There was a moment’s silence before she responded.

‘No,’ she said.

The certainty in her voice surprised her even more than him.

‘No,’ she repeated for emphasis.

She stood up as the next wave entered the cave, climbing the rock wall as it did so, pouring into the pit.

‘Seven,’ he tried to shout through the waterlogged canvas.

‘My name isn’t Seven,’ she repeated like a mantra as she waited for the surge of water to retreat.

‘That’s enough, Seven. Cut me fucking free. That’s an order.’

There were so many orders that he had issued and all of them she had carried out. But not this one.

‘You’re a soldier. Cut yourself free . . . sir,’ she spat back at him.

The explosion of anger that followed her as she waded towards the entrance made her smile. Much like she had done with Sugarboy in their darkest moments.

Hearing his frantic attempts to free himself, she fought back the pity that threatened to engulf her.

She couldn’t soften now.

Outside, she registered that they were fast approaching high tide, when the cave would be almost fully underwater, judging by the marks on the wall. The earlier aurora show had disappeared, leaving only the brightness of the moon and stars. She thought how often she had stargazed from the tiny opening of her cell in Afghanistan, imagining herself back somewhere in Scotland, where the air was sharp and clean.

Trying not to think about Jack, she focused instead on her memory of what had happened that night in the woods and on the headland.

Watson had been fit, but he’d been unprepared. He thought they were on the same side. Soldiers in the pay of his governor, the Sandman. Making money together via Afghanistan’s bounty.

‘The fucking MOD don’t care if you die or not out there. We do,’ he’d told them.

As long as we delivered the goods.

Any thought that the supply chain might come to an end, or cost more, had changed his mind.

Jack had outlined exactly what was required for them to keep working together. Watson hadn’t liked that. Not one little bit.

Take it or leave it, Jack had told him. There are plenty of others keen to get our supply line.

Watson had made a big mistake when he’d pulled the gun. Never threaten a serving soldier. Watson thought he was a tough guy, but he’d never served in a war. A real war. Nor did he know that you never challenged a black scorpion. Not if you wanted to live.

She had learned that at least.

And so had Watson. And, it appeared, the other two members of the team who had apparently come to Skye with him.

Jack had declared the war over, and the safest place for the four of them remaining was back in that other war.