They sat waiting in the BMW, Jane and Kitty in the back, Lizzy in the front alongside Darcy's driver, who'd been reluctant to drive them to this part of the city. They knew why. Newham was one of the most troubled areas of London, notorious for its significantly higher than average violent crime, unemployment, and child poverty rates. The cops were always busting something, a brothel here, a modern slavery ring there, but there was always another and another and another to take its place. Coupled with that was the gang problem, knife crime on the rise, police brutality and profiling all too common. It was ironic then that this was the place chosen for the most significant regeneration of the city in years. Standing in the shadow of the Olympic Park, Newham was going through what most boroughs had already experienced. Gentrification. First came the Olympics then came the young professionals, swarming over the cheaper housing in an area that was just a stone's throw away from the swish office blocks of Canary Wharf. Trendy bars and restaurants began to pop up, retail and business parks. 'Good for the area' they all said. Bollocks. It was just another new front opened up in Britain's covert war against the poor, an attempt to price out those who had been there for generations and those who had come to Britain in search of a better life but found themselves scraping by on minimum wage. Replacing them with the middle-class drones who wanted coffee shops, vegan restaurants, and 'nice' pubs.

But by the looks of the scenes in front of them, Newham was fighting back.

They were parked on Green Street, a stretch of road that had been notorious for football hooliganism back in the day, the battles between the West Ham and Millwall fans legendary. Had even been immortalised in a terrible film with that American midget from that film with the swords and the wizards and all that shit, something which Kitty was excited about for some reason.

"I know he's awful, but he's pretty fit." she was saying, anything to diffuse the tension.

"Yeah, you have to squint though," Jane muttered distractedly, glancing around. "God, we're so fucking conspicuous in this thing."

She was right, Lizzy looked around anxiously. A top end BMW was not exactly a common sight around these ends and they knew they were drawing attention to themselves. This was not an area where wealth was displayed so blatantly. Green Street was the closest thing London had to a Bazaar, South Asian territory, bustling and vibrant at first glance but underneath appearances, as with most of London, was a darker truth, scams and scores, crime and violence. Remembered the jewellery heist last year, 1.8 million gone in an hour. The kid shot just round the corner. This was the East End after all.

Looked across at the snooker hall, inconspicuous and dirty, not exactly where you'd expect a London crime boss to conduct his business. But perhaps that was the point. Because at second glance, you could tell. The CCTV pointing outwards, the bouncers on the reinforced steel door, the way the locals gave it a wide berth. This wasn't your typical pool hall where the kids wagging it from school spent their lazy afternoons.

"When can we get the money?" Jane asked, penetrating the tense silence that had once again fallen.

"I can get mine by tonight," Lizzy pinched the bridge of her nose, a remarkably quick turnaround for that sort of cash but it still wasn't fast enough. "You?"

"We've got sixty at Tommo's right now. Hoping for another ten to twenty, but that won't be till late afternoon."

"What's the time now?"

"Half one." Kitty checked her watch.

Lizzy whistled out a breath. So much had happened in the last 24 hours. God, she was tired. The uppers Kitty had managed to get for her hadn't done much but she didn't want to take more, could leave her scattish and unfocused. Had to just push through with it.

"We can't wait," Lizzy shook her head. "We can't take the chance that he'll find her before we get the money. We need to go now and tell him we can get him the money by midnight."

"You wanna go in there without anything to offer?"

"You got anything else, Jane?" Lizzy spat angrily and unfairly. "Any other plan? You hiding a hundred grand in your bra?"

Regretted it as soon as she'd said it.

"Stop it, Lizzy," Kitty said firmly. "We just need to be sure."

Lizzy sighed again and turned to face Jane, who looked slightly hurt by her outburst.

"I'm sorry, Janey," she attempted to backtrack. "But you know we have to go now."

"It's fine," Jane replied shortly, still looking out the window. "We go now then."

But none of them moved. Each took one last look around. They were all scared. Of course they were. They were going against everything they'd ever been taught, every lesson they'd ever learned. They were three young women about to walk into a drug suppliers base of operations all alone, using a name that was blacklisted. They were about to ask a merciless man for mercy.

"You know, if we get out of this, I think I need to take you two on a team bonding weekend away," Kitty joked with a defiant laugh. "Sit around the fire and talk about your issues."

Lizzy finally caught Jane's eye and after a beat they both burst out laughing.

"Tell you what, Kitty," Jane chortled. "If we all get out of this I'll take you anywhere you want to go."

"I'll hold you to that," Kitty nodded, before she turned wistful. "I'm thinking St Petersburg. For some reason I always thought I'd end up there one day. Sipping vodka on ice, fucking pretty Russian girls on those big four poster beds with the drapes, snow falling outside the window…. Yeah, St Petersburg…"

"Russia, did not see that coming," Jane laughed. "I was thinking more along the lines of Margate, Brighton, something like that."

"That's because you have no imagination and never leave the N1 postcode." Kitty teased.

"Russia it is then." Jane smiled before she put her mask back up, what they were about to do sinking in.

"Russia," Lizzy agreed. "OK then, today's as good a day to die as any I suppose."

And before she could think about it she opened the car door, climbed out, walked across the road ignoring the stares, and approached her fate.

"I can't believe I'm gonna die before I know how Game of Thrones ends." Kitty muttered as she and Jane followed Lizzy out the car.

Her heart was pounding, her adrenaline was coursing, her mind was whirring. But this wasn't what she was used to. This wasn't the excitement of a Grift, wasn't that perfect feeling of mischief that came with a score. No, this was heavy shit. This was uncontrollable shaking, dark thoughts flashing across her eyes as if they were happening in front of her, this was pure fear. She shouldn't be here, this wasn't how it was ever supposed to go. But just as she began to waver, she felt Kitty and Jane's presence behind her and it gave her the strength to carry on.

The bouncers outside the doors had been eyeing them ever since they'd exited the BMW, and now as it became clear that they were approaching the club, they glanced across at each other, a mocking smile on both their faces. The three sisters came to a halt in front of them.

"You lost, girls?" one of the bouncers laughed.

"No," Lizzy replied. "Can we come in please?"

They looked at each other again and after a second burst out into sharp laughter.

"I don't think this is your scene," the bouncer who had a horrible rat-like face that belied his size said patronisingly. "Now run along back to daddy's beemer. Fucking class tourists…."

"We're here to see Alexander Laska." Kitty butted in, too quickly for Lizzy's liking. Immediately the smiles were wiped from their faces and the laughter was gone as quickly as it came. Air was thick, tense, ready to jump off. Lizzy prepared herself for everything, even running if they had to.

"Never heard of him." the rat dismissed, but Grifters like the Bennet's could spot lies a mile off.

"Oh come on, mate, let's not play this game," Lizzy cocked her head to the side, remembering her interaction with the greatest Grifter of all time and taking a leaf out of her book. "I know he's here, you know he's here, I know who he is, you know who he is, etc, etc. I'm here to see him."

"If you knew who he was then you wouldn't be here calling his name out in the middle of the street. You'd know how dangerous that could be for a little girl…."

Lizzy smiled, glint in her eye.

"Well, I like to live dangerously," she lowered her voice, with a wink added in for good measure. "And some men like yourself might find themselves in a dangerous situation if their boss found out they'd lost him a fortune by turning away such, what was it, 'little girls'?"

Could see the sudden uncertainty in both their eyes. They glanced quickly at each other, but this time it wasn't to laugh at their expense.

"Run it upstairs," the rat instructed his colleague, who pulled out a mobile phone with a scowl and walked into the club. "You three wait here and don't talk to me."

Lizzy turned back to her sisters with a grimace and they waited in silence, each running their own thoughts. This was it now then. Looked out across the market street in front of the club, marvelling at the human race, the way they capitalised everything. Money, money, money. Honest and dishonest. Saw a woman across the road in a long dress and shawl gesturing animatedly with the flowers in her hand at passers-by, shaking them in their faces and seemingly shouting at them. The man on the corner wearing the long trench coat that would undoubtedly open up to reveal knock off French cigarettes or fake watches if the right words were exchanged. The little boy and girl weaving between the stalls, stealing everything they could fit in their tiny pockets as they danced below most people's lines of vision. An honest living indeed.

"You frisked them?" a bored voice drawled out, causing the three sisters to twirl around quickly.

In front of them was stood a man who wouldn't warrant even a second glance on the street, such was his manner. He was of medium height, wiry frame some would call it, short brown hair tight in a ponytail, about the only characteristic that would make him stand out. His hazel eyes were narrowed in their sockets, slightly hooked nose turned up. Jeans and a bomber jacket that had seen better days, Lizzy knew straight away that this couldn't be Alexander Laska.

"I didn't think….."

"Three randomers come off of the street and you don't frisk them?" the man raised an eyebrow. "Sloppy boys, very sloppy. Remember what happened to the last two we had working the door who made mistakes…..."

His English was note perfect, clipped and professional, only the vaguest hit of Eastern Europe behind it. Lizzy would guess at Czech, making this Laska's number two, Milan Kadlec.

"Sorry, Milan," the rat muttered, confirming Lizzy's hypothesis. "Arms up ladies."

They hesitated.

"I understand that this may be uncomfortable for you," Milan said emotionlessly, looking straight at Lizzy as if he'd identified the leader already. "But you must understand that it is a necessary precaution. The boys will be completely professional. However, if you still feel unease, I can get a female member of staff out here and they can perform the required checks."

God, he even spoke like middle management. The tone of boredom, reeling off the right words with no concern or feeling. However, it was clear that Milan was an important man by the way the two tough guys deferred and apologised to him.

"That won't be necessary." Lizzy shrugged, taking a step towards the bouncers, spreading her arms and parting her legs slightly. Rough hands began to pat her down, invasive sure, but Milan's words were followed, it was all professionally done with no leers or unnecessary touching up. Once she was finished Jane and Kitty stepped forward, repeating the process.

"All clean." the rat nodded at Milan, taking a step back.

"Good, good," Mikael replied in a monotone, eyes dead. "Take a tea break."

The two walked away, leaving them alone, Milan making sure they were out of sight before turning to them.

"OK then, now that is out of the way we can begin. What brings you to Green Street today?"

"We're here to see Alexander Laska." Lizzy replied, making sure to look him directly in the eye.

"I do not know anyone by that name." Milan said cooly.

"We've been informed that this is where he spends his time." Lizzy frowned. If Milan had been the first person they'd interacted with then she may well have believed him, he gave nothing away at all. But the looks on the bouncers face earlier when she had mentioned Laska and the sudden drop in temperature had confirmed it. He was in there, in the club, just beyond their reach.

"And pray tell, who informed you of this?" Milan asked lightly, but Lizzy knew he was fishing.

"That doesn't matter," she shook her head. "Look, we're here about Lyd….."

"LUCKY HEATHER, LUCKY HEATHER!" a shout in a voice so Irish it veered close to parody cut her off from behind, a hand grabbing tightly at her sleeve, a bouquet of flowers that had looked minutes from death shoved in her face. "BUY FOR THE CHILDREN, FOR THE CHILDREN."

Lizzy shrugged the hand off and pushed the woman away with a snarl. She was not in the mood for the randomness that this city could throw at you right now. Slightly misjudged the force she used, however, and the woman stumbled straight into Milan, grabbing at his bomber jacket to steady herself, flowers slapping him in the face. Recognized her as the woman she'd seen earlier across the street, waving the same flowers at passers-by. It was an old Gypsy scam that she was sure had died out, hadn't seen the lucky heather travellers working the streets since the late noughties. Traditions don't die easily she guessed.

"Walk away." Milan warned, his tone never rising above it's freezing temperature, and the woman scurried off with a mutter about something to do with the curse of her ancestors or some shit. Funny, normally they were more persistent than that.

No time to dwell though.

"So then, you were saying?" Milan invited.

Deep breath.

"I'm here to see your boss. It's about Lydia Bennet and George Wickham."

Milan led them through the dark, dingy club, the air thick with so much smoke that it felt like she was inhaling solid matter as she breathed in. They weaved their way through the pool tables, past the darts board, shifty looking men and women almost ghoulish in their looks staring as they moved past them, spotting people who didn't belong a mile off. The soft glow from the table lights illuminating the green baize into something shockingly abrasive on the eyes, making everything else outside their range look dull and distorted. Empty pint glasses littered the tables, the conversation was non-existent despite that fact that every table was in use, the silence punctuated every few seconds or so by the crack of the balls colliding destructively into each other. Kept her head high, eyes fixed ahead, any stare ignored. Knew the others would do the same. They finally came to the back of the room, a tatty curtain pushed aside by Milan to reveal a narrow staircase that stank of piss and decay, suspicious ruby stains like a fingerpainting adorning the adjacent wall. Didn't want to give that one too much thought. Felt the broken glass crunch underfoot as she followed him up. Jesus, what were they doing?

Reached the top of the stairs and went through yet another curtain, emerging into a cavernous space with a deep breath. The room was almost bare, the walls were undecorated to reveal the stonework, the floor was naked slabs oozing cold, seeping through her shoes to touch the skin. There was only one object in the room and only one figure, a snooker table occupied by a tall man in no less than a tuxedo complete with bowtie. His appearance was jarring coming after all they'd seen of the place, a singular beacon of cleansed and crisp formality in a sea of dirt and grime. His back was turned as they approached, studying the table intensely.

Mian coughed as they stopped a fair distance away from Alexander Laska. He didn't reply instantly, just stayed stock still. Eventually, he cocked his head to the side and began to wander around the table, only gracing them with a single glance as he was revealed. He was tall and dark, fashionable stubble working its way around his face like vines, black hair swept back to reveal a slightly receding hairline. There was something receding about his whole appearance, a man who had been undoubtedly handsome in his younger days but was now showing the strains of life. A body beginning to go to seed. Jawline less defined, skin slightly sallow, rings around his eyes so large they could be hung from, not in anyway hidden by the thick-framed rectangular glasses he wore. He wasn't fat but he wasn't thin either, a snapshot caught between his past and his future.

Lizzy began to speak, but she was stopped by Laska holding up a hand, silencing her instantly without even looking at her, showing them the prison-like tattoos that adorned his knuckles. His concentration was wholly glued to the situation in front of him. He glided around the large green snooker table, stopping occasionally to chalk his cue, blowing the blue dust away through pursed lips when he had finished. His movements were too smooth, too measured and too considered, he gave every appearance of gliding around the table as if on ice, but it just wasn't as natural as it should have been. After an age of consideration, he finally took a deep breath and settled, bending down over the white ball, lining up his shot, closing his eyes for the briefest of moments. You could tell as he reopened them that everything else had faded, that it was just the table and him alone together as one. And suddenly after all of the build-up came the violent crack of the balls smashing into each other and the slam of the pocket, like with most forms of violence, it was over as quickly as it had begun.

"You're getting better." Milan nodded to Laska, same tone, no warmth, and Lizzy was beginning to understand how Milan Kadlec could be a highly effective number two. His lack of any form of expression was terrifying in itself.

"No, no," Laska shook his head with a sigh, eyes blinking away the obvious tiredness. "A lucky shot, my friend."

"That's what you always say."

"It is important to remain humble, a lesson that brother of yours could do well to remember. Don't think I haven't heard about his bragging all across the West End about how good business is. Sometimes I do not understand how the two of you can be related. He tarnishes your name, Milan."

"Alexi just gets over excited sometimes. I'll have a word." Mikael responded tiredly, showing the first crack as if this conversation was one that he had had too many times.

"Make sure you do that," Laska nodded, looking Milan up and down. "And whilst you're over there, get some new clothes for God's sake. I swear you've been wearing that jacket ever since we got off the fucking plane. Now, what have you interrupted my practice for?"

"We're the Bennet's," Lizzy stepped forward, cutting Milan off before he'd even began, Laska raising an amused eyebrow. "We're here about our sister, Lydia."

"Funny, I do not remember extending the invitation to extended family." Laska raked his eyes over all three of them, chilling them to the bone. Doing what they did involved reading people in an instant, and Lizzy had already judged this man as feral. Never trust someone who always seems in control. His calm demeanor pointed at something altogether more dangerous. There was an animalistic quality to him, his intense eyes not even attempting to hide his hunger, a beast stalking its prey. The way he held himself was coiled as if it was a constant battle to hold himself back from giving in and attacking, ripping apart the entire world.

"We know she made a mistake and we want to put it right." Lizzy said, holding eye contact, not letting herself show fear.

"Put it right?" Laska laughed. "How quaint of you to still believe in such a concept. This is business, Miss Bennet, this is England, right and wrong don't come into it."

"Our sister made a mistake." Lizzy pressed on.

"That is what siblings often do, as Milan here will tell you," Laska began circling the table again. "But sisters are a different thing altogether, it's all a bit messier with them. I have seven sisters, can you imagine? A few years back, I wanted to take over on the Seven Sisters Road up in Haringey and move them in there to run things. A certain poetry to that is there not, my seven sisters running Seven Sisters? Milan here talked me out of it, said the Clerkenwell Firm would be unhappy and it would cause more trouble than it was worth. You're based in North London, correct? Savages up there these days, no, no, Milan was right. It's best to stay in our lanes….."

"You're right, this is business," Jane stepped forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with Lizzy, attempting to get things back on track. "So we've come with a proposal…."

"Yes, I expect you have," Laska sighed, turning back to his snooker table to examine the mess of colour he had left behind, moving over to the far side so they were separated by the luminous baize. "You'll offer me money, drugs, sex, something or other I'm sure. Then I'll explain to you what you already know, that I want or need none of those things, that this situation goes beyond such trinkets."

"120 grand is not a trinket." Kitty butted in, Lizzy grimacing. That wasn't how she wanted to play this.

"For you perhaps not," Laska smiled broadly at Kitty from across the table. "And I must admit to being begrudgingly impressed, I did not expect associates of a street rat like Lydia Bennet to be able to come up with that sort of capital on such short notice. Then again, one thing I have learnt in this game is that desperate people make bigger moves. It sounds like such a big number to ordinary people does it not, 120 thousand pounds? The thing is, ladies, I am not ordinary people. In fact, I've made it my mission to be exactly the opposite, and therein lies our problem. Or rather, your problem."

"It's still money, real money, right now." Lizzy attempted to argue, hope sliding and slipping out of reach. And she realised just as she'd finished saying it that she'd made her first mistake.

"Right now? Did you find 120 grand on them when you frisked them, Milan?" Laska asked his number two without raising his eyes from the table.

Shit.

"Nothing, boss."

"Pray tell, Miss Bennet, do you have 120 thousand pounds on your person?" eyes flicking between the blue and white balls.

"Well, not here but…".

A sudden explosion of movement and sound cut her desperate backtracking off, Laska swinging his snooker cue above his head and cracking it down on the table, wood splintering violently in all directions causing them to cover their eyes to avoid the tiny knife-like shards. When they raised their sight to the man in front of them they found the previous repressed incarnation gone. In his place came the animal, eyes wide and wild, veins pulsating from his neck, the broken half of the wooden stick raised back above his head pointing straight at them, like a javelin thrower about to release his weapon. The fact he was wearing that tuxedo made it all the more surreally frightening.

"I fear I may have given the impression that this is a conversation between equals," he growled menacingly. "A conversation where your truth can be twisted."

"I meant no disrespect…" Lizzy tried but it was to little avail. This man was a psychopath.

"You said you had the money right now. You don't. You lied to me, you attempted to cheat me."

"She didn't…" Jane tried, cut off before she could finish again.

"Milan, go downstairs and find someone who owes me something. Find me a fucking example."

"Boss, come on…"

"DO IT!" Laska yelled, whipping his weapon around to point at Milan, who showed no reaction other than a nod before he disappeared.

"Mr Laska…." Jane attempted yet again, but again it was no use. They'd set him off, they'd played it all wrong.

"Don't fear, Miss Bennet," Laska grinned wildly, still pointing the sharp stick it them. "I'm about to extend to you all the hospitality that the East End is so famous for. Do you even know what your sister and that little prick George Wickham did? Do you even know why you're in this situation?"

"We can take a guess." Lizzy mumbled. She had never been able to turn off her mouth however dangerous the situation was. Luckily Laska seemed to pivot back to his earlier mood, dropping the stick to the floor and moving across the room to examine the other cues in the rack on the far wall.

"Of course," he replied. "One of my associates runs a little card game in the backroom here every week and George has been coming for years. I was, of course, unaware of his existence and attendance here until recently, such things are below my pay scale. But I am told other than one time a few years back when he lost big and took some um … persuading to pay what he owed, he's been a good customer."

"George ... he was in big trouble with a Card Shark in the East End. He needed to pay up and fast."

The world really was small, wasn't it? Everything's connected and all the pieces matter. Right here was where Georgiana Darcy's nightmare had also started…..

"So far, so innocuous, no?" Laska continued. "But then, a few months back, George approaches Milan looking to be put on the payroll. Said he had connections in all the Casinos across town and wanted to move our product in them. Now, this seemed like a beneficial enterprise, the Vietnamese had just been shut down by the police so the opening was there to be filled. Milan tested him out with a little starter package and he did well, turned a tidy profit for all involved. So we gave him more and money was soon being made. He and your sister are fantastic drug dealers, even caused me to raise an eye at their profits they were so high. Anyway, George comes back and demands a meeting with me and once we are in a room together he spins his yarn. He says he can get me better quality Brown at half the price I am currently paying. I am sceptical but he's been reliable so far, so again we trial it. We set up a deal, I give fifty thousand, and sure enough, the drugs come and it was everything promised. Want to tell me where the story goes?"

"They were Grifting you," Lizzy sighed, holding back the anger she was now feeling towards George, and towards Lydia. "It's a classic Convincer. They give you a little to show that it works. Build up your trust for the Big One. Let me guess, Russian businessman?"

"Arabian," Laska corrected with an acknowledging nod at her quick thinking. "Said he'd met this connection through the Casinos. So then I up my order and….."

"Something goes 'wrong'," Lizzy finished grimly, knowing exactly how this played out. "What did they say? Police bust?"

"You've done this before," Laska laughed. "Your sister comes to Milan and says George is in prison after the police raided the deal. This can happen, has happened before. I'm annoyed, angry, but I know how to take a hit. Only what George doesn't know is that I have a, shall we say, mutually beneficial relationship with Scotland Yard. I check it out and sure enough, no large-scale drug busts in the last few weeks. Put two and two together and here we are."

"Stupid bitch." Kitty muttered under her breath, the tone conveying realisation and resigned horror.

"How much?" Lizzy close to whispered, realising just how naive they'd been.

"Half a million," Laska grinned broadly at them. "But it's not about the money. Half a million, ten grand, a single pound coin, it's all the same to me. However much you steal, the punishment is the same….. Ah, Milan, excellent!"

Lizzy span round towards the direction of Laska's eye line over her shoulder. Milan was back, dragging a large man forcibly by the front of his stained shirt with an iron strength that belittled his stature. He pushed past them and threw the man down in front of Laska with such force that he fell straight forwards, cracking his cheek on the edge of the wooden table with a cry of pain and a spurt of blood from his mouth.

She was no stranger to violence, she grew up in the state, she ran Short Cons on the streets of London, straddled the two sides of the city, rich and poor, had found violence to be equal in both. But she'd never quite managed to desensitise herself to it, not like others she knew had. Indeed, Jane and Kitty looked on nonplussed by the turn, they'd seen this kind of thing again and again. So had Lizzy, but it always seemed to affect her more, each and every encounter searing into her brain, worming their way around the dark alleyways of her mind, past the rattling doors within which held repressed memories that were begging to be unleashed, begging to be let out and sabotage the mental state that she'd worked so hard to build and maintain. Deep breath. Inhale deeply, exhale slowly. Not now, not today. The doors would remain locked, the keys thrown away never to be discovered. For today at least.

"And who is this?" Laska asked, pushing the man over with his shoe to reveal his bloody face.

"I don't know," Milan replied nonchalantly. "Lefty says he owes five hundred for one of our poker games last night."

"The deadlines tomorrow!" the man on the floor managed to choke out. "The only reason I haven't got it today is cos the bank's closed! It's Sunday!"

"This true?" Laska raised an eyebrow at Milan.

"Probably," Milan shrugged in response, not caring at all. "You try finding someone who owes us something who is actually in our place of business."

"True, true," Laska chuckled, studying the man on the floor. "A preemptive warning then."

Moving fast as a cat, Laska dragged the man up and slammed his face into the side of the table again, this time teeth flying out of his mouth along with the blood, the cry of pain even more pronounced. Laska locked his eyes onto Lizzy's as he hauled the man up and repeated the action, the short, sharp brutality. Felt that sharp surge of fear course through her as she did her best not to look away, not show any reaction. Fear at those eyes that came alive with the violence, bright and wild, happy. Nothing more terrifying than someone who actually enjoys cruelty.

"Lesson learned you think?" Laska breathed heavily, absentmindedly wiping his brow with his bloody hand, a trail of dull red being left behind on his forehead.

"I think so." Jane said coldly, using the technique that she always did. Jane could shut herself down if she wanted to, turn her emotions off and on at will, especially when she was working. The only time Lizzy had seen real feelings properly get the better of Jane was in the whole Charlie aftermath.

"So calm," Laska grinned with feral eyes, picking up the white ball from the table and tossing it up and down. "I'm not sure I've quite got my point across to our guests, Milan. Get him up."

Milan dragged the man up yet again, this time pushing him over towards the corner of the table whilst Laska picked up his snooker cue, carefully chalking the end of it.

"Which part do you want?" Milan asked. "Dick?"

And then Lizzy knew exactly what was about to happen, what horror they were about to witness.

"Please, Milan, there are ladies present!" Laska chided his number two. "I don't want to give them the impression we're savages. Now tell me, Mr…?"

"Freddie," the man answered the implied question, voice thick with blood and shaken with fear as he raised his eyes up across the table.

"Mr Freddie. Are you left or right handed?"

"What…"

"Tell me….." Laska singsonged. God, he was a true psychopath.

"Left." Freddie shouted, confused.

"Right it is," Laska nodded at Milan, who grabbed Freddie's right hand, balled it into a fist, and pushed it down onto the table just in front of the pocket.

With one last smile at Lizzy, Laska rolled the white ball in his hand out onto the table, extended his cue back, and slammed the ball across the table at the speed of light, the sound of broken bones sickening as it crunched into Freddies exposed knuckles, causing him to fall back in pain as if shot.

They needed to get out of there now. Lizzy could feel herself crumbling from within, could feel herself about to break.

"Once more for luck!" Laska shouted gleefully, hopping up and down. Milan yet again dragged Freddie up, but this time he bent him over the table, slamming his head into the green baize that was now flecked with crimson blood. He then grabbed a handful of Freddie's hair and pulled, forcing his head up, chin resting over the pocket. Laska lined up his shot again, but this time he paused to look at them before he took his shot.

"Your sister owes me something," he spat. "If I don't have both her and that fucking cunt Wickham here by the end of the day tomorrow, I'm going to do to your whole fucking family what I'm about to do to poor Freddie here. And then, if she's not here the next day, I'll do the same. Not here again the next day, the same. Your mother, your father, your brothers, you three, I'll leave it so none of you will be able to speak without a fucking computer. One blink for yes, two blinks for no, etcetera. Do you understand?"

Lizzy nodded, working harder than ever to keep her face neutral, keep herself from falling apart in front of him.

"Excellent," Laska grinned broadly, quick as a heartbeat striking the ball again straight into Freddie's prone chin, bones shattering again.

"Now fuck off."

They were pushed out of the club by Milan, Lizzy somehow managing to retain her footing through her stumble, barely missing knocking over two street kids gleefully running past the club who swerved to avoid her, bumping into Milan, safe in their innocence and mischief. Was as if she was in a daze as she staggered across the road back towards the car, no thought for the oncoming traffic. Couldn't hear the beeping car horns or Jane and Kitty's shouts that followed her through the rushing in her ears. Pushed on, one step at a time, in danger of collapse at any moment. Somehow she made it to the car, clambering into the front seat with no thought for grace. Sat back and closed her eyes, attempting deep breaths, attempting clarity of mind, attempting something, anything. But nothing came. Punched the dashboard, Darcy's driver looking on, alarmed. Felt no pain. Punched it again. No pain. And again and again. Methodically and without a shout or a scream, she punched and punched until her hand couldn't take anymore, and she slumped back with a thud.

Felt a hand on her shoulder, she knew Janes touch anywhere. Searched with her bloody hand behind her until she discovered Janes, grasping onto it for dear life, blood pouring down and entwining them both. Focused singularly on the contact, on her best friends skin, on the slow circles her thumb made around her fresh wounds.

"Get us out of here." she vaguely heard Kitty order the driver.

They pulled away, the silence of defeat all around them, weighing them down.

"What are we going to do?" Kitty broke the quiet after a while.

"There's only one thing we can do," Jane sighed. "We're going to find Lydia and then….."

"And then we run," Lizzy finished for her. "All of us are going to run."

Finally, as she looked out the window at London blurring by in its shapeless glory, the tears began to fall.

AN. Hello. Hope you're having a nice day. Let me know what you think of this one if you have the time. Had a few problems uploading it, managed to post an earlier version which had a key bit at the end missed out but sorted it quickly so should be fine. I'm hoping to wrap this one up soon but then again I am very inconsistent with my promises so take it with a pinch of salt.