He tried not to think about what he himself would be prepared to endure before submitting. He also tried not to read too much into the smile on Marsh’s face as he pounded away.

Suddenly Jax felt sick again: his stomach dropped, his cheeks burned and his vision blurred. He retched. Reality was kicking him fair and square in the guts, the weight of his situation threatening to crush him. He struggled to breathe and it felt like the walls were closing in. He was desperate to get out, and now wished he had contested the charge. You didn’t do it. You couldn’t have done it. Why didn’t you fight?

He hadn’t contested the charge because he’d accepted the evidence. But maybe they’d faked it. Some kind of set-up.

He took a deep breath and held it in, then cleared his mind as he exhaled. They weren’t coming for him. Not yet. Not tonight. He decided to try to sleep, even though the light was still on.

But then he heard the click . . . followed by a buzz.

IT WAS Marsh’s henchmen: the big guy with the scarred face who’d been on watch and the tattooed co-rapist.

Jax shot to his feet.

‘Relax, champ,’ the smaller man said. ‘Just here for that cuppa.’ He held up his hands and showed Jax an empty pair of palms. ‘See, all good,’ he said. He swaggered from the shadows and into Jax’s room, keeping his hands in the air, floating like a fog. But his shadow was heavy.

Following behind him, the bigger man heaved his frame into the cell, one tree-trunk-like leg after the other, then stopped directly in front of the knock-up and folded his arms.

‘You have ten minutes,’ came a voice from outside.

Jax looked past the intruders to the dimly lit corridor. He wasn’t surprised to see Rogers.

‘And don’t kill him. You haven’t paid for a body bag.’

The door slammed shut. Sunshine gone. Thunder and lightning inside.

‘Don’t listen to the Dodge,’ the small man said. ‘He’s just taking the piss. We aren’t going to kill ya. Well, not unless you don’t pay. I’m Grub.’ He extended a hand.

Jax didn’t move. This man was not his friend. He would not shake hands with a rapist.

‘Look at this tough cunt, would ya?’ Grub said as he looked over his shoulder towards the other man. Then his playful smirk became a snarl. ‘You simple or something? You know what’s happening here, right? Marshy has been looking out for ya and you haven’t paid. That’s why we’re here. Me and Bluey are here to collect.’