Decisions

Alex walked out of the Royal Manchester Golf Club, his caddy uniform traded for a simple black t-shirt and jeans. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the car park as he made his way towards the exit, his mind still churning with the events of the day.

The DCI's offer of an internship lingered in his thoughts, a tantalizing opportunity, not what he had been aiming for, but this was better.

Lost in thought, he almost didn't notice the figure that fell into step beside him. But then he caught a flash of blonde hair, the intricate tattoos snaking up one arm, and he knew.

Jade.

He didn't acknowledge her, didn't break his stride. But as he veered towards the restroom building, she followed, her presence a silent shadow at his back.

Inside, Alex went straight to the sinks, turning on the tap and splashing cold water on his face. In the mirror, he could see Jade behind him, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the drip of water from Alex's face, the hum of the fluorescent lights overhead.

Finally, Alex let out a sigh. "What?"

Jade didn't blink. "Did it work?"

Alex rolled his eyes, grabbing a paper towel and patting his face dry. "What do you think?"

Silence. Alex could feel Jade's gaze boring into his back, could practically hear the gears turning in her head. But she said nothing.

"I can hear you thinking from here," Alex said, tossing the towel in the bin.

Jade's footsteps echoed on the tile as she closed the distance between them. In a flash, she had him spun around, her hands gripping his shoulders, her face inches from his.

"Alex," she said, her voice low and intense. "Tell me you know you don't have to do this."

Alex met her gaze, unflinching. "It's under control, Jade. You sorted it out, right? Tied up all the loose ends with that runner?"

Jade nodded, her grip on his shoulders tightening. "Yes. Everything's clean. No traces, no trails. Just like always."

Alex knew she was telling the truth. Jade was nothing if not thorough. When it came to cleaning up messes, to erasing evidence and eliminating threats, she was the best in the business.

Even if that meant spilling more blood.

But there was one loose end, one variable that even Jade couldn't control.

"The phone," Alex said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jade's eyes widened, just a fraction. But it was enough. Alex knew he'd hit a nerve.

"Alex," she said, her tone a warning. "Think this through. Is putting yourself right in the middle of the Met really worth the risk?"

Alex smiled, a slow, dangerous thing. In a sudden move, he had their positions reversed, Jade's back pressed against the wall, his body pinning her in place.

Jade didn't resist, didn't try to fight him off. She just stared up at him, her green eyes stern and unreadable.

Alex traced a thumb across her lower lip, marveling at the softness of her skin. "You worry too much," he murmured.

He felt her shiver, heard the hitch in her breath. For all her tough facade, all her ice-queen exterior, he knew the effect he had on her.

"Our encryption is good," he said, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "The best in the business. But it's not perfect. Nothing is."

He pulled back, just enough to look her in the eye. "What happens if they find someone, Jade? Someone even better than Mei Xu? We could be sitting ducks, just waiting for the hammer to fall."

He could see the understanding dawning in Jade's eyes, the realization of what he was saying.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Alex was silent for a long moment, his mind racing. There were so many variables, so many ways this could all go wrong.

But he knew one thing for certain. He couldn't let the police get even a whiff of his trail. Not now. Not when they were so close to their endgame.

"I'm going to stop them," he said, his voice hard as steel. "I'm going to make sure they don't get a single thing from that phone."

Jade nodded, her expression grim. She knew as well as he did that once Alex set his mind to something, there was no stopping him.

It was how they'd gotten this far, how they'd built an empire out of shadows and secrets, to the depths of hell they currently tread.

And it was how they were going to see this through to the end.

No matter the cost.

______

The night was alive at Manchester Student University, a cacophony of laughter, chatter, and the faint glow of countless phone screens. Students were scattered about, some huddled in groups, others basking in the solitude of their own digital worlds. In this day and age, it seemed everyone was more glued to their devices, oblivious to their surrounding.

Amidst this bustling scene, a figure sat alone at the far end of the campus, nestled against the ceramic base of a meticulously manicured garden. The soft glow of a phone illuminated the lower half of a face obscured by a hoodie, casting sharp shadows across the ridge of a nose and the hint of a jawline.

The figure, a young man, scrolled through his social media feed, his thumb flicking idly over the screen. The memes and videos that flashed by were the usual fare - funny, silly, designed to elicit a quick laugh or a moment of mindless entertainment.

But tonight, the humor fell flat. The man's eyes, hidden beneath the shadow of his hood, were distant, unfocused. His mind was elsewhere, grappling with thoughts far heavier than any social media algorithm could comprehend.

A notification pinged at the top of his screen, the preview text stark against the white background.

"Get it done, I'll be waiting. No fuck ups bruv."

The man's breath hitched, a barely audible sound in the night air. His fingers tightened around the phone, the plastic case creaking under the pressure.

This was it. The moment he'd been dreading, the crossroads he'd hoped would never come. But here it was, staring him in the face, as cold and unforgiving as the ceramic at his back.

He thought of Liam, the boy he'd been ordered to...to do something unspeakable to. He hadn't been able to pull the trigger then, hadn't been able to cross that final, irreversible line.

But now, there was no choice. It was do or die, in the most literal sense. If he failed again, it wouldn't be his victim with a bullet in their brain. It would be him.

His Crew master would make sure of that. The sadistic bastard was probably looking forward to it, relishing the thought of making an example out of him.

With a heavy sigh, the man pocketed his phone and pushed himself to his feet. His hands burrowed deep into his hoodie pockets, seeking comfort in the familiar folds of fabric.

As he walked away from the garden, towards the main gate of the campus, he could feel the weight of his decision settling on his shoulders. Each step was an effort, a battle against the part of him that wanted to turn and run, to leave this life behind and never look back.

But he knew there was no running from this. The streets had claimed him long ago, had sunk their claws into his soul and refused to let go.

Tonight, he would do what needed to be done. He would prove his loyalty, his worthiness.

Even if it meant losing the last shred of his humanity in the process.

***