Her stomach plunged, and a sense of absolute powerlessness overcame her as she realised the truth: that however fast she could run, however many bullets she could shoot, however much she could worry for the citizens of New London who would die as collateral damage, the events before her would unfold the same way regardless. There was nothing in this world she could do to change the outcome.

Nicholas Grant, however, had the whole event covered. Or at least the Cerberus system did.

There were explosions – lots of explosions, but they were all tame. Grant’s near-impenetrable network of defence missiles rose from the corners of the Citadel, giving it the appearance of a giant birthday cake, and intercepted the threat with a series of detonations.

Once upon a time, the Cerberus system had been Grant’s way of persuading the British government to trust him with their country’s safety. His promise of almost futuristic security – in exchange for limitless funding and influence – had been the catalyst for everything that had been allowed to happen since. That morning Cerberus had been used to repel a foreign attack for the first time, but not in a way the government could ever have predicted.

By the time the smoke started to clear, it was obvious that nothing remained in the sky. A couple of seconds passed in silence, and then the soundwave reached Spitfire’s Rise. The explosions had lost their volume over the many miles in between, and sounded little louder than tame fireworks. But those inside the Inner City prison must have been in a state of utter panic. (Although from Kate’s experience on the inside, perhaps some were already harvesting the fallen metal debris to reinforce their fragile shelters.)

‘Well,’ muttered Mark, ‘looks like Grant’s safe.’

The internal conflict gave Kate a heavy heart. The world may have been a better place if Nicholas Grant and the rest of New London had died in a horrifying missile strike, but at least James would survive his twentieth birthday.

‘What the hell was that about?’ Raj asked at her side.

Kate had no idea how to respond.

‘Something big,’ she eventually said.

Chapter 2

Ewan had hated shopping centres for as long as he could remember. The crowds, the noise, the pressure on all five senses and the constant onslaught of everything demanding his attention. His mother had tried her best when it got too much for him, but she couldn’t control the inside of his overloaded brain. Ewan’s childhood memories of Luton Retail Centre consisted of him not meeting the public’s expectations, their frowns of disapproval and their lack of sympathy whenever he had a meltdown.

I guess those memories apply to my whole life, really.

Luton Retail Centre felt much more pleasant nowadays. Ewan had the whole place to himself, except for one trustworthy friend by his side.