December 22nd
Chapter 22 — Aftermath
The shelter was quiet at night. Even the city beyond the windows seemed hushed, like it too was holding its breath. Kateryna sat curled on the worn sofa in the common room, a blanket around her shoulders. The TV murmured in the corner, tuned to the local news.
Alina sat nearby, clutching a steaming mug of tea. Her sister had arrived an hour earlier—eyes swollen with tears, arms clutched tight around her. Their reunion had been silent but fierce. They hadn’t let go of each other since.
Kateryna tried to feel happiness for them. It was there, deep down, but the weight in her chest made it hard to reach.
Tanya was in hospital. Michael had told her. Broken ribs. A concussion. But she was alive. That mattered.
Of Marta, there was still no word.
The news anchor’s voice rose as footage from the raid played again. The grainy camera angles, the shouts, the flash of police lights. A clip showed MSP Alastair Grant being led into a van, head down, flanked by armed officers. Another showed Superintendent Fraser, his jacket flapping open, caught mid-shout as handcuffs clicked around his wrists.
Kateryna stared at the screen, transfixed.
Her eyes glistened. This time, she didn’t wipe them. The tears belonged. They were part of it now.
POLITICIANS IN SEX RING STING, the ticker read.
Michael McDonald’s explosive undercover report airs tonight on BBC Newsnight.
She exhaled, long and slow. It was out now. All of it. The names, the faces, the footage. The truth they had gathered in secret, night after night, risking everything.
It wasn’t just a story anymore.
And yet, the cost.
The next segment rolled in. A reporter stood beside a canal, police tape fluttering in the breeze. The camera cut to divers and the outline of a stretcher being carried up the embankment.
“…the body of a woman, found earlier today in the Union Canal,” the anchor said. “No formal identification yet, but police are treating the death as suspicious.”
Kateryna didn’t move. Her breath caught somewhere between her chest and throat.
She didn’t need to be told. She just knew.
Alina turned to her. “What is it?”
Kateryna didn’t answer. The ache inside her sharpened. Marta—funny, fearless Marta—who had whispered plans in the bathroom mirror, who had pointed out the police officer in the newspaper, who had said, “This goes deeper than we thought.”
Gone.
The tears came harder now, hot and soundless. She hugged the blanket tighter around her and closed her eyes.
For a moment, she could see Marta smiling. That crooked grin. The scratchy voice.
They had made it this far. Not all of them. But enough to tell the world.
Kateryna wiped her cheeks. She would not forget.
