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“I need your ass at the hospital now!” Indie’s voice growled down the phone.

I didn’t even have my eyes open as I held the mobile against my face, not quite finding my ear.

“Ok, ok. I’m coming,” I groaned, wiping my other hand across my face, still unable to open both eyes. “Why am I coming to the hospital, Indie?”

“Someone’s attacked Demon.”

“Again? In the hospital?”

“Aye. Fuckers.”

“Is he ok?”

“We don’t know yet. I need everyone there. And I need someone who can get into the CCTV and identify the fucker who did it. Now go wake Carnage. We need to be there before the police are crawling all over the place.”

The call ended, the room returning to sleepy quiet, the cold seeping under the covers now I was awake. For a moment I lay there, the pull of sleep strong, a heaviness behind my eyes, a sinking feeling in my head.

The door burst open, the light from the hallway outside blinding me, even though I could barely see through my own eyelids, anyway.

“Cade. Indie rang. Demon….”

“I know. I’m coming.”

*****

The bikes roared in a cloudless night, stars twinkling above us. The ends of my fingers throbbed as my body pushed blood to extremities threatened with frostbite. Each bump in the road, I could feel tenfold, jolting through the handlebars. And as we raced on into the night, Gateshead froze around us, the frost sparkling under the bike’s headlights.

We approached a corner, letting the engines slow us, a slight squeeze of the brake. In front of me Caleb’s bike slid, the back wheel skidding, making him wobble, and my whole body tensed under the roaring quarter of a tonne mass of a bike. Caleb squeezed the throttle, edging his bike out of the slide, thick rubber wheels struggling to grip the slippy road. The bike slipped again, twisting and convulsing. I held my breath, my heart beating in my ears, and if I could have shut my eyes, I would have.

And then it stopped, Caleb easing the frame upright once more, finishing the turn and pulling away again in front.

My visor misted, the huge lungful of air I was holding onto escaping all at once, and I pushed at the lid, icy cold air rushing at my face through the gap.

Fucking 4.45 in the morning, when I should be sleeping, not breaking my neck on an icy road as we rushed to answer the call. One in, all in. That’s how it worked. Like fucked up musketeers. We knew that when we joined. When we passed all the initiation challenges, and proved our loyalty to a brotherhood of leather and steel. But at 4.45 in the fucking morning, I questioned that loyalty.

Eventually, the hospital came into view, the three-storey red brick building sprawling in front of us. A pattern of twinkling squares of light glowing from inside, hallways and stairwells constantly lit. The car park was almost desolate, sleeping relatives tucked up snug and warm, knocking out the zeds while we froze in black leather.

It didn’t take long to find the little cluster of Harleys parked under a streetlight at the very front of the car park. A lone Kings’ sentry stood in the night protecting club assets.

“Hey, Security Sam,” Caleb clapped the man on the shoulder, the connection of leather muffling the sound. “Who’s already in?”

“Indie, Fury, Reap and Barry the Blade. I’m looking after the bikes.”

“Like a good prospect,” Caleb fist-bumped the yet-to-be-patched-in member and then beckoned for me to follow. “Good call, Fury making him a prospect. Got loads of skills that one, knows how to keep watch,” my brother rolled his eyes.

“Sure he’ll be good for something,” I shrugged, my brother’s sarcasm irritating my tired brain.

Demon was on the fifth floor of the six-storey, red brick sixties, monstrosity that sprawled the site. The glass panelled front doors slid back as we approached, inviting us into the sterile corridors of beige, wipe clean, lino tiled floors and off-white walls, which were long overdue a repaint. A grey rubber rail attached to the wall at just about waist height, scuffs and black streaks from years of trolleys and gurneys that had been dragged along it, providing the only colour. Someone had thought to hang a few pictures. Aerial photos of Gateshead, so old even I didn’t recognise the landscape, and copies of photographs of the Angel of the North from every perceivable angle, the rust-coloured steel sculpture standing proudly on a hill overlooking the old pit. The building was as depressed as the people recovering and dying within it.

It had been cleaned recently, the slight film of something wet on the floor tiles catching in the glow from the strip lights overhead. The smell caught in my nose. Chemicals, and an overbearing stench of cleanliness, too clean. Too severe. Memories flooding my brain, a thickness developing in my stomach. I swallowed hard, stealing a glance at Caleb, his face as tense as I felt. And not because we were rushing to visit an injured brother. He walked ahead slightly, with long, determined strides, concentrating on something I couldn’t see, yet I knew his thoughts. Because they would be the same as mine. The deserted corridor. The small hours of the morning. The rush to the hospital from a phone call. All of it flooding back.

We rode the lift in silence, listening to the mechanics work above and around us, pulling the metal box higher and higher. The lift pinged, and the doors slid back, opening onto a corridor of bodies. Leather bodies. The Northern Kings Sigel smiled at us as we approached. There was a buzz in the air, a mix of agitation and excitement, and the slight infusion of anger. And I hoped that cocktail didn’t change composition, or a shitstorm was going to descend on ward twenty-seven.

“What’s the craic?” I asked the four men huddled around a door; my voice hushed in case the worried nurses that bustled about might overhear me.

“One of these nurses caught someone in Demon’s room,” Indie grumbled, his tone as hushed as mine. “She didn’t recognise him. Something about the arms and hands covered in tattoos sending a rabbit off.”

“Nowt wrong with fucking tattoos,” Sicknote complained beside our president.

“Shut-up Sicknote. Not the fucking time,” Fury scolded the newly patched-in member, giving the man a look that made him back up a foot like an abused dog.

“We know anymore?” Caleb asked.

Indie shook his head. “Not yet. Hospital policy. Looks like she can’t tell us much more. But….”

“And you reckon we can get her talking?” I finished for Indie.

“Aye. Before the police get here and shut this whole thing up.”

I nodded, understanding our orders and tipping my head at Caleb.

“I need CCTV too, lads. I want to know who this is. Because they’re our first target. They want a fucking war, then we’ll bring one to them. I’m not fucking waiting for it to come to us anymore.”

We nodded in unison, that deep sense of dread that had infiltrated my veins the moment we’d stepped through those sliding doors, sinking deeper into my body. Caleb patted Indie carefully on the shoulder before stepping around him and we wandered off to where we might find a shaken up little nurse.

We didn’t have to go far. Just to a small station midway down the corridor where two nurses huddled, talking in hushed voices, one looking over their shoulder and closing off their conversation the minute they saw us.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the taller of the two mumbled, her voice lacking conviction.

“I know. We know. Visiting time’s not for another few hours yet. But you can appreciate why we’re here.” Caleb stroked a hand through thick blond hair, his bike jacket opening, the already tight t-shirt underneath, pulling across his chest.

The move never failed, and I watched as both nurse’s eyes tracked across his hand, down his face, dropping onto his chest.

He lowered his voice just a little more and turned to the smaller of the two women, a slim brunette with big doe eyes and her hair pulled back into a ponytail.

“It was you, wasn’t it? Who saved Demon?” he asked, his eyes pinning hers.

“I wouldn’t say saved…” her voice trailed off as she tried to control the squeak.

“But you did,” he hummed, taking a step closer. “If it wasn’t for you, our boy there would likely be dead.”

“I…I don’t know about that.”

“Sure, you do. You saw a guy in there with him. What made you suspicious?”

“I didn’t recognise him. And there was just something about him…”

“What was that? Cos I’d bet anyone else would have just shrugged it off, but you…you followed your gut.”

The nurse flushed, pink leaking from her cheeks, and the taller nurse stood watching, her eyes flicking from Caleb to me and back again.

“He was wearing jeans and thick boots under his scrubs,” she continued. “Nurses wouldn’t wear that. We’d wear trainers and loose-fitting pants; we’re on our feet for hours and it’s boiling in here. There’s no way he could do a shift in those.”

Caleb smiled, and the nurse smiled back.

“That is so observant,” he cooed. “I’d want you as my nurse, too.”

“He had a load of tattoos,” the taller nurse added suddenly.

“You saw him too?” I asked.

“Only after Gemma raised the alarm. Got straight onto the cameras.”

“Anything you noticed about his tattoos? Any design?”

“No. They just seemed a bit abstract. Like separate from the rest of the tattoos. Just didn’t fit.”

Caleb glanced at me and cocked an eyebrow.

“What’s the chances you ladies can get me that CCTV?”

The taller nurse shook her head and doe eyes looked like she’d taken a step back.

“We can’t. That could cost us our jobs.”

“But you might suddenly have to rush off to look after a patient and leave this station unattended with the CCTV camera footage open?” Caleb gave them a lop-sided grin, pushing his hand back through his hair.

This was the first time I’d noticed how good my brother was at this. The shorter nurse bit her lip and glanced at her friend.

“No. I’m sorry. We couldn’t do that,” Doe-eyes looked at us apologetically.

“No course not. Wouldn’t want to get you ladies into any bother.” Caleb grinned, his face full of mischief, and his eyes locked on the short brunette. “Thank you, though. Again. Thank you for saving Demon. If there’s any way we could thank you properly, you just let us know.”

Caleb moved his jacket, pushing his hand into the pocket of his jeans, letting the tight t-shirt cling to his lower torso. The waistband sank slightly under the weight of his arm, an inch of skin exposed between the t-shirt and the sag of denim.

We turned to retreat, no further forward identifying the man who’d made another attempt on Demon. That bothered me, because someone knew he was still alive. Someone coming to correct their mistake. The soft pad of feet behind me that took me from my thoughts, a sudden smell of floral perfume.

It was the taller nurse who’d hurried behind us. She held out her hand, shoving a folded-up piece of paper towards Caleb.

“I can get you stills of the CCTV. Call me.” She smiled nervously, her eyes raking over his face.

Caleb reached for the paper, taking hold of the end and pausing, his eyes never leaving hers, a grin forming on his face.

“Thanks, babe,” he cooed again, his voice low and soft. “I’ll call ya later.”

The nurse chewed on her bottom lip. Nervousness or an attempt at looking sexy, I wasn’t sure.

“What do you reckon, Cade?” Caleb lowered his voice as we walked away from the nurses and the nursing station in the middle of the ward. “Reckon you’re up for some action tonight? We haven’t got laid in ages.”

“Days, Caleb. It’s only been days.”

“That’s fucking ages. We go round, get the CCTV images, get sucked off. Job’s a good ‘un’.”

I rolled my eyes and strode away, back to the bodies in leather at the end of Demon’s room.

“What?” my brother called out from behind me.