Chapter Twenty-Three Reference and Evidence #2
Didn’t mean he wasn’t shitting himself.
Naomi leaned on the edge of the table, close enough to Warren to catch the tension rolling off him. “You’ve got two safewords. Red pen, we pull you out clean. Year ten, we move in hard and fast. Anything else—play it straight. Let him believe he still holds the power.”
Jude nodded again. He liked Naomi. Understood why she and Warren had once worked, maybe even more than that.
No-nonsense, results-driven. But she had a humanity the others sometimes tucked away.
A clarity making space for the fact he was more than a pawn.
Because everyone in this room knew what was at stake.
What it meant for him to step into the firing line.
But he wasn’t doing it for Patel’s operation.
Nor even for Warren.
It was for his kids. Those in his classroom. Because what was the point of teaching them history if they never had the chance to live long enough to make their own?
Havers tapped his tablet. “Entry teams are staged two minutes out. We’ve got Reid to urge Radley into the basement office, which is usually locked, invite only. We’ll have full visual surveillance. Keep conversation natural. Don’t lead him. We need disclosure, not entrapment.”
The technician stepped back, pulling his hands free of Jude’s shirt collar. “Done. Give us a line.”
Jude cleared his throat, the sound tight. “Hello.”
Patel’s comms unit hissed back with his voice, clear and sharp.
Jude felt naked, stripped down to wire and nerves.
Then the door at the far end opened and in walked Callum Reid.
He might have been flanked by two officers, but his grin was smug.
Untouchable. He’d worn it the night he broke Jude down, and every day after.
Chains or not, Callum still carried power as if he owned it.
The air thinned. Jude’s chest locked.
“Well, well.” Callum’s eyes went straight to him. “Fancy seeing you here.”
Jude swallowed. Behind him, Warren pushed to his feet, a solid wall at his back.
Yet, even with Warren there, even with Patel, Naomi, Havers, the whole bloody task force in the room, Callum’s presence cut deep.
Bone-deep. Callum had never needed fists.
Words were sharper. And history… history was worse.
Jude wondered if anything would ever strip that away.
“Let’s focus,” Patel said. “Reid, your role is simple. You get Radley comfortable. You’ve vouched for Ellison, told him Jude’s clean. Ready to step up. Teacher’s wage won’t cut it, so he’s looking for extra income. You put them in the same room. You don’t talk unless Radley prompts you. Clear?”
Callum smirked, never looking away from Jude. “Whatever you say.”
Jude glanced over to Patel. “What if he has a code? Something to alert Radley?”
Callum barked out a laugh. “Then you’ll be minced lamb before your black knight charges in. Wire or no wire.”
“Jesus Christ.” Warren hissed through gritted teeth and turned to Patel. “We don’t need him. We can do this without Reid.”
“No, we can’t.” Naomi slid down from the table.
“Radley won’t meet anyone who hasn’t been vouched for.
I’ve spent months circling him. This is the only way in.
” She glanced at Callum, then back to Warren.
“Radley trusts him because Reid did his time for him. Didn’t take the plea.
Didn’t talk. That bought him currency. And now Reid’s spending it.
Delivering Jude as the payment he promised. ”
Patel cut through the tension to speak to Reid directly.
“If there’s any sign of codes being exchanged, if you deviate from the script, we pull Ellison out.
And Reid—” she pinned Callum with her stare “—if you go off-book, you’ll be facing the full weight of charges.
And Radley will know you grassed. You won’t like what that looks like. ”
Callum scoffed, but the grin faltered.
Patel shut the file in front of her with finality.
“Surveillance is in place. Naomi’s devices are live across the property, bar the inner room.
That’s why Ellison’s wearing the wire. You’ll be surrounded by Radley’s men.
Expect blind spots. If it goes wrong, it’ll go wrong fast.” She scanned the room.
“We’ve got two other covers inside. Naomi, Warren.
We’d prefer not to use either. They’re insurance only. ”
She let the silence stretch a beat, then exhaled. “Alright. Gear up. We move in five.”
Chairs scraped back, files snapped shut, boots shuffled towards the door. The briefing room emptied in a controlled flurry until only Jude lingered, reaching for his jacket.
Warren’s hand closed around his wrist. Firm. Unyielding.
When the last footsteps faded, Warren stepped in close. He didn’t speak. He couldn’t, not with the wire live. Instead, he lifted a finger to his lips and said it all with his eyes. Intense, burning, fierce enough to strip the fear right out of Jude’s chest.
Jude closed his eyes, sliding his hands up the column of Warren’s neck, clinging there as if touch alone could hold him steady. He matched Warren’s breath. Inhale. Exhale. Two hearts syncing, beating hard in the silence. For those stolen seconds, it was enough.
Enough to walk out the door.
Enough to face hell.
Warren pressed his forehead to Jude’s, lips shaping soundless words: I got you.
Jude’s mouth curved, but the smile didn’t reach his chest. He believed Warren meant it, every syllable of it, but history had taught him better. Safety was never simple. Never certain. He could only ever trust himself to survive.
Still, he nodded. Forced himself to peel away, slipping his hand from Warren’s, fingers trailing until there was nothing left to hold. He crossed the room to the door, shoulders stiff and stepped into the cold air of the car park.
The dull grey car waited. Unremarkable. Forgettable.
Callum was in the back, sprawled as if this were his night out, not a deal with the devil.
Two plainclothed officers filled the front seats, one of them pushing the passenger door open for Jude.
He hesitated a beat, gazing back at Warren standing in the warehouse doorway, tall and solid in the wash of yellow light.
Then he glanced around the car park—the surveillance vans, the parked cars, Patel’s sharp figure, Naomi’s steely gaze.
All of it. The whole operation leant on him.
Jude swallowed hard. Climbed in.
The door clicked shut behind him, sealing him in with the familiar poison at his side.
Callum smirked, jutting his chin towards Warren’s reflection in the mirror. “He’s got you good and proper, ain’t he? Knows how to play you. Give you a bit of cock and you’ll do anything.” His laugh came low, mean. “Always did.”
Jude kept his mouth shut. Because that was safer.
Because if he spoke, the words might crack and give Callum exactly what he wanted.
He tried not to hear him. Tried to let the words slide off, meaningless.
But Callum’s voice had lived in his head for years.
Had burrowed so deep it still found the raw seams, even now.
Every syllable was a scalpel, slicing at scars never fully healed.
If he stepped back, analysed it the way he made his students analyse history—essay plan, bullet points, balanced argument—the question would be brutal in its simplicity: How did the Southeast major crime police network bring down Worthbridge’s biggest crime operation?
The answer: By using a nobody. A man too easy to manipulate.
A man who fell in love with one of them.
Just as he had with Callum.
Jude’s stomach turned. He remembered the early days.
The charm, the heat, the illusion of safety.
How being with Callum had felt like a shield against loneliness.
Of the crushing weight of silence. Better to have someone than no one.
Better to have Callum’s lies than live on the street.
He’d convinced himself it was love. That Callum might even love him back.
But love had become a leash. Safety had turned into a cage. And by the time he saw it for what it was, it was already too late.
History repeats.
The thought pressed in, heavy and suffocating.
He could be making the same mistake all over again.
Warren wasn’t Callum, he knew that, but the echo still whispered, low and insidious: He used you.
Got what he wanted. He’ll leave when this is over.
And maybe he would. Maybe once this op was wrapped, Warren would walk out of his life without so much as a thank you, leaving Jude with nothing but the echo of his touch.
Even so—Jude would take it. Because Warren had been worth it.
Worth the risk of opening the door a crack.
Of letting someone see inside again. And if nothing else, if Warren left tomorrow, at least Jude had learned he could still feel this.
Still trust faster than he used to. Still believe, even for a moment, that not everyone who reached for him meant to break him.
Fixing his eyes on the road unfurling ahead, he watched the sea keeping pace beside him, a smear of ink on the horizon.
Restless, crashing over the cliffs below, its roar muffled by steel and distance.
Beside him, Callum lounged as if they weren’t heading into the lion’s den, bouncing his knee in a ceaseless rhythm of arrogance.
They’d promised him Callum hadn’t managed to warn Radley.
Promised the gang wouldn’t know. Promised Jude’s wire was a secret.
But Callum had always found ways to worm around promises, twisting them into knives Jude never saw coming.
And once they stepped into that cliff-top palace, glass and stone glowing like a beacon, it wouldn’t be officers at his back.
It would be Callum.
And a room full of men who’d tear him apart if he faltered.