His beautiful boy, who he’d fought to return to time and again. The catalyst for Sam’s journey that had led him to this point.

Usually, every vision of his son was of his smile, a beaming grin that radiated love and innocence.

But here, stood in the darkness, his son stared back at him, his eyes wide.

Not with fear. With anger.

‘Fight back, Dad.’

Sam’s eyes opened, his son’s words racing through his mind like a ghostly echo. In that split second, Sam’s body absorbed and ignored the pain that was coursing through it like an unstoppable wave, and he saw the wooden stake raised high, ready to impale his chest and pin his heart to the wood below.

Sam lifted his feet, crunching his legs up, and in one push, he kicked them against Edinson’s solid torso. The murderous henchmen didn’t move, and he drove the stake downwards. But Sam used the momentum to roll backwards, the wooden stake slashing his calf as he dodged the killer blow.

He rolled through, his hand sliding over the gun, and he swung it up into his grip, planting one knee on the ground and his elbow on the other.

He pulled the sight to his eye.

Shut the other.

Sam had moved so quickly that Edinson had sprawled forward slightly as the wooden spike smashed against the ground.

As he looked up, he showed no fear.

Just acceptance at the fate the barrel of Sam’s gun promised.

Sam pulled the trigger, his body controlling the kickback from the pistol as he fired.

The bullet pierced Edinson’s eye before ripping through the back of his skull with a majestic spray of claret.

He was dead before he hit the ground.

Sam stayed on his knee, lowering the gun and taking a deep breath.

The pain he’d temporarily removed from the equation returned with a vengeance, and every bit of him pleaded to stop.

Sam ignored it, pushing himself to his feet and wobbling slightly as he stepped over the hulking corpse, his boot splashing in the man’s blood as he headed towards the door.

Alex was still in trouble.

And he still had a promise to keep.

* * *

Raul had just finished hauling Emilio’s corpse out into the forecourt when Vasquez stormed through the panel, followed closely by an anxious Sykes. Despite his dislike of Emilio, he still afforded the dead man the dignity of pulling his trousers up. He’d reached under the man’s arms and dragged him back across the forecourt, and Vasquez’s entrance startled him, causing him to release the dead man who clattered to the ground.

The man’s gun hit the ground and bounced a few feet away.

‘What the fuck happened?’ Vasquez demanded, pointing at the hole in Emilio’s head.

Before Raul could respond, Sinclair stepped forward.

‘I killed him.’

‘You want to tell me why?’