Breath coming hard, straight through her nose. An enraged bull - in black lycra.

But she gets it. It was a test. Almost a right of passage. It's shit but she gets it.

"You're lucky."

If she'd been in morph. If she'd had a weapon in her hands she understood. Images flash through Rachel's mind, things she's done to people on instinct, her on more than the animal's. Things that could have happened to Jo, blood and bruises and cold dead eyes.

Her hands tighten on the rifle because they'd be shaking otherwise.