wanted (phan) || book #3

seven

(A/N: LETS ALL TAKE A SECOND TO APPRECIATE HOW STUNNING THIS FANART IS BY storywritinghomo)

tw// small mentions of abuse

D A N ' S  P O V

I hadn't been this scared in awhile.

I mean, it's not like I haven't been kidnapped, found out my boyfriend murdered my brother, was forced to publicly speak in support group, had been stabbed, almost been killed countless times, watched my mother die, bullied for years, escaped the cops thousands of times- okay nevermind, I've felt worse than I do right now.

But this? This right here was a fucking death wish in my opinion, while Phil wasn't worried one bit.

It had been a week since we planned this, days of reading patients' information and discussing how we'd get in and out.

Phil's basic plan was to cut the power so the security cameras would be off and the electrically-powered cages would unlock. After that, we throw on masks and hoodies and bring a weapon just in case. Then we get the patient out and we live and don't get arrested.

Hopefully.

Phil waved a finger at me, motioning for me to hurry up. I kept my hoodie over my head, the top already soaked considering that we were outside in the pouring rain. I let out a startled squeak when thunder rumbled.

Yes, even after all these months, I still had astraphobia. Phil reached back and intertwined our hands to calm me down. I felt at ease until I noticed the knife in his free hand, furrowing my eyebrows and focusing on the real mission here.

We tiptoed into the shack and I spotted the generator, Phil furrowed his eyebrows. He set the scissors between his teeth as he pulled at the wires, trying to figure out which one to cut. I stood behind him, facing the other way, anxiously on alert for anyone that might come in.

"Hurry up," I hissed.

"I've got it, babe," Phil breathed, and I heard the click behind me. I jumped when the lights flashed out and I inched back, bumping into Phil's body which caused him to giggle. "Told you."

"Y-yeah, let's just get this over with," I stuttered, pulling out my flashlight. I tossed Phil his and we clicked ours on, shining the lights and rushing out the shack. Shouting and yelling erupted from the asylum, indicating that the lights were out in that building too.

Well that was easy.

"What do you two think you're doing?"

Nevermind.

I spun to see a worker, clipboard in hand and confusion etched on his face.

I heard the gun click in Phil's hands and I hurried to step in front of my boyfriend, forcing a smile at the worker.

"My father works here, he wanted me to shut off the power because he didn't want any of the patients getting electrocuted if lightning hit the place. It'll be back on once it blows over. Sorry for startling you, sir."

The man's lips formed into a tight line before he sighed. "Alright, just get inside, would ya? It's pouring out here." With that he turned and walked off, and Phil looked at me.

"I love you, you know that?" He smirked. I giggled, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"I know," I responded, and headed inside. Phil shoved his weapons into his pockets, keeping his pocket knife in his sleeve.

We pushed open the door to see the place empty and I let out a relieved breath. The door shut behind us and Phil and I slid to hide up against the wall, thankful that the darkness hid us extra well.

Phil peeked around the corner and looked back at me, nodding. I followed him and clenched my fists, ready to swing at anyone who wanted to interfere.

"First patient: Layla Clark- here for killing her own brother."

"Sounds promising," I joked sarcastically. I took the paper from him, shining my light over it to read.

"Who the hell are you people?"

I spun around to see an angry-looking woman, hand on her hip and pouted lips.

I walked forward, forcing a smile. "Ma'am-"

"I'm calling the police!" She cried, turning on her heel to run. I yanked out my dart gun, the weapon filled with sedatives rather than harmful bullets. I shot her once, twice, before she dropped to the ground.

"No you're not," I remarked, standing and looking at her unconscious body. I dragged her behind a desk, hiding her from entrance view.

"Found it," Phil called behind me. I stood and followed him to the cell. "Your name's Layla, correct?"

"The one and only," she shot him a lopsided smirk. "What d'ya want?"

"We wanna get you out. You killed your brother, right?"

She nodded once. "The bitch raped me. More than once. I told my parents but they never believed me."

"And where are your parents now?" I piped in.

"Dead," she replied nonchalantly, her voice bitter. My eyes widened. "But they don't know that."

"I like your style, Clark," Phil told her.

"Finally- the credit I deserve," she played, giggling. "So, my senses tell me there's something you want for my freedom. And it is?"

"Are you willing to become the enemy of a hundred or more people?" Phil questioned. She stepped forward, wrapping her slender fingers around the metal bars.

"Oh honey," she began. "The whole world is my enemy."

Phil nodded once and opened the door, letting the dark haired girl out. She let her bare feet slide against the floor, her scrubs lazily hugging her pale, skinny body.

"This is going to be fun," she grinned like the Cheshire cat then, and I extended my hand. She took it, shaking it, her grey eyes sparking once our skin touched.

Then, we three pondered off.

"Next up: Oliver Skyes. In here for being a danger to himself and others."

"How many people are we getting from here exactly?" I asked, following the two in front of me.

"Just relax, baby," Phil reassured me, not turning to look at me. I furrowed my eyebrows. "We'll be alright."

But the grin on his face told me that it was going to be anything but alright.