She wanted to tell him to fuck off. She wasn’t his to order about. Not any more. Not here. Not in Afghanistan. But after what had happened? Her throat closed in horror as she relived the moment it had all gone wrong.

Composing herself, she stood up, the closely packed Sitka spruce leaving barely enough room to manoeuvre around and through its interlocking branches.

From one prison to another.

They were waiting for her, standing together, brothers in arms. Ignoring him, she studied the other two, their expressions serious and concerned.

They think they’re saving me, when nothing can save me now.

She brushed at her eyes, fearful that there might be evidence there of her turmoil.

‘Okay, this is where we’re at,’ he was saying. ‘They’ve got a body, but they have no idea who it is yet. They’ll have detected the coke. The forensic suits were down there with him for long enough. But he’s unrecognizable after the fall.’

‘What the fuck, Seven?’ Ben shook his head as though the enormity of their dilemma was only now presenting itself.

He interrupted before she’d even formulated a thought, never mind an answer. ‘Shut up, Mountain. None of what’s happened is Seven’s fault.’ He paused. ‘We’ll separate as planned. Stay off-grid. Then leave the island and report for duty.’

‘And when Sugarboy doesn’t turn up?’ Charlie said.

‘The army’ll think he’s gone AWOL and, when they do a little digging, they’ll find out why. They believe we’re all still okay?’ The question was directed at her.

‘The woman told me when the body was spotted. I said you were here until after that.’

‘You were convincing?’

She thought back to her portrayal of relief, which had been real enough. ‘Yes,’ she said. That part she had got right. Still, the way the woman had looked at her, as though she was reading her mind. And the dog . . . she had covered the dog’s protective behaviour by explaining that they’d met when she’d tried out the axe throwing and again in the bar at the Isles. But it was really the scent of her fear that had worried the dog.

‘Why were they here in the bloody plantation in the first place?’ Charlie demanded. ‘Unless they were looking for us.’

‘Well, they found us,’ he said. ‘And Seven made sure we were all accounted for.’

He gave her an appraising look that made her shrink inside.

‘And don’t forget it was Seven who got us out of that hellhole in Afghanistan.’

His words satisfied Ben and Charlie, but then they always had. How much of the truth were they really aware of? How much did they care?

If she ever told the real story, they would be in the shit too. For what happened here and in Afghanistan. But her only witness to what had really gone on out there was Sugarboy.