Chapter 31

There was a police car outside the opposite house. Lights on. A man shouting and swearing on the pavement, being bundled into the back of it. Mr and Mrs Little having another drunken domestic.

Nothing…nothing serious.

Ali rested his forehead against the cold glass and tried to breathe past the aftershocks of terror, the shiver of relief, and the hot tears making their way down his face.

“It wasn’t real,” he whispered fervently to himself. “It wasn’t—he didn’t—”

Because in his dreams, Yazid died. Alone, on the floor of their flat, because of Tony. He died.

The pipes rattled and the toilet flushed. Ali hastily tore his gaze from Mr Little mouthing off at one of the coppers, and started wiping at his face. He hadn’t had this nightmare in a long time. It would only upset Yazid, and…