That hurt. Because it wasn’t an accusation. It was worse. A doubt. Silence stretched again.
“There’s more movement,” Ash said, shifting slightly, tone changing. Sharpening. “Notorious. The Hand. They’re watching your lot.”
“They’ve always watched.”
“Not like this.”
I looked at him.
“They’re not just watching business,” he said. “They’re watching behaviour.” A pause. “Patterns.”
Something cold slid down my spine.
“They’ve noticed,” Ash went on, “how distracted your members have been.”
I didn’t need him to spell that out either. Women. Attachments. Weak spots.
“They’re going to use it,” he said bluntly. “Notorious are already talking about it. The Hand are moving the same way.”
My jaw tightened. Ash held my gaze.
“They’ll come at what matters,” he said simply. “Or who.” My stomach twisted. “And if word gets out,” he added, quieter now, “that your club’s got leaks… and loose ends walking in and out your doors?”
He shook his head slightly.
“That alliance we’ve got?” Another beat. “It won’t hold the same weight.”
There was no threat in it. Just fact. Just consequence. I stared at him, something darker settling in my chest now. Something heavier than suspicion. Because this wasn’t just about the club anymore. It was bleeding into something else.
Something I didn’t have control over. And that, that was the problem.
Chapter Fifteen
It hit me the moment I opened the front door, my eyes skirting down the stairs, looking for someone who shouldn’t be there. I paused a little longer on the door handle of the big wooden door on the ground floor, scared to open it for fear of what might be waiting for me outside.
But nothing would be. I already knew that. I’d already scanned the road outside, looking for a car that didn’t belong. A person standing too far back. I exhaled. This was ridiculous. It was anxiety. Paranoia. This feeling of being watched had been overwhelming me daily ever since I sat at the Northern Kings clubhouse and then faking ignorance about it during my father's interrogation.
And now, as I pulled open the big front door and peered out into the leafy street in Jesmond, at the expensive cars that lined the road, and the distant purr of traffic moving over the bypass in the distance, it hit me hard again. Not something I could point to. Just a feeling, and it had settled low in my stomach and refused to move.
I paused on that step longer than I needed to, my fingers tightening around my keys as my gaze swept the street for a second time. Everything looked normal. The same cars. The same net curtains twitching in the windows opposite. The same early morning stillness, broken only by the distant hum of traffic. Normal.
I checked the door twice after I locked it. Then turned towards my car. I didn’t rush. Didn’t give whatever this was the satisfaction. But I felt it, glancing at each car as I passed it, searching for someone inside them and finding no one. No engines idling. No movement. Still, I didn’t relax until I was inside my own, the doors locked, the engine running. Even then, I checked the mirrors an extra twice. Pathetic.
Gripping the wheel, my knuckles pale, I filtered onto the Central Motorway, counting the cars behind me, looking for anyone that might have followed me from home. My father’s voice slipped into my head again, uninvited.
You’d do well to be careful, Sophie.
My jaw tightened. I pulled out into a stream of traffic, slipping into space. Cars filtered in behind me. Normal. And still I watched.
By the time I reached work, my shoulders were tight, my hands aching from gripping the steering wheel. Nothing had happened. Not a single thing. Yet, that feeling hadn’t left me, justdoubled in strength. Pressure building in my chest. Something gripping my ribs in an over-enthusiastic-hug-sort-of-way.
I took the last parking space at the far end of the car park again. Nearly the same one as when I’d seen Ryan that night. That feeling of unease again, and now it felt like it had rooted in my bones.
A & E was already busy. Phones ringing. Doors opening and closing. Voices overlapping in that constant, controlled chaos that usually grounded me. Usually. Today it felt different. Sharper. Every sound in there carrying a threat. Something about to spill over. Something about to go wrong. And that grip on my chest that I’d been fighting all the way here tightened.
I dropped my bag into a locker, pushing my coat in with it. Forcing my hands to move through the motions I knew so well. White coat on. Stethoscope in position. I kicked off my boots and slipped into my comfy trainers. Routine. Control. But my eyes kept drifting. To the corridor. To the patients walking past. And then to the waiting room as I stepped out onto the floor.
The hospital was packed. A recent sunny spell causing chaos the way it always did. Gardening injuries. Falls. Domestic violence, the stuff you always saw when the sun came out. But something felt different today. Patients waited: tired, frustrated and bored. That wasn’t unusual. Nothing looked off. It just felt different. Or maybe that was me.
