Rae

There was no time to dissect the mess I’d made of things with Cash. With his kiss still burning my lips, his taste still seared on my tongue, I shut down the message from the unknown number, and we hit the road, following directions from the tip-off.

I didn’t let myself wonder if it was genuine. Fletch and I had sworn a plan to flush out whoever it was, expose them as if need be, but right now, only the hunt mattered.

If I made it there alive.

As ever, Cash’s driving equal parts terrified and thrilled me, and this time, I sensed an undercurrent in him that I fucking knew was my fault.

I reached out and squeezed his arm. “Easy.”

He tossed me an irritated glare that clearly said “whatever” and cracked on.

“I mean it.” I gripped him harder. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“Like what?”

“Cash. Don’t fucking one-line me. I’m with you, okay? Let’s just get this over with first, preferably without dying in a car crash.”

The van slowed infinitesimally, but Cash kept his eyes on the road, showing no indication that he’d heard me, believed me, and could wait that long. Because that was what I sensed in him, a desperation for something, anything, I could give him, despite him being the one to push me away so forcefully in the first place. He wanted me, perhaps even needed me.

And I was right there with him. Whatever happened, my days of pretending I could give him up were over.

The hunt came up on us faster than I was ready for. We hit the lane leading to the neighbouring farm at the same time as the hounds. A swarm of tan and white leapt over the low, drystone wall as Cash jerked the handbrake up, skidding us to a stop.

Adrenaline punched through me, eclipsing the torment being with Cash had brought to my cynical heart. Hooves thundered, quad bikes roared. Thanks to the tip-off from my mystery friend, we’d driven right into the middle of the hunt.

Cash killed the engine. I ripped my seatbelt off, and opened my door, but he grabbed my arm before I could jump.

“Listen,” he said, his other hand clutching the driver door, ready to leap into the fray. “Today, when this is done, I’m taking you home.”

And then he was gone, springing out of the van and over the wall in a fluid motion that left me wanting to weep. Somehow, even though he’d left me with hope, it seemed final, as though what didn’t happen today would never happen at all.

I didn’t understand it, and there was no time to try. I abandoned the van and took off in the opposite direction to Cash, following the hounds, while he took on the horses. In my peripheral vision, I saw Meg and Fletch cross into the next field, bringing with them a band of weekend sabs. Then Sprig called my name and I realised that against all odds, we were all here. We had a chance.

Sprig sprinted up alongside me, chucking me a bag of our faithful raw chicken distraction. “Lead them west,” he shouted. “There’s a high wall over this field no fucker’s getting around.”

I didn’t know this small dairy farm well. Up until now, the owner had been the sole local farmer who’d refused Goon permission to trash his fields. And perhaps he still was. Over the past few months, Goon had proved more than ever that there were no rules anymore. At least none that he wasn’t prepared to break.

Regardless, I followed Sprig’s instructions, and joined the rear of the hound pack, laying my bait as soon as I was entrenched enough for the baying dogs to notice.

The first clutch began to follow me. I heard shouting and commotion from the mounted hunt hot on our tails, but I paid them no heed. Even Goon had yet to ride over his own hounds. In their midst, I was safe, if only for a few minutes. I didn’t let myself think about Cash.

I can’t.

We led the hounds west across the huge field, away from the scent they’d been tracking east. Something happened behind us to slow the horses, but still I didn’t look.

Quad bikes swept into the field to take their place. In open space, we had nowhere to run, so we kept going, making for a small copse of trees. Out of nowhere, a disoriented fox cub burst into the field, eyes wide, staggering, standard characteristics of an animal who’d been released from a cage with no bearings of where it was, or the danger it was in.

Despite our best efforts, the hounds smelt it. And then they saw it.

The fox was juvenile and green. It stood no chance, even if it had possessed the sense to run in the right direction.

No.

I called desperately to Sprig. “Sab! Bring them round to me!”

It was all we had—to drive the hounds and the cub towards me in the impossible hope that I could get to it first. Too many times, we’d failed, but the fire in me today was irrepressible. That cub wouldn’t die unless I did first.

Sprig made his move, herding the wayward cub and the hounds in an arc towards the copse. I ran along the treeline, my heart in my mouth, knowing that the cub stood no chance if it dug in under a tree and the terrier men caught up with it. My only option now was to subdue and remove it, and one way or another, I was going to get hurt.

The cub ran into my path. Foaming at the mouth, it was exhausted, despite its short stint in the field, and unbidden my mind pictured what might’ve happened to it before the quad bike gang had released it. What I saw poured fuel on my determination, and I lunged for the cub, catching it by the scruff of the neck.

It was small for its age, and male, which worked in my favour. Vixens tended to have more fight in them when it came to people. This little boy didn’t even struggle as I whipped him from the ground and tucked him into my coat.

The hounds were on me; only Sprig was between us with the last few pieces of chicken. He tossed them out wide enough to spread the dogs, buying me valuable time. I prayed the fox cub wouldn’t struggle, and bounded up the nearest tree.

Minutes later, I was surrounded—hounds, huntsman, sabs. I peeked down through the leaves…it was a Roald Dhal moment if ever I saw one. I searched the crowd for Cash. He wasn’t there, but as the police descended on us—all two of them—I didn’t blame him. I hugged the fox close and settled in for a long wait, because nothing had changed. I’d die before this fox did.

***

“Boy, I’m so proud of you.” Meg hugged me tight. “Fletch just called. That cub is safely at Grovedawn. They’re going to assess him overnight, then get him up to that reserve in the Highlands.”

Relief washed over me. My treetop stand off had lasted all of ten minutes before the police had, astoundingly, ordered the hunt off the dairy farmer’s land. From there, the farmer’s wife—a vet—had come out and sedated the docile cub enough for him to travel. Cash had appeared in the van at just the right moment, and him and Fletch had whisked the cub away before our good luck ran out.

I’d stayed behind with only Cash’s departing wink for company as the police bollocked me for lifting the fox, trespassing, public disorder, and just about anything else they could think of.

The weekend sabs melted away, unwilling to argue with the coppers any more than they had to. I didn’t blame them. With the hunt abandoned, who wanted to linger in a damp field for the rest of the day?

I didn’t, but it was well into the afternoon by the time I got away. I’d sent Meg home a while ago, so I walked back to camp alone, keeping a sharp ear out for quad bikes. Goon had lost today, and I knew him well enough to be certain he’d be out for revenge.

But with Cash on my mind, it was hard to focus on the prospect of being clobbered by the Goon squad. We’d promised each other…something, and being unsure of exactly what didn’t curb the buzz in my veins. Anticipation laced with nerves was a potent thing, and I was so fucking high on it, I barely noticed my phone buzzing in my pocket. Ignored it entirely until it rang.

Startled, I fished it out of my pocket. The incoming call was from the unknown number and I stopped walking, Cash temporarily, impossibly, forgotten. I answered it, but didn’t speak. Heavy breathing and crackling greeted me, and then a voice with a thick northern accent.

“Stay there, Rae. We’re coming to meet you.”

***

Cash

What a fucking day. If I hadn’t already known Rae was batshit crazy, I did now. And I loved him for it.

I witnessed the scene from a distance, penned into a corner by the police who’d shown up moments after I’d thrown the main pack of riders off course. The leaders had escaped to run Rae down, but they’d failed gloriously.

Not that I’d known it until he was up the damn tree. Surrounded by angry toffs wielding whips, I’d been kind of distracted.

I’d laughed my arse off when I’d realised what he’d done. My humour hadn’t lasted long, given the circumstances, but for that blissful moment, it had been just us in a bubble with his absolute insanity.

The police had kept him back after, and dismissed everyone else from the amiable dairy farmer’s land. Fletch and I delivered the sedated fox to the animal hospital, and then returned to camp to wait.

I parked the van on Fletch’s field and climbed into the back to investigate Rae’s supplies. I had every intention of taking him back to my place, but I wasn’t adverse to a cosy night in the back of the van if he didn’t want to leave the camp. After rooting through Rae’s collection of noodles and porridge, I sent Lucky a text telling him I might not be home, then dragged Rae’s gas stove outside to make a brew. Sprig came over, and we shot the shit about nothing in particular until Meg appeared alone a little while later.

“Rae sent me,” she said. “Said there was no point us both getting cold. The police just want him to sign a statement, then he’ll be home.”

Relief washed over me, and I wondered what the future held for us if every weekend played out like the last few. I’d stepped away from Rae for good reason, and regretting it like a motherfucker hadn’t erased that. Could I seriously live with him putting himself at risk like he had today?

Maybe not, but I was beginning to see that it wasn’t a choice I’d ever be able to make.

Besides. Me and Rae were two sides of the same coin when it came to sabbing. And if he came home on the same page as me, we were in this together, for as long as he’d have me.

Warmth replaced relief as Meg departed for her own cosy fire and hot drink.

Sprig nudged me. “Atta boy. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you grin like that.”

“Shut up.”

Sprig shut up, but he was a man of few words anyway, so I didn’t take the win. Restless, I stood so I could see the gate over his head and scanned the lane. Rae was a big boy, and this was his turf, but the afternoon was closing in already, and it was getting cold. I didn’t like the idea of him walking around on his own, especially as he’d lost his coat to the fox cub Fletch had named Jeffery.

Ignoring Sprig’s good-natured ribbing, I grabbed a dry hoodie from the van, bid him goodbye for the night, and set off to meet Rae. We could come back if he wanted, but hoofing it to my car and driving back to London was at the top of my list. Food, beer, bed. Perhaps we’d even talk.

The wind picked up as I walked, numbing my face. I stuffed my hands in my pockets and kept my head down, all the while keeping a sharp eye out for Rae’s dark head, planning how we’d reconnect after all the angst was over with. Yeah, that’s right. For once in my life I was actually prepared for a difficult conversation. For once in my life I knew what I was going to say, and what I wanted to hear in return. I want to try. And all I needed was for Rae to want the same. Fuck knew, neither of us was perfect.

Spending most of my adult life outside, I’d developed a good sense of when the world around me changed. My head snapped up before I heard voices, and my footsteps slowed. Ahead was a clearing that split into two paths. One led to the dairy farm, the other to Goon’s land.

The voices were on the dairy farm’s land, but something pulled me up short. I stopped walking altogether, and the undergrowth seemed to close in on me. I wasn’t scared of the Goon squad, but I was alone and unarmed, and Rae was out there somewhere. If they caught me, they’d catch him. I was cynical enough to believe the police were long gone.

I crept forward, keeping to the bushes as much as I could without rustling the leaves. The voices grew louder, one I couldn’t place, and another with an accent that made my toes curl.

Idiot. As if he’d be here.

But the Manchester accent still made my skin crawl. Probably always would.

I took another step forward. The group were ten feet away, half hidden by the trees, none of them facing my way.

From the back, they didn’t look like Goon squad. With their long hair and boots, they were more like us.

Or like they were trying to look like us.

My heart stopped. Legit went silent. No. I sucked in a breath that seemed to go nowhere and craned my head to get a better view. The man nearest to me spoke again, and this time I was close enough to hear him properly. To absorb the low, rumbly voice that had once struck me as the most comforting thing on earth. It can’t be. But fuck me, it was. It was him. My lover, my best friend, and the wanker who’d drained my heart dry.

It was Zander.

And worse than that, as the person he was addressing stepped forward, revealing themselves to my hidden eyes, I realised that the man I’d learned to hate in a heart-stopping instant, was deep in conversation with the man I’d truly believed I could love.

He was talking to Rae.

***

Shock was a funny thing. True to the word, but then not, as though I could convince myself I’d known all along. I turned away slowly, like my body was trapped in a bubble of treacle, and I didn’t start running until I hit open space—a path that led who-the-hell-knew-where.

Adrenaline had been my friend for the past few months, driving me on when my legs didn’t want to run anymore. Throwing me in front of quad bikes and horses, and over fences that should’ve been too high. It carried me now, through the woods and out the other side, onto land I didn’t recognise.

My lungs burned, and lactic acid sluiced through my veins, but I welcomed the pain. Hid my heart amongst it, and prayed I’d never find the way out.

But reality was cruel. I ran myself into a kissing gate, and then clung to it, doubled over, as my chest heaved, and my knees trembled. My mind raced, a thousand questions fighting for dominance. What was he doing here? And why was he with Rae? Did they know each other? Was Rae a fucking plant? Had Rae known my story all along and used me to keep his gang afloat until he’d rinsed them too?

I had no answers. And searching for them left me dizzy. Out of nowhere, I threw up, barely missing my shoes. It seemed to go on and on. When it was finally over, I came upright like a staggering drunk, wiping my eyes. But my vision didn’t clear. Evening had fallen while I’d lost my mind, and it was pitch black now. I could hardly see my own shaking hands.

Brilliant. I was lost in every sense of the word, and I didn’t much care.

The urge to lie down on the frost-crunchy grass and close my eyes was strong. Too strong. I waited for numbness to overwhelm the pain in my chest so I could give up already, but it didn’t come, and I found myself climbing the gate and pressing on, either in the hope of seeing a landmark I recognised, or of falling down the kind of ravine rural Bedfordshire didn’t have.

A hysterical laugh escaped me. I clapped my hand over my mouth, but it burst free, and then another and another, until I was doubled over again, my hands on my knees. Numbness eluded me, but a sensation of floating came in its place. The hurt was still there, razor sharp and cruel, but an odd detachment settled over me—a feeling that scared more than comforted me.

Fuck, boy. You need help.

My uncle’s voice brought me some perspective, but it wasn’t him I needed. I fumbled for my phone and found Dom’s name as footsteps sounded behind me.

Heavy footsteps.

A thick hand closed around my throat before I could make the call.

“Well, well. What do we have here?”