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“That one.” Lars pointed out of the car at Joe’s retreating back. “He works for an IA – I saw his ID card in his wallet. This is a trap.” That agitated look was back in his eyes.

“I don’t think it is,” Alex said, thinking he’d trust Peter and Joe over crazy Lars any day. “Which agency was on the ID? Not all agencies hunt escaped indies – they specialise in different things.”

“Inquisitus,” Lars said.

Alex relaxed. “It’s fine – I’ve heard of them. They specialise in big cases and homicides, not escaped indies. They’re one of the classier outfits.”

“They’re gonna drag us back to our houders and claim the reward,” Lars hissed, his eyes flickering wildly as he looked out of the window at Joe and then back at Peter.

“No, they aren’t. They’re taking us to a safe house, and then they’ll get us out of the country,” Alex insisted.

“I nearly got caught a few weeks ago, at a port. Investigators and bounty hunters all around,” Lars said. “Let’s take the car and make our own escape.”

“What? No!”

“We could throw this one out and get away before the other one comes back,” Lars said, gesturing at Peter.

“No,” Alex repeated emphatically. “We don’t need a car – we need a way out of the country, and that’s what Joe and Peter are offering us.”

Lars suddenly stared over his shoulder, through the side window. Alex followed his gaze to see Joe emerging from the café carrying a cardboard tray with five cups of tea.

“There’s no time,” Lars said, reaching into his inside coat pocket.

Alex saw a flash of silver, and then Lars lunged forward and stabbed a knife deep into Peter’s neck.

It all happened so fast. Peter let out a piercing scream and pressed his hand to his neck in surprise.

Lars raised the weapon, ready to stab Peter again, but Alex threw himself forward and grabbed his arm.

Lars was bigger than him, and strong, but Alex held on with all his might .

He was dimly aware of the car door being wrenched open.

Lars pulled his arm free and shoved him away to make another lunge at Peter.

Alex threw a punch to deflect him, but it only knocked Lars off course for a split second, and then he tried again.

At that moment, Joe threw himself into the car, grabbed Lars’s wrist, and forced him to drop the weapon.

Lars punched Joe hard, but Joe seemed to be made of granite and didn’t even flinch.

Joe yelled to Peter for help in getting Lars out of the car, not knowing he’d been stabbed – so Alex sprang into action.

He pushed past Josiah and scrambled out of the car, then ran around to the other side, wrenching open the back passenger door.

He threw himself back inside to grab Lars’s arm and pull him out, while Joe punched him out from the inside.

Lars landed in a heap in the pavement, knocking Alex over in the process – then scrambled to his feet and ran off down the street.

Joe whirled back towards Peter, and Alex saw the horrified expression on his face as he realised his husband had been stabbed.

“Lars went for him,” Alex explained desperately, using the open car door to pull himself to his feet.

“He stabbed Peter in the neck. I didn’t even see he had a knife until then.

I grabbed his arm and pulled him back before he could stab Peter again, and then you got here. Is he okay? Is Peter okay?”

Joe ran around to the driver’s door and yanked it open like a man possessed.

Peter lurched sideways onto him, and Joe sank down beside the car, easing his husband gently onto his lap.

There was blood… so much blood… spurting from the wound in Peter’s neck, covering his clothes and the interior of the car, and staining Joe’s purple sweater red.

Alex realised by the sheer amount of blood that the knife had sliced into Peter’s carotid artery.

“Call an ambulance!” Joe yelled.

Alex stood there helplessly, trying to take it all in.

It had all happened so fast – one minute he was dreaming of a hot bath and nice meal in a safe house, and the next there was a fight, and a knife, and all that blood.

He got control of himself. Peter was one of the good guys, and he had to stay and help, in any way he could.

His own dramas were irrelevant right now.

If Tyler caught up with him, then so be it; Peter needed his help.

Fumbling for his nanopad, he called the emergency services and asked for an ambulance.

“We’re opposite the shops on Station Road in West Wickham. Please hurry,” he begged.

“Can you give us your name?” the call handler asked.

“Please – just get here quickly. He’s dying!” Alex looked down at where Peter was lying on Joe’s lap. Joe had his hand pressed desperately to the stab wound, but blood was still pumping out around the sides of his fingers.

Alex crouched down in front of Joe. “The ambulance is on its way. What do you want me to do now?” he asked.

Joe glanced up at him. “Go!” he ordered.

“But…” Where? Alex wondered. This had been his only plan – where the hell could he go?

“The paramedics will be here soon – and so will the police. They’ll question you. Save yourself. Go,” Joe insisted.

Alex knew he was right. He couldn’t be here when the emergency services arrived. He got to his feet and then hesitated, hating to leave like this with Peter’s life hanging in the balance.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t stop him. I didn’t see the knife… It all happened so fast…”

There was a noise from the café across the street. He looked up to see the door opening and people spilling out. He was running out of time. If he waited much longer, it’d be too late.

Peter’s breathing was coming in ragged gasps. Joe was looking down on his husband as if his heart had been ripped out and shredded right in front of him.

Alex barely knew these men, but their lives had become inextricably entwined with his in the space of less than an hour.

He felt a deep pity for what Joe was facing.

Peter was special – Alex had felt that from the moment they first met.

No wonder Joe loved him so much. “Sorry,” he said again, knowing how inadequate the word was.

Then there was nothing else for him to do but turn and run.

He took off in the opposite direction to Lars, not wanting to bump into the deranged lunatic again.

He was halfway down the street when he heard a bloodcurdling sound that stopped him in his tracks.

It took him a second to realise what it was.

Then he knew. That wild howling was the sound of a man in utter desolation, and he knew in that instant that Peter was dead.

He could feel every atom of Joe’s grief in that unnatural, keening cry, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end as it echoed down the street behind him.

He wanted to go back and offer useless words of comfort, but there was nothing he could do. There was nothing here for him now. He didn’t know where he was going, or what he was going to do next, but he did know he had to get as far away from here as possible.

So he ran.