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Cade sped up from the outside of us once more, slowing as he reached Indie and passing another message to him. Indie checked his mirrors, and I followed, checking my own. The little band of riders that had sat behind us hadn’t joined the road yet, but I doubted that was the last we’d see of them. Then our president raised his hand above his head and moved it in a circle. An instruction to go faster. I waited for the bikes in front of me to pick up the pace first, then opened mine up, feeling that surge of raw power underneath me.

Behind me, the tone of Jazz’s bike changed. She’d spent the entire ride eyeing up Beanz, looking for an escape from the middle of the Harleys. Now at least she’d be able to ride faster, a bit more like she preferred to. In my mirrors, dark shapes moved in behind us, and they seemed to have multiplied. Yet, it wasn’t the haunting shapes of the riders on our tail that caught my attention, but the specks of racing bikes.

I’d noticed them pass on the other side of the road earlier, but they’d doubled back, and they were coming up on us fast. They sped past the pack of riders that had followed us out of Kirkby Stephen, but now they slowed, sitting on our outside flank.

Alice had spotted them too, her arms wrapping tighter round my body. Other heads turned, watching the men in bright Italian racing suits hemming us in. There was a slip road coming up. They were going to force us off the road. Away from people. Away from any help. We had to keep going. I watched Indie at the front, wondering what his plan was, waiting for our instructions. They’d been to keep going no matter what. But we weren’t expecting the Hand to have reinforcements. And these reinforcements would out ride us on those things.

From the middle of the pack, Jazz’s bike roared, revving the throttle. Her head swivelled as she watched them, then the riders in front of her. We all watched. One wrong move, one lack of concentration, one bit of distraction, and we would all crash. This ride formation was tricky at best. At speed, it was downright dangerous.

Suddenly, Jazz pulled to the left. Squeezing her bike along the white line on the side of the road, picking up speed as she dashed past. Then with a scream that would have woken the dead themselves, the bike shot off, passing the entire line of Kings. Fuck. Beanz looked around helplessly, not sure whether to follow but knowing he had no hope of catching her.

Five bikes that sat in the middle of the pack on our right flank cut away. Their bikes screaming with the same carnal energy, overtaking the front riders and leaving the rest of us for dust, racing after Jazz. And now Jazz was on her own, with five riders on her tail.

Fury pushed his bike up towards Indie, a discussion taking place between them, but instead of Fury going after them like I thought he would, he dropped back into position. And still, Jazz was on her own. But as he pulled back, he nodded at Barry the Blade. They reached out to each other, fist bumping, and then Baz suddenly jerked to his right, the bike next to him swerving to avoid him, crossing the line in the middle of the road, into the path of an oncoming HGV.

There was a squeal of brakes, the sickening screech of metal. But none of us stopped. None of us looking back. Behind me, Alice moved, straightening upright, her head swivelling side to side. In front of me, Barry the Blade was away, overtaking Indie, the roar of the Harley fading as he pulled further and further in front of us.

No one else followed. The racing bikes on our flank were now down to four, and now they couldn’t keep us hemmed in. No longer able to control our direction. But the riders on our tail were still there, and there was no way to outrun them. Not just yet.

We kept climbing up the A66, the road splitting into two lanes and then back to one, intermittent and inconsistent. No one changed direction behind us. The bikers on our flank never moving and now some of us were riding three abreast and dangerously fast.

We rode for miles, weaving around traffic where we could, slowing simultaneously where we couldn’t, and then filtering past the first chance we got. But our ride formation was breaking, the obstacles and the racing bikes forcing changes until the middle filtered to single file, the women at our backs no longer sheltered.

Then, as we came up on Barnard Castle, and tiny roads led off the fast road of the A66, Indie pushed his hand in the air once more. He waved his fingers forward three times over his head, and then pointed left, waving his hand in that direction three times.

I took a breath, seeing the space he’d seen in front of us, the road splitting into two lanes once more. The bikes bolted forwards, charging quickly, regaining space from the constant squeeze of the racing bikes. The bikes on our flanks kept up, but behind me, a group of riders peeled off at the back, pulling down a slip road and leaving us. I glanced quickly in my mirrors, watching the bikes chasing us from behind, a group following the riders who’d left the formation. Cade had successfully split some of the threat, drawing them away.

“Ride safe, brother,” I muttered under my visor, too quietly for anyone to hear.

At the top of the Kings’ formation, Indie, Fury and Big Red swapped positions, Big Red now leading the ride and Fury and Indie repositioning themselves on the outside between the race riders. Fury waved Beanz in behind him as they formed a line, perfectly in step with the bikes hassling us from one side. One by one, they swerved at the riders next to them, forcing the heavy bikes towards them. One swerved over the line again and quickly recovered before a car coming in the opposite direction took them out.

The racing bikes squealed off, racing up the road in front of us, dislodged from our flanks before the Kings put another one under the wheels of a truck. Now that there was more space, Fury could drop back and give orders and I manoeuvred closer to the outside, so I could hear properly.

“Big Red is leading the ride,” he shouted. “Stay with Big Red and ride fast. Get home, not the clubhouse. We don’t know how safe it’ll be there. We’ll call you in when it’s safe.”

I nodded and then watched Fury, Indie and a couple of others drop in at the back.

We roared on, the A1 motorway, which joined one end of the country to the other only a few miles away now. And once we were on there, with three lanes of road, we’d split, riding as fast as we could to safety. At the back, Indie and Fury swerved off at the next slip road, two other Kings joining them.

I checked my mirrors. We had four on us now; the majority going after our president and vice president. And now I hoped to God that he kept the roads clear for them and kept them safe. My stomach lurched and my hands shook on the handlebars, the adrenaline pumping through my body running out. We reached the A1, and now we filtered out into the three lanes of motorway, urging the bikes to go faster and faster. I weaved through the traffic, in and out of cars, zipping on the inside of three big lorries and then back into the outside lane. I checked my mirrors, but at this speed; it was hard to really see what was happening behind me. The wind and cold hit me hard, and Alice held me with all her strength, her head pushed against my shoulder blades.

I leant forwards and pushed the bike faster.