CHAPTER ELEVEN

"It's been long overdue that I explain everything to you," Tord admitted, tentatively placing his hand on Edd's shoulder. "You've proven yourself fully trustworthy, and I appreciate the favour."

"If I get in serious trouble with the law, I'm not covering for you then." Edd's dark eyes flicked from Tord's mechanical touch then back up to his scarred face.

"Oh, pfft," he suppressed a chuckle, letting his arm fall back to his side. "They weren't real officers: they were gang members."

"The gang you mentioned to me?" Matt piped up, still trapping Edd in a tight side-hug.

"Yeah, that's the one. What I said about making sure they weren't any danger was a little true." Tord paused, taking a moment to take notice of Ylva's haunted expression. "I really don't want any harm to come to any of you. I made a huge mistake before, and paid the price for my stupidity."

Edd raised his hand. "I sense that a huge explanation is coming." He headed for the kitchen, "I'll make some hot chocolate and we can all settle down for the story."

Matt threw this arms up, punching the air above his head, a massive smile on his features. "Yay! Story!"

They were all settled down in a pillow fort Matt had quickly created in the living room. It was cozy and small, with all four of them squished up close to one another, clutching their mugs of hot chocolate. Edd had secretly replaced his with cola, but no one seemed to notice. Ylva was too busy vacantly staring down at the swirling foam and rising steam to pay any attention to such a small detail. Tord took a sip, revelling in how ordinary and sweet the situation was; it was almost as if he wasn't wanted by the biggest gang in England.

He glanced sideways at where Matt was sandwiched between him and the other British male. "So, it all started back i-"

"What the hell has that commie bast-" Tom stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the four snuggled up together. "Oh."

"Tom? I know we aren't on good terms right now..." Tord looked down momentarily, but then made determined eye contact with the brunet's eye-holes. "But please, old friend... I'm about to explain everything. No more secrets."

"Why?! Why the sudden truth? Why not sooner? Why blow up our house and ruin our lives?!" Tom growled back, clenching his fists and squaring his shoulders, not budging from the doorway.

Tord grabbed a spare pillow and scooted up a bit, just about making room for the Brit. "I regret everything I did to harm all of you. I'm trying to make it right."

"Please, Tom?" Edd blinked cutely up at his blue-hoodied friend, hoping to persuade him.

"Yeah, please?" Matt did the same, his knees drawn up to his chest and the mug of hot chocolate balanced precariously on top.

Tom rolled his eye-holes, shoving his hands in his hoodie pockets with a grunt. He squeezed in between the ginger and the communist, grumbling under his breath and squirming a bit until he was comfortable. A mug of hot chocolate was held in front of his face, surprisingly being offered by the Norwegian. Tom took it with narrowed eye-sockets, suspicious of poisoning but unable to resist the delicious aroma.

"Okay, like I was saying... It all started back in Norway..."

~

In the back of an army helicopter, the still body of Red Leader lay on a blood-stained stretcher. He was already hooked up to temporary medical equipment to try and keep him stable on their long flight back to base. The right side of his face was a mangled mess of blood and seared flesh and the nerves in his arm had been severed, rendering it permanently useless.

His heart rate suddenly jolted as his muscles tensed involuntarily, a panicked gasp of air dragging into his torn mouth. Paul was instantly at his side, holding down his legs as he spasmed on the stretcher and looking desperately at the qualified medic for him to do something. The doctor seemed just as alarmed, hastily checking Tord's pulse to see if the machine was malfunctioning before turning around and rummaging in a bag for some morphine.

Just as quickly as it came, the fit stopped: Tord lay still.

The heart rate monitor gave a drawn-out beep as it flat-lined.

~

"You died?" Matt exclaimed incredulously, clutching his mug a little tighter as he shrunk down into himself. "You're dead?!"

"He's not dead, Matt." Tom punched the Norwegian's shoulder as best as he could in the tight space, gaining a wince and a loud 'ow!' from Tord.

"Right," he glared at Tom, rubbing the injury gingerly. "I was dead for a good minute; they thought I wasn't going to survive, but the doctor finally managed to revive me and we returned to base for me to get better treatment."

~

Generals barked orders over the sound of constant gunfire. It was a morbid scene for anyone to witness; corpses lay scattered on the churned-up dirt, some of them still gripping their guns. There were soldiers old and young running across the battlefield, some getting gunned down by the enemy before they could reach their destination.

After a week of fighting, a lone man stood in the mud and blood, waving a white handkerchief. The Red Army were victorious over their rival, but it came at a heavy price.

Most of the soldiers had been killed in that battle, and many of those who remained deserted Red Leader and fled back to their families. They were weak and vulnerable, and so soon after their leader's accident. Tord had barely healed, but he still fought alongside the remainder of his soldiers whenever smaller gangs attempted to rise up and defeat him. His bravery gained him a few more recruits, and finally there was a lull in the fighting that allowed him to fully recover.

~

"My father fought in that war," Ylva whispered suddenly, still fixated on her cooling drink. "I joined Red Army to continue his legacy and outshine my brothers."

"He was never found." Tord quietly explained to the British men. "Ylva has been as loyal to me as Paul and Patryk, and for that, I'm grateful."

"I'm sorry, Ylva." Edd murmured with sympathetic eyes, but he got no response.

~

Patryk had been told about the Burning Tygers. He had little information on the matter, but he knew it was enough to get his leader back on his feet again.

Everyone in the crime business knew how much of a threat the Burning Tygers were. They had little groups all over England, but the main gang was located in and originated from London. There were far more than a thousand in each of the smaller sections, every one like a miniature army that roamed the streets and kept things in order.

The main leader's identity was unknown, but five other people worked under them to keep the members in order. Ylva and Tord had been lucky enough to overhear one of their conversations and learn some of their names and appearances. Bella was the most intimidating, and few dared cross her. Anthony was often by her side: the two formulated sly plans together. James would try to offer different insights, but didn't have enough authority to see them through.

~

"And the other two?" Tom sipped his hot chocolate, feeling a little more at ease around the communist.

Tord's gaze dropped to his feet, his back hunched over and his shoulders drawn forwards. "I don't know. What we do know, however, is that they're planning to capture and kill me and take down my army."

"That sounds like your problem, not ours. And it still doesn't explain why you returned to us in the first place." The Brit huffed and tightened his grip on the warm mug, eyebrows lowered.

"They won't hesitate to torture those who knew me for information. I didn't know this originally, and now I've put all of you in more danger," Tord looked pointedly at Tom when he opened his mouth to make a snarky remark. "Which is why I plan to solve this entire conflict and return home as soon as possible. All of you have reminded me what friendship is like, and it's so different and more truthful than power. Please believe me when I say that I want to keep you- all of you safe."

~

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