Magnet. Gone. Fuck.
I let go of Suzy, passing her to Emmie, glanced back at Sophie, and then I moved. Big, long strides taking me out of the corridor. Away from the bleep of machines and the smell of antiseptic.
Chapter Thirty Two
The sound Suzy made followed me long after the corridor fell quiet again. It sat somewhere deep inside my chest now. Lodged there. Raw and jagged.
I’d told families bad news before. More times than I cared to remember. That was part of the job. The ugly side of medicine no one talked about when they imagined white coats and saving lives. Sometimes all you could do was stand in front of someone and destroy their world with a sentence.
But this felt different.
Because somewhere over the last few days, they’d stopped being just visitors in ICU. They’d become people to me. Suzy’s laugh. Emmie’s quiet kindness. Mamma Dot arriving with homemade dinners wrapped in tea towels and complaining I worked too hard while she force-fed me cottage pie at the nurses’ station. Chaos and Carnage bickering constantly like they shared one brain cell between them. Fury pretending he hated everyone while secretly making sure coffee appeared in everyone’s hands before they realised they needed it.
And Ryan.
I watched him disappear down the corridor, long, angry strides carrying him away from all of us, and something twisted painfully in my chest. He looked exactly as he had thirteen years ago, the day before I never saw him again. We’d argued. Not over anything big. Just my father again. His rules. His curfews. The endless questions about where I was going and who I was with.
I’d defended him like I always did back then. Told Ryan he was just protective. That he worried. But Ryan had seen something I couldn’t. Something darker underneath it.
“He doesn’t protect you, Grey,” he’d snapped at me that night outside as he sat astride the little 125 he used to ride. “He controls you.”
I’d been furious. Told him he didn’t understand. That not everyone grew up like him. Wild and free and answerable to no one.
I could still see that look on his face. The look I’d seen every night for years afterwards. Hurt. Frustrated. Helpless. Like he could already see the cage closing around me while I stood there insisting the bars weren’t real.
Only this time he was a man grown. Bigger. Harder. More dangerous. And somehow the grief pouring out of him now felt bigger too.
In the foreground, Suzy sobbed harder into Emmie’s shoulder while Indie crouched in front of her, one hand steady against her arm. Calm. Grounded. Holding everyone together even while grief hollowed him out too.
That was the thing I was beginning to understand about them. The world saw leather. Violence and criminals. But underneath it all, they loved each other with a fierceness I rarely saw anywhere else. A family forged from chaos, instead of blood. And now one of them was gone.
Tears cooled against my own cheeks. Silent ones. I wiped at them quickly, embarrassed. Doctors weren’t supposed to cry. Not visibly anyway. I had no right to be involved in their grief. But despite every wall I’d built around myself over the years, somehow his death hurt.
Around us, the hospital carried on, regardless. Monitors bleeped. Phones rang. Tannoys crackled overhead. Somewhere nearby, a patient laughed loudly at something on daytime television. Life continued in cruel indifference to the devastation sitting in the middle of this corridor. And standing amongst the grief and leather cuts and fluorescent lights, I realised with sudden, terrifying clarity, I didn’t want to leave them.
Suzy eventually lifted her head from Emmie’s shoulder, eyes swollen and red raw, grief still pouring out of her in silent tremors.
“I need to see him,” she whispered.
Nobody tried to stop her.
I stepped forward quietly instead. “I’ll take you.”
Her fingers latched onto mine instantly. Cold. Shaking. The walk back to the ward felt slower this time. Heavier. Suzy barely spoke, only stumbled beside me like each step took conscious effort. The unit had dimmed slightly for the evening, where darkness poured in, lights softened where they could. It was quiet, as though everyone held their breath, whispers between the other patients whilst monitors still beeped and blinked endlessly in the gloom.
Magnet looked peaceful. That was always the cruellest part. No pain anymore. No violence. No chaos. Just stillness.
Suzy broke again the second she saw him, a small, wounded sound leaving her as she crossed the room and collapsed against the side of the bed. I stayed near the doorway, giving her space while she pressed trembling fingers against his hand and whispered things too quiet for me to hear. Promises maybe. Or apologies. Or simply goodbye.
After a few minutes, I slipped quietly back out into the corridor, pulling the door mostly closed behind me. The club was gathered further down the hallway now, voices low and rough. Fury stood with his arms folded. Baz smoked angrily on an unlit cigarette he wasn’t allowed to spark indoors. Indie stood in the middle of them all, steady as ever while the others circled around him.
“We can’t leave her alone,” Emmie said firmly.
“We won’t,” Indie answered immediately. “Question is where.”
“Not the house,” Fury muttered. “Not after this.”
“She’ll want her own bed tonight,” Emmie shot back.
