Glancing around before she crouched down, Franny spoke in a whisper. ‘I don’t think so, Vaughn. Looks like you’re the one who’ll pay for it. You should never have crossed me. If only you’d left it well alone, none of this would’ve happened.’

Vaughn, struggling to talk, grimaced in pain. ‘Just wait until Alfie finds out.’

‘But he won’t find out, will he? And even if he does, I’ll be long gone.’

‘I … I … I …’

She stared at Vaughn watching him fall into unconsciousness. She had to think. Think. Think and move. She could hear the sound of her own breathing. Noisy. Filling the air. She had to get out. She had to go. But as she continued to stare at Vaughn, Bree came into her mind and it felt again like she couldn’t move. Once more she was frozen to the spot … But what about Mia? She had to think of Mia. Alfie would be here soon. The thought of that hit Franny hard. He couldn’t find her … and he couldn’t find Mia.

Suddenly motivated, Franny dropped the gun back in the canvas bag and began to sprint for the door, charging through the entrance hall and up the basement stairs to where her car was parked, to where Mia was still fast asleep.

Opening up the boot, Franny threw the bag in, but her gaze landed on something. A thought rushed through her mind. Yes, yes, that was it …

Looking over her shoulder and checking the small narrow street was still clear, Franny, still breathing hard, grabbed the petrol can from the back of the boot, immediately turning to run back down the stairs of the club, charging into the main dance room where Vaughn was lying.

She ran over to him, bending down before slipping her hands under his, dragging him backwards, using all her strength to pull him, a trail of blood smearing the floor.

Panting, Franny stopped, not knowing if she’d have the strength to pull him into the office but digging deep, she began to pull again, dragging him into the staff room. At the door, she used her foot to roll him inside before running back to the main room to grab the petrol can.

Charging back and listening out for any sound, Franny began to pour the petrol over the whole room, dousing the furniture, dousing the blinds … Dousing Vaughn.

A lighter! Shit! She didn’t have a lighter! Quickly her eyes darted around the room, then her glance landed back on Vaughn. Of course! She bent down, going into his front pocket to pull out a solid gold lighter, a present from her and Alfie two years ago. She shook her head at the irony.