We reset and went again. This time, I did fine…right up until I fumbled my roll of tools and screwdrivers went clattering across the metal floor, a noise that would have woken every guard in the prison. No one had to say anything: I turned and stalked out of The Killing House, tears rising in my chest.

I stopped outside, snowflakes melting on my burning cheeks. I heard running footsteps crunching through the snow and then a strong hand on my arm spun me around. I looked up into Danny’s face. “Hey. Hey!” he said when he saw my expression. “You’re doing fine.”

“I’m not!” It wasn’t just the humiliation of being clumsy dead weight. It was the fear: it was sinking in that this was real. The guards would have guns. One mistake like I’d just made and—”I’m going to get us all killed!”

He put his hands on my shoulders. “No you’re not,” he told me, and that London accent was rough steel. “You’re just new to all this. You’ll get it.” He gazed down at me, and those absinthe eyes were steady and firm.

Against all the evidence, he really believed I could do this. I hiccoughed and managed to gulp the tears back down.

“We’re going to go back in there and do it again,” he told me. He took one of my hands in both of his…and for a second, he just stopped, staring at it, the warmth of his big hands throbbing into my small, cold one. Then he took a shaky breath, shook his head sternly and continued. “I want you to stay right behind me.” He turned half-around and guided my hand to the middle of his back. “And keep your hand right there.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

We went back to the others and started the exercise again. I kept my hand pressed against Danny’s back and it was exactly what I needed: I could feel when he stopped or moved off, knew where I was meant to be and the feel of that warm solidness under my palm calmed my panic.

Slowly, I began to make progress.

We trained solidly all morning. After a few hours, my hamstrings and quads were screaming from going up and down stairs but I grimly kept at it.

At noon, Danny called a break and everyone trooped outside into the light, panting and cursing with relief. I leaned against the wall, sucking in big lungfuls of freezing air. I was perversely pleased when I glanced up and saw that one other person looked almost as exhausted as me: Kian was doubled over, scowling and panting, and when he sensed me looking at him, he shook his head grimly. “I’ve been behind a desk too long.”