With every vestige of strength left in her gym-toned legs, she catapulted herself up and out from the fireplace, hurtling at him, striking him hard – but taking his shoulder in her chest, which brutally winded her, and sliming her nose and mouth on the sweat-soaked material of his mask.

But Lucy wasn’t heavy, and though he grunted with surprise, he tottered rather than fell over. When she wrapped her arms and legs around him, he rammed his elbow into her belly.

The pain was horrible, nauseating. But she clung on, even when he twirled her around like a doll, hacking wild punches into her. Desperate, pushing her face into his, she clamped her teeth as hard as she could on what she assumed would be his nose. She was right, her incisors impressing through the soggy wool, grinding into the cartilage beneath. His grunts became shrill squeals of pain as, doglike, she worked her head from side to side, yanking and ripping at his tortured flesh. But then, in a massive overhead blow, he brought his fist over. It impacted not on Lucy’s skull, which it would surely have crushed, but on her left shoulder

White-out pain sheared through her like a guillotine blade.

She crumpled to the floor, where he kicked her in the ribs, but he too was in pain and the kick lacked power, serving only to flip her over, enabling her to scramble around him on all fours.

He whimpered, turning almost drunkenly as he tried to locate her.

As she wobbled back to her feet, he swung a wild punch. Lucy raised her right arm and trapped his wrist in her armpit, before retaliating with a punch of her own, smacking him full on his damaged nose. Even this impact was less than she’d hoped for. His head hinged backward, but he kept his feet, lugging his arm free, yanking his right glove off in the process and striking back at her. It was another wild haymaker, and this time he connected – though not so much with a balled fist as with an open-handed slap.

He wasn’t trying to punch her, she realised, he was trying to grab her by the hair.

The chase was over for this guy. He couldn’t risk her getting away a second time. He had to finish her off here and now. It was a stinging impact nevertheless, knocking Lucy sideways, four streaks of agony racing down her cheek as his nails ploughed her.

She teetered away, trying to circle him, but this was an error – as he still had sufficient energy to raise the gun at her. She flew back at him, wrapping her hands around its barrel, desperately trying to push it sideways. He backhanded her across the face. Head muzzy, vision seesawing, Lucy hung onto the weapon, forcing its muzzle away from her, as they turned round and round, as though dancing.

He hissed in rage and exertion.