Taylor stared at the paper, eyes darting back and forth across the writing as though not quite believing it was real. Johnny’s stomach swooped at the swell of conflicting emotions across the bond.
“I don’t need her,” Taylor whispered, before clearing his throat. “You’ve been more of a mum to me than she ever was.”
Maman rushed forwards, pulling Taylor into her arms. “I know, Tay. You are my son and always will be. But, rightly or wrongly, Rose will always be your mum. I know it doesn’t feel like it but…” Her eyes started to well up. “But sometimes the kindest thing a parent can do is let a child go, and I think… I think your mum knew that when she let me take you with us.”
Taylor blinked, tears shaking free from his lashes as he took the paper. “I don’t know,” he said, staring at it. “I’ll think about it.”
“That’s all she asks,” Maman said, pushing up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
Johnny squeezed Taylor’s hand. “You don’t have to decide anything right now. Or even a year from now. The pack is yours and you are ours, Taylor Campbell. Never forget that.”
Taylor swallowed, lip trembling as he tucked the paper into his pocket. He pressed his forehead to Johnny’s and said, “I know, JP. I know.”
CHAPTER 32
HMP STONEHEATH
Johnny
“It’s bad out there,”Isla said, pressing her forehead to the blacked-out window. She blinked slowly, her breath fogging the glass. “Fuckwhoever told the press we were coming today.”
Johnny scanned the road ahead, fingers tight around the steering wheel of the unmarked van. They were an hour out of Falkington, but people were already swarming the roads, their chants ringing out across the countryside.
They were on their way to HMP Stoneheath, the only high security omega prison in the country; an oppressive, black-stoned, high-walled Victorian monster that looked better suited to a horror film. Like most prisons, it was in the middle of nowhere, hidden away from the general public like one of the government’s many dirty little secrets.
But not anymore.
Following the alpha murders and the internment of Reuben Atkinson, Sally Maverick, Leo Chantry and Maya Sharma, it had well and truly been placed on the map, and according to the news, omegas from across the country gathered outside its front gates like some kind of religious pilgrimage.
The atmosphere in the van was thick with tension. No music, no chatting; even Taylor kept his mouth shut as they made the uneasy drive across the Midlands. The only sound came from Amil’s tap, tap, tapping in the back as he worked furiously on his laptop. Wendy kept her head down, eyes glued to her phone.
Isla was sitting in the front next to Johnny. She’d gone back and forth all morning about whether to wear her uniform or a suit, but in the end she’d settled on jeans and a blue jumper.
“It’s been six months since I last saw him,” she said, tugging at her sleeve. “I hope he’s managed to keep his weight up.”
Amil shifted in his seat, rubbing his eyes as he snapped the laptop shut. “With the shit they feed them in there? I doubt it.”
“Can we put the radio on or something?” Taylor said, propping a leg up on the prisoner cage door. “This silence is fucking depressing.”
“It isn’t a happy occasion,” Amil replied, sliding the laptop into his bag. “You’ve seen the state of it out there. The protests are peaceful now, but it’s only a matter of time before the looting and destruction start.”
Johnny wished Amil were wrong, but things had changed since the news broke about Benny Pearce. The protests that had only been in the cities were spilling into the smaller towns, taking hold of communities in a classic case of social contagion.
Everyone seemed angrier, more determined than ever to push back against the justice system, the health services, government buildings. Hell, even Dingly Heath police station had been egged three times in two weeks.
According to their internal comms, omegas had gathered outside court houses up and down the country, holding placards and chanting “FREE RUEBEN ATKINSON,” “FREE THE FOUR,” “JUSTICE FOR OMEGAS.” Johnny couldn’t blame them, and if he hadn’t still been a police officer he’d have been marching alongside them.
They had the numbers, a cause, and now they had a face for that cause. Four faces, actually.
He shivered every time he thought about Maya. About how he’d looked into the face of a killer for months and not even known it.
“Well I for one have a cracking weekend planned,” Wendy said, her voice bringing Johnny back to the present. “Wallace is taking me to a paint and sip thing tonight, then we’re off for a dirty weekend at the coast.”
Johnny glanced in the rearview mirror, snorting when he saw Amil roll his eyes. “Just remember to sip the wine and not the paint,” Amil said, toeing the base of a traffic cone that had slid out of its holder.
“You’re just jealous,” Wendy replied, reaching through the gap in the chairs to pinch Johnny’s cheek. “Because after tomorrow I’ll be a free woman. JP too.”
Amil grumbled, pushing the back of Johnny’s chair with his knee. He jerked a thumb towards Taylor, who had started dozing off with his head against the window. “Can’t believe you’re leaving me withthisfuckwit.”
