“Shit. Someone’s let them through the main door.”
Ry nodded silently, his hand moving to the inside of his jacket pocket. When it slipped out again, he was holding something in his palm.
“Ry?”
“Stay behind me,” he instructed.
I moved behind him, almost completely shielded by his height and bulk. His right hand tightened into a fist, and that was when I saw it. Thick, heavy brass wrapped his knuckles. It caught the daylight that flooded in from the kitchen window behind us, dented and brutal. Ryan caught my wrist before I reached the handle.
“I said stay behind me,” he hissed, pulling me backwards.
The flat fell quiet around us as he moved towards the door instead, not standing directly in front of it but slightly to the side as he glanced through the spyhole.
“Shit,” he hissed, backing away, and my heart stopped beating for a half second. “It’s your dad.”
“Shit,” I repeated.
“You going to let him in?”
I nodded, feeling the nausea build in my stomach and my heart beating in my ears. I glared at the door handle, then up at Ry, and back to the door. The knock rattled the door, heavier this time. Ryan slipped the brass knuckle duster from his hand and pushed it back into his pocket. His fingers found mine and squeezed gently and I gripped the door handle with the other.
“Dad?” I tried to sound surprised instead, I just squeaked.
“Sophie.” He stepped in without being invited.
The flat suddenly felt too small. Dad’s eyes moved around it quickly, taking everything in the way they always did. The case on the living room floor. Ryan’s boots by the door. The leather cut slung over the arm of a chair. Evidence. Assessments. Conclusions. Then his gaze landed on Ryan.
“I thought I saw the Rocket outside.”
Ryan leaned casually against the wall beside the door, but I could feel the tension radiating off him, anyway.
“Funny that,” he replied flatly.
Dad ignored him entirely. That almost felt worse.
“I’ve been hearing interesting things lately,” he said, looking back at me now. “Like the fact my daughter’s apparently been spending most nights at the late Mr Dodd’s address.”
The formal way he said Magnet’s name made something twist inside me. Like he was a case file instead of someone we’d been mourning.
“I’ve been helping Suzy,” I answered carefully.
“With members of an organised criminal gang.”
“Motorcycle club,” Ryan corrected sharply.
Dad’s jaw tightened slightly. Tiny movement. Most people wouldn’t notice it. I did. Ryan definitely did.
“You’re a doctor, Sophie.” His voice softened slightly then, slipping into that reasonable tone that used to work on me every single time. “You’ve worked too hard for this life to throw it away now.”
Throw it away. Like grief was contamination. Like caring about them diminished me somehow.
“You need to decide what exactly it is you’re choosing here.”
Silence hung in the air. Ryan hadn’t moved once behind him. Hadn’t interrupted again. But I could feel him there like a second heartbeat. My throat tightened painfully.
“Thank you, Dad.”
Confusion flickered across his face instantly. Genuine confusion.
