Ethan
"Okay, so you're officially dead," Tom directed his gaze towards me, his complexion whitening ever since he hung up the phone in his hand.
I wasn't quite sure how to respond to this statement so I just pursed my lips in acknowledgement and redirected my gaze. It still sent a flash of anger through me whenever I looked at Tom — along with a flash of hurt. Of course I downplayed this to Harry... he was possessive enough as it was. I didn't want him to realise the extent of Tom's presence on me.
This was the first step in this plan. Tom had been sent here to kill me and kidnap Harry — he had built a strong trust with Michael over the time he spent undercover in the gang. Apparently Michael trusted him enough to do this. He had just gotten off of the phone with Michael to confirm my death and apparently my body was being dumped as we spoke.
I could see that Hugh was also rattled after speaking to his father on the phone. Michael had wanted confirmation directly from his 'loyal son' that Tom had carried out his part dutifully. I had been sure that the shakiness in Hugh's voice would give us away prior to the call. But once he held that phone up to his ear, his voice was as steady as ever — confident, even.
I was proud of him.
"Did he buy it?" Harry piped up from where he was sitting, his face pale also. This first step meant that the plan was in motion — no turning back. I wanted to vomit my guts up at the mere thought of what Harry would have to do tomorrow. Last night when he was sleeping, I had trailed my fingers along the scars left on his body by Michael. He had inflicted those on a child — what would he do to a man?
But there was no talking him out of it. He wouldn't listen to a word I said once we'd left that B&B yesterday and he knew exactly how to distract me. The simple thought of his lips on my neck made my pulse race and my breathing become uneven. I was under a spell and nothing could break it. I thought back to where we were when we first started this mission and where we were now — the changes and revelations we had endured... It was crazy.
"Yes. He's en-route as we speak. He has to make a quick stop-off in Barcelona and then he's straight here by tomorrow morning." Tom held a confidence that had made me more comfortable about all of this. The three of them were so sure of themselves — so sure of what they were about to do.
I wondered if their desperation for all of this to be over was masking their rationality. Was this truly the only option — facing Michael head on? Using Harry — my Harry — as a bait in a plan that might not work?
Yes, I knew that something had to be done — both Dawson and Michael were after us and I wasn't ignorant to that fact. Tom had been sent here to kill me, yes, I knew that. But we could have gone into hiding for a few months and bided our time... we could have waited. We could have had the upper hand and tracked down Dawson and Michael, getting them when they least suspected it.
I was jolted out of my thoughts with someone's hand on my shoulder. I snapped my head up, ready to meet Harry's eyes only to see Tom's looking back at me.
"Can we talk?" he asked.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Harry raise his head from whatever he was reading to look at us. I hadn't had the chance to speak to Tom since all of this happened. Yesterday Harry and I spent most of the day together and met up with Hugh and Tom last night, only to completely ignore the elephants in the room and instead focus on our plan for the upcoming days.
Hugh had approached Harry with hopeful eyes last night only to be shut down immediately by Harry's 'get out of my way, twerp.' It seemed he still wasn't ready to face this new revelation in his life. He masked his emotions well in front of Hugh — I was the only one who he showed his true self to and I secretly revelled in this fact.
Now that we were basically sitting ducks, waiting for Michael to touch down in JFK, it seemed that these prominent elephants in the room had to be addressed.
"Sure," I answered. I wasn't going to be immature about this — I wanted to hear what Tom had to say, honestly. But it wouldn't make a difference to the future — I planned on never seeing him again once all of this was over. That was if we survived, which I was having major anxiety over.
My anxiety was weakening however the longer I spent time with them — they held such determination that it was rubbing off on me. Perhaps I was being pessimistic and overly-cautious. Harry had labelled me as 'paranoid' yesterday... was I just being paranoid?
"Okay..." Tom cleared his throat uncomfortably, "How about we go outside on the balcony?" We had swapped to a different hotel in order to keep suspicions low — the staff were getting too familiar in the last hotel. Witnesses meant they could potentially be targets too. And I hated collateral damage.
I nodded wordlessly and followed him to the balcony. Harry pretended not to be looking at us but I could see he was watching from the corner of his eye. The curl of his lip once I turned to shut the balcony door told me he wasn't happy with the situation.
I didn't know whether it was the fact that Tom and I were speaking alone or that we had left him alone with Hugh that annoyed him more.
"So," I began, not allowing an awkward silence to taint this conversation, "I'm presuming you want to address some topics of our past? In particular your death — or your fake death, to be precise?"
I couldn't help the bitterness that seeped into my tone. Standing before me was a man who I had deeply loved many years ago. Yes, it was in the past. But a past that I had recently learned was a heap of lies and deceit. I had made peace with the fact that Tom was dead and that I would always have him in my heart.
Now that he was standing before me, there was no room for a living and breathing man in my heart — Harry had occupied every single space. I couldn't get past the fact that I had to say goodbye to a person I had already said goodbye to. The fact that Tom was alive had fucked me up more than his death.
"I never intended for you to ever find out... not like this, anyway," he muttered, stringing his fingers through his dark blonde hair.
"What does that mean?" I inquired, walking to lean against the iron frame of the balcony. The sun was disappearing behind some clouds, allowing me a better look at Tom once the glare went.
He sighed and started pacing before stopping. Yet another tell-tale sign of his that he was extremely nervous. "It means that I had no choice in the matter all of those years ago. My father was the Captain of the agency in Australia and once I turned eighteen, he gracefully told me that he wasn't in fact an engineer that travelled to developing countries to improve their infrastructure but the fucking Captain of a spy agency."
Tom had 'died' a month after his eighteenth birthday. I remember we used leftover paper plates and cups from his eighteenth at his funeral.
He took a breath and seemed to be getting more wound up. I used to soothe him by caressing his neck and massaging his shoulders and he would smile tiredly and apologise for getting so stressed... we rarely fought. It was like a polar opposite to the relationship I had with Harry.
Now though, I just stood and watched him panic. I wanted to smack myself when I felt my hand itch to reach out to him. I would not revisit the past. Fuck the past. I just wanted answers to move on with my life.
"Okay. So your father was the Captain. Why didn't you have a choice?" My voice held little expression and it was a struggle when I saw the anguish in his eyes.
"He wasn't a good man — he was corrupt, very much like Dawson. My mother had died of cancer, as you know, and I was an only child. He wouldn't have it any other way only that I was to join the agency and maybe one day be Captain too..." he looked at the ground, swallowing hard, "When I declined he wouldn't hear of it. He... it's... He knew that you were the one holding me back. It disgusted him enough that I was gay but it sent him over the edge that my boyfriend was stopping his dreams of me being the Captain in the future..."
Tom stopped pacing and just looked at me sadly. I kept my face stoic and crossed me arms.
"Go on."
"He threatened you... He threatened to take you away from me and that would solve the problem of me wanting to give up on his dreams to stay with you."
"What do you mean? Elaborate," I barked. I wasn't expecting to hear this — I hadn't anticipated this. I felt sick and I knew that he wasn't lying. Even after all of this time, I still knew him. And I hated that.
Tom ran his hand down his face. "Jesus, Moore! What the fuck do you think I mean? Killed! He was going to have you killed! He had a spy assigned to watch my every move while I was in California — he showed me the proof. They had videos of us walking together to school... It was fucked up!"
"Why didn't you tell me this? We could have ran away... told the authorities! We could have done something!" I was getting upset and angry — angry that I was even getting upset. This all happened years ago — I had moved on. But it still hurt.
"You don't get it — he had people everywhere. If we had gone to the authorities, he would have been notified by someone. There was nowhere to run... we were being constantly watched. I lashed out at him one night when I was home in Australia for a visit... I punched him and this earned me a nice video of a spy following you with a gun pointed to your head. They threatened to shoot you unless I agreed... so I did.
He was desperate for me to believe him, but there was no issue there — I believed him. And that was the worst thing. I wished I didn't believe him so I could go on hating him.
"Faking my death was the only way to do it. I couldn't leave you — I loved you too much to tell you that I didn't love you anymore. And I knew you knew how I loved you. You would have followed me back to Australia if you had to."
"That wasn't your choice to make," I said shakily, gripping the bars of the balcony railing tightly.
"It was a choice I refused to give to you — break up and live or stay together and you would die. What kind of a fucking choice was that?" He took a step towards me and I instantly backed away, my heart pounding.
"It's been ten years." I didn't have to say anymore for him to understand my question.
"I did look for you — I bided my time and took down my father, both literally and figuratively, along with some other agents who were sick of his corruptness and selfishness. Once a new Captain was appointed, I looked for you. He pitied my situation — he was more of a father to me then my actual dad. He was basically giving me permission to leave the agency if I so wished. Which I would have. But when I looked for you, it said you were dead — gone."
I felt my heart heave. "I was recruited for the agency here two years after your death and that required my 'death'... cut all loose ends..." I mumbled, staring at the ground. I felt my anger towards him sizzling out and I was desperate to reignite it. I found it easier to cope when I hated him — I found it easier to categorize him as 'bad' rather than 'not as bad as I'd thought'.
"It broke my heart when I thought you were dead... I just threw myself into work and didn't allow myself much time to think and regret. I didn't know you were alive until I saw your photo in Michael's office one day about a year ago. When he was showing me who Harry would be going undercover with... When he told me who I had to kill... You made me even more determined to bring him down. It made me sick how much effort he was putting into killing two innocent people, one of which was his own son. And purely because of pride — he wanted to finish the job he'd started years ago. It's fucking disgusting." He was bitter — so very bitter. He was laying his cards out on the table but I couldn't play the game anymore.
"I can't believe how much other people have manipulated our lives..." I whispered. I was suddenly tired — tired once again after more revelations. My mind was like a maze but every time I thought I'd reached the exit, the layout would change. All I wanted was a normal life — a life where my biggest worry was paying the bills every month.
"I know," he replied quietly, his eyes looking watery. There was a silence and it was fuelled with emotions, regret and 'might have been's'.
The door to the balcony was suddenly snapped open, Harry's head popping out to us. He eyed the tense situation before him, his eyes staying on mine for a few seconds longer before speaking.
"We have company."
Tom was quick into action, barging past Harry to see who had found us before speaking a word. I felt my heart-rate quicken and panic mode set in once again.
Harry turned to follow Tom but I grabbed his arm. "Who is it?" Was Michael here to strike? Dawson?
Before Harry could answer I heard a familiar voice. Who did that husky voice belong to? Then it hit me — George? We stumbled in from the balcony, slamming the door behind us, causing everyone in the room to look in our direction.
"Ah, lickle Harry! Long time no see, eh?" George strode past a dumbfounded Hugh to Harry and I.
"George... how?" I began but was cut off.
"There's plenty of time for questions — and before you accuse or assume, I'm on your side in all of this. But first, I really need to take a shower. Your cats shed hair like nothing I've seen before, I stink!" George exclaimed, rubbing cat-hair off of the shirt he was wearing.
How did George know where we were? How did he find us? I looked to Harry and saw confusion in his eyes — would he lash out? I was preparing myself to hold him back if he tried to attack George.
"Cats?" Harry tilted his head.
"Yeah — your two cats. Black and white furry things that run around your garden?" George frowned too in confusion.
"Wait, they're ours? I thought they were just some stray cats who enjoyed a bit of luxury now and again!" Harry replied.
"Didn't you guys read your briefing? It said you have two cats!"
Harry started laughing and smacked his hand against his head. "Oh my God, I completely forgot, that's crazy! Aw, you should have brought them! What are their names?"
He and George started to have a conversation about our apparent cats until Tom cut in.
"What the fuck is going on here?" he barked.
"I was just about to say the same," I looked incredulously at Harry. What was he playing at? George, our friend and colleague had just shown up to our base where we were concocting a plan to take down our current Captain and Harry's father.
"Oh, sorry!" Harry seemed to collect himself and realise the situation.
"Tom, this is Georgie, Georgie this is Tom."
"Harry!" I grabbed him by the arm and dragged him over to the other corner of the room.
"Ow, what the fuck?" he tried to wriggle out of my grip.
"George Sullivan has just shown up to our secret hotel room and said 'I'm on your side'... don't you have any questions or qualms about this?"
Realisation hit Harry's eyes. "Oh shit, yeah," he redirected his eyes to George, who was having a tense standoff with Tom. Hugh tried to look menacing but just looked constipated. "Oi, Georgie! What the fuck, man?" Harry shouted across the room.
George sighed and rolled his eyes, apparently put off that he would have to explain himself. "I put a GPS on your car and followed you everywhere. I got these cool new listening devices too so I've heard all of your conversations," my eyes widened and George noticed my expression instantly, "Oh, don't worry! Once I realised sexy time was happening at that B&B I turned it off straight away, honestly!"
Harry snorted.
I felt my blood start to boil. "You've been tracking us? Why?"
"Cos I knew something was up. Harry was acting weirder than normal and Dawson was giving me strange requests. I've never trusted Dawson... something shady about him alright."
"Yeah, I've always had a feeling about him," Harry nodded in agreement with George. It was seriously pissing me off how calm Harry was — he was treating George like a welcomed friend instead of intruder!
"So why did you decide to tell us now?" I probed further.
"Because I think two extra pair of hands will bring this plan of yours along even nicer, that's why," he said, smiling cockily.
I could see Harry grinning out of the corner of my eye. I was seriously about to hit him and it seemed Tom was close to that too. Hugh still had a constipated look on his face.
"No thanks." Tom said automatically.
"Wait, we need to discuss this!" Harry replied, walking over to George, "Georgie is one of our best friends... surely we can't refuse him? We could really use him!" He gave me a pleading look and I was reminded of a child trying to convince their parents to have their friend over for a sleepover.
I took a breath. "What if he's working for Dawson? This could be a set up! We can't trust him!"
"Can't trust him? How many times has he saved our lives on assignments? Come on, Ethan! It's Georgie!"
"Harry, I'm loving your confidence in me but if you call me 'Georgie' once more, I'm gonna start pounding on you," George warned with a glint of amusement in his eyes.
"Sorry bud — my hotel room, my rules."
"Actually, if we're going to get technical it's my hotel room since I paid for it..." Hugh piped up.
"Shut it, Lawman. And go to the bathroom or something, your face is annoying me," Harry added. Obviously I wasn't the only one who thought he looked constipated. I felt my lips itching to smile but held my composure.
"Oh, just to be completely honest with you, I was actually at the diner a few booths away from you that night so... this is your brother, man?" George said with a careful smile, trying to ease himself into the situation.
I couldn't help the smile flash onto my face momentarily when I saw Harry's face.
"What? No!" he spluttered. "He's... No way! What?"
Hugh looked genuinely upset by this and dropped his eyes to the ground. I could see that Harry was feeling guilty once he saw Hugh's expression. That was progress — normally Harry wouldn't give a shit what Hugh was feeling.
"Fine — he's my half brother. Alright?" he eyed Hugh for a second before looking away. I could tell that Harry's shabby acknowledgement of their relationship had probably made Hugh's year.
He did a sort of awkward shuffle and tried to hide his smile before turning to sit on the couch beside the bed, trying to conceal how chuffed he was.
"Okay, can we cut the bullshit here?" Tom interrupted the moment and stepped forward, making his presence and distaste known.
We all looked at him, waiting for him to continue. He looked to me though, raising an eyebrow to signal me to talk. I didn't know what to say though — George was our friend. We had trusted him with our lives over the years.
But what if he was double-crossing us? Something told me he wasn't, however. My gut instincts urged me to believe he was being genuine. Harry was a good judge of character too, for the most part. Surely he would see right through George?
"Before we do anything else, we're searching him," I instructed. My tone implied that this was non-negotiable, which was why nobody argued.
Harry and I took turns patting George down and inspecting every article of clothing he was wearing to ensure he wasn't armed or had a wire on — he came out clean, as I had suspected.
"Right, have I proven myself to you now?" George sighed, getting irritated. I could see that Tom was about to snap at him so I interrupted before any more tension arose.
"You've proven that you're more than likely not double-crossing us. You've also proven that you've been spying on me and Harry for God knows how long — actually, how long?" I was nowhere near okay with the fact that he had spied on Harry and I... how many conversations had he heard?
Jesus, he was there two nights ago at the B&B. What a fucking invasion of privacy — I doubted I would sleep properly for the next few nights.
"About two weeks after this assignment started I guess..." At least he had the decency to look slightly ashamed.
"Jesus Christ," I heard Harry mutter, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers. It seemed it was starting to hit home that George had probably heard most of our conversations. "That's not cool Georgie."
"I know, I felt guilty at the time but I knew that there was an issue and I knew neither of you would have told me otherwise — you're like a pair of girls with your secrets," George held up his hands in defence of what he had just said, knowing he was crossing a line.
"What have you done with the audio recordings you got of us?" I asked.
"I have them all on a USB stick — no other copies. I only kept them in case they would be useful. I picked up more than just your conversations... sometimes I would get audio from the surrounding houses."
"What's the name of these audio thingy's? They sound fucking amazing!" Harry inquired, a look of mischief crossing his features.
"Harry, stay on the point. Which houses, George?" Now I was interested.
"Well, there was one thing that I've been trying to find a way to tell you but I couldn't without blowing what I was up to," he paused for what seemed to be dramatic effect.
"Spit it out," Tom snapped. I could tell he didn't trust George — he didn't know him and he didn't like any sudden changes. It would be unnatural if he didn't have reservations.
"I picked up audio from Grant Jefferson's office the night he shot himself. Or... perhaps the night he was shot..."
There was a silence and we once again waited for him to continue. Tom was like a bubbling pot, about to explode if he didn't speak.
"What do you mean?" Hugh said from where he was sitting. He was leaning forward, his eyes fixated on George. We were all fixated on George — this was vital information.
"I got two voices from that audio — both male. It's very sketchy because the signal wasn't great and I was so far away from the house. I was trying to pick up your conversation when you were all sitting around the fire but it obviously picked up Grant's, too."
"So you're saying someone was in the room with Grant when he died?" Harry was finally starting to focus on something other than cats and where to get cool audio devices.
"Yes."
"And you're sure?" Tom had dropped the snappiness from his tone slightly.
"Yes."
"Who was it?" Hugh gasped.
"I couldn't tell — the voices are mumbled. I can tell one of them is Grant but the other voice is a mystery to me. Listen if you want yourselves."
Obviously we all wanted to listen so we had the USB plugged into the laptop instantly. When George found the correlating date and time on the track, you could hear a pin drop from the silence in the room.
The audio footage was extremely mumbled and muffled but you could make out Grant's voice. The other voice was hauntingly familiar yet the muffled quality made it impossible to detect who.
"So Grant was potentially murdered — whoop-dee-doo. Nothing we can do about it and we've got bigger issues. Let's move on," Harry said once he'd gotten bored of us rewinding and rewinding, trying to detect the voice.
"It could be someone we know, Harry! This could be important," I tried to reason.
Harry smirked. "Maybe it was Lawman... where were you on the night and time in question?"
Hugh started to retort defensively but I held up my hand to stop him. "Harry, stop being such a dick. It's not Hugh — he was with us sitting around the fire when we heard the gunshot. And besides, the accent isn't British in the recording."
Harry directed his eyes discreetly towards Tom, but I caught him before he could speak. "The accent isn't Australian either — it's American." I snapped.
This shut Harry up for a while before he grumbled about how bored he was getting again. I had to agree with him — the voices were starting to sound alien now that we'd played them over and over so often. It was pointless — I couldn't put my finger on who it was.
It was unnerving me that it was so familiar though. We knew that person — therefore, we had another enemy. It wasn't Dawson, that I was sure of. Also, it couldn't have been Michael — he was British. If I heard this person's voice again face-to-face, I was sure I would be able to identify them.
The rest of the day passed by in a blur — George convinced us that he was here for honourable reasons and even Tom grudgingly accepted the fact that George would be an asset to our team. He would be hiding in the sidelines with Tom and I when Harry approached Michael and his crew, ready for the ambush.
Hugh would be with his father — Michael requested that Hugh collect him from the airport and bring him to Harry immediately. There would be no time to spare once Michael touched down in JFK. No time to back out. Running wouldn't be an option.
As night-time crept in, the uneasiness in my stomach was as prominent as the nose on my face. We were all completely aware of our roles and we had no disillusions about the plan. We couldn't be more prepared in these given circumstances.
And that was what scared me — we were the most prepared team in the world yet I still had the irrevocable fear and anxiety that it would all go wrong.
I also knew that Harry was shitting himself — he was playing up how brave and fearless he felt and this was a key indicator that he wanted to curl into a ball on the floor and cry. I knew him too well and it was utterly pointless in him trying to fool me.
At about three in the morning, I woke from a restless sleep. Hugh had fallen asleep on the couch, George and Tom were in blankets on the floor and myself and Harry were in bed. I was surprised at how fast everyone had fallen asleep given the day that faced us.
I sat up in the bed and looked around. Everyone was in the same position they fell asleep in apart from one — Harry wasn't in the room. Panic set in immediately and I bounded from the bed, looking in the door of the bathroom to find it empty.
I was about to wake the others and reach for my phone when I saw a shadow against the curtains outside on the balcony. My heart rate settled marginally as I walked and peeked out, ensuring it actually was Harry before barging out there.
Once I saw his familiar blue boxers and ruffled hair I wasted no time in storming out there, closing the door gently behind me so not to wake the others.
"What the fuck are you playing at? I nearly had a heart attack in there!" I accused, trying to make eye contact with him. His elbows were leaning against the rail of the balcony and he was staring blankly out at the buildings before him.
"Harry?" I said, touching his shoulder.
My touch seemed to jerk him back into reality and his sleep-deprived eyes found mine. A faint smile swept his features.
"Oh, hi."
"Oh, hi? Are you kidding me?" Now that I knew he wasn't having a nervous breakdown I felt able to be angry again.
"What's wrong?" He frowned, taking a step closer to me. It was chilly and he was only in his boxers. I struggled to keep my eyes on his — he was difficult to focus when he was so bare in front of me.
"I thought something had happened to you... you were gone!" I repeated, feeling my chest heave. I felt shock hit me and it was like the build up of anxiety from the day had come to a head when I'd thought something had happened to him.
My breath came out in short gasps and I didn't know what else to do other than pull him to me and hug him tightly. I needed it and it seemed he needed it too when he let out a breath of relief, wrapping his arms around my waist and leaving no space between us.
"Why are you out here?" I mumbled against his neck, not giving him the option of letting me go any time soon.
"I had things to think about... things I need to talk to you about," he replied, his hot breath once again sending my mind into disarray.
"What sort of things?"
"Things I want you to promise before tomorrow."
I pulled back to look at him. "I don't understand?"
He sighed and trailed his hands along my back, soothing away the shock I'd experienced. "If something does happen to me."
I instantly felt uneasy again. Why was he discussing this with me now? Where had all of his confidence gone?
I gulped. I wanted to take his hand and force him to run away with me from that one statement but I would hear him out first.
"Go on," I muttered.
"Okay, don't interrupt me. I need to say this in one go or else I won't be able to say it properly," he took a deep breath, "If the plan doesn't work tomorrow and you guys aren't able to get to me when Michael arrives, I don't want you to risks yours or anyone's lives — I'm sure the plan will work but there is that 0.0001% chance that something could happen that we don't expect or that he just shoots me the second he sees me... you never know."
"How —," I began to interrupt but there was no way he was letting me talk.
"If I'm killed tomorrow, I don't want you to avenge my death. I want you to run and disappear. I give you my blessing to do that with Tom, if you want." The last sentence took a lot out of him to say.
I was horrified.
"Harry, how the fuck am I supposed to respond to this bullshit?" I pushed him away from me and walked to the other end of the balcony, extremely agitated.
"Just do exactly what I asked — that's how!" he responded casually.
I slammed my fist against the brick wall of the hotel, splitting one of my knuckles. I couldn't believe him... I was so angry. So angry that he was doing this to me.
"What the fuck Ethan, relax! It probably won't even happen, Jesus Christ!" He rushed to me, grabbing my injured hand and inspecting it. "Look what you've done to yourself you idiot!"
"I'm the idiot? You've just said to me that if you die I should run off with my ex-boyfriend and forget all about you. And if we think there's any risk involved with tomorrow, we should just abandon you because your conscience couldn't deal with any of the rest of us getting hurt?" I exclaimed incredulously.
"Well, apart from the whole forgetting about me part, basically in a nutshell — yeah. I wouldn't want you to forget about me — obviously I'm the love of your life. Just don't avenge me. Two different words, buddy."
Was he actually trying to joke?
I shoved him away from me, my eyes blazing. "You're something else, you know that? Are you trying to give me a fucking heart attack? You pull this crap on me the night before?"
"Ethan, there's always risks involved with these types of missions!" he protested.
"Yes — but you've never ever uttered the words 'if I do die' to me before. You've never..." I started feeling my throat constrict and my eyes became prickly.
"Don't cry, Ethan... Please — fuck! I didn't mean to upset you. I just wanted to be clear, that's all!" He went to me and no matter how much I tried to push him off of me, he fought me until I was clinging to him.
"I'm not promising you any of those things. If you die, I avenge you or die trying. If it's too risky to go to you, I take the risk. End of." I said, wiping my eyes and pulling back to look at him.
He sighed in defeat but nodded. "Fine. But I hope at the time you'll reconsider and thing of what I would want."
"Stop talking to me as if you're going to die!" I snapped.
"I don't mean to — everything's going to be fine. I know it is." He cupped my face with his hands, stroking my cheeks with his thumb.
"You can't know that," I grumbled.
"Well, I do. Nothing will go wrong — I just know it. We're the dream team, after all."
He brought his lips down onto mine before I could respond. The kiss was so sweet and gentle it made my entire body quiver.
We stood outside on the balcony, hugging and kissing, for another twenty minutes before exhaustion set in. We held each other when we went back to bed, falling asleep in each other's arms.
I feared it would be the last time but I knew I had to stop thinking that way — I needed to have more faith.
We were woken a few short hours later by the alarms we had all set. Hugh was to be at the airport in four hours and we needed to get to the place where Harry was apparently being kept hostage. It was a dingy warehouse about half an hour from the city — Tom and Hugh had been there multiple times and had the place rigged with weapons.
Hugh would take a separate car to the airport and we would take two cars to the warehouse. Harry and I would be leaving ours behind — Dawson would recognise them instantly if he was with Michael.
We packed all of our stuff and walked to the lobby together. We were eerily quiet and said very little to one another when we woke. I had simply kissed Harry good morning once we woke, not uttering a word.
When the valet's had pulled around the cars we would be using, we all stopped and stood in a group, our faces grim yet determined.
"See you at the end of this," Hugh stammered. He was as white as a sheet. We wouldn't be with him again until all of this was over. He would be by Michael's side for the entire time.
"Yes — of course," I replied instantly and confidently. My time for nerves was over — I was on a mission and I was in agent-mode. No room for emotions or doubts.
Tom and I individually hugged Hugh and George gave him a friendly pat on the back. We all looked to Harry. He gave a curt nod to Hugh.
"See ya!"
Hugh nodded in obvious disappointment and turned to walk to his car. I nudged Harry roughly once Hugh's back was turned. He rolled his eyes until I nudged him again.
He looked ready to hit me before George gave him a smack on the arm too. It seemed that once he realised we all had the same thoughts, he knew he was definitely acting like a dick.
"Wait," he mumbled to Hugh. He spun around immediately, a hopeful look on his face.
Harry walked forward and stood directly in front of him. "We should go for a drink when all of this is over."
Hugh nodded instantly. "Yeah, definitely!"
"Okay — well see you on the other side... brother." He gave him the quickest hug in history and was practically sprinting to our car once he was finished. Hugh couldn't stop the smile stretching across his face and turned around to his car again, a skip in his step.
We all smiled and I felt my heart burst with pride for Harry — our spirits were lifted from that one conversation and Harry's acceptance of Hugh seemed to give us all hope. It was incredible.
If only we had known that would be the last time the five of us would all be together.
I think it would be really fun if you left guesses in the comments of who you think is in the audio with Grant AND who you think is kicking the bucket in the next chapter... I'm so interested to see if you've figured it out or if you've any theories!
Once again, thanks for all of the support. I'll be publishing the first chapter of my newest story 'Perspective' very soon — it's quite different to Undercover, the biggest difference being it's from a straight girl's POV xD
Sorry for any mistakes, I haven't proofread some parts of this!
Okay, sorry from rambling again... Enjoy!
-O.