‘Otroville?’ That’s Silas’s voice. ‘But Ten’s only wanted in the Barrens, look—’ The sound of paper, being unfolded. ‘Here, it says: “Wanted, the Woman Low, for theft, attempted murder and the kidnapping of a child”.’ He stops as Moloney laughs. ‘What’s so funny, Dru?’

‘Her name ain’t Ten.’

I look up, my vision blurring. Three Rooks stand between me and the door. I take off, running low like I was trained to, but the world tilts like a craft in a storm. A hand grabs my shoulder and I duck and twist, lashing out, landing a blow in someone’s stomach, but from nowhere a fist smashes into the side of my head, sending my hat flying; a kick drives the air from my lungs and I fall to my knees.

No, I try to cry out as Moloney stands over me.

‘Her name ain’t Ten,’ he says. ‘It’s Life.’

* * *

Life.

The word pulses in the air; a bullet stopped short of its target. I glare at the bandit through streaming eyes. I would have cut out his tongue to stop him speaking and he knows that. Savours it.

‘What do you mean?’ the General is asking. ‘Who is she? Who the hell is she?’

Moloney kneels, taking my chin in greasy fingers. ‘She’s Prisoner 00942X. Life W.P. Lowry. That’s Life, Without Parole.’ I try to wrench my head away, but he grips tighter. ‘Escaped from a max-security hulk, what, eighteen months back? Killed half a dozen guards and a couple of inmates and took off in an escape craft before they could stop her. Gotta hand it to you, sweetheart, that took stones. In another world, where we accepted women, I’d ask you to join.’

I close my eyes against the horrible clash of memories: blood on the infirmary floor, gunfire ricocheting from the metal walls of the prison, the sickening drop down three gantries, firing point blank into the stomach of the guard who tried to stop me at the airlock… I attacked the way I had in the Pit, no mercy, no hesitation, as if there was only one clear path and I had no choice but take it, whatever the cost.

What are eight lives against thousands?

Fighting the drug, I raise my head and spit at Moloney. He just smiles and wipes his hand on my jacket.

‘Life?’ I hear Silas ask, incredulous. His voice sounds distant. ‘For what?’

Moloney shrugs. ‘Spying, treachery, murder, you name it. Dedicated agent of the FL, this one.’ His blue eyes narrow. ‘Don’t pay to be on the losing side, huh?’

My lips shake with anger. It was war. I did what I had to.

But then comes the pain, the terrible crushing guilt that never grows old, that drove me to madness in my cell. You had a choice. You could have walked away.