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I have a split second to make my decision; fight and escape, or go quietly and try to think logically about my next steps. I choose poorly, letting Gibson ease my arms around to my back and clicking cuffs into place.

“Confiscate his keys,” Marks barks and Gibson hesitantly puts his hand in my pockets, removing everything and throws my keys to the captain when he holds his hands out for them. “I think I’ll give Miss Wolfe a visit myself,” Gary sneers, and panic sets it’s claws into my chest. I struggle against the bracelets until they bite into my wrists.

“If you touch her, I’ll fucking end you, Marks!” I scream at him, spittle from my mouth and my skin burning red with panicked rage.

“Detective,” Gibson sighs disappointedly as he tries to subdue me.

“I swear, Gary,” I seethe at him.

The captain straightens his shirt and leaves without another word but throws a disgusted glare my way before rounding the corner. I turn to follow him on instinct but Gibson’s arm on my shoulder halts my progress and steers me to the holding cells in the opposite direction.

“Gibson, listen to me,” I try for reasoning. “Captain Marks is a bad guy and he’s going to hurt someone.”

“The captain wouldn’t do that,” he defends, but I can hear the uncertainty in his voice and it gives me the in I need to plant the seed.

“I know he doesn’t seem to be the type—I wouldn’t have thought it myself—he’s been my friend for years but you have to believe me, Gibson. He’s done terrible things, he’s hurt people, innocent people and where he’s going now, he’s going to try and hurt someone again. Someone I care about. You have to help me, Gibson. Wehaveto stop him.”

There’s a pause and just when I think he might be willing to help, he sighs. “I’m sorry detective, but I must follow my captain’s orders.”

“Gibson—” I’m cut off by him removing my cuffs and pushing me in to the cell. “Gibson, please. You have to believe me.” I’m desperate, tears brimming my eyes as I look into his youthful gaze. He seems like a kid now, and here I am, a grown man begging him to go against the system that he’s been brought up to believe in.

He hesitates at the bars, screwing his face up like he’s in pain from his own indecision. Looking down the corridor to check we are alone, he leans in to speak quietly. “I’ve always looked up to you, detective.”

I try not to get over excited by the small opening I have. “You trust me, Gibson?”

“I did,” he says, giving me that disappointed tone. “But I don’t see why you would have been threatening the captain like that.”

“Kid, listen to me. I don’t think we have time to go over every last detail but if you trust me, I am begging you let me give you the shortened version and I’ll answer any questions you have on the way.”

“On the way?” He screws his face in confusion.

“Yeah, we’ve got to save her.”

“Who?

“My queen.”

45

ANNIKA

Iam so tired. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so burnt out, it’s like every action I need to take uses twice the effort than it did a week ago. I’m mentally preparing myself to go and have dinner with Guinevere and the girls, rolling my shoulders as I look out the window at the middle landing of the stairs. It’s only early evening but the sun is setting in the watercolour sky, the night’s drawing in now summer is coming to a close. I watch the breeze unsettle the trees and follow a loose leaf as it dances in the wind. But on its path, my eyes snag on a sight that leaves ice in my veins.

Murray lays on the gravel this side of the gate, the stones surrounding his torso stained red to match the hole in his chest. I’m frozen for a second, processing what I’m seeing. Murray was working the perimeter today. The hut is empty or the guard who was in it is out of site, maybe on the floor like Murray. My heart thumps against my skeleton, panic rising from my toes to my stomach.

The unmistakable sound of gunfire somewhere outside kicks me into gear and my feet are moving. I take the stairs two at a time and run to the kitchen, my bare feet slapping against the hardwood. Guinevere stands in the middle of the kitchena wooden spoon in hand looking out of the patio doors, worry etched on her face. The girls are both sat at the island, seemingly unaware that anything is amiss.

“Quick, get up and follow me,” I bark at them.

They both snap their heads to look at me, Mabel’s brows dipping as she takes in my harassed state. “What’s going on?”

“I said get up!” I screech. They both jump from their seats, and I grab Mabel’s hand with too much force, gesturing to Guinevere with the other hand to follow. She collects Keeley in her arms and follows behind as I leave the kitchen, grabbing a knife from the block on the way out. I lead them down the hall to the pool and beyond to the gym. It’s pitch black with no windows and the lights out. Keeping Mabel behind the door, I reach over and flip the switch, scanning the room for any movement but I see nothing.

“Okay, quick, follow me,” I whisper back at them.

Pulling Mabel in first with Guinevere still carrying Keeley behind, I head to the back of the gym and find the hidden door behind one of the mirrors. I always thought my father was a paranoid twit for installing a safe room in the house, but I’m now feeling very glad that he did. We trail down the stone stairway in near pitch black and walk through the concrete corridor, lit only by emergency lighting until we reach another door, but this one is reinforced steel and heavy as they come. I type a code into the keypad on the wall and the door clicks open. Inside is a small room with two chairs, some burner phones and two shelving units stocked with long life food and drinks.

“Inside,” I snap at them, needing them to get to safety more than I need to take my next breath.