“For what?”
I swallowed hard.
“Because that’s the first time you’ve ever given me a choice instead of making it for me.”
The room went deathly still.
Dad stared at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I looked at Ryan then. Just briefly. The same boy I’d loved at seventeen hidden somewhere underneath the man prison and violence had built over him.
“You made that choice thirteen years ago,” I said quietly. “Not me.”
Dad’s eyes shifted slowly towards Ryan. And for the first time in my life, I saw uncertainty creep into them. Ryan straightened slightly, voice low and rough when he finally spoke.
“Told you back then she’d figure it out, eventually.”
Dad held Ryan’s gaze for a long moment. The air turned thick, hanging on the silence, the only noise the faint hum of traffic somewhere beyond the windows. Then Dad gave the smallest nod. Not agreement. Not even acceptance. Recognition that a line had been drawn.
“You always were good at playing the long game,” he said quietly.
Ryan’s expression never shifted. “Learnt from the best.”
Something cold flickered across Dad’s face then. Gone almost instantly. His attention returned to me. I waited for the lecture. The anger. The order to come home. Instead, he simply looked older. Tired maybe.
“You think this ends well?” he asked softly.
I glanced at Ryan. At the suitcase sitting on the floor, knowing we were being shipped off whilst something awful was being taken care of that we didn’t really know much about. At the man who’d stood between me and danger every single day sincehe’d turned up bleeding in my A&E without ever asking me for anything in return.
“No,” I answered honestly. “I think it ends truthfully.”
Dad stared at me for another second before giving a short nod to himself, like some private thought had finally settled into place. Then he stepped backward towards the door. When he opened it, cold air rushed into the flat.
“You’re still my daughter, Sophie.”
The words should’ve sounded comforting. Instead, they felt like a warning. The door clicked shut behind him, and for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel trapped afterwards.
*****
Rain threatened overhead but never quite fell, the sky hanging low and swollen above Newcastle while the street outside Mamma Dot’s little house filled steadily with women, bags and tension. A minibus sat idling at the kerb. Plain white. No company markings. Nothing that stood out. Just another airport run or late-night taxi to anyone passing by. Which was exactly the point.
“Honestly, you’d think we were fleeing the fucking country,” Ciara muttered as one of the twins struggled to force three overstuffed suitcases into the back.
“You lot packed enough for six months,” he shot back. “Thought we were lying low, not relocating.”
“I’ve got two kids,” Emmie complained. “There’s half a dozen stuffed animals in one of those suitcases. Ifyou lothad stopped gifting cute cuddly toys every time you see Lily we wouldn’t be in this situation.”
Heidi snorted beside him while Suzy sat silently near the front of the minibus wrapped in one of Mamma Dot’s thick knitted cardigans despite the mild spring air. She never seemed warm anymore. I stayed close to her instinctively.
Mamma Dot bustled around, handing each of us a carefully packed lunch like we were travelling hours away instead of up the coast in a tactical evacuation.
“You lot still need feeding,” she scolded when Tori rolled her eyes at another container being shoved into the bus. “You need food in a war. Fills the belly and steadies the mind.”
Tori muttered something under her breath and climbed into the back seat, cigarette tucked behind one ear and an expression sour enough to strip paint. Nobody seemed particularly pleased she was here. The atmosphere around her felt different. Tight. Distrustful.
Outside, prospects moved quietly up and down the street, pretending not to watch everything. Hoodies instead of cuts. Cars instead of bikes. No obvious sign of the Kings. But they were there. Watching parked cars. Watching windows. Watching us. Fury and Ry stood near the driver’s window, speaking quietly to the older man behind the wheel. The driver looked tense, like he knew the weight of responsibility he drove today.
“Route’s clear so far,” Ryan said as he stepped away from the van. “Prospects’ll stay with you till Morpeth. After that, the Vandals take over.”
