Chapter 5 Rory #3
I glanced at my brother, his jaw still clenched tight, and turned the radio back up. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t talk about it with me, as much as I wished he would.
There were many topics filed under “Things Kit Thorne Refuses to Discuss,” including his time in the military.
My uncle Alex’s ex-wife, Moira, had been the one who connected him to a friend of a friend, who got him into a covert programme that exploited shifter abilities under the guise of “enhanced tactical operations.” The few times he started telling me a bit about it, he’d often stop mid-sentence, his eyes fixing on something invisible, fingers drumming a rhythm against his glass before he’d change the subject entirely.
I did know that Kit believed the whole programme was so black ops there wasn’t even a hint of a paper trail. And whatever happened there had left him with scars that ran deeper than the physical ones.
“I could use some fresh air,” said Kit when I started to recognise some of the streets as Greenwich. “Let’s park up and walk the rest of the way. When we get to Meridian, we’re going to casually walk past it, not gawp up, okay?”
“Sure thing, boss.” I gave him a grin and a salute. A rush of gratitude flowed through me that Kit was doing this for me. “It’ll obviously be closed anyway, because Saturday.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” Kit shrugged. “But we are not going inside.”
Kit found a parking spot on a quiet residential street lined with terraced houses.
“We’re about ten minutes away,” he said, checking his phone. “Remember, casual stroll, not reconnaissance mission.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
As we walked, I found myself fidgeting with the zip of my jacket, my mind flashing back to that night.
Meridian Medical Research Centre sat at the edge of Greenwich Park, named after the famous Meridian Line that ran through the park itself—that invisible thread marking the boundary between east and west. Seemed fitting for a place that might be straddling the line between legitimate research and something much darker.
“The night Dev and I broke in,” I said quietly as we turned onto another tree-lined street. “We approached from the back, through that grassy bank behind the building. Dev had wedged open one of the fire doors earlier that day when he’d gone in pretending to be a delivery guy.”
Kit shot me a look. “And today we’re approaching from the front like normal people,” he said pointedly.
“Like normal, law-abiding citizens who definitely aren’t planning anything,” I agreed with a grin.
We rounded the corner, and there it was—part of the four-storey building visible at the end of the street.
Meridian’s modern glass facade stood in stark contrast to the surrounding architecture, all sharp angles and tinted windows.
My heart started racing, memories flooding back.
The harsh blare of the alarms. That awful fight with the security guards.
The sickening snap of handcuffs around my wrists.
“Here we are,” I hissed to Kit, slowing down as we approached.
Kit gripped my arm, his voice low but firm. “Remember what we—”
Kit’s words died in his throat. I followed his gaze.
The car park of Meridian Medical Research Centre stretched before us, a flurry of activity where there should have been weekend emptiness.
Three large moving vans stood with their rear doors open, and about eight people in dark uniforms scurried between the building and the vehicles, carrying cardboard boxes and office furniture.
“Holy shit!” The words burst from my mouth before I could stop them.
Kit’s elbow jabbed sharply into my ribs. “Be quiet, and do not stare as we walk past,” he hissed through clenched teeth.
We continued our path, trying to look casual while my mind raced. They were clearing out. This couldn’t be a coincidence.
As we passed the entrance to the car park, one of the men—a burly bloke with a shaved head—lost his grip on a box. It hit the ground with a crash, spilling what looked like computer cables and wires across the pavement.
“Fuck’s sake!” he growled, bending down.
Before Kit could stop me, I darted over, my hands already reaching for the scattered cables.
I heard Kit groan behind me, but ignored him. This was too perfect an opportunity.
“Need a hand, mate?” I asked cheerfully, gathering up a tangle of wires.
The man gave me an awkward look, somewhere between suspicious and grateful. “Thanks,” he muttered.
I bundled the cables together, deliberately taking my time. “What’s going on here, then? I walk by this centre every day. Has it shut down?”
He stared at me, his expression closing off. “No clue. I’m just paid to move things from A to B.” He reached out for a wire still clutched in my hand, clearly wanting me gone.
I handed it back with a friendly smile. “Right, of course. Cheers.”
Returning to Kit, I found him glowering at me, arms crossed and jaw tight with barely contained fury.
“What? He needed help!” I protested weakly.
My heart continued to thunder against my ribs as we continued past Meridian.
“They’re clearing out. Fuck, Kit, they’re clearing out!”
“I can see that,” Kit muttered, steering us toward a small coffee shop across the street. “Let’s sit here for a minute.”
Once we’d ordered—both black coffees, though a single spoonful of sugar was pretty tempting—I leaned across the table, unable to contain myself.
“What if Maxwell triggered this? He might have been looking into Meridian yesterday. What if he pulled something up on the police system that set off some kind of alert?”
Kit frowned, sipping his coffee. “I suppose that’s possible.”
“Or…” I chewed my lip, mind racing. “What if Bradley and Brody haven’t actually cut ties with them? Maybe they warned Meridian about Maxwell’s questions last night.”
“But moving vans on a Saturday morning? That’s quick work.”
I drummed my fingers on the table. “Not if they were already planning to move. Maybe they’ve been preparing for this, just waiting for a sign they’d been compromised.”
“Or maybe they’re just relocating offices and it has nothing to do with us,” Kit said, ever the voice of reason.
“On the same weekend Maxwell starts investigating them? After eighteen months of nothing?” I shook my head. “That’s one hell of a coincidence.”
Kit’s eyes narrowed in thought. “If they’re moving because of Maxwell’s inquiries, it means they have someone inside the police system, or some way of monitoring police searches.”
I pulled out my phone, tapping on the contact listed as Detective Dickface.
He answered on the third ring.
“Rory?”
“Don’t sound so pleased.”
“I told you I’d be in contact this afternoon.”
“Kit and I went to Meridian,” I blurted out. “They’re clearing the place out. Right now.”
“Jesus Christ,” Maxwell sputtered through the phone. I could practically see his face twisting the way it did when he was trying not to explode. “You did what? Please tell me you didn’t break in again.”
“We just walked past,” I said, locking eyes with Kit. “Like normal citizens out for a stroll.”
“A stroll that just happened to take you past Meridian.”
“Exactly! And they’re packing everything up. Moving vans, the whole shebang.”
There was a pause, and I could hear the background noise of Maxwell’s office—phones ringing, muffled conversations, the clatter of keyboards. Despite his obvious annoyance, his voice lacked the razor edge it usually had when addressing me. Kit’s presence clearly made a difference.
“And what has Seb said?” he asked.
“I haven’t told him yet.”
“You… rang me before him?” The surprise in his voice was unmistakable, almost… touched?
I felt my cheeks warm slightly. “I’m increasingly regretting that fact. Could any of your police searches have tipped them off?”
“It’s possible,” Maxwell admitted after a moment. “But look, I’m about to go into a meeting. Ring Seb, and I’ll check my phone afterwards.”
Hanging up, I scrolled through my contacts. “Let’s hope he’s not busy.”
The phone rang for an age before Seb’s crisp voice answered, sounding distinctly unimpressed. “Rory, it’s Saturday.”
I rolled my eyes so hard they practically did a full rotation.
Seb never used to care about weekends before he got a tasty boyfriend to snack on.
He used to work around the clock, lived and breathed Killigrew Street.
Now I could hear Flynn mumbling something in the background, probably something about brunch or farmers’ markets or whatever normal couples did on weekends.
After checking that Maxwell had filled him in about last night, I quickly explained about Meridian’s sudden evacuation and our theory about police searches possibly triggering their exit, if not Bradley and Brody.
“We’ll meet at Killigrew Street at four,” Seb said after a moment of consideration. “I’ll contact everyone.”
I was tempted to argue for an earlier time—every minute wasted might mean Dev’s demise, if he was still alive—but I couldn’t really push my luck. I was surprised Seb hadn’t shouted at me.
After I’d hung up, Kit’s eyes suddenly fell to his cup. “Oh, by the way, I messaged Seb this morning while you were in the shower. Got his approval for our little excursion to Meridian.”
I nearly choked on my drink. “You what?”
“Protocol.” Kit shrugged as if he hadn’t betrayed me. “You know how Seb feels about unauthorized missions.”
“We were literally just walking past a building!” I protested, feeling a hot flush of betrayal creep up my neck. Kit had gone behind my back, treating me like some rookie who couldn’t be trusted. “That’s not a mission, that’s… that’s exercise!”
Kit gave me that infuriating older-brother look—the one that made me feel about five years old. “And yet here we are, watching them pack up evidence that could be crucial to the case.”
My phone buzzed before I could argue further. A text from Priya.
Priya
Rory, you’re lucky I love you. Emma got us rooftop cinema tickets for Peckham Levels.
A stupid stab of jealousy twisted in my gut. I’d already mentally pencilled in going to see her this afternoon.
Though, what kind of friend gets jealous when their mate finds happiness? A shit one, that’s what.
She’s got four tickets, so I was about to text you and Flynn.
And now I felt super guilty to go along with my patheticness.
Sorry. I love you. Maybe you’ll still be able to make it?
It’s alright. To be honest, it was some black and white art-house thing about the sociopolitical implications of climate change, so you know, maybe
a lucky escape. See you later.
I looked up at Kit. “So, what are we doing until four p.m.?”
“I’m putting you under house arrest.”
The sad thing was, I couldn’t even blame him.