The woman directing them simultaneously drops beside one of the girls.
“Oh my God,” she gasps and draws one of her hands to her mouth, at the state of them.
Another rescuer wraps a blanket around the stunned brunette closest to me while the third begins checking injuries with professional expertise.
The entire room shifts into controlled chaos.
One of the girls dives at me and snares my wrist as her fingers tremble. She refuses to let go, taking me by surprise.
“Please,” she begs me with tears welling in the corner of her eyes. “Don’t leave her there.”
My heart threatens to come out of my throat.
“Where?”
Tears flow incessantly down her face.
“The back room.”
Tyler’s eyes find mine and I search them. My stomach knots because what I see is something I haven’t seen before- he’s at war with himself.
The room where the livestream is happening and where the final girl is.
The twisted carnival music throbs louder somewhere rooted inside the building now accompanied by obscured cheering floating through the speakers.
The last remnants of panic dissolve knowing these girls will be safe and is replaced by a determination to end this.
“The rescue crew and the girls have evacuated the building, they’ll be sticking around for the last girl,” he states evenly.
Thunder grumbles outside of the warehouse walls.
Then I peer into the horribly lit hallway that goes further into the building where the carnival melody is on repeat.
Now there’s nothing left between us and the wickedness in the back room.
The walls seem to creep closer together the farther we go.
Tyler lowers his voice calmly. “Masks on.” He secures his own while I do the same.
The circus music becomes more pronounced with every step.
Tyler falls into place beside me, Glock raised, every movement is hurried especially since the clock is working against us.
Then I hear it. Pitiful whimpering, it sounds like the girl is in absolute agony.
We approach the rusted steel door at the end of the hall.
Tyler looks at me, eyes full of venom, ready to attack.
This is confirmation, letting me know this is it.
I have my Glock up, ready to go as I extend my hand clutching the handle firmly.
I ease the door open, not ready for what awaits on the other side.
The warped carnival music crackles through the speakers, blaring enough to mask our entrance completely. Tyler slides in first and I’m right behind him. We stand concealed in the doorway, watching these vile men who have no idea death just walked into the fucking room. I holster my Glock and switch it out for my blade.
The employees are too engrossed in the livestream unfolding beneath the circus lights. One man sits hunched at the computer station, the glow from dozens of chat messages and donation alerts flashing across his face while he confirms the VIP’s request into a headset like he’s taking a fast-food order through a drive thru.
