Low-key | ✓

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Agent Sun

She gazed into Grey's eyes, he did the same to her. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the boy was head over heels, madly in love with her. However, even a smart-ass like herself couldn't figure that out. Her breathing was calm, surprisingly.

You'd think that after the three electrocutions she had taken for the past few minutes that Grey had been inside the chamber, her breathing would be rigid, uneven.

But she was calm.

Her eyes reflected defeat, Grey could tell. She had given up on her own life.

She was weak.

Grey's eyes shifted away from the girl that he had always seen as tough, bold, strong, and all the other words you could find in the synonyms of such. Her bravery was what he loved about her.

And now it was all gone.

All because of that boy.

And with that thought in mind, he felt like a boyfriend that has been cheated on.

I love her. He thought.

But she deserves this.

He pressed the button for one last time, hearing her screams of agony from the other side of the glass wall.

-

Arsenic awoke from the blackout that Code 652 had caused.

She searched the room for the CCTV and smiled weakly when she saw the Morse code she had been waiting for. It was time.

She winced at the amount of bruises she saw- they were scattered across her body. Limb per limb. Each one a different color.

How aesthetic, she thought.

Different shades of blue were on her stomach, all varying in sizes and shapes. There was a greening bruise on her left foot. She had assumed that she had bruises on her face also, but she could not care less. She had to fight today. She had to or else more lives will die. One was enough.

The Morse code she had received stated that she had to leave, as soon as possible. Judging from the lack of red light blinking on the camera, she knew that Chequita has closed it. Temporarily of course.

Her hands weren't cuffed, her feet weren't either.

The people here must've figured out that she couldn't move with all the torture they had given her.

She really couldn't. But she had to. She should.

With all her might, she stood up and made her way to the door.

She winced after every step.

The door was locked. She rolled her eyes, No shit.

She took one of the knives her friend had given her and opened the keypad lock. She switched the white wire with the pink one, and the door was open.

She made her way outside and headed for the hallways. It was eerily quiet.

A little too fucking quiet.

She blew a stray piece of long white-blonde hair from her face. However, it kept coming back to bother her.

She inwardly groaned, then thought of a solution.

She held the knife against her hair, right where her shoulder met her neck. And cut it with all her might.

It was surprisingly even. I could be a hairstylist, for real. She smiled silently when she remembered the time that Jack had said in an interview that she was their Make-up artist.

Good times.

Right as she turned left, and crept up behind a white wall, she heard indistinct chatter.

Then a familiar voice. It was so silent, weak, but she heard it still.

"What do you want from us?"

She heard a very familiar voice reply, "I don't want you. I want her."

Her heart almost stopped, It can't be.

She held her knife close to her as she backed on the wall.

"T-then, w-why are we here?" She heard another voice ask.

A sinister laugh echoed the room, and the walls.

"Oh, you were mere pawns in this game, little boys."

She heard a slap, and then a grunt.

"Everything was supposed to be simple, but you little boys messed it up for me."

Her heart ached, hearing his voice once more.

The plan can screw itself.

She backed against the door and threw it open.

The sight wanted to make her puke.

Jack was lying on the cold, tiled floor. Daniel's back leaned against Jonah's shoulder for support as he sat. Zach was on Corbyn's lap. Corbyn was sitting there, clutching his left side.

They were all battered and bruised. I caused this.

She felt pained, and guilt was seeping through her bruised veins.

It wasn't their fault.

She looked at them again, and gave an apologetic look. They looked scared, anxious, and dead.

They were just caught in the middle of it all.

"Ast-" Corbyn started, but another sinister laugh cut him off.

"Arsenic, my dearest sister."

Her eyes narrowed, "Louis."