Emily came up startled; her heart thumping in her chest, her surroundings gradually coming into focus. Under her, the globe was a swirl of shadows, poor light, and chilly concrete. Her hands were chained behind her back; the tension of the ropes caused wrist pain. The air smelt metallic and moist, and the quiet echoed the far-off drip of water.
Panic seized her chest momentarily like a vice. Blinking, she tried to clear the cloud from her mind. Her ideas were disorganised, the last few minutes—or hours—just a whirl of recollections. The guys in the armed services. The rifle pushed on her skull. Ava yelled. Then, nothing. Only blackness.
Her eyes became dark, and she knew she was in some kind of cellar or subterranean room—far from the solace of her flat. There was just one massive, steel
