REACTION: END OF THE EVENT.
It was like the world exploded in a flurry around him when her name hit his ears.
The Thames dunk a distant memory, overshadowed by the revelation that Elaina, his best friend, was, in fact, alive. His world seemed to stop. He’d thought she was dead, spent countless nights when he wasn’t ‘working’ to search for his best friend. The woman who kept him in line, and no matter what happened, with her gone, he’d been a loose cannon. He’d been like a dog without its master.
But there’d been in a day in those months where he’d made himself accept it, so it’d hurt a little less when the inevitable happened. But he’d been wrong. There was this sickening sense of guilt that bubbled in the pit of his stomach, curdling.
‘‘She’s alive.’‘ He’d repeated, cheeks flushed a violent red. Maybe it was the mix of alcohol that was coursing through his veins or the rage that had settled finally. There wasn’t a shake in his body, instead he stood tall with shoulders drawn back and jaw taut as his teeth clench with unmoving anger.
He would never admit to the fact he almost cried with relief when he had heard those words, that he hadn’t barrelled towards the dock where they’d found her, but there wasn’t anything he could do. Not to help Elaina, anyway.
He could certainly do something about the Russians, and he wasn’t the only person with that idea. As the group congregated and split off, Olivier sought out Delphine.
It wasn’t until the chaos erupted that he was moving. Orders barked at him to find Aurélié by his boss and the woman he had sworn to protect until his dying breath, but he wouldn’t argue with her. Without hesitation, he was running towards the madness. Elaina and Emilia were on his mind.
The fighting, the bullets, and the bodies that were falling. Some bullets ricochet. He could hear metal vs metal clanging as they bounced off, either rendered useless or catching someone on its descent. However, for once he had a one track mind. Located Aur. Reaching across into the kitchen, he grabbed a cork screw, placing it between his fingers.
It wouldn’t do much against a gun, but he needed something. He sucked in three breaths in quick succession, psyching himself up before he was outside and someone lunged at him. He didn’t even luck as he jammed the screwdriver up, eyes focused and feral.
As he fought, Olivier's mind flashed back to the countless nights he had spent searching for Elaina, to know that these filthy fucking cretins had their grubby, dirty mother fucking hands on her? He pulled his hand back and jabbed the cork screw in again with a snarl falling from her lips.
‘’I hope it was fucking worth it.’’ He couldn't believe she was alive, and the thought of finally seeing her again gave him renewed strength.
Despite the surrounding chaos, he remained focused on his mission, pushing the body aside as he kept on walking, looking through the people dispersing, trying to get away from the horror. Another shot from somewhere else had him ducking. He darted and weaved through the melee, his makeshift weapon at the ready. Blood spattered his clothes, and his heart pounded in his chest, but he didn't falter.
Finally, he spotted Aurélié, and he raced towards her, until someone else slammed into his body and pain shot through him. He was wrestling on the ground, fighting for his life. Somewhere in a stampede of others, he was pushed from the other man and managed to clamber up, only to find he couldn’t see her. Head snapping left and then right.
‘‘Fuck.’‘ He yelled, looking to find the horror that had become the boat.
Within ten minutes of that moment, Olivier would see her. Dead. When his knees gave way,, he realised just how much they’d lost tonight. He hadn’t bothered to check the wounds from his own fighting. It was like each French man had decided to let out their inner beast tonight.
And he would be no different.