Bloom looked around. She’d always understood why psychopaths existed. They were evolution’s most uncomplicated human design. We are born alone, we die alone and the journey between is ours alone. So why not make it entirely about that single being?

She looked at Jameson looking at Sarah.

Love. That was why. And it was blatantly obvious that Marcus Jameson, her closest ally and dearest friend, was in love. A fact that broke her heart.

Bloom turned again to Sarah. ‘Mendax is an unusual surname. Is it Latin?’

Sarah smiled, impressed. ‘Actually yes. Do you know that you’re the first person to ever ask that?’

‘Why are we here and who are we waiting for?’ Jameson craned his neck. ‘OK, well, you can let her go.’ Jameson nodded at Sarah. ‘She has nothing to do with this.’

Bloom didn’t miss the quick curl of a smile on Sarah’s lips.

‘They are not waiting for anyone else, Marcus,’ she said. ‘The two remaining chairs are for two of us.’

Jameson looked at her, his mind joining the dots, making the connections. ‘A final challenge?’

‘Not so much a challenge as an invitation, I think. Please do correct me if I’m wrong.’ She addressed every other pair of eyes in the room.

‘Not so much dare to play as dare to join?’ Jameson’s sarcastic delivery gave way to a deep frown as he absorbed Bloom’s expression. ‘Seriously. You think they’re trying to recruit us?’

Bloom shook her head slowly. ‘Not us.’

‘You?’ he asked. ‘But there are two seats. Who’s the other seat for?’ He looked around the room again. ‘Hey! Circle of psychos! How do you plan to fill seat number two? I’m not playing your games any more.’ He looked back at Bloom. ‘Why aren’t they speaking? I thought you said these people were show-offs. Why are they sitting like timid mutes?’

‘Because, despite their psychopathy, they are still human. They are primates. And they’re waiting for their Alpha to speak. Isn’t that right, Seraphine?’

Jameson twisted in his seat, the ropes straining against his skin, to face the plump olive-skinned woman sitting to his left. ‘This is your teenage suicide girl? You were right?’

‘Seraphine was always good at hiding what she was,’ said Bloom. ‘But no. Seraphine was fair-haired, pale-skinned and blue-eyed. Even she couldn’t pull off that level of transformation.’ Tears were stinging her eyes as Jameson swivelled back to face her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.

‘What? I don’t …’

‘Mendax,’ said Bloom. ‘It’s Latin for liar. A little joke of hers, I imagine.’

‘I think you’ll find it’s noble liar,’ said Sarah. Jameson spun to face her. She rubbed her left and right wrists together; the rope that had tied them now lay coiled at her feet. ‘I thought you’d be pleased to discover that I’m alive. And that I’ve found a clear purpose.’