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I fight to control my emotions, letting numbness overtake rage as I survey the details. My flesh crawls when I see the video camera. But all I have eyes for is Delilah. She’s dressed in lingerie, thigh-high stockings, heels. Blood streams from the crook of her elbow. Empty syringes litter the floor.

He changed her. Hurt her. Drugged her.

My vengeance is boundless. Black and ready.

Please yanks Delilah to standing, violently tossing her onto the bed. He crawls behind her, pulling her back to his front. “Why don’t you stick around and watch? Get some footage to remember her by?” He strokes his gun up her leg.

Don’t fucking touch her.

The smoke is getting thicker. Every breath feels like sucking on a hair dryer. Delilah’s body racks as she’s hit by a series of coughs. I can tell she’s disoriented. It’s taking everything in her to stay conscious.

“Shut the fuck up,” I order, concentrating on his trigger finger. Concentrating on moving closer, on getting that kill shot. But with Delilah being used as a shield, I need a fucking miracle.

And Tempest gives it to me.

The church bells clang.

The sound is loud, jarring, and Please looks up.

The gun bobs in his hand.

Delilah meets my gaze. The look on her face is one of determination. No fear in her eyes. Suddenly, she brings her elbow up sharply before slamming it back into Please’s stomach.

Please yelps, doubling over as his hands fall away from Delilah. There’s the clatter of his gun. The roar of the fire. The rose-colored windows at the back of the church shatter.

“Delilah!” I edge closer. “Run, go!”

Delilah scrambles off the bed and races toward me, as fast as she can with whatever drugs are in her system.

Pulse tearing through my veins, I raise my gun and fire off two shots in Please’s direction. The first misses, but the second catches Please in the shoulder. He stumbles back, then pivots toward the ground.

I wait for him to stand, squeezing off another shot that hits him in the stomach. Blood spreads across his dark suit.

I don’t see the glint of the gun until it’s too late.

But instead of me, Please aims it at Delilah.

“No!” I roar.

A series of gunshots explode behind her. I watch in horror as Delilah’s jerked around by the impact of a bullet. A scream tears from her throat.

“She’s mine!” Please cackles, eyes and gun fixed on Delilah as he fires off another shot.

She takes it in the chest, staggering backward. I catch sight of her pale face, her glassy eyes, as she turns toward me, reaching. Then she collapses, lying motionless, twisted on the ground. Blood pools around her.

Rage. Red. It’s all I see.

My senses heighten, the world narrowing to laser focus.

As bullets whiz around me, I storm forward, covering the space in three big strides, then I shoot Please in the fucking face. I let the body fall at my feet, watching as blood pools on the ground.

The bastard’s finally where he deserves to be. Hell.

Delilah.

My heart explodes as I race to her side, crashing to my knees on the cement floor. “Delilah!” I cough and sputter. The back of the church comes smashing down around us, sending flames and dust spitting into the midnight air.

With no time to check for breath, for a pulse, I pick her limp body up in my arms and race for the door.