It was a slip. And she saw his eyes flash. Horror froze her on the spot. He hadn’t known she’d guessed who he worked for! Lucas rushed her, and without thinking, she brought the weight in her hand around, throwing her entire body into the blow.

There was a crunch as it connected with his mouth. The spy staggered back, clutching at his face before falling to the ground with a soft thud. His fall was softened by the dirty clothing littering the floor.

Romy stood for a few precious seconds, her whole body trembling. The knife! She grabbed it and skirted around him for the door. Lucas wasn’t unconscious. She needed the twins.

An arm jerked her back, and she was whirled back the way she came. The back of a hand met her face in a strike so hard Romy was blinded as she fell to the floor with a small cry, the knife hitting the ground with a clatter.

She could barely see through the pain.

By the time she blinked the hurt away, he was astride her.

Her T-shirt tore in two as his hands clawed at her.

Next was the front of her shorts.

The knife lay to her right. She had to get the knife.

“I’m sorry!” she sobbed without tears.

“How did you know who I work for?” He gripped her throat and she choked, scratching at his hand.

“You . . . you said you were above the law,” she gasped. “I g-guessed.”

He pulled her up to sitting so they were eye to eye. Romy had both hands at her neck, pulling at his fingers. Black dotted her vision as Lucas’s eyes filled the space in front of her.

It was the unhinged streak in them that told Romy he didn’t intend to stop.

And she couldn’t let him continue.

Lolling her head to the side, she let her right arm hang limply. His hands didn’t abate their cruel pressure.

She inched her hand outwards, desperately reaching for the knife. Her fingertips touch polished wood and she fumbled to grip the weapon, terrified it might slip, terrified because even if she wanted to scream for the twins, she no longer had the breath to do it.

If she couldn’t reach the knife, she would die.

Romy twisted and stretched her arm forwards, enclosing the knife in her grip. With the last of her strength, she threw herself to one side, dragging the knife across his throat.

A pain thrust through her mind. So sharply, she forgot all about Lucas, about the room, about her knot as she writhed, clutching at her head. There was only white. Nothing. She clawed at her scalp trying to get to the source of the agony inside her skull.

What was happening?