It's not that Simon hadn't expected you to bolt the second you found out, but more that he hoped you would come to him first. He hoped you trusted him enough to speak with him.

Simon remembered, vividly, the day you left, the way Soap has called him to tell him you hadn't been seen in hours. You'd been into his home office in the manor, seen everything he kept for his "business." The illegal gun trade, drug running, the bodies that Simon had piled up.

"She's inside, LT." Soap came over the speaker of Simon's phone, "Packing her suitcase. She knows we're aware of her location."

You were clever, more clever than Simon ever gave you credit for. He regretted that with every month he had to chase you. But not anymore.

He easily opened the door to your hotel, closing it softly as you whipped around to stare at him. Simon could see the fear in your eyes. You'd watched too many gang movies, thinking Simon was there to tie up loose ends.

"Don't try and run, luv. I just want to talk." Simon sat in a nearby chair, "I've missed you. The manor isn't the same without you in it."