 Truly deadly. Written by Rob Aspinall. Narrated by Ella Lynch. Prologue. 16. And my life was basically over. And no, I'm not being dramatic. I kept the accelerator planted to the floor, doing over a hundred, with the grill of a Range Rover twisted in a tangle of metal to the rear bumper of the ambulance, driven by a grim-faced bitch doing her best to run us both off the road. Two police cars tried their best to box us in and slow us down. A sniper leaned out of a black helicopter, keeping pace on the other side of the motorway, taking pot-shots at my head. Meanwhile, the old man strapped down in the back of the ambulance was laying down super-gabber-beats through a heart monitor, while one of the guys from the Grab team killed Squad, whoever they were. Lolled forward in the passenger seat, long strands of gloopy blood dripping slowly from his mashed-in face. I didn't know who was after me, or why they thought I was worth all this effort, other than I'd seen something I really shouldn't. It can't have been because of anything I actually knew, because I knew less than squat. All I did know for sure was that if I slowed down and stopped, I was dead. And if the traffic got any thicker as we sped up the bridge running dangerously high over the deep and dirty Manchester ship canal, yep, I was pretty much worm-food. Sprinkle in a complete lack of driving lessons and my long, illustrious history of blacking out at all the wrong moments, and you've got the perfect recipe for underpant brownies. Of course, a few weeks ago, it was all so different. Still shit, but a different kind, different shade, different stink, rainbows and unicorns compared to this. Then, almost overnight, everything changed. I changed. Things got really weird and totally out of hand. And now, you've stepped right into the middle of my nightmare, and, like me, you're probably wondering what in God's gonads is going on. So, how does a girl get herself in a pickle like this? Well, before I catch a bullet, crash off the road or collapse at the wheel, let's rewind a little. It all started with a change of heart. Chapter 1. The Cut First, I should really introduce myself. My name is Lorna Walker, and I had two choices. A. Stick to the meds and die within the year. B. Have the surgery and risk dying during the op. If neither of those got me, the death squeeze 2000, aka anti-clair, would surely hug Sample complete. Ready to continue?