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She slips through the door of the barn, and I follow her, carefully closing it so it doesn’t make any noise. The smell of meat and blood hits me so hard I’m practically choking on it. To the left and right of us, rows of cattle carcasses circulate, attached to hooks that are then rigged to a constantly moving pulley system that extends to outside the barn. In the distance, I can hear the desperate braying of what sounds like panicked cows, and it turns my stomach. Una continues forward without hesitation. Staying low and silent, she’s like a shadow in the night, unseen, unheard. So when we spot a sheriff and another man overseeing the packing of cocaine into the carcasses, I’m not surprised when they don’t even notice us. The second man is wearing an impeccable suit that looks out of place in this den of drugs and death. He’s middle-aged and utterly indistinct, except for the huge scorpion tattooed on the side of his neck.
I expect Una to kill them quickly and quietly the same way she always does. Instead, she grabs one of the heavy iron hooks and slams it into the back of Scorpion’s neck. The sheriff scrambles for his gun, but I’m ready. I shoot him in the thigh, and he hits the ground instantly. Moving closer, I take his gun.
A horrible choked gurgling sound is the only noise coming from Scorpions dying form. The hook has gone right through his neck and is now protruding through his throat. I fight back bile as I watch the blood cascade down his suit, soaking the fabric until it can take no more, and it then starts spilling onto the concrete floor beneath him. Unseeing eyes roll back in his head as his body twitches erratically. Una heaves on the thick chain, winching him up onto the merry go round of death. It’s morbid and violent, and not Una’s style at all. She’s usually clean and efficient, in and out. This... this is horrible. I watch as his spasming body drifts from view.
“Time to go. Shoot him,” she says, pointing at the sheriff. He glares at me, clutching his bloody thigh. I lift my gun, and my finger lingers over the trigger, but it doesn’t move. Our eyes lock and something shifts in the air, a silent conversation that passes between us. Maybe it’s the uniform, the idea that this man might not be a completely ‘bad man’? My warped sense of moral compass wavers, and my finger freezes on the trigger. “Anna?”
I glance at Una, and she stares right back at me. I think she sees it and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel disappointed in myself. There’s a small pop, and when I look at the man again, he’s dead. A perfect bullet hole mars his forehead. My sister tucks her gun back into her holster and starts walking, not a care in the world.
The moment Scorpions body rolls out into the loading area, we know about it. And it’s the moment we start running.
When I walk inside the warehouse, all of Rafael’s main guys are missing; Carlos and Samuel, and the men they usually keep around them. I make my way to the office, but a guy steps in front of me, blocking my path.
“You can’t go in there.”
“I need to see Rafael.” I convince myself that I need to tell him how it went, but it’s more than that. These are the lies I tell myself, all in the effort to maintain this perceived strength.
“He isn’t here.”
Stepping away, I decide not to ask any more questions. Rafael will be back soon. I climb the stairs onto the second level and go to the room I stayed in last night. It’s shared with some of the girls who act as mules, and the warehouse beyond is noisy, but I managed to get some sleep. Not like I haven’t lives in far worse conditions. I lay back on the bed and close my eyes, willing away the pounding beat that has taken up residence in my skull. Exhaustion washes over me before I fall asleep.
It’s completely black, and I can hear nothing other than my own ragged breaths entering and leaving my body on a strangled rasp. The sensory deprivation makes me uneasy, and a shiver skates down my spine.
I jump when something wet brushes over my arm, a small scream slipping from my lips.
There’s the low rumble of a laugh. “You can’t escape me, amado.” I shiver at the sound of that voice. Whipping around, I try to find the source of it. A wet finger slides over my cheek, and I flinch away, but there’s nowhere to run, nothing to run to. “You’ll always be mine.”
Suddenly, a blinding white light illuminates everything, a hand slams around my throat, and I’m staring into the glassy, misted eyes of The Master. He’s covered in blood, and his wet, slippery fingers slide over my skin. He smiles, teeth stained red, his expression feral. And then he kisses me.
