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His purpose is to keep me in line, bot to hurt me.
The man I attacked is leaning forward, his face obscured by his hands. Another man in a tuxedo sneers at me and lunges toward me. I hear a quiet snick as he waves a blade at me.
“Get on all fours!” he booms. “Or I’ll cut you up so bad that your momma won’t recognize you.”
I spit at him, taking him by surprise. But that doesn’t stop him from tackling me and pressing his knife to my throat. He sprawls out on top of me, and I panic.
This can’t be how I die.
Struggling against the man’s hold, I wonder if I can make the same assumption about him as I did the guard.
Will he have been given instructions not to hurt me?
Trying to surge up with all my strength, I soon find out. I feel the sharp, hot press of the blade against my skin. Then I feel a heated trickle of my own blood welling up just above the line of the blade.
“I’ll kill you,” the man growls into my ear. “Stop moving, you cunt.”
I grit my teeth, pushing against the heaviness of his body. “I’d rather die.”
“Gladly!” he hisses back.
He’s much larger and heavier than me, easily restraining my arms and legs. I can smell his vile breath, like rotting meat covered with a wash of bourbon. I gag a little when I realize that he’s fully erect, his cock grinding into my hip.
Tears prick my eyelids as I writhe under him. I look back at the room, for some kind of help.
Surely one of these men has a soft spot. The man on top of me cuts of my breath, so the best I can do is huff out a strangled phrase.
“Don’t… any… of you have… a daughter?”
Two of the men stiffen. But the other ones, including the one whose face I ripped up, only seem encouraged by my words.
The wounded man grips his cheek, spittle flying as he lets loose his invective. “When I come back downstairs, I’m going to show you all the things I would do to my daughter if I thought no one would ever find out. And then I’m going to watch the light drain from your eyes—"
A soft whizzing sound cuts off his words. His eyes bulge. He clutches his neck, where a perfect bullet hole begins to gush dark red blood. He falls to the floor with a muted thump.
I make eye contact with him for a second, watching with wide eyes as he bleeds out onto the floor. His rheumy eyes go dead; one second, he’s there, the next second… he’s not.
I let out a scream.
The man on top of me jumps up just as the whizzing sound comes again. I roll over as I could the muzzled gun shots.
One shot, two shots, three shots.
The guard has foolishly stuck only his head out of the doorway, trying to find the source of the shots. The three shots kill the guard before he can even swing his gun around to protect himself. He grunts as he is hit, then falls down, dead as a doornail.
Then I hear the most amazing sound of my entire life. A thick Scottish burr, so recognizable that it slices right through the men yelling and the sound of the men’s dress shoes on the hard cement floor.
“Send the girl out!” Hades shouts from the staircase. “I’ll give ye no more trouble after that.”
Silence reigns. The younger man who tackled me scowls and jerks his head toward the back of the room. “You’re not going anywhere.”
I raise my head, screaming his name. “Hades!”
The man starts toward me. In a split second, I look at the guard slumped on the floor in the doorway. Without fully thinking it out, I dart toward him, my eyes focused on his weapon.
Several things happen at once.
I reach the doorway. Hades spots me as he lands on the bottom step. He points two heavy black guns with matching silencers straight at me, his eyes gleaming with malice.
