‘Don’t,’ said Chandler, his voice choked and quiet. By now he had a full picture of who Gabriel was and what he had endured. Losing his family in what might have been a suicide pact, orphaned, then shacked up with the foster parents from hell. He had endured so much pain, but Chandler couldn’t allow his children to go through the same. He had to give Heath over. He was about to become the hands of the Devil.

A shot rang out, the echoes held by the trees and spat out again and again.

In front of him the torchlight fell.

Chandler rushed forward as the beam hit the ground and span around, illuminating the prone form of Gabriel. The soft yellow light highlighted the dark patch spreading rapidly across his chest. The narrow, soft-spoken lips were open but nothing uttered from them, no gasps for help, no pained cries. Silenced for good.

‘Where are they?’ said Chandler kneeling beside the lifeless body. ‘Where are my kids?’

He grabbed Gabriel by the collar and pulled him up. Gabriel’s head lolled back. ‘Where are they?’ he shouted, loud enough to wake the dead.

But Gabriel didn’t wake.

Why the fuck did Nick shoot? That was not the plan. But Chandler recognized that the plan had been flawed from the start. He should have . . . should have what? Called backup? He had needed a willing accomplice and Nick had been the only one he could trust. Gabriel had pointed a gun at him so Nick had decided—

‘Is he dead?’

The voice wasn’t Nick’s. Nor Heath’s. As Chandler swung around, the lanky figure stalked towards them, weapon drawn. Mitch.

‘Is he dead?’ repeated Mitch.

‘What the fuck were you doing?’ yelled Chandler.

Mitch was beside him now, staring at Gabriel’s body. He seemed pleased with himself.

‘I needed him alive,’ said Chandler.

‘He was pointing a gun at you.’

‘He wasn’t going to shoot me, he wanted Heath.’

‘Yeah, the innocent man you took to trade.’

‘He has Sarah and Jasper.’

‘I know, Chandler, but that doesn’t give you the right to choose one person’s life over another.’

‘I wasn’t going to trade him,’ said Chandler, convincing himself it was the truth. ‘I needed to buy time. Get him to reveal where they were.’

‘And?’

‘You shot him.’

Mitch’s face was unmoved.

Chandler pointed at the body. ‘Do you understand who he was?’

Mitch shrugged his shoulders and slipped his gun back into his holster, safe in the knowledge that the killer wasn’t getting up.

‘It’s David Taylor. Davie.’

Mitch’s face twitched. Recognition flared in his eyes. ‘Davie? No . . . The kid whose brother we couldn’t find? Him?’

‘Yes.’

‘I wouldn’t have . . . I didn’t recognize him. So was this— All this shit was about revenge?’

‘Not exactly,’ said Chandler, ‘but I don’t have time to explain.’