are almost gone. You'll all die soon.'
Louis smiles. 'That's why I'm doing this. I'm going to save all of you.'
I can hear Niall lightly cry through the speaker. 'I'm so sorry, mate.'
The radio drops to the floor. Louis starts shuffling towards the door, ready to unlock it and step out. The car is moving slower now, enough that Louis won't hurt himself on the way out. Claude told them to stop when he tells them to and accelerate a few moments after. Once Louis is out of the car.
Harry launches forward. 'I can't lose anyone else, Louis!'
Louis holds him at arm's length, taking one final look at the rest of us. He looks happy. 'I'm going home, Harry. Let me go home.'
The words hit us in an instant. The conversation from earlier recollecting in our minds. Home is a feeling, and it's what I felt with him. Louis was right. He's returning sooner than anticipated. He's manifested it, and now he can. And it's not selfish of him to make this decision, he's not doing it for the sole purpose of returning to the man he loves. It's because he cares for everyone so deeply, and he wants them to remain with their homes. Harry and I, Zayn and Babz. He wants us to feel that warmth and safety that he once felt with George. He knows there's only one way to hold onto that.
Everything seems to slow after this. A cliché, in a way, but something I've come to recognise in moments of trauma and fear. Our brains trying to catch up with the speed of life around us. My brain works to block out things that scare me, my eyes slow in their movements to focus on the one thing I need to concentrate on.
I'm aware that we're all panicking, I'm aware that they're trying to stop Louis. But Claude tackles Harry to the floor, and holds him down, pulling a mask over his face so our attackers cannot see him. He pleads and kicks and screams, but it doesn't change what is happening around us while we cry and accept that this is actually happening. That Louis is about to die.
Slowly, I watch the door open.
Slowly, I feel the car stop.
Slowly, he steps down.
He's outside the car, he's walking towards them, he's almost there now. Our car begins moving again. We're all aching. We're all silently sobbing, the words no longer with us or able to justify what we're about to see.
Louis holds his gun up in surrender. The enemies stop in their chase. They roll down their windows. They call out and ask who it is. He tells them it's Harry. The real Harry finally stops fighting.
Louis puts his gun down, someone steps out of a car, and they begin walking towards him. They ask him to turn around and prove he's not holding anymore weapons. He faces us again and we drive away.
He begins removing his mask, throwing it behind him, and he reaches into his pockets with a laugh.
A smile, directed at us. A nod to say goodbye. He mouths one word.
'Home.'
I watch as he pulls the trigger on the grenade, he throws it towards one of the cars.
And in a second, it explodes, and they're engulfed in flames.
In a second, Louis is dead.
In a second, Louis is home.
In a second, we are all safe.
All it takes is a second.
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A/N: I'm really sorry I promise