I hesitate just long enough to sell it. Then I lower it. It hits the floor with a hollow clatter that seems impossibly loud in the cavernous room.
He advances immediately and kicks it away with his boot. “Good girl.” His gun dips a fraction. “And the knife.”
I lift it slowly, handle first, and let it fall.
He advances, quickly crouches to retrieve it, and takes a second to test the balance in his palm. “Nice blade,” he says with a crooked grin. “Thanks.”
That’s when he drops his guard and his weapon just enough to give me an opening.
My hand slides behind my back. The pistol clears my waistband in one smooth motion. I fire once. The round puts a pretty hole in the middle of his forehead. He drops where he stands. The only sound is that of his heavy body slamming onto the tile.
I strip him of ammo and his weapons. Hide what I can’t carry, and take the rest with me. My hands shake now due to adrenaline, but they’re steady enough.
Voices are closing in. Shouting. Men running. Orders are being barked from somewhere nearby.
I don’t wait for them to arrive. I slip out of the mess hall and head toward the sound of the crying women, knowing that seconds wasted could determine if they live or die.
When I find them, it's in an older part of the prison. Both are locked up. Each in their own cell. I search the area first, but when I don’t see any of the men, I double back.
“How do I open the cells?”
“One of them has the key,” she whispers urgently. “They call him Riker. He’s the one with a mustache and a red flannel.”
She’s a small thing. Petite. A brunette. The bruises marring her face make something feral rise in my chest—a sharp, violent need to commit more murder.
She grabs my hands when I come to the bars, her slender fingers wrapping around mine.
“You should go before they come back,” she pleads. “Get as far the fuck away from here as you can.”
“No. That’s not why I came here. I came to get you out.”
She shakes her head. “That’s not possible. There are too many of them.” Her eyes are frantic as they sweep over my face.
“Hey, hey. Calm down.” I keep my voice low and steady. “What’s your name?”
“Lila.”
“Lila.” I hold her gaze. “I promise it’s going to be okay. I can do this. Just trust me, okay.”
I peer into the cell beside hers.
A blond girl is handcuffed to the bed. Duct tape stretches cruelly across her mouth. Her lower body is naked and visibly marked, and though she struggles weakly, she only makes the wounds beneath the cuffs worse.
My jaw tightens.
“I’ll get you both out of here.”
“How?”
I take Lila’s hands again and hold them between mine.
“I may not look like much, but I know how to handle myself.”
It takes her a moment to absorb that. Then slowly she nods. Fear and dread still shadow her features, but something fragile flickers to life in her eyes.
Hope.
“Look,” I say quietly. “Just play along, okay? Whatever happens, don’t freak out. I need to get close to them to get the keys if that’s the only way to open these bars.”
