‘Gun jammed, and the bullet stuck in the barrel. Alexi pushed you back to get the gun out of your hand and knocked you for six into the concrete wall. We thought he had killed you.’

His calm tone and serious frown tell me this is not a joke or a dream. I am not floating in the afterlife or hallucinating in a coma.

Everything drains from me, realising what I tried to do and how low I sunk. And yet …

‘Why did he try to stop me?’

It’s the burning question in ...