Rory. Had he known what was going to happen to Ethan? He hadn’t turned to look at her once since he’d thrown her in the car. She remembered the way he’d glanced at her just before it had happened, how he had reached for the headphones, but not fast enough.

She remembered how Kyle had taken over.

Kyle. His little wave, his Eighties hair and smooth, cultured voice. The one driving the car this very minute. Could she believe anything that Rory had told her? Could they have killed Ethan through the discs, a remote-controlled death switch – just as he’d feared? But why not kill her too?

The car braked suddenly, with such force that Thea jolted forward on her seat, nearly going head-first into the Plexiglas. Moses slithered down next to her, crumpling into the footwell. It seemed that Kyle and Rory were having an argument of some kind; she couldn’t hear it because she’d just realized the Plexiglas was something else entirely, something soundproof. Kyle thumped his hand against the steering wheel.

She wished she could lip-read.

They seemed to have reached some sort of impasse, glaring at each other. Then Rory’s shoulders hunched and he crouched forward, his head in his hands. Was he crying? Thea couldn’t tell. From where she was sitting, she could only see the back of his head. Without warning, he reared back up and struck the dashboard with his fist. Kyle shrugged and calmly took the handbrake off, getting the car moving once more.

Thea needed Rory to look at her. But he wasn’t going to.

In a way that told her more.

So, when they neared the Centre but didn’t go straight to the front, instead skirting around it, towards a back entrance Thea hadn’t even known about; when she saw who was stood waiting for them, her flaming red hair a warning flag: she knew.

She knew she’d been betrayed.

Chapter 39

Vivian liked train stations.

She liked cities. Specifically, she liked being right in the middle of them. In a city you could walk out of your house or flat at almost any time of the day or night and within five minutes you could pick up a snack, or a paper, a drink or a person. She liked noise and bustle, neon signs, twenty-four-hour convenience stores and light-soaked streets.

‘Your train’s in ten.’ Delia plonked herself next to her on the bench, making an “oof” sound as she did so. Old people did that. Vivian did yoga and cardio, ate a ridiculous amount of vegetables, walked briskly past cake shops without a glance and poured away at least half the wine Delia served her. There was no time for old.

It was a few days after their trip to the Ing Enterprises building.