The black-suited hooded men grabbing them. The crook of an elbow jammed tight against her mouth. Throwing her into the back of a windowless van.

Forcing her down on the cold metal floor. Tying her hands with tape. Then her mouth, her feet.

The vehicle moving, bouncing her hard against the unforgiving side. Tyres squealing. Her own muted screams. A dark sack dropped over her head.

Darkness. The sound of her mother sobbing nearby. A mewing, hurt sound.

Her bladder voiding. The awful shame of it.

A world of hurt later.

Her mother lay naked on a bed. Her hands above her head tied cruelly to the headboard.

One of the men was on top of her mother now. Grunting as he raped her. Feeding on her pain, her humiliation, her helplessness. It didn’t take long. He stood up and gestured to the other hood leaning against the far wall.

‘You want a go now?”

‘Not on mommy I don’t,’ said the second man flatly. ‘I like my meat fresher.’

Hannah whimpered, horrified as she realised what he meant.

He raised the gun that he held loosely in his right hand, tightening a silencer on the end of its barrel. Then he pointed it at Hannah’s mother.

‘Your husband did this to you, not me. He wouldn’t pay the ransom.’

Hannah shook her head violently, begging with her eyes, screaming out to her father as she had been doing since the horror had begun. Why hadn’t he paid them the money? Why hadn’t he saved them? Where was he?

The gunman’s eyes were so cold. ‘He had his chance,’ he said simply.

Then he pulled the trigger. He shot Jessica Shapiro twice. The shots made a sound like a nail gun.

‘Can’t say we didn’t give daddy a chance,’ said the hood.

Hannah slumped back in the chair, reeling. Her system shutting down in shock. The grip of fear holding her heart so tight that she couldn’t breathe.