GRIFFIN E. WALKER
May, 2020

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Most of the decisions made in my life were last minute. It led me to university, it led me to my job. It allowed me to experience things that otherwise wouldn't have happened.

Things like travelling to France for a day, for example. 

Callum called me to let me know he had an event to go to and he would've liked it very much if I decided to tag along. Nothing specific was mentioned, simply it being a 'work thing' which explained just about enough. My immediate answer was a yes, not only to satisfy my curious side but also to put it out of its misery.

The fight between me and Harry was horrible. Remembering the last time, we argued like that was difficult as it happened so long ago, though the pleasure it once brought me was not the case this time around. Obvious feelings stood in the way of that, which wasn't the case in the past. Telling him to leave after he revealed in anger that he had no idea why he bothered with me, swayed my heart in my chest like a boat out on the sea in a storm. Although he did not go immediately, when the front door of my apartment slammed shut, my body jolted and feeling helpless, I allowed the sobs to shake my shoulders.

So, this trip to France came at the right time. I couldn't not accept the offer.

Arriving at the airport, the holiday feeling hit me in the chest. Sun cream, the smell of the ocean, sunsets, the light summer breeze, the smell of the pool at the resort. That's all I could sense. I haven't been on a holiday in the longest time and even though this wasn't a holiday either, travelling still made me happy.

Feeling my arm tugged towards a door, I furrowed my eyebrows as Callum continued to walk by my side, not saying anything. Questioning him was no use because he had a selective hearing. Definitely one of the most annoying traits of his.

Eventually, when we stopped, it was by a black Range Rover, a man dressed in a suit with a hat on his head and gloves on his hands opening the door for me. My cousin sat in from the other side after he nodded towards the staff. Getting in, he was already typing on his phone whilst I sat there like a dumb bitch, not knowing what was happening.

"We're flying private?" the question fell from my lips with ease, almost without thinking of it. That was the only reasonable explanation for why we needed to get in the car and be driven somewhere.

Callum hummed, not particularly phased by the realisation that hit me as he was used to travelling this way.

This is some next level shit, the thought came to me. Imagining this lifestyle was different to actually experiencing it. Not sure if I found it underwhelming or if I was simply too stunned to process the whole idea but as we neared towards the aircraft, my breath hitched in the back of my throat.

We were on the tarmac. In a Range Rover. About to board a private plane.

The door to the jet was open, the stairs flowing down until the last one hit the tarmac, met by a red velvet carpet. On the side, there were poles, connected by some kind of rope as it served as a railing. Gulping as the motor of the vehicle came to a halt stop, quieting down until the door on my side was wide open. Jumping off of the high rise car, I glanced around, finding the boot of the car open as our belongings were moved from it and inside the jet.

Smiling gently at all the people around, working tirelessly to make this luxurious life possible, I came to the conclusion that they were not ordinary staff. Not finding anyone who reciprocated the kind gesture, my eyes wandered all over them in curiosity.

There were two people standing by the aircraft, dressed in suits with wires lurking in their ears. Their eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, their hands tightly wrapped in front of their body, looking like soldiers. Callum paid little to no attention to them as he walked up the stairs and disappeared inside of the metal box.

Realising that there was probably a schedule these planes ran on, I picked up my pace and followed him.

"Good morning, Miss Walker," the captain welcomed me, her voice deep but velvety. She did not smile at me, simply nodded, her full face of makeup making me stare a little longer than she probably liked it.

In my defence, she was gorgeous.

Walking inside the jet, it smelled fresh. There was a lot to taken in at first glance. Right as I walked up, on my left was the cockpit then on my right were all the seats. Cream leather, white ceiling and walls with brown accents and highlights. Two rows of lights ran across the top, turned on as were the little bulbs built into the sides. There were two chairs facing each other on both sides, a table between them, then on the right just behind it, the same two chairs faced again. On the left, a couch took up the wall with arm rests in between, cup holders at the very end.

"Better get used to it, mate," Callum chuckled from behind his macbook. How the fuck did he get that here? He was already settled in one of the chairs, his things on the table where his laptop rested.

"That's easy for you to say," I mumbled, sinking into the soft leather seat. My palms running over the sides, a quiet chuckle erupted from my lips, almost not believing that this was real life.

"I can't imagine what your reaction will be when you get on the other one," he commented as his fingers smashed against the keyboard. He didn't look at me as he spoke, his attention on the screen. The other one?

"There's more?" I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Yeah," he looked at me for a second, grinning when he caught my surprised facial expression. "This event tonight was a very last-minute decision. It fits into plans, it makes sense, we need the connection. There's an exchange which wasn't supposed to be my job but here we are. This was the only jet available on such short notice."

"Fuck me."

"Not into incest, sorry."

"Ew, stop!" I laughed. "Have you been on all the planes?"

"Apart from the one that Rachel's parents use, yes."

Did he really just say apart from the one Rachel's parents use? Holy fucking shit. Rachel and her family owned these jets? Yes, plural. Jets. With all these people working for them...

It was too crazy.

"You know," he sighed, sitting back in his chair as he interlocked his fingers on his stomach. We were already moving. "Doing what we're doing comes with a lot of risks but a lot of great rewards. I wasn't sure you'd be able to handle this life but so far, you're proving me otherwise."

"Yay! Go me!"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "If your parents knew what we really do here, they would go insane. I hope you've not been telling anybody about what's going on here—or informing any outsiders of your little side projects."

"I've not been telling anyone anything so you don't need to worry," I reassured him. "And what kind of side projects do you think I have?"

"The ones you need to access locked information for," he let it slip, letting me know that he knew of what James and I have been doing. Ever since Rachel sent me over those files, I've been doing some... homework. It kept me busy and not thinking of past events. "You may be slick but you are not that slick. You forgot to wipe the research history a few days ago. You're lucky that I did it for you."

"Why did you save my ass?"

"You're my little cousin," he shrugged.

"I'm twenty-six."

"Okay, and?" he asked. "I promised your parents I'd make sure you're safe. That didn't end after you graduated uni."

The three-year age gap between us always felt slightly small, purely because Callum acted way too mature for his age. Perhaps that's why my parents were okay with letting me live with him. He had a good reputation; he has always been the golden child in the family, the grandparents' favourite. The revelation of him continuing to look out for me, shouldn't have surprised me quite so much.

But then I became used to not expecting anything of anyone. They always let me down one way or another.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Having rooms booked at the Four Seasons, should not have surprised me as much as it did. Shortly after signing in, we dropped our stuff off and decided to go for some food. Callum knew his way around the area considering that he's been here a good few times, which meant that he also was aware of what spots offered the best menu. On our way to the restaurant, he made sure to fill me in on some things that I needed to know.

Like how I was going to have to carry a gun tonight because he doesn't know what might happen. When those words left his mouth, somehow, it didn't even startle me. In my free time, it became almost a top priority of mine to make amends with the deadly weapon. Taking James up on his offer of teaching me ways around the tool, I was pretty much a 'pro' at it. His words, not mine.

Callum also told me that we'll mostly be in and out of the venue. He needs to exchange something that holds something that someone needs.

Yep.

He was that vague.

As intrigued as it made me, asking questions would've only gotten me the 'way above your paygrade' answer. I've heard that one at least ten times, I wasn't about to make it eleven.

Thankfully, our conversation shifted from tonight to slightly less work-focused areas. Always been told that I wear my emotions on my face which annoyed me because I worked extra hard on trying to mask them. Nevertheless, it led the man sitting across from me to question what was going on. Apparently, I've been kind of tense the whole day, even yesterday, and he couldn't help but wonder if it had anything to do with my private life.

That consisted of Harry Styles.

Eventually, I filled him in on the matter, vaguely explaining that we're currently neck deep in an argument. We haven't talked in almost two days but honestly, I needed the distance from him because my anger, frustration and disappointment hasn't subsided yet. Not enough to face him and sort things out like mature adults.

Callum wondered if that had anything to do with our job and at first, I didn't want to tell him. In the end, that was enough. He could read my face. He laughed, shaking his head as he reached for his glass of beer and took a sip. I told him I didn't want to get Harry into anything directly but it felt like he was leaking down the cracks, anyway. Callum didn't seem to blame me, if anything, he felt for me. He said there was nothing I could do now, except talk to him and tell him he needs to be careful. Other than that, pretty much everything else was out of my hands. Meanwhile he could tweak some things and keep Harry out of major harm's way, life worked in weird ways, making it completely unpredictable. That's how the man I fancied ended up so tangled in this mess.

In times like this, it was clear that Callum was more emotional and had more empathy for things like this than Rachel. Thinking of her reaction, the hair on my back stood right up.

Soon after lunch, we went into town. There was not much for us to do until the day came to an end. Exploring was our only option. Callum was excited for this, which didn't make much sense, until we stopped outside of a jewellery shop. Although he was okay with shopping, he wasn't the biggest fan of it. That's why it surprised me so much when he offered the idea. My jaw dropped, when he stood in the window of the shop, his eyes glancing at all the different rings: gold, white-gold, basic bands, diamonds.

"Oh, shit," my eyes widened, lips curling upwards as a soft chuckle flew past them. Callum whipped his head towards me, a smile tugging on his lips as he sighed. "You're thinking about it, huh?"

"I have been, yeah," he nodded, nibbling on the inside of his cheek. "Just can't seem to find the right one."

"Well, let's go in, then," I ushered him towards the door, my hands pressed to his back.

Once inside, a lady welcomed us, speaking French. Callum was fluent so he took the stage, interacting with the woman smoothly. She showed us a bunch of rings, starting from pretty basic ones until we got to the ones that were actually worth the money.

Personally, I've always been extremely picky with this kind of stuff, I preferred my jewellery to be gold as opposed to white gold, and whenever the idea of someone proposing to me popped in my head, I pictured them giving me the most fitting ring to me as an individual.

Problem was, I wasn't sure what I liked.

Some of the diamonds this lady pulled out were massive, some of them were tiny. I suppose my preference was somewhere in between. Not too small but not too big. Although, big enough so it's visible from a distance.

I was very hard to please which may make me high maintenance. Good luck to whoever decides to get on one knee before me. They will definitely be crazy as shit for wanting to spend to rest of their life with me.

My cousin didn't find anything that stood out to him. It was clear he wasn't feeling any of them. Any time he tried to say goodbye, the lady cut him off and showed him something new. It was pretty fucking funny to watch him hold back and nod along, smiling like he actually cared. He couldn't have given any less of a fuck.

We wasted our time in the city until we had to go back to the hotel to get ready. Even though I brought an outfit with me, there was one waiting on the bed when we entered the room. Callum explained that I didn't need to wear it if I didn't want to but it probably would've been a better choice, solely because hiding the gun whilst wearing a jumpsuit would've been impossible.

Pulling the black dress out of its bag, I held it before me, measuring its length in the mirror. It reached the floor with a slit up to almost the middle of my thigh on the left. The cleavage slightly dipped in the middle, no straps, just some material going around my shoulders, hanging off. Stuffing myself inside of the piece, it fit kind of perfectly. The design of it worked around my stomach which was definitely a no-no area of mine, but then it highlighted my chest which took away the attention from anything I disliked.

My makeup took the longest to complete because I had no idea what look to go for. In the end, it turned out to be a brown smokey eye with a kind of dark, nudey lip. I pinned my hair back, curling it at the ends just to give it some texture.

As I clasped my shoes on, Callum told me the car was waiting downstairs so I need to hurry up. Putting some perfume on and grabbing my bag, I flipped him off as I walked out of the room, pressing the button by the lift. There were two men with us, the same ones who travelled on the plane. James did not tag along, I suppose today was his day off which was fair.

I just laughed. At that point, it was the only reasonable reaction to... anything.

As we stepped out of the hotel, a bloody Rolls Royce pulled up before us. Two, actually. One for us and one for the guards. They were black, like my outfit and Callum's suit. They were really shiny—like, they either came right from the shop or someone spent days cleaning and polishing those vehicles. Even just sitting inside of it felt like I was ruining it.

I was an absolute whore for cars. Knowing that they drove us to the private jet in a Range Rover and now we were escorted to this event in a Rolls Royce was crazy to me. It also just showed how well off Rachel and her family were.

Did that include me now? And Callum? We were using their things. So, I suppose, by association, these cars were ours, too. Right?

Yes, baby. It's yours.

That's what I told myself, anyway.

"Now, remember to stick to me all night," Callum sighed. He opened a little door on the back of the driver's seat and he pulled out a gun. "If you open yours, there'll be one for you. You know how to load it?"

"Yeah," I nodded. James taught me all that shit. It took us one weekend, but I've learned how to do it with a bunch of different weapons. I took it out of its hiding place, releasing the empty magazine from the gun. Callum pulled down the seat between us, opening that up to reveal the ammunition. Setting the pistol down, I pushed the first ammo down on the lip of the magazine, stacking up the rest until it was full. As it was done, I eased the magazine into the firearm and using the side relief, it clicked into place. Slipping on the safety quick, I put it down between us, grinning up at Callum. "Voila."

"Did you put the holster on your leg?"

"Yup," I patted my right thigh, just where he told me to hide it. "You're underestimating me."

"I'm making sure you'll be safe."

"I thought we'll only stay until you get what you need."

"Unfortunately, it's not a five-minute run-in," he chuckled lightly. "Now, you know why we picked pistols made of plastic rather than metal?"

"Are you serious?"

"Dead."

Sighing, I responded. "If there'll be detectors, they won't pick up the plastic guns."

He nodded firmly. The questioning ended there.

Thankfully, the ride didn't take too long. More and more luxurious cars started to appear on the road we travelled on which indicated we were close to the final destination. On arrival, as I climbed out of the vehicle after the driver opened the door for me, I picked up my dress slightly to avoid stepping on it. Looking down, my necklace dangled in front of my face, my hair hiding just how low my dress opened up my chest. Standing behind the door and covered up by the car, I pulled the material back and slid the gun inside the holster.

Walking over to the other side, Callum offered his arm and I linked mine through it, providing enough stability to move in the high heels. Rachel definitely sorted this whole look for me, there was no doubt in my mind. Each step I took, it felt like I was going to hit the floor with face first. Callum had to stop me and gave me a pointed look.

"Did you not learn to walk?"

"You try walking in seven-inch heels on gritty asphalt."

He rolled his eyes, sighing and we continued to move inside. In that time, I was hoping I wouldn't need to use the gun on me because I wasn't sure I could manage. Slightly overwhelmed by the material side of everything, it would've been a rude awakening to then slide my hand over my thigh and pull out the deadly weapon to shoot some assholes.

Wow. My attitude has definitely changed.

Maybe I'm more suited for this profession than anyone could've expected.

"Alright—bar's there. One drink, top shelf. Never finish it but you know that," he gave the instructions as we stood amongst people, music playing in the background.

Furrowing my brows, I wondered, "Wasn't I supposed to stick to your side?"

"Plans change, dear cousin," he sighed as he pushed the sleeve of his blazer back, checking his watch. The lights reflected off of the expensive accessory as he moved his arm. "It's half eight now. It shouldn't take longer than thirty minutes for me to be back. Think you can handle that?"

"I've survived this far."

Challengingly raising his eyebrow, he itched the underside of his nose. "I brought you along in hopes of you not turning into a liability but to gain experience. We're not the only smart ones in this room. Remember that."

Abruptly turning around, he was gone in seconds, disappearing into the crowd as though he was never before me in the first place. Thirty minutes from now would mean nine in the evening. Was he really going to manage to make the change in that amount of time? Without anything happening? Things like this never go over smoothly in movies.

But then I've been told countless of times by James that I should not, under any circumstance, compare fiction to real life. He liked to remind me of the fact that whilst movies are scripted and back up is always one clip away when it comes to editing, in real life, it's a bit trickier. By the time back up arrives in real life, I'll either be dead, taken or worse. When I asked him what 'worse' entailed since he mentioned death and being kidnapped, he never answered. I left it at that.

As advised, I ordered one drink, top shelf. I was basically here as a pretty accessory on my cousin's arm. Perhaps a distraction? That could work in ensuring that the exchange happens smoothly. Thinking of that, my drink was placed before me and I took it with some excitement. Feeling the first taste of the alcohol on the tip of my tongue was enough to calm my racing nerves. Holding myself back from finishing the whole glass, I placed it back on the bar and turned around to have a look at the crowd.

It seemed peaceful. Just a bunch of snobs gathering, fake laughing as they consume expensive alcohol in their thousand, if not million, pound dresses and suits. Euros. Whatever currency they used in France.

Inhaling deeply, my chest rose and fell with the motion, attracting a couple of people's attention. In fact, just as that realisation hit me, someone from next to me turned around, very obnoxiously watching me until I turned my head.

A pretty boy.

He had brown eyes, long lashes that touched his bushy brows. Nicely kept beard matching the colour of his black hair, styled at the top and shaved at the sides with a blend. A nose ring, one hole punched in his earlobe with an industrial going across at the top of his ear. I wondered if his other side was done the same.

"Hey," he spoke up first, touching his nose ring for a second. It revealed a tattoo on the back of his hand, reaching out from under his blazer. Like everyone else, he wore black. The reason for that was simple—everyone can blend in thereby making it harder to be spotted.

"Hi," came the short reply from me. Not particularly interested in him or what his business was. Thinking for a second about it, he was most likely sent to distract me. It would've made perfect sense. You always send the most handsome person you have if you need to catch someone off balance. "Can I help you?"

"That depends entirely on you," he spoke. He was definitely from England. Somewhere near Leeds perhaps even closer to Yorkshire? Nevertheless, if that was supposed to be a pick up line, then consider me absolutely disgusted. The fact that pick up lines ever came into existence was simply embarrassing. "You're looking at me like I asked you to strip naked in front of all these people."

"Considering you haven't told me your name yet, you shouldn't be surprised."

"If my name is all it takes for you to show some skin, then you'll be glad to know it's Zayn."

"Well, Zayn, it's a great name, by the way. But I'm afraid you're going to have to do one better than that to get anything from me."

"Playing hard to get, are we?" he chuckled, not really keeping up the douchebag attitude any longer. That was much to my relief. Wasn't sure how long I could've stood there for and breathe the same air as him. "Nah, I'm just messing around. These events are always a total bore. It's rare to see people my age here who look, at least, half as bored as I feel."

"You think this is me looking bored?"

"I think this is you looking stunning but otherwise, I suppose it is not?" he played with the words like he had a bloody Bachelor's degree in the area, making me look at him intensely for a couple of seconds before my lips parted and a quiet chuckle squeezed through them.

"Only if the man I fancy had such a beautiful way with words," I sighed, thinking of Harry. Parts of me wished he was there with me, making this night a little more entertaining.

Zayn laughed, making me glance back at him again.

"Never have I ever been rejected so smoothly."

"That was you trying to sweep me off my feet?" I teased him but it managed to paint a surprised facial expression onto his features.

"Your guy is lucky as shit," he chuckled, shaking his head as he accepted his defeat. Feeling slightly cocky after his comment, my head lifted a little higher, my chest pushed forward a little more. There was something so confidence boosting in the way he spoke. He was the breath of fresh air I desperately needed in this stuffy ballroom. "You here with him tonight?"

His eyes moved away from me as though he tried to fish for him in the crowd in front of us. Looking up at him from the side, inhaling the strong scent of his cologne, my eyes followed the fast route of his. Was he even looking for Harry, even though he had no idea what he looked like, or was he observing the room?

"Why?" my voice was sharp, making him snap his neck in my direction again, staring into my eyes. "Are you trying to win me away from him?"

"You're pretty fucking fast on your feet, aren't you?" he complimented me again like it was in his nature. "No... just wanted to ask him why he'd leave his pretty lady unattended."

"What makes you think I need looking after?" I furrowed my brows.

"I don't think you do—but you will," he told me, winking at me. "Hey, what was your name again?"

"Why will I need looking after?" I asked, disregarding his question about my name. Doubt he needed to know.

"You're a fool if you think you won't need to use this bad boy," his voice quieted down as his hand closest to me tapped the side of my thigh, touching the weapon over the material of my dress. "I've had a girl hide it there before, loved her and lost her. She thought she'd get away without spilling blood, assumed she had it on her to feel badass rather than to use it as protection."

"Just because your girl fucked up, doesn't mean I will."

"Let's hope you won't," he sighed. "Learnt the hard way. Rest in Peace, Olivia."

That conversation definitely got depressing, very fast. He went from wanting to get me naked to talking about his dead girlfriend. Hope she sleeps with the angels and all but talking about her like that is definitely not how this man is going to find another woman.

Then, as though he predicted the future, the one thing I did not want, happened.

Loud hisses mixed with obnoxious cursing in the darkened room as the lights all went out. Not knowing what would've been the best action to take, I remained in my position. Perhaps it was the best thing to do because the man by my side had done the same.

A moment later, he leaned close to my ear, making my body jolt as his cologne crawled up my nose. "Ready to prove me wrong, princess?"

"We can blame the Louboutins on my feet if this ends horridly," I let him know with my voice raised.

People started using the flashlight built into their phones to get somewhere. Zayn was quick to pull me after him as he benefitted from the light around us. Glasses breaking and clicking against one another, he cleared the bar before he turned back towards me, lifting me onto the surface. He told me to get down as he climbed up, too, finding us a safe hiding spot for the time being. Remembering what it looked like when the lights were on, the only way to see in here was from in front of us. If anyone wanted to shoot, they had to do it from that side.

"You okay?" he asked hurriedly, almost like he was checking up on me. Could've been the guilt that made him act, trying to hurdle me away from harm's way to make up for the failed effort he showed towards Olivia at the time.

"Yeah. You?" he replied quickly with a yes. "Why are we hiding?"

"It's not safe to move around now. Gotta wait for the light to come on, at least."

His response was logical. We could've been shot easily. Feeling a slight buzzing near my side boob, I fished for my phone hidden in my dress, quickly. Zayn watched me and our faces lit up as the name of my cousin flashed across the top.

"Hello?" I pushed it to my ear as soon as I accepted the call, plugging my other ear in with my index finger.

"'m... wh-... you?"

"I can't hear you!" I shouted down the phone, hoping he could hear me. The reception was fucking horrid in here. "I'm still inside. I'm in the bar."

"Gri-... oming... you."

"I. Don't. Know. What. You're. Saying." I broke up my words, spacing them out as I shouted into the receiver of my phone. Constant beeping made me pull back from the device, seeing that he ended the call. Then it began. The first gunshot was heard and my heart fell straight through my ass. "Fuck!"

"Gun?" Zayn asked me just loud enough so I heard him. I grasped mine in my hand, letting him know I was ready. "Are you full?"

"Yeah, you?"

"Yeah," he spoke. "M'gonna look," he said as he turned around slowly, peeking his head above the bar. When I heard another gun go off, I tugged him back down immediately. He was fine as he looked at me, the lights coming on right that second. "One right across. Three to the left. Couldn't see right."

"Up on the balcony?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"I've got fifteen rounds. You?"

"Seventeen."

"You remember the way you came in?" he asked. "Under the arch, straight and down the steps."

"Yeah."

Zayn nodded. "I'll go first, you back me. Got it?"

"In Louboutins?"

"Can you hold them and shoot?" he asked and I looked at him like he was from a different world. "Nevermind—take them off."

"I'm not leaving them!" I argued. He gave me a pointed look and I huffed, doing what he told me.

I suppose if I survive, I can always get another pair.

"Remember to back me, alright?" he repeated the instructions like I was thick.

"Yes," I said, a little more aggressive than he liked it.

Once my shoes were off, he grabbed them and started moving to the edge of the bar where the staff would move. Pushing down the surprise of him handling my shoes, I quickly remembered to do what he said. Back him.

So, I moved every time he did, copying his movements until I couldn't because I had to make my own.

The minute we showed ourselves, bullets started flying around, people began to shout. Trying my best to aim and shoot at an actual target, I couldn't feel proud of myself for actually making someone fall back because there was no time.

My heart was beating in my ears which made it difficult to concentrate. Sweat built up on my palms and my shoulder whacked against a pole as I moved backwards. Groaning in pain, I made the mistake of looking back.

"Griffin!" Callum shouted my name as he grabbed me by my shoulders, tugging me back. He pulled two guns from the band of his trousers, using both to fire at the people firing at us. "Run!" he spat. His legs moved backwards and he continued to rid his weapons of bullets.

Swallowing to ease the dryness of my throat, my hands and legs, my whole body, was shaking. Zayn came into my view, still holding onto my shoes. He pulled on my arm to get me before him, ushering me down the steps as we made it outside. Everything seemed calmer yet relatively colder than inside.

Frantically looking for the car we arrived in, I tugged Zayn towards the vehicle, my cousin right on our heel. Demands and instructions hollered, gun shots rapidly echoing in the air. The man I met today moved swiftly, followed by me and finished off by Callum. The driver stepped on the gas and transported us out of there in no time.

It took me sitting down to notice the throbbing of my foot. Flicking the light on in the car, I pulled my right leg up, resting it on my knee as I watched the crimson blood drip out of it.

"Shit," I panted, looking at the wound. It fucking stung.

"Here," Callum quickly opened up a pack of tissues, pressing all ten of them against the cut. "Where the bloody hell are your shoes? And who the fuck are you?"

I didn't answer as I patted my feet, trying to clean up the blood to see how big the cut was. Running through the glass and other shit that shattered in there, I was too high on adrenaline to notice that anything happened.

The two men on either side of me spoke, telling each other what they were called and how Zayn ended up here. My cousin thanked him when he revealed he saved me, making me snort and lean back in the car.

"Did you get it done?" I asked Callum, turning my head to look at him.

"Yeah," he nodded. "But that's not what you should worry about."

Drawing my eyebrows to meet in the middle made my forehead crease. "Then?"

He was leaning on his knees, his forehead pressed to the seat in front of him. Rather than using his words, he showed the bright screen of his phone. It was his texts between him and Rachel.

Wifey: let me know when you're done! Love you xx

Griffin is fucking missing

I lost my fucking cousin in there

Wifey: I can't track her phone

Wifey: did you find her??

Sorry. It was a mess. Just got out

Yeah we're all fine

It's done

Wifey: thank fucking god!!

Wifey: couldn't care less about the job when you two were in danger like that

Their messages were minutes apart. It was probably rather stressful for Rachel to experience it as everything happened. The fact that she said she couldn't track my phone was weird and definitely something that needed to be discussed.

But that wasn't what made me gasp. That wasn't what made my heart throb so hard in my chest that I was afraid it was going to rip through my skin.

It was the text that she sent, not even five minutes ago.

Wifey: Harry is missing