Disclaimer: I don't own Gallagher Girls. Ally Carter does.
Hello to the best readers and reviewers of ! :] You guys are just awesome, THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :] I'm so happy to read your reviews and advice! That was the fastest response of reviews ever!! (: THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!!!! Terribly sorry for late updates!! I mean has it been a month?! OMG I FEEL ASHAMED FOR THAT!! I PLUS MY ADDICTION TO FACEBOOK! ANYWAYS... But thanks to school there are probably more to come -_-…
And also to the comments about my last chapter being a bit too much like CMH, it was my intention to do so, I wanted parts of it to maybe be a different POV version of CMH. I know I probably didn't do that well on that part though *embarrassed laugh* And though some of you don't like it, there are some that do [ex: me]. I'm not at all offended because this gave me some more ideas of how to write the story. So thank you all for your comments! :D
But the rest of this story will be mostly filled with my ideas~
Dedications/Shout Outs/Replies:
Maysun Rain: Thank you for your honest opinions, it really made me think of how I can change some things in this story to make it a whole lot better~
AngelFly424: Thanks for the advice! Actually thisstory is sort of like an "opening act" for the sequel, most of the small details in this will be linked in my second story. So I guess it's setting everything up. And I really like long reviews~! Just like most people like long chapters! Oh and I did plant some surprises in here, but…it's all depends on how well you can predict
Shazza-Girl: Thanks for your review, I love it when reviews are long :]
mll7997: I hope this update was worth the hideous wait!! You can blame all the school work~
Laladots14: Thank you for reviewing! Hope you like the chapter!
Emberclaw: Thanks for reviewing, you were the first one of the chapter! :]
Mia: Thanks for the review, I'm hoping that this chapter is good enough for you guys~ :)
SSF of Chapter 28:
Zach and the spies started the test but that's not the only thing that started. With a fire of a gun, the real fight begins. Rouge agents reveal themselves and attack the students of the sophomore class, most if not all freshmen were ushered out of the chaotic room--without a single clue to what it was about…"Was that the test?" is the question on their minds.
Yes, it's true in the world of spies you carry a gun. That's common knowledge, but of course, not only ONE shot is fired…no, it's as many shots as the person wielding that gun want. The more bloodthirsty that person is, the more gunshots would be let loose.
Chapter 29: The Last: Fight, Regret, and Words
Time: 8:34 p.m.
Location: Ballroom, Blackthorne Institute for Boys
P.O.V: Dana Amelia Jordon
"Get out of range," I ordered, passing Cammie as I ran.
I wasn't even looking at her, my eyes were on the man standing close to the wall. But from a smudge reflection I saw that a figure in a golden gown was helping Cammie get away. I didn't see if she agreed or not, or if she liked my decision. But I felt her presence leave and I ran towards the threat.
His ice-blue eyes stared at me in surprise and shock. I didn't see what was so surprising at first because I was so caught up in the moment. I was still running at him. His figure became larger and taller as I neared him.
All those times with Cecile did pay off, I thought to myself and stole one of the moves that my father had created. I bent my legs a bit and jumped as I ran, sending me bulleting at my target. I raised my right arm, my hand outstretched as if I was going to slap him. I'm going to do worse. I did this all in a quick sequence.
My hand grabbed him dark hair, lacing my fingers thoroughly through it. I was still catapulted into the air as I tackled him into the wall, not only that but slamming his forehead straight into the wall he was in front of.
But I should've known. This guy wasn't going down without a good fight. We both collapsed onto the ground, him with blood gushing down from his forehead and half-conscious. Damn it! I cursed silently to myself. I hadn't mastered that move yet…far from it. The way my father had done it would've killed that man instantly.
I was left lying down with a dagger sticking out of my side. How ironic, with my codename and all. The Dagger was taken out by a dagger. The pain was strangely warmer than a usual wound, it spread quicker too.
I looked closer at the knife and I tried to move my arm to take it out immediately. The strange way the light reflected off it, I knew it was poisoned…my arm didn't move. If I had closed my eyes I was certain I could've fooled myself that I didn't even have an arm anymore.
"How?" he whispered. I looked at him, now that I saw him up close he wasn't as hideous as I presumed. Underneath all the blood and sweat he had handsome face with clean-cut features. He would've looked more handsome if it weren't for the ice-blue eyes that looked hateful.
"How what?" I asked softly. I should've figured that he'd have a poisoned knife. Poisons and toxins were one of their specialties. Maybe I should take an early retirement, I mused.
"The bullet…I aimed for your heart…it was off quite a bit…but---" he started but the gasp of pain stopped him.
I thought back to the situation. I was running towards him to get ready to fight. Yes, it was true I saw his gun…and I heard the sound of the bullet propelling out of it but all that was on my mind by then was stopping him. Not the bullet. Good for my mental health. Stupid for an agent.
I'm losing my touch, I thought. And in retrospect I think it was the one thing that convinced me into the decision of leaving.
"It should have wounded you at the very least," he forced out, his expression grim and pained. I looked down at myself, I was half covered in dried copper-colored blood and half leaking it out. I stared at my chest, not even the midnight black of my dress could hide that I was bleeding there too.
My eyes widened and I realized I must have ignored the sharp pain to fight him (a bad habit I picked up)…but, it didn't feel as bad as other bullet wounds I've had before. If I were completely and utterly honest I wouldn't even classify it as a bullet wound. But it still stung badly.
This small movement had made me gasp out in pain, I was aching all over. I bit my bottom lip hard to keep from groaning. My lower body felt like it was on fire while my chest was stinging as if it were a deep, deep paper cut. But that little section of where the knife was in me was numb, as if the cells in that area were dying off…
"Did you really think your dumb counterfeit would work?" the man gasped out. I looked at him and smirked through my pain.
"Where's the book?" he hissed before I could fade into unconsciousness. I shifted into my mask, even drugs couldn't keep a spy down when it came to facial expressions, every agent knew that. Before I could deny anything another gunshot filled the air and another scream along with it. A male scream.
The cry of pain made the air dense and heavy and the poison that was flowing in what was left of my bloodstream peaked. I couldn't hold it anymore. I cried out, it felt as if the chemicals attached themselves onto individual cells, killing them.
The excruciating pain didn't give and grew more fierce, it spread quickly but the pain grew slowly. I wanted to join the shrieks of pain that floated in one of my ears and out the other. But the drugs were doing what I assumed was their purpose.
My lungs were slowly stopping their function and I could almost feel them drowning in my own blood. If I miraculously lived from this I'd only be ordered into an asylum. I'd go mad from all of this. Obviously I couldn't tell if the man with the ice-blue eyes was still there. Everything in my vision was blurred.
But this pain paled in comparison to how ashamed I felt for all of this, for not keeping my promises to those I loved, for letting everything escalate to this level. I was dying….drowning in my bloody regrets, my apologies and last words don't even make it out of my throat, instead I start hacking up my blood.
The heated copper taste in my mouth made me want to gag as I gasp as much air as possible, panting. Though once I died I'd be rigged of this physical pain, nothing would stop the regret that would haunt my heart, my turmoil would be there to stay. Whether I went to heaven or hell, it'll be there…
I'm so sorry, Rachel…
Time: 8:42 p.m.
Location: Ballroom, Blackthorne Institute for Boys
P.O.V: Rebecca Baxter
"Liz!" I shouted, giving a roundhouse kick to the brunette teacher in front of me. The teacher who pulled out a gun, or at least one of them.
He had already shot a few Blackthorne Boys, all were still breathing but were wounded. The gun flew from his grip and I felt a sharp jab in my side after that. The gun was gone but he was still fighting.
I saw a flash of blonde hair with a baby blue dress and found that Tina tackled the man. Eva was behind her and jumped on him too, using her salmon-colored scarf to begin strangling him.
I saw Liz struggling to get away from a man twice her size and dashed to her rescue. The room had transformed from the quiet and classical dance room into a raging war.
We ("we" being the Gallagher Academy and Blackthorne Institute) beat them…number-wise. There was many of us while only a few of them.
But what are the odds of over 20 spies-in-training against about 8 professional agents? Why would they ambush us with so little? I wondered as I punched the man--who had Liz--right in the nose.
That didn't stop him, it only provoked him. He looked at me with anger glowing from his smoky brown eyes. At that moment I saw one of Logan's friends--Mitchell Black-- glide down towards the steel gun and snatched it.
Could he use it? I thought rapidly, barely dodging one of the attacker's blows. The sight and sound of a bullet being shot answered my question. The gun had one defect, Mitchell was one of the main targets to them now. Because of that distraction I hadn't saw the brunette's leg muscles shift and I got a powerful kick to my side, thrusting me across the floor.
My hair covered my pained face. It felt like my side was burning, it ached. It was as if someone stuck a knife into me and started twisting it fast and hard. I clutched it and feebly rolled over, the strands of my dark hair fell from my face but felt the urge to fight flare through me.
I saw that Kim and Mick were kicking and clawing (specially CIA manicured nails can do a whole lot more than look cute) at the man who threw me, he retaliated and grabbed Mick's wrist; ready to snap it. I got up and ran full speed at him. My fight with him wasn't over just yet.
Time: 8:45 p.m.
Location: Ballroom, Blackthorne Institute for Boys
P.O.V: Macey McHenry
I gazed at the horrific seen before charging right into it. It was just one so-called teacher yet three Blackthorne Boys couldn't restraint him.
I thought back to the lessons that Cammie and Bex tutored me on P&E and spun on my heel, turning my whole body to nail the man straight in the neck. He roared out of pain and tossed the 8th grader he was practically strangling aside.
I stepped back for another kick but he anticipated it and grabbed my arm when I was ready to spin again. The enemy's hand was huge and strong, it crushed my arm and twisted it. I bit my lip hard to prevent the cries of agony from coming out, squeezing my eyes shut.
I've gotten used to being punched at when I had Bex as a training partner but I knew that this man wasn't going to stop like Bex would. He'd keep going until he heard the satisfying snap of my arm.
That's not all I felt. My feet didn't feel any ground under me now. I opened my eyes in shock to see he lifted me as if I weighed as much as one of those petite wine glasses. But I didn't stay in his arms as long as I thought. He pulled his arms back and I was flying above the room, clashing onto a nearby refreshment table.
The great force had me gliding across it, crushing the decorative food and plates I encountered. I went over the edge and onto the ground, resting on my side. The shards of the china that I demolished were jabbed into my skin, tearing my dress and drawing small amounts of blood from many places.
For a moment I just felt numb, unable to feel or see the hurt. That didn't last long either. I heard a broken scream of pain and found that it was mine own.
"Macey!" a voice bellowed, echoing my scream.
I sat up and pain shot through my abdomen it was only then that I realized that when I smashed into a plate, it jammed almost half of itself into my stomach area. My arms and legs were slit and cuts scattered across them. It stung badly and the blood was constantly flowing down my pale skin. I had lost more blood than I thought.
"Macey!" the voice cried again, I heard something that sounded almost like desperation in it.
But for some reason the voice didn't sound as loud and clear as it was before. I had a feeling that my ears had popped, that was how it felt. I shakily brought my fingers to my ear and felt that it was wet. I pulled back and saw that fingers were drenched with a dark red substance.
I stifled a scream and had enough sense to start dabbing the blood out. I heard a mumble that resembled the shout and through my dizzy, blood-deprived mind I identified the voice. It was her. At that moment I wanted to fight, to show her that when she taught me all about espionage that she wasn't wasting her time.
She was my sister, the only family that actually cared enough about who I was instead of all the publicity my family and I could bring. I wasn't going to lose her and I wouldn't let her lose me. I wanted to shout it out but I wasn't sure it was either a yell or a whisper, nonetheless I still spoke it.
"Fight back, Cammie…"
Time: 8:47 p.m.
Location: Ballroom, Blackthorne Institute for Boys
P.O.V: Zachary Goode
But the thing was…It wasn't my blood…
I was still sitting down when I saw her covered in blood in the corner. The blood smudged onto my hands and I immediately got up. With washed away suspicions I ran over to her, Jordon's with us, I thought. But as I thought this through a misty reflection of a silver platter I saw a man--one of the 8th grade teachers--pointing at me.
I made the mistake of blinking. At the exact moment when my eyelids were shut, the gunfire had gone off with the strong and vibrating burst. I expected before I even opened my eyes to feel the racing hot metal of the bullet lodged into my chest but it never came.
I looked and saw that the man laid motionless on the ground. He was dead. His eyes that used to be a hazel-brown color were rolled back behind his sockets, showing the whites.
His mouth dangled opened, the jaw slack as if he wanted to scream before he dropped dead. The flows of red escaped his grey suit as his body almost seemed to shrink, his hand was still grappling the steel gun. It looked like someone took a scene from a scary movie and brought it to life.
I looked over and saw Solomon, fighting off two of the waiters, in his right hand was a gun. He shot him I realized and observed the rest of the room, counting each of the enemies.
One. A dark brunette man with a red tie was against Bex, Kim Lee and Mick Morrison with Corey and Rich helping them. Mitchell was standing back trying to get a good aim at the man with his gun, his face twisted in concentration.
Two. A guy with the skin as dark as mahogany, in a waiter's uniform was being semi-choked by Eva Alvarez and Tina Walters, with Tim punching the hell out of him.
Three. Grant, Jonas and Mario had teamed up against a bald man with a crooked nose while Courtney Bauer got ready in a position for a maneuver that was illegal in seventeen foreign countries.
Four. The just recently deceased man that Solomon had shot.
Five. A man with black hair was putting up a fight against Cole, Jessica Boden, and John while Liz stayed at a distance with a shard of broken china as her weapon.
Six and Seven. A man with small, black eyes and a guy with a short buzz-cut was throwing punches and kicks at Solomon while he efficiently dodged as many of them as possible.
Seven. Seven men. Most of the room was ushered out from here, some teachers went to guard them while the ones willing to fight stayed. My eyes raced around the room quickly, Professor Nguyen had stayed as well. His back was pressed against Solomon's as the two enemy agents circled them, ready to pounce.
A thought blazed through my mind and I turned, Jordon was gone. Not in the "death" sense of "gone" but actually gone. What was left of her disappeared and the blood left a smudged and drying outline of her body. Her body…I truly knew she was dead.
I knew being an agent could--no, would seal my fate to this possibility. The possibility of falling in my line of duty. I spent sleepless nights thinking of this before I had the option of entering Blackthorne. My parents were the perfect example. Smart, strong, hell of a spy duo. Yet when they returned…their bodies returned, but not them.
I had many concerns at the moment but one that made my stomach drop and made me feel dazedly hot and icy cold the most was about one Gallagher Girl. She could've been with the others that evacuated, I thought but immediately took it back.
She was too hard-headed to do that, her sisters were here and that's where'd she would be. I had done the same with Jonas and Grant. I ran through the room, skimming the outskirts, close to the walls, hoping that Cammie had rubbed off some of her Chameleon abilities on me.
Damn it Cammie, stay alive.
Time: 8:59 p.m.
Location: Ballroom, Blackthorne Institute for Boys
P.O.V: Cameron Ann Morgan
"Macey," I demanded, shaking her shoulder lightly. No response. From the lack of replying my attempts to waking her up--unconsciously--became more aggressive as my voice became more urgent.
I stared at what used to be strong, beautiful, and witty Macey McHenry--the senator's daughter, the descendent of the great Gillian Gallagher herself, an enemy agent's treasure-like goal. My sister.
I swallowed back any emotions that tried to bubble up to the surface. Tears of sadness or profanities of anger weren't going to help revive her. I rolled Macey over, as gently and quickly as possible (which wasn't saying much).
Her back was resting on the tiled ground. I noticed the hot sticky liquid that stuck to me as I moved her, I honestly wish I hadn't. My eyes zeroed in on the medium-sized porcelain disk that jammed itself around her stomach.
"Cam?" a hoarse voice croaked.
This brought my gaze onto her sweaty and bloody face. Macey looked like a supermodel from a murder scene. I nodded and gave my best attempt at a comforting smile.
"It's bad, isn't it?" she whispered, proving that my smile hadn't done its job.
"I'm so sorry, but this is going to hurt," I said softly to her.
She hadn't even blinked when I gripped the shard and yanked it out of her. The blood dripping from the plate I immediately ripped the end of my floor length dress into strips dabbing at the gushing blood. Classes of first-aid rushed into my mind and I was acting on pure instinct.
I blocked out the cry of pain that escaped Macey's ruby red lips and worked furiously on her more serious wound. We were behind one of the damaged refreshment tables that shielded us from the battlefield on the other side. I grasped many cups of fresh water that had survived from the table and flushed them onto her large gash, keeping any possible infections away.
"Only a little bit more," I coaxed as if I were talking to a child. Or at least, tried to coax, but Macey was still stifling groans of pain.
I had used a few tricks that Mom had taught me. I stitched the wound up, closing it temporarily by the threads of my dress and a bobby pin in my tussled hair. Thanks to some champagne and lemon wedges I made an antibiotic.
No matter how much I hated it, I knew I had to leave the room. I had to get Macey somewhere--anywhere. Just somewhere other than here.
"Macey, do you think you can get up?" I asked urgently. Her bright blue eyes lost some of it's hurt look and I saw the old, stubborn Peacock glimmer in them. She nodded, her arm was around me and I lifted her body up slowly.
I wasn't completely used to carrying someone but I settled. I felt her lean almost completely onto me. I snuck a worried glance at how unbalanced she was. That's when I saw it, her right ear was still bleeding. If I remembered, the ear's internal organs had control over balance.
"Cammie," a voice said, my ears were buzzing from all of this. I couldn't identify the voice. I went still, ready to turn. I couldn't tell whether they were my savior or my doorway to death. But nonetheless, I was ready to face either one of them.
Time: 9:06 p.m.
Location: Ballroom, Blackthorne Institute for Boys
P.O.V: Anna Fetterman
"Anna," Cammie breathed, her voice laced with relief. It shocked me to see her like that. Her red strapless dress was torn and just covered her knees now. Minor bruises and red cuts attached themselves to her.
Macey was with her, her mint green dress had smudges of dark copper and I saw red strips (that resembled Cammie's dress) tied around her stomach.
I nodded and hurried over to her and Macey. Macey was barely standing up straight as I wound my arm around her. It was hard (since she was taller than me) but I managed.
"Carry Macey. We have to get help, I'll cover you two while we head to the door," Cammie said, the air of urgency surrounded her like it usually does whenever a situation like this happened.
I simply nodded, knowing that Cammie would've made the best decision for the moment. As we walked I couldn't help but let my mind wander a bit. I watched Cammie get ready in a stance to begin a fight and felt a glow of pride. Which was silly since there were much more critical things to think about.
I didn't think Cammie knew it but she was the unofficial leader of our class. She ordered while we followed without hesitation. Each and every one of us--Kim, Mick, Eva, Courtney, Tina, Liz, Bex, Macey, and heck--even Jessica sometimes--respected her, she was the humble heroine.
Brave. Smart. Strong.
Cammie's back was to my left as she scanned for an inconspicuous exit. Macey was dangling on my right. I took a deep breath and let my eyes drag fearfully, past Macey and back to the multiple fights. I spotted Mr. Watkins from Tech. Ed, his grey eyes spotted me as well. A flicker of hope ignited in my mind. He teaches our 4th period, I thought, reminding me that most of the enemies were waiters and freshmen faculty members.
I was about to tell Cammie that he could help but when my mouth opened, no words came out. The words had crashed in my throat and I felt oddly hot and chilled at the same time.
My eyes were still on him, his were looking past me and at Cammie. He reached into his tuxedo and out held a shiny pistol gun. His gaze and the aim of the gun were locked onto Cammie, it looked like it was aimed at Macey too.
My eyes trained on his hand, the muscles beginning to move. Cammie's back was still towards me and him, her head was turned ever so slightly to look for another door. Macey didn't even look like she was conscious anymore, her face a wall of weariness.
Thoughts and images filled my mind, all the missions our class had done. Almost each of them, Cammie seemed like the one who sacrificed the most. I snapped back out of my short daze, a new determined glow rejuvenated me.
I am a Gallagher Girl. I thought proudly. In a motioned I had turned on my heel, the light yellow hem of my dress had spun with me.
I am willing to sacrifice anything for my country. I had turned, both Macey and Cammie were behind me, my back facing Watkins and his gun.
If I must, I'll die a heroine. The thunderous blast pained my ears, but I was sure the worst was to come.
Time: 9:13 p.m.
Location: Ballroom, Blackthorne Institute for Boys
P.O.V: Zachary Goode
A fist had almost collided with my face, but Grant had already had him in a headlock before the guy could even have a chance. Through my peripherals, a tall man with midnight colored hair was standing still.
It's true that motion is easily spotted but in a room filled with motion and a single person frozen still, the roles were reversed. I took the risk of getting a large bruise on my face and turned my attention in the direction of the motionless figure. Before I could even identify him, a deafening noise exploded throughout the room.
Shock coursed through my veins at the sight of Mr. Watkins. He looked the same as always, black hair slicked back with gel, clouded grey eyes and his large built. But those were just the surface of what he looked like, my eyes were finally opened at what I saw. His clouded grey eyes had always looked calm to me but now they showed the look of a madman.
But this probably didn't shock me as much as the sight of Logan on the ground, blood spilling out of his body as Anna Fetterman fussed over him. It took a moment to contemplate everything that was rushing around me.
It replayed in my head as if it were a movie. The sight of Mr. Watkins--a member of the sophomore faculty--pulling out his gun and taking aim for a student, and not just any student--he aimed at Cammie.
Then watching Anna put herself between the ricocheting bullet and Gallagher Girl, a grim determination on her petite face. And after that, seeing a blaze of a black suit accompanied with ash blonde hair. Before I could even see the expression on his face, the bullet had already punctured his shoulder.
"You bastard!" Mr. Watkins' roared, holding his hand back up in the gesture of shooting another bullet, but intended on Logan's heart.
His mouth was set in an angry line, his jaw was set as he stared at Logan who was pushing Anna away, telling her to run--much to her protests. Logan's face lost its spy mask and all he felt was showing. His eyes were incredibly pained, but a stubborn protectiveness overpowered the malady.
My legs moved without my consent but I was glad they did, I got a running start and spun, my right shoe connecting with the back of Watkins' head. It seemed to hurt him, but he had already retaliated and as my leg was about to return to the ground from my roundhouse kick, he grabbed it.
I expected to be tossed across the room again, but he twisted it instead. I shouted profanities in Swahili as the heated pain crept up my burning leg. His strong hand was turning it slowly, but I wasn't about to await the sickening snap of my ankle.
I balled my hand into a fist and got ready to swing it at his face, but as soon as I looked up, I was met by an obsidian gun pointed right between my eyes and I knew I was a goner.
"Retreat!" a man in a waiter's uniform shouted. My eyes fleeted towards the direction of the speaker.
Dark crimson streaks poured down his face, blinding his left eye. Before he could utter another syllable the familiar sound of another bullet had split through the air into the back of his bald head.
Watkins' eyes widened and I felt his grip on my ankle weaken. I took this as my chance and yanked my leg back but not before jabbing it into his stomach.
I dodged a fast fist aimed at my neck. I saw the small devious smile that pulled at his thin lips and felt his knee connect with my stomach. The pain was immediate I remembered gasping something out, whether it was saliva or blood--I didn't know. I staggered back from the blow and as I opened my eyes I saw Solomon's tuxedoed back, blocking my view of Watkins.
"Sebastian, what do you think you're doing?" Solomon demanded, his voice was harsh, cold and calm--which only made it more frightening.
I wanted to cringe myself and he wasn't even talking to me. I side stepped to watch the scene. Watkins' face was contorted with hate, his calm exterior withered away and his eyes looked like those of someone that belonged in an asylum. He grinned manically.
"I'm doing what's right," Watkins said simply, his grin was still there.
But at that point the hall doors flung wide open and in swarmed more agents in black, but they grappeled no mask. I couldn't tell if they were reinforcements of us or them. I got into a stance ready to fight but a voice stopped me.
"You're truly an idiot, aren't you?" the voice asked. I whipped around, surprised at the new voice that sounded so cold.
My gaze went to the entry doors, there stood a women with long dark hair streaked with silver. Her eyes were just as dark as the mane on her head, her lips were set in a line that was emotionless, but it was obvious she was infuriated.
Watkins said nothing as he stared at the mystery women, equally impassive. But that small moment of silent hadn't lasted long. It was torn to shreds by screams, it didn't startle me as much as before---which is a good thing---but the thought of me being used to these shouts of mercy and agony scared me. It was hard to explain.
"Now!" the mystery women barked out.
The agents that seeped into the room sprang up and swarmed what was left of the room. All the enemy spies were jumped and disposed of, anymore detail of how they "disposed" of them belonged in a PG-13 horror-slash-Sci-Fi movie.
I felt a hand grab my shoulder and it turned my body before I could attempt to flip the attacker. As my eyes met the person's in front of me only one name, one voice, and one image flashed in my mind: Cammie.
But no, I wasn't facing Cammie, but it was close. It was her mother. The women in front of me had hair that was longer and darker than Cammie's and her eyes were a lighter shade of blue. She was devastatingly beautiful, it was obvious to me that they were related. But she wasn't my Gallagher Girl.
"Go with the others," Mrs. Morgan commanded calmly.
I hesitated a moment but nodded. I gave one withering last glance at Wakins--the rouge, double-agent that managed to infiltrate our walls, men surrounded him, holding him down as Watkins shouted profanities. I turned my back on him and headed towards the doors, but before I could even reach out for the handle I heard the last words my former-Tech Ed teacher shouted.
"Ioseph shall live on!"
Hopefully you liked it, hopefully I didn't confuse anyone, and hopefully you guys R E V I E W :]
Please review for the next chapter where it explains most of the questions you might be having like…
Why didn't Dana die if that blue-eyed guy shot at her?
Where IS Dana/Dana's body?
Where's Cammie now?
Is Logan Dead?
The first S E V E N reviewers will get the sneak peak of chapter 30! (:
I'm currently working on a new story and almost have the first chapter down~ I don't really have a title in mind yet so those who are interested in reading may want to alert me~ I hope you guys like it!
Stories I Recommend:
Of Shopping and Tacos - .wombatsrock.
Because Happily Ever After Doesn't Exist - Gallagher Rose
Oh, Honeypot - Klavierliebe
You're Not the One For Me, Are You? - .wombatsrock.
This summer changed E V E R Y T H I N G - .wombatsrock.
Caught in this Mess - vampire music-passion
Our Little Secret - Gallagher Rose
Please review and check out my next story when it comes out :]
~A Fairly-Busy Diva~