Page 101 of Crave

Keeley came home then, looking almost half normal. She rested her head on my shoulder. “There’s a bit of bother over the Green.”

“Yeah.”

“You know about it.”

I took a drag of my cigarette. Said nothing,

“Darren ain’t coming home, is he?” She peered up at me with eyes too big for her face.

I kissed the top of her head. “Sorry, Kee.”

“Is he dead?”

“Not by me.”

She rose on her toes and wrapped her arms around me. “You’ll always be here for me, right?”

I shut my eyes, smoke burning the back of my throat. “Course I will. Always.”

Behind us, the baby started crying.

Keeley slipped down from me and rolled her eyes. “Never ends.” Then she ducked back inside, Mum’s voice following, shouting about the mess in the living room.

I stayed where I was, fag burning low between my fingers, staring out across the city. Lights flickered over tower blocks, flashing red off cranes and windows. Somewhere out there, he was.

Tristan.

I wondered if he’d see the news. If he’d recognise what he’d done when he did. What we’d done. If he cared, or if he was just glad I was gone from his world for good. Half of me wanted to pick up the phone, thank him for saving my skin. The other half wanted to find him and shake him for it.

That half also wanted to kiss him. Fuck him.

Keep him.

My phone rang, the real one, before I could get stupid. I flicked the fag over the balcony, watched the spark fall into the dark, then answered. “Yeah?”

“Congratulations.” Cormac’s voice, dry as dust. “Word from upstairs, you just earned yourself a promotion. Comes with a place out by the Wick, and another for your sister and the baby. Garden, even. Bit of green for the new boss man.” He paused. “Take it you accept my conditions?”

The line hissed with distance, and I felt the leash tightening, velvet-wrapped and gold-tipped. Freedom, they’d call it. Power, maybe.

But all I could think was how every step up sank me deeper.

I looked out over the city again, smoke still stinging my lungs, listening to my mum and Keeley fighting for space. The baby crying.

“Yeah,” I said. “I accept.”

I didn’t need to read the terms. I knew what they were.

And just like that, I was locked in.

Bought. Owned.

Standing taller than ever, yet halfway to the fall.

Chapter twenty-one

Tristan

Several weeks later…