Julian stopped his hand inside his coat, his eyes locked on Arthur.

“You really are a fool, Arthur,” Julian said.

I did not move. I did not scream.

My right hand was still deep in my cardigan pocket.

My thumb remained pressed against the cold plastic button of the transmitter.

I looked at the counter across from me.

My mobile phone sat next to the sink, its screen dark.

“Arthur,” I whispered, my voice completely flat. “You should have let me go.”

“Shut up,” he hissed in my ear, his breath hot against my neck.

I squeezed my thumb down, hard.

Inside the pocket, a tiny electronic click felt like a jolt of lightning.

On the kitchen counter, the screen of my mobile phone suddenly lit up, casting a bright blue glow against the dark wood.

The blue light reflected in the pool of rainwater that had gathered on the linoleum floor.

Arthur’s grip on my arm tightened until my bones ground together.

“What did you do?” he roared, his voice vibrating against my jaw.

The barrel of the revolver pressed deeper into my temple, the cold steel biting into my skin.