‘But she won’t be thinking straight,’ Kate protested. ‘She could—’

‘She doesn’t need to think right now,’ Stacy replied. ‘Let’s face it, she’s got more experience with this kind of thing than we do.’

‘So what are we supposed to do?’ Kate gestured angrily to the radio. ‘Hang out, and listen to the running commentary?’

‘We go to Woollard’s,’ said Stacy firmly. ‘Waiting around here won’t do us any good, and it won’t help Tom either.’

‘But if there’s any news—’

‘Jasmine will come find us, with Tom in tow, I’m sure,’ Stacy told her. ‘We’ll leave a note.’ She pulled a small notepad and pen from her purse, and gave them to Kate who left a hasty scribble on the paper. ‘Now c’mon. I’ve gone forty-eight hours without sleep. I could use some answers, you know?’

‘I know,’ Kate said grimly, as she followed Stacy out. ‘So could I.’

g

Tom’s lungs burned with the icy air he was rasping down. His sides were splitting with stitches and his legs felt leaden, but he kept on going, kept pushing his body harder and harder. He knew that if he stopped now he would never have the strength to set off again. And if he turned ’wolf … who knew what could happen.

He’d scaled some tall gates and cut across a school playground, hoping he’d find somewhere to hide –but there seemed to be a cop car waiting around every street corner. Whichever alleyway he ducked down, there was a man in blue racing up it towards him. His ears were ringing with the shriek of sirens.

The city itself seemed to be caging him in; the thundering skyscrapers, stone and glass and metal monoliths, were ranged up around him on every side. The rain poured down through a jigsaw piece of night, the only sky visible beyond the buildings’ reach. Tom was soaked through, his feet were cramped and blistered from his ill-fitting thrift store sneakers, but still he kept on running, running.

He vaulted a low fence and with the last of his strength, sprinted through a small leafy courtyard and into a parking lot. His footfalls on the wet concrete were too loud, he couldn’t hear a single other damned thing. So at last he let himself stop, nauseous with exertion, wheezing for breath. His legs cramped up and he collapsed to his knees, breathing out steam in the freezing rain, his skin chilled, wet and desensitised.

Willing himself to recover, he took a cautious look about him. The lot was quiet and still. If he could just get inside one of these cars, maybe he could hide out till morning and—

‘Police! Freeze!’

Tom swore. They’d found him.

He looked behind him, got painfully to his feet.