As he moved to the exit, Alan tried his best to collect his thoughts.

Sinclair had clearly been shot in the stomach.

But there had been two gunshots.

Where was Sykes?

As he stepped to the outside of the parking lot, he lowered Sinclair onto the ground, squatting beside his friend to try to take a look at the wound. Sinclair clutched his stomach tightly, his bloodied hand covering the bullet wound and before Alan could get a decent look, Sam’s voice distracted him.

‘Alan, look out.’

Alan’s head lifted, noticing a worried Sam rushing towards him. Despite the warning, Alan was too late, and as he turned around, he saw Sykes’s heavily tattooed arm falling violently towards him.

Something metal collided with the side of his skull.

Everything went black.

* * *

Alex had shifted along to the driver’s seat of the van and turned the key as instructed when Sam had stopped. As soon as they’d seen the wounded Sinclair stumble into Alan’s arms, Sam realised that unarmed, the two of them were sitting ducks. Just as he was about to climb into the passenger seat, two headlights illuminated the entire car park, bathing Alan and his partner in its glow, and Alan showed great strength and loyalty to lift his partner up and race to the exit.

But the light also gave Sam a glimpse of the alleyway that ran down the side of the car park, and he’d noticed something.

A figure moving at speed.

‘Keep the engine running.’ Sam nodded to Alex and then stepped back onto the street. As he stepped around the front of the van, he saw the looming figure of Sykes emerge from behind the fence, a mere foot or two behind Alan who had crouched to tend to Sinclair.

In Sykes’s hand was a gun.

‘Alan, look out,’ Sam yelled, rushing a few feet in a useless attempt to intervene. Alan looked up at Sam, registering his worry, and before he could turn to face his nemesis, Sykes swung the gun, the butt of it making a sickening thud as it cracked against the side of his skull.

Alan was out before he slumped to the ground.

Sam stopped in his tracks as Sykes looked up, a twisted grin etched across his cruel face. Recognising Sam from their altercation the night before, he raised his arm, the gun pointing at Sam, who ducked to the ground.

Sykes pulled the trigger.

And again.