Thea thought of the Moses she had seen in the video diary – the one with the messy desk and kind eyes, who joked with Ted and pulled Delores in for a kiss. That Moses would have helped.

But was that Moses in front of her?

She could only spin the roulette wheel and hope for the best.

The handcuff clicked apart almost on its own.

Moses pulled his hand free, immediately heading for the door, the gun forgotten in his hand. Thea watched him go. He probably wouldn’t get far. None of them would. What did it matter?

Ethan had other ideas, however, and swayed to his feet. Whether he was still in the grips of a hallucination, or whether he just wanted to pummel Moses for getting free, he staggered, but then launched himself at the older man, fury personified.

They both hit the floor with a slam that reverberated through the soles of Thea’s feet. Moses wailed and wriggled, a blur of flailing limbs, the two of them wrestling on the floor, Thea just standing there. She knew she should be doing something, but she didn’t know what and she couldn’t get her body to move. There was a skittering sound and the gun spun across the floor towards her.

It came to rest only a few inches away from her foot.

Just as she bent to pick it up, Moses finally managed to writhe free, making a desperate run for the door as Ethan howled in anger and scrambled after him.

Moses yanked open the door, a rush of cold air hitting them all, the world outside mostly white. For the briefest second he stood triumphantly on the threshold, the bright light bathing his face, the wind making his pyjama trouser legs ripple. With a guttural yell of glee he barrelled out through the doorway.

Straight into the person standing on the other side.

Chapter 37

It was the beard she recognized. The rest of the face was muffled by a fur-lined hood so big that the face was lost in shadow. But the beard … that was familiar.

‘Rory?’ Thea realized she was pointing a gun at him – but she wasn’t going to lower it either, not until she’d worked out what was going on.

He shoved the hood back off his face with one hand, his cheeks ruddy with the cold, and with the other he held Moses’s arm. Ethan stood, a little shakily, and took a few steps to stand by Thea’s side. With relief, she noted that he no longer had that glassy-eyed hallucinatory stare.

‘Rory, how are you here?’ Thea steadied the arm holding the gun, because she was trembling. From the cold, obviously. The gun was heavy, but it was a heaviness that felt good; it was the heaviness of power, of being able to defend yourself. For once.