Time seemed to slow down. The last of the rope was almost broken. Tom was almost free.
Miss had left the room, seemingly chattering happily with whoever had called her.
Keegan had his back turned to Tom. He was staring at the door Miss had closed. Rookie mistake.
Tom glanced at the gun again. He would be slow. He would be outnumbered. He would be wounded. He would be weak.
But he had too.
SNAP-
The rope broke and he was up. His legs hurt as he stretched his arm for the gun on the table. His ears were ringing. Keegan whipped his head around. Tom already had the gun in his hand. He clicked the safety off. Was it even loaded? He didn't think about that. Both hands gripped at it. He stopped thinking when Keegan lunged at him.
He aimed.
Then he squeezed the trigger.
BANG! BANG!
Two shots. One in Keegan's chest, the other in his stomach.
He didn't have time to breath when Miss burst into the room. She was gripping her phone in one hand and a gun in the other.
They both raised it at the same time.
Tom was panting.
Miss was angry.
Tom shot first, Miss squeezing the trigger right after.
His thigh started burning. He could feel a whimper escape his lips.
He jumped when Miss let out a pained shout. He wasn't thinking when he shot her again. Another shot. Then another loud noise richocheting. And another. Then his final shot. He was squeezing the gun so hard his knuckles were turning white.
He watched as Miss dropped to the floor, her clothes stained with red liquid. He watched as the blood began to pool around her. He watched as she struggled to wake.
And a smile tugged at his lips.
He stumbled over to her, almost tripping over Keegan's toppled body. He tossed the gun to the side as he stepped on Miss's arm. He leaned over and picked up the phone she was carrying. Tord. Tord. He had to call Tord. He limped away from Miss, collapsing on the ground. He typed in Tord's number.
The phone began to ring as he pressed it up to his ear. He waited for what felt like an eternity. Would he even answer-
"What do you want?"
It was Tord's voice.
For a moment, Tom choked up.
"Th-that's a nice hello," Tom croaked, trying to huff out a small laugh.
"Tom!" the Norwegian shouted.
"Lower your voice," he replied quietly, shuffling anxiously as he glanced at the open door.
"Where are you? Are you hurt?" Tord sputtered out. Tom could hear footsteps and what sounded like Paul and Patryk.
Tom glanced down and noticed the blood covering his thigh. So that's why it hurt. He took a moment to respond before saying, "I think I was shot."
"What? Where?"
"I think... my leg. It's covered in blood." He was staring blankly at the wound.
He heard Tord take a deep breath. "Do you have any cloth nearby?"
Tom glanced around, trying to keep his eyes open. He spotted a large bin of towels. Letting out a grunt of affirmation, he began to move himself. Reaching out a hand, he grabbed one of them. Pressing it against where the blood seemed to be coming from, Tom let out a long sigh. "'m trying to stop the bleeding."
"Good. Good. Patryk is tracking the cell. Are you with someone?"
Tom mumbled the answer.
"I can't hear you, Thomas."
"I killed 'em," Tom repeated loudly, glancing at the bodies. "They stopped moving a few moments ago."
"Oh." Tord paused. He heard Patryk shouting something ineligible. "Uh... look, we'll be there soon, okay? Just stay on the phone, kjære."