Mina and Mark

chapter 10

Chapter 10: Time Is Ticking
Mina walked the streets of her hometown, Dundee, for what felt like hours. The cold threaded through her coat, but she barely noticed. In her head, the night on the road replayed itself again and again. Mark, bleeding in the dark. The shock of it. The impossibility.
Of all the people who could have found him, why had it been her?
Some would call it fate.
She knew something else too. She had not imagined the presence in her kitchen the night before. Someone had been there. The thought unsettled her, but she refused to let it take hold. Fear was not something she planned to give ground to.
When she finally reached home, she switched the kettle on, unpacked the shopping with methodical precision, and sank onto the sofa. Exhaustion claimed her before the kettle had time to boil.
She woke to movement.
Her body locked instantly. Her eyes strained against the dark as she fumbled for the lamp. When the light snapped on, it startled them both.
Mark sat opposite her, relaxed, smiling his familiar, infuriatingly charming smile.
“Hello, Mina,” he said calmly.
She stared at him, fury slicing through the haze of sleep. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
Mark hesitated. His jaw clicked as he braced himself.
“I’m in terrible trouble, Mina. I’ve got nobody else I can trust. You’re not safe here.”
Her stomach tightened.
“He’s already been at your whisky,” Mark went on. “Next time it’ll be your throat. Anything to get to me.”
Mina searched his face. The tiredness was unmistakable. The weight in his eyes.
“I thought that was you last night,” she said slowly. “And somehow I didn’t even let it faze me. But now you’re telling me someone else has been in here?”
Mark nodded.
“And he’ll be back.”
Her breath caught.
“You can’t stay here,” he said. “I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”
Mina exploded, shouting obscenities as she surged to her feet and headed for the door. Mark moved quickly, blocking her path. He grabbed her arms, forcing her to stop, his grip firm but desperate.
“Listen to me,” he said, staring straight into her eyes. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. He will come back. We have to leave now.”
She tried to wrench herself free, anger burning hot. Why had he dragged this chaos to her door? She had tried to care for him when he’d become ill, but he hadn’t been the same man since.
And yet here he stood, looking less like a threat and more like a lost boy.
“I’ll pack my things,” Mina said sharply.
Then she looked at him.
“But you’d better start telling me what the hell is going on.”
She packed quickly. A small bag. Clothes rolled tight. Cash, phone, charger. The essentials. The things that made leaving real.
Mark talked while she moved.
“It wasn’t about money,” he said. “Not really.”
Mina paused, watching him.
“My boss didn’t need me anymore,” Mark went on. “I’d seen too much. Knew too many names. Places. Routes. Once you become inconvenient, you become expensive.”
“So he tried to kill you,” she said flatly.
Mark nodded. “No payout. No loose ends. One less pair of eyes to tell the tale.”
“And the others?”
“They’re just making sure the job gets finished.”
The way he said it chilled her. No drama. Just fact.
They went downstairs together.
Halfway down, the garden gate slammed.
The sound cracked through the house.
Mina froze.
Mark’s face drained of colour. “Whoever it is,” he whispered, “get rid of them.” He darted into the downstairs loo, locking the door behind him.
A knock followed. Firm. Ordinary.
Mina opened the door to find Arthur from next door holding a small parcel wrapped in brown paper.
“I tried to come over earlier,” he said. “Your friend left a package for you. Said he didn’t want to leave it out in the rain. Tony something, I think.”
Mina forced a half-smile. “Thank you, Arthur.”
“Nice to see you, Mina. I’ve got soup on the go,” he said, already turning away.
She closed the door, her hands shaking now.
She placed the parcel on the table.
Mark emerged slowly from the loo, his eyes fixed on it.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Only one way to find out.”
She tore away the brown paper and lifted the lid.
Inside sat a clock. Old-fashioned. Heavy.
Beneath it lay a card.
Time is ticking.
We are watching.
Soon there will be no time left.
The clock began to tick.
Loud. Steady. Unforgiving.
Mark closed his eyes.
“They want me dead,” he said.
Mina shut the box and grabbed her bag.
“Then we’re already late,” she said.
She chose the side door. It felt quieter. Smarter. She locked it behind them, the click sounding far too loud in the stillness.
Mark led her to a battered white van parked half under a tree.
“I managed to hire it,” he said. “I’m hoping they don’t know about this one.”
The motorway stretched on, mile after mile. Mina slept through most of it, her head knocking lightly against the window whenever the van changed lanes. She woke once to headlights and rain, then drifted under again.
By the time they reached Dover, dawn was threatening the sky, pale and colourless. Mark barely spoke. He followed instructions, handed over documents, drove where he was waved. Mina stayed quiet, foggy with exhaustion, trusting him to know where they were going.
It wasn’t until the ramp began to rise that something felt wrong.
Earlier, he had walked a step behind her, murmuring to himself. Fragments of sentences. Half-arguments. Reassurances meant for no one.
He often did this under stress. Mina had seen it before. She told herself his bipolar was under control.
It had to be.
Psychosis had taken him twice before. Once quietly. Once violently. Both times without warning.
The ramp rose behind them with a mechanical groan. Doors clanged shut.
Only then did Mina notice the safety notices. Not English. French.
Her pulse spiked. “Mark.”
He checked his phone. No signal.
“This isn’t…,” he started, then stopped.
A horn sounded. Long. Low.
“We’re moving,” Mina said.
Mark swallowed. “This wasn’t supposed to be international.”
The ship lurched, heavy and final, pulling away from land. England slid silently into darkness.
“So where are we going?” Mina asked.
Mark stared at the steel wall of the hold.
“France,” he said.
Mina shivered in the cold air, fear settling deeper than the chill.
What had she got herself into?