‘Luis, I believe our guests have irritated one another long enough. I will ask you to escort me. The others are to await the outcome of our discussions before decisive action is taken.’

He walked past me without another word. As I looked up, the shadows at the edges of the barn seemed to rearrange themselves. What had been darkness became men. Men in black clothing and balaclavas; men who had melded so perfectly with the crow-black air that it felt, through the tears and the pain, as if they were some other-worldly manifestation: darkness made flesh.

I counted six of them, trooping soundlessly past me. Saw the glint of light hitting the metal of the assault weapons slung over their shoulders.

In moments I was alone. Whatever presence I had felt behind me had disappeared with the others. I let myself sob for a spell, the pain in my side more intense than anything I had ever known. Only when I felt that I had wept myself numb, did I probe the surface of the metal object with my tingling finger and thumb.

Walt had left me the lighter. He had placed it in my hand and told me not to forget the business we were in. I didn’t understand what he meant but I knew that, for whatever reason, he was giving me a chance to save myself. He was involved in something so very much bigger than me. I could burn through my bonds and slip away and never look back.

Saving my own skin never occurred to me. All I could think of was Felicity and what she would be feeling as wave after wave of danger engulfed her. I closed my eyes and willed her to be safe; to be strong – to be the woman I knew she was capable of being and not the timid little mouse who fretted in the shadows and let people walk all over her. I sent her a promise; a pledge that whatever it took, if she could be strong for a little longer, I would make things right. I would take the pain away. I would die to save her life.

I ignited the lighter. Felt my skin begin to blister, and the ropes begin to burn.

FELICITY

She finished the coffee. Drained it from the thermos like she was a working man tasting the first pint of the day. If it scorched her mouth she didn’t show it. I wondered how long she’d been without a proper meal. Wondered what a proper meal even looked like to her. She didn’t seem poorly-fed. In fact, there was a pleasing roundness to her features that suggested she ate well. But her world was unimaginable to me. Perhaps mine was to her. But we didn’t seem particularly different as we sat by the wall, huddled up against each other, cold and sore and not knowing what was coming next.