Margaret looked about as annoyed as she had been the last time Martin had seen her, dragged against her will by her father to a bar to meet a bug crank. Her nose was turned up at Martin as if he were a bug himself. Other than that, she seemed well enough. Martin stepped aside to let Monika speak first.

  “Afternoon, Margaret. It’s good to see you again.”

  “How did you find me? Did you bring my father?”

  Monika glanced at Martin for support.

  “No. I refused to tell him where you are,” Martin said. “And I intend to continue to do so for the time being. Why don’t we sit down and talk for a bit?”

  “Is this man bothering you?” the boy called Sam asked, straightening up and tensing the arm behind his back.

  Martin shot him a glare, and he withered slightly, but didn’t fully back down.

  “No, Sam. It’s alright. Let’s go into the parlor.”

  Margaret descended the stairs and led them into a small parlor. Monika and Martin sat down on an old sofa across from Margaret as Sam stood by the door. His arm was still held behind his back.

  “Does he think he’s going to stab me?” Martin asked, pointing at the boy with a black eye.

  “Oh, Sam, put that hammer down.”

  “Margaret! Whose side are you on? I’m just trying to protect you.”

  “He’s a docker for Creator’s sake. He throws boxes twice your size around all day for a living. What do you think you’re going to do to him with that tiny hammer?”

  Sam muttered something under his breath but reluctantly brought his arm forward, revealing a typical builder’s hammer.

  “You can go now, Sam.” Seeing the conflicted tone on Sam’s face, Margaret’s tone softened slightly. “Really, I’ll be fine.”

  “Fine, but I’ll be right outside.” Sam shot one more distrustful look at the two visitors before leaving the parlor, slamming the door slightly behind him.

  “He’s not your boyfriend, right?” Monika asked after he’d gone.

  “Sam? Oh, no way. He just really looks up to my boyfriend and Cillian. When they told him to guard me while they’re away, he took it a bit too seriously.”

  “And why would you need guarding?” Martin asked.

  “From people like you, I suppose.”

  “From what I hear, I’m not the one you’ll need guarding from.”

  “What’s that supposed to—”

  “Is your boyfriend here?” Monika cut in, “You told me he was handsome, and I’m quite keen to meet him.”

  “Uh, no. He’s… out at the moment,” Margaret answered, taking her eyes off Martin to look at Monika.

  “Oh pity. What have you two been up to? Is he working on an apprenticeship or something?”

  “No, he and Cillian are starting their own business.”

  “Oh, how exciting. A young businessman. Is that how you managed to afford this beautiful house?”

  “Well, we had some support from the brotherhood, and Cillian has some admirers who pitched in when they heard what he’s doing.”

  Martin let out a soft sigh of relief as Monika got Margaret to slowly open up.

  “This Cillian you keep mentioning sounds impressive. Who is he?”

  “He’s a young captain in the brotherhood. The youngest, actually. He joined around the same time as Brendon, my boyfriend, and they’ve been fast friends ever since. They’re working together on this new business.”

  “And what exactly is this business?”

  “I’d rather not talk about it. Why did you two come, anyway?”

  Monika glanced at Martin again before answering.

  “Well, we’d like you to reach out to your father again.”

  “Have a nice day,” Monika said, rising to her feet. “I’ll show you out.”

  “Wait,” Martin said, holding out his hand slightly. “Hear us out first. I get your relationship has been… rough, and we’re not asking you to go home as if nothing happened, but you do understand how much you mean to your father, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, about slightly more than a live-in maid and less than a year’s supply of booze.”

  “Margaret,” Monika said softly. “You know that’s not true.”

  “Do I?” Margaret asked, but sat down again anyway.

  “We’re not here to force you home,” Martin said, sitting back on the sofa. “We just want to start repairing that relationship. To be honest with you, I don’t think you living apart from Nate is a bad thing.”

  “Martin,” Monika said in surprise at him suddenly going off script. Margaret looked equally shocked.

  “I’m being serious,” Martin continued. “I think some space could be good for both of you, but if I can be frank with you, Margaret, I’ve seen about the worst that people can do. And to tell you the truth, people like the boy with the black eye and hammer are not going to protect you from that. Now, before I go back to your father and tell him to keep some distance, I need to know you’re safe.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “I am safe,” Margaret responded immediately. “Sure, maybe Sam isn’t a knight in shining armor, but Brendon and Cillian are both about as tough as they come. Cillian even won the Brotherhood wrestling match last spring.”

  “Sure, that’s strength for a youth group, but that’s not who they’re business is bringing them into contact with, is it?”

  Margaret paused, bringing her hands up to her mouth and slightly biting down on her index finger.

  “No,” she finally admitted.

  “They’re running a protection racket, aren’t they?”

  “I guess you could say that. They’re offering protection for those the police won’t help. It’s not a racket, though. No one’s forced to buy into it. Cillian accepts donations and support from people in their free time. They’ve already managed to reduce petty crime in this part of town. Cillian says they’ll be able to eliminate crime all across Alderbridge someday.”

  “That’s quite the dream. And what happens when crime pushes back?”

  Before Margaret could answer, there was a knock on the front door.

  “Sam, it’s us. Let us in.”

  Sam quickly ran to the door, and the sound of the lock turning could be heard from the parlor. Muttered voices soon followed, then a few hurried paces down the hall, and the door to the parlor was thrown open. Two young men appeared, both looking like they were ready for a fight.

  “Margaret,” one of the boys said, fists clenched and long, black hair tied back in a messy bun. “Come away from them, quickly.”

  “It’s okay, Brendon. They’re not here to take me back.”

  “They’re not? I thought your father sent them?”

  “They’re friends of my father, but they’re just here to see that I’m safe.”

  “Oh,” Brendon said, glancing back and forth at the people in the room and finally taking in their relaxed postures. “They’re really not?”

  A laugh sounded from the other boy. He had a charming laugh that immediately drained the tension from the room. He clasped Brendon on the back and brushed past him so he was standing in front of Monika and Martin.

  “My apologies, friends. Sam, it seems, feared the worst, and we rushed in to save Margaret. I assure you we acted just out of concern for our friend rather than any desire to offend.”

  “No need to worry,” Martin said, waving his hand slightly in a dismissive gesture. “It’s good to see you value your friends so highly. Why don’t you join us?”

  Grinning through the fact that he had just been invited to take a seat in his own parlor, the man took a seat next to Monika on the sofa while Brendon squeezed in next to Margaret on a large armchair. Introductions were made, and the young man with the laugh was introduced as Cillian.

  “Margaret was just telling us about your new business,” Martin said, catching them up to the conversation.

  “Oh, was she?” Cillian seemed surprised by this. His smile remained glued to his face, but his eyes flickered slightly in Margaret’s direction. Margaret was gazing at Brendon and failed to notice.

  “Quite an ambitious goal you set for yourself. How have things been going?”

  “Oh, things are going fine. The people have been very supportive, and we’ve already managed to make this neighborhood safer for those living here.”

  “And what do the police have to say about your activities?”

  “The police? The police hardly bother with this part of town. There are no major gangs located here, and there’s little worth stealing. I imagine they’d thank us for doing their jobs for them.”

  “No major gangs? Well, that’s a relief. How about minor ones?”

  Cillian’s smile remained fixed.

  “Oh, we’ve had a few minor scuffles, but nothing we can’t handle. You might have noticed that black eye on Sam. We won a quick fight with a local group the other day. I say group, but really just a loose gathering of thugs. Once we… convinced them of the rightness of our cause, they left without too much more hassle. As I said, the northside docks don’t have much worth bleeding for, so even the most stubborn of thugs sees the light of reason fairly quickly.”

  “Still, you must be scared,” Monika jumped in. “Fighting with trained criminals.”

  “Hardly trained, ma’am. I started here deliberately, and we won’t be moving on anyone we’re not fully prepared to handle.”

  “Still, you never know,” Martin cut in, “Someone might have a knife or a hammer or something.”

  “A hammer? Did Sam pull that thing on you? I’ve warned him about that.” Cillian twisted around to look at the still-open door. A brief flash of hair could be seen disappearing behind the door frame.

  “It wasn’t him I was worried about.”

  Cillian turned back to meet Martin’s gaze.

  “I see what this is about. You’re not the first one to try to dissuade me, and you won’t be the last. I know perfectly well the risks involved with what I’m doing.”

  “Does everyone involved with you know?”

  “Yes.” The voice this time was Margaret’s. “Yes, we do. And we support him one hundred percent.” Margaret elbowed Brendon slightly, who quickly chimed in with his own cry of support. Sam could be heard echoing them from the hallway.

  Cillian’s smile widened slightly.

  “As you can see, your concern is unfounded.”

  Martin ignored Cillian and continued to look at Margaret. After a moment, he spoke again.

  “I’m not convinced it is, but I’ve seen enough for one day. Margaret, I’m going to tell your father you’re alright, but I’m not going to accept that on faith. Monika or I’ll be stopping by periodically to check in. If this gets beyond your ability to control, I will be taking you home.”

  Margaret hesitated a moment, giving Cillian a chance to speak up.

  “Everything is under control here, and I won't let—.”

  “I wasn’t speaking to you.”

  “Stop, both of you.” Margaret stood up suddenly from her boyfriend’s lap. “I get it, Martin. Just don’t come too often. And don’t breathe a word of where I am to my father.”

  “Agreed. Do you have any message you’d like me to pass along to him?”

  “No. Not yet. How… How is he?”

  “He’s hurting. Badly.”

  Margaret’s face wavered slightly.

  “I’ll tell him you’ll have a message for him next time,” Martin said, rising to his feet and motioning Monika to follow. Margaret nodded in acknowledgement and sank back down to her boyfriend’s lap.

  Cillian got up as well to lead them to the door. As they left, he called out to Martin.

  “By the way, how did you find this place?”

  “You’re not as hidden away as you think. And if I can find it, others can.”

  Cillian’s smile wavered only slightly. “I see. Thank you for looking after Margaret. I can tell you truly care.”

  Monika waved goodbye and hurried to follow behind Martin. When they were out of earshot, she began interrogating Martin about the change of plans.

  “If I take her out of the house now, then what? Drag her through the streets of Alderbridge and hope the police turn a blind eye. And once I get her home, you think she’ll simply stay there? Nate will have to turn his house into a prison to keep her there."

  Monika sputtered a bit but couldn't disagree.

  "We know where she is, and she’s reasonably safe. If we take it slowly, we can arrive at the best possible outcome, which is those two having a healthy relationship again. Am I wrong?”

  “No,” Monika admitted. “You know you’ve been so down in your cups for so many years I forgot you were capable of stuff like this.”

  “Like what?”

  “Leading? Having a plan? Being cool?”

  Martin turned back to look at Monika, but before he could respond to the compliment, he caught a flash of someone moving near the bridge. The man continued walking and disappeared from view behind a building.

  “Monika, you’re sure Gascoigne was passed out when you left him this morning, right?”

  “Yeah, out like a light.”

  “And you’re sure you weren’t followed this morning?”

  “What? Who would follow me? You don’t think Gascoigne?” Monika whirled around to look behind her but saw nothing.

  “Hmm, never mind,” Martin muttered. The man wasn’t wearing a lamplighter’s uniform, but Martin was fairly sure he had seen that recognizable gait before.