Chapter 55
Lucy - Present
“Nick Armory has replied,” Henry announces from the sofa.
I check my phone, still nothing from Owen.
I should have gone with him; we should have at least given him some fucking comms. Sodding arsehole leaving me before I could wire him up.
“Definitely him?” Roman asks.
“Yes.” Henry doesn’t give us more than that, just starts typing.
I stand, unable to sit and do nothing. This is the complete opposite to what I’m trained to do. I head out to the kitchen and fill some water from Henry’s fridge, pulling an ice chip into my mouth and crunching.
Roman is in the doorway.
Of course he is.
“Can I ask you something?” he requests, leaning against it.
“Do I really have the option to say no?”
He smirks. “Where do you think your relationship is going?”
“Excuse me?”
“Come on. Think it through,” Roman says, holding up his hands in placating gesture. He walks towards me, taking the glass from my hand and putting it on the kitchen counter.
Probably a good thing. I’d only smash it on his face.
“You already have,” he says, taking in my expression.
And he’s right.
I have, it’s all I’ve done really.
I can’t be by his side with what comes next, and Roman knows it as much as I do. Having someone call it out as bright as day makes me feel nauseous.
“Life isn’t fair, is it?” he asks.
And I hate that tears bite at the back of my eyes. “Do you remember when we were locked in that room together?”
I stare at him as I’m transported back to a time when Roman Rook was my ally, my lifeline, my confidant.
“You got angry with Owen for telling Luca about you, but you did the same to me. Luca was always planning to give that hard drive to Owen. Luca was always planning for you to be the one to protect him. Apex Security gave him that means.”
“Isn’t it all a cruel joke?” I ask, angrily wiping at the tear that breaks free. “Reunited, to only be ripped apart?”
“But you know what you have to do?”
And I do.
I have to walk away and it rips my fucking heart open, tears a crack so deep inside that physical pain runs through my body, making it hard to breathe.
“How can I walk away?”
“With strength that you have always had in you, Kara.” He smiles sadly. “With that same strength that had me doing what I did to Luca. To my brother. Because you’d do anything to protect the ones you love, even if that decision feels like it could kill you.”
“Better you than them,” I mutter quietly, and he nods.
“You’re strong, Kara, and he won’t let you go now he has you. But he can’t stand in Number 10 with someone like you on his arm.”
He doesn’t say it to be cruel. Roman, says it with such sadness in his tone, that I wonder whether deep down he’d want something different for me.
“Will you help me?” I ask the words quietly. He leans forward and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, cupping my cheek.
“After everything we’ve been through together, I don’t know why you even have to ask that.”
“Times have changed.”
He smiles, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.
“Nothing’s changed.” He smirks. “You’re still just as stubborn as ever.”
“And you’re still just as annoying.”
He grins. “What do you need?”
“Guys.” Henry’s voice from the other room. “Owen’s been taken into custody.”
My stomach drops out my arse.
“This is exactly what we thought would happen. Remember the plan,” he reassures.
“This part of the plan was a pile of shit.”
“Let’s let this play out. No deviation.” He points his finger at me, his voice firm. “I know you, don’t go rogue.”
“I won’t risk him.”
“He’s risked himself for this. Let him play his part, and we’ll play ours.”
“The story hasn’t broken yet,” Henry says as we drive towards the NCA headquarters, just down the road from Henry’s apartment near Vauxhall station. It’s ridiculous that we’re even driving, but we are. Roman behind the wheel, me in the passenger seat, and Henry in the back on his Toughbook.
“They will try and bury it for as long as possible. I wouldn’t be surprised if the National Crime Agency are already sending teams out to each media outlet with injunctions, telling them not to print,” Roman says.
“This is going to move quick,” I say, looking out the window.
“It won’t.”
“This could take years,” Henry adds.
And right there, the realisation finally sinks in. I flop back on my seat as the nausea and bile climb up my throat, and I have to swallow against the lump in my throat.
I won’t see him again.
I can’t see him again.
Owen needs to be squeaky clean.
He purposefully didn’t mention me on the news interview this morning, because the media didn’t know about me. Whoever had leaked the story on Owen kept me out of it, and I can only think that it was a safeguard of Andrews.
My burner phone rings, and I look at the unknown number, frowning.
No one has this number.
Well, only one.
Andrews.
But he’s dead.
“Hello,” I answer it, my voice hesitant, heart racing.
“Lucy Cook.”
“Sorry, wrong number.” I go to hang up.
“The M25 Junction 11 is a nightmare tonight.” I pause, as mine and Andrews’ safe phrase is said, but it is 100% not Andrews on the phone. “Kara Snow, I am calling on behalf of David Andrews.”
What. The. Fuck.
“I’m listening.”
“I’m sorry to say that David Andrews was found dead at his property in Surrey, suspected gas explosion.”
We both know that isn’t the case, but Apex will have already covered the fact that he was shot by Owen.
“I’ve been given some very specific instructions,” I hear jostling of papers in the background, the soft radio in the distance. Roman and Henry are talking, but blood rushes through my ears as I listen intently to what the stranger has to say.
“Ah here it is, apologies.” He clears his throat.
The pause stretches, thick and suffocating.
“I, David Andrews, being of sound mind and judgement, do hereby declare my successor as the owner of Apex Security Ltd to be Kara Snow. Furthermore, I bequeath my entire estate and fortune to my daughter, Kara Snow.”
The words slice clean through me.
My breath catches, my chest tightens, like something has lodged itself there and refuses to move.
My eyes widen as it rips through me. The regret. The pain.
I drop the phone into my lap and hang up the call.
“Pull over.”
Roman glances across, and he must see something in my expression, and I’m thankful that he does. The car has barely stopped, but I’m already throwing open the door, walking to a small alley and throwing up.
My stomach heaves, bile climbs my throat, and tears stream down my face as my body physically reacts to the news.
Apex Security is mine.
His fortune is mine.
His daughter.
This is a joke, right?
But something tells me it’s not. Something tells me that this is very much happening, is very much real. I spit once more and stand, hands on my hips as I take a heaving breath as Roman appears next to me.
“I mean, asking you if you’re alright seems a bit stupid,” he says.
“I need to go rogue.”
“I knew you’d say that,” he tuts. “How rogue?”
“I need to say goodbye.”
“Kara.” He looks across at me, his hazel eyes conflicted. “It will be worse for him.”
“No,” I shake my head, “no, it will be worse if I don’t. I need to explain to him why I can’t be with him; I can’t just walk away. I owe him more than that.”
“You need to.”
“No that’s what you’ve chosen to do. You’ve chosen to walk away without a word. Don’t project your decisions onto me, so you can get validation. I don’t need to make that same choice. He will understand why I’m doing it.”
“He’s in custody.”
“Not for long. Nick Armory will see to that.”
“That will take time.”
“Then I’ll expedite it.” I walk back to the car, reach in, and grab my bag.
“Where are you going?” Henry asks from the back seat, Roman climbs back in.
“You need to finish this. For Luca,” I say. “For me.”
Roman nods once, and I look back to Henry. “Thanks for the assist, Bishop. I hope you find her. Both of you.”
I close the door, and wave once as the black SUV pulls back into the stream of traffic and I walk between two office buildings.
Well, when they said he was in custody, I was expecting him to be in more of a secure location, bearing in mind he was arrested and being charged for Violation of the Official Secrets Act, along with defamation of official members of cabinet.
But, nope, having been arrested at the BBC, he’s been transferred to the local police station.
Most likely waiting on whatever paperwork would see him transferred to wherever he can be locked in a cell and the key thrown away.
I wait until darkness settles on the police station, the night shift has just taken over, and the first set of patrols head out. Friday night in London will keep them busy, as Londoners are fuelled with alcohol and bad decisions.
I walk into the police station, the open reception area quiet except for the police officer on desk duty.
“I’d like to see Owen King, please.” I pull out one of my many fake IDs.
The police officer looks at it, and I have to hope that the idiot has no idea how important that man in custody is. For now, and for the future of this country.
“You’re a lawyer.” He looks me up and down, and yeah, okay, the black boots and tactical gear may have been a bit of a giveaway, but I didn’t have time to change.
Okay, I did have time to change, but I didn’t want to in case I needed to use other means of entry, and fighting in a skirt is a real pain in the arse.
“Lucy Cook Legal Aid at your service.” I bow down. “And as per the Police and Criminal Evidence Act Section 58, every detainee has the right to consult legal aid, privately.”
“Alright, alright.” The officer radios to a colleague. “King’s lawyer is here. Move him to room 2.”
The radio crackles and then a loud “Roger,” fills the void between us.
“Please take a seat.”
I don’t sit though, I pace.
I pace, because I wish I knew how I’m going to be able to do this.
I pace, because I’ve wanted nothing more than to see this man again, for him to be in my life, and now he’s in it, I can’t imagine him out of it.
How can the greater good feel so fucking shitty?
But Roman is right.
He can’t have me with him for what comes next, and it will kill me.
“This way, please.”
I startle at the voice and quickly let the officer show me to the small room.
Owen is already sitting at the table, his suit still on, his hair ruffled, but apart from that, he’s okay, and relief washes through me.
The door buzzes, it opens, and Owen’s eyes widen at me.
“Lucy Cook, I’ve been appointed as your defence attorney,” I say quickly, sticking out my hand.
“Owen King. Nice to meet you.”
“You’re going by King now, I see?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m tired of hiding.” He grins.
I smile back, the guard watching the exchange. “Thank you,” I say, looking over my shoulder. “I’ll expect that camera to be turned off. Counsel discussions are to be confidential.”
The officer nods once and leaves us, the door buzzing and locking back into place.
Owen is up and in my arms a moment later.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Cookie?” he asks, pulling my head back, his hands gripping my cheeks as he places kisses all over my face. “This isn’t part of the plan.”
“The plans changed.” My voice is quiet, but it may as well be a gunshot.
I pull back and hold his hands in mine, clinging to the warmth, the familiarity of him, just for a second longer.
“You know I love you, right? And you coming back into my life has been the best thing that has ever happened but—.”
His frown deepens, and I see the exact moment realisation crashes over him like a wave. His body stiffens, his hand rips away from mine like I’ve burnt him.
“So what, then?” His voice is raw, splintered with anger, with hurt. “We get this far, and you just walk away?”
“I’m not walking away.”
“You fucking are, Kara.”
I flinch. Kara, spat like a curse, like something dirty.
It slices through me a fresh wound on top of the ones he’s helped me heal.
I know why he’s angry. I’m angry, I’m hurt, I’m breaking apart as I stand here.
In a perfect world, I wouldn’t be doing this.
But we don’t live in a perfect world. This has to happen this way. There are no more what ifs.
There is just this. This path. This decision. I’ve known it for days, deep, deep, down. Brewing like a storm inside me. And if he’d stop and think, he’d know there is no other way, too.
“Think about it,” I say, my voice quiet and steady. No anger. Just resignation. “Let the pragmatic part of your brain take over for a minute.”
He turns his back to me, fists clenched, shoulders shaking with the weight of this moment. His head bows, his body taut with tension.
When he finally turns to face me, his expression shatters me.
He knows.
“This isn’t fair.” His voice cracks, thick with emotion. “I just got you back. There has to be a way.” He moves toward me, instinctively reaching—
I lift my hand. Stop.
Because if he touches me, I won’t be able to do this. If I feel his hands on my skin, if I let him kiss me, I’ll break.
“You know there isn’t.” The words taste like poison, bitter and final.
His eyes shine with unshed tears, mine fall freely.
“You are everything to me Owen. You will always be. But you know I can’t stay.
Not with what comes next. They’ll use Kara against you, they’ll find out who I am, then this—us—will all be for nothing. ”
I smile at him sadly, the ache in my chest threatening to pull me under in the pain.
“I love you, Cookie.” He reaches out, his pinkie extended, and I wrap my pinkie around his. A final connection, a final goodbye.
“I love you, too, Owen. Always have, always will.”
He squeezes, just once, and my gaze drops to our tangled fingers. I force a smile, even as my heart fractures beyond repair. “I regret so many things in my life,” I whisper. “But I regret nothing about you.”
“There is nothing insignificant about us.”
“There never will be. Now be the change, Owen. Make this mean something.”
“I will.”
One last squeeze.
One last look at the man who owns my past, my present, my future.
And—I walk away.
Tears blur my vision. My breath comes in shattered gasps. My heart? The thing splits clean in two. I don’t know how I’ll move past this. I don’t know how I’ll ever breathe without an ache in my chest.
But I will.
Because I have to.
Because that’s what I’m trained to do.