Liam’s muscles are tense, and he breathes shallowly in the bed beside me. He’s wide awake. I know he must be thinking the same thing – worrying that someone is trying to force their way into the cottage – because I noticed he slipped a knife beneath his pillow earlier when he thought I wasn’t watching.

I manage to fall asleep at some point, probably because the adrenaline that’s been flooding through my system for so long has exhausted me, but I wake before the dawn to the sound of Liam moving about the room. I sit up. ‘What’s going on?’ I ask, pulling the blankets around me to keep out the pre-dawn chill.

Liam’s a dull shape in the gloom of the room. ‘Nothing. Go back to sleep,’ he tells me.

‘Where are you going?’ I ask, seeing he’s opening up the dresser drawers and is starting to throw on clothes.

‘Out,’ he says.

‘Where?’

‘To the castle.’

Fear paralyses me. He can’t be serious. But of course he is, and it’s not like I didn’t expect it. I don’t want to go anywhere near the castle, I think it’s madness, but he can’t go alone. I throw off the blankets and jump out of bed. ‘I want to come with you.’

He shakes his head. ‘No. Laura, I need to go alone.’

‘I won’t let you,’ I argue back. ‘Please.’ I move to the dresser and start pulling out my clothes too, throwing on a sweater and tugging on jeans. ‘You can’t leave me here alone. What if that’s what they’re waiting for? For us to split up? What if you leave and they break into the cottage while I’m here all by myself?’

I can see a furrow deep as a crevice between Liam’s brows.

‘There’s safety in numbers,’ I push.

Liam concedes with a loud sigh. ‘Fine. But hurry up.’

I dart into the bathroom and quickly dress, pulling my hair into a ponytail and throwing cold water on my face. Downstairs I find Liam rummaging through the kitchen cupboards with the help of his phone light. Judging by the dark circles under his eyes, I’m guessing he didn’t sleep a wink, but I don’t ask because he seems so on edge. He’s moving around gathering things, including the torch we took from the drawer and his switchblade knife. I glance at him, but his expression gives little away. He just looks determined, his brow furrowed and his jaw set. A shadow of fear ripples over me. What is he planning on doing to this person if he catches them? Will he try to arrest them? I want to tell him to leave the knife, but I also know that he won’t listen.