Ed knew the blast was coming and dived on top of Patrick to shield him. The sprinklers filled the air with fine droplets, snuffing an alcohol fire that had erupted around the bar. Everyone’s ears were ringing, but Fawn reached over her water-sprinkled desktop and grabbed a pistol out of the top drawer.

Charlie ducked as Fawn took two wild shots, then scrambled round the side of the desk and speared Fawn with the cattle prod.

‘See how you like it,’ Charlie gasped, blasting the cattle prod as Fawn collapsed.

At the back of the room, Man Bun was finding his feet and going for a pistol tucked in the front of his trousers.

‘Charlie, behind you,’ Ed shouted.

As Fawn felt around for a weapon, Charlie landed hard on her sister’s chest and pushed the tubular cattle prod sideways against her sister’s throat. Man Bun was limping and dazed. He had a gun, but Fawn and Charlie were obscured by the desk.

Ed threw Patrick behind the sofa, then picked up a dainty marble-topped end table and ran through the smoke towards Man Bun. Man Bun swung to shoot as Ed came into his peripheral vision, but the wounded leg made him clumsy and the circle of marble smashed him in the face.

Charlie got a spit shower as Fawn gave up trying to reach the gun and used both hands to fight the bar crushing her throat. On the other side of the desk, Ed and Man Bun hit the floor and Man Bun shot wildly into a side wall.

Fawn finally choked out, freeing Charlie to grab her sister’s pistol and bob above the desk. Ed sat on Man Bun’s bloodied leg, but Man Bun was winning the battle to turn his pistol towards Ed.

‘This is for Harry,’ Charlie snarled, rounding the desk and shooting Man Bun through the eye from point blank range.

Ed staggered back, splattered in gore. Charlie’s giant T-shirt was soaked through, ripped at the neck and hanging off one shoulder. Her arms and face were bloody, but there was no hesitation as she went back behind the desk and fired two shots. One in Fawn’s heart and one through the temple.

Charlie leaned on the desk, coughing from dust and gun smoke. A thousand emotions and no time to deal with them. She’d been running over the debris barefoot, but now she felt the cuts in her bloodied soles.

‘Go call the elevator,’ Charlie told Ed, as she snatched a little Tec-9 machine gun. ‘Be careful, the butler and the superhero might be around somewhere.’

She looked at Fawn’s Nikes. They were too big, but there was a ton of broken glass around the doorway, so she yanked them off and pulled them painfully over her bloodied feet.

‘Elevator’s here,’ Ed shouted through the huge doors. ‘I’m holding it.’