Page 135 of Out for Blood
The security guards maintain their patrols around the theater. One stands watch at the main entrance. Another one patrols the north side of the building, while the third monitors the alley wedged between the theater and the neighboring structure. All three carry firearms, their silhouettes easy to spot beneath the glow of the exterior lights.
Tyler studies the screen for another moment before setting the tablet aside.
“They’re all here, are you ready?” Tyler asks, lifting his eyebrow.
I lower the binoculars.
My eyes are transfixed on the theater.
Behind those walls, an auction is about to begin. Women are waiting where I once waited, their futures hanging on the whims of wealthy men with too much money and too little humanity. Rage and grief collide in my chest as memories force their way back and tear through old wounds. I remember comprehending every bid sealed a fate I couldn’t escape. The thought of those women enduring the same horror makes viciousness stir inside me.
The same feeling that’s followed me for two years. It lives in the darkest corners of my mind. Never let me forget the terror that came after. The sexual assaults. The humiliation. The girl that believed she would never escape. Pieces of me were taken and never fully returned.
I survived, but survival doesn’t erase what happened or the anger. It just teaches you how to carry them.
Tyler retrieves his Glock from under his seat, the suppressoralready attached. He handles it with quiet familiarity, checking it as casually as someone glancing at their phone, his expression neutral as if we are standing in line for coffee. Somewhere along the way this felt impossible, now it is just another part of our lives.
“I’m ready to show them what happens when survivors stop being victims.” The conviction leaves no room for doubt.
Outside, one of the guards’ pivots and begins another lap around the building.
Tyler glances at his watch. He inserts his earpiece and hands me the other. I tuck it into my ear and adjust it until it sits comfortably.
My gaze finds Tyler’s and for a heartbeat I let myself feel it all, the love, the devotion, and the unbearable reality of how much this man means to me. My soul would find his in every lifetime.
“I’ll meet you at the graveyard,” I whisper.
The corner of his mouth lifts, “I’ll be there.”
He scans the area one last time, his eyes sweeping across the deserted block. Years of training and experience have taught him where danger likes to hide. Rooftops. Windows. Blind corners. Darkened alleys. He checks them all before he tells me,
“Time to move.”
Tyler and I exit the car in unison.
I shut the door quietly behind me and my senses on high alert.
Previously, I was the girl trapped behind walls like these.
Tonight, I am the one who is going to send them crashing down.
Nobody notices us.
The first guard is distracted, his face is lit by the device in his hand, oblivious to everything beyond it.
All the opening I need.
I melt into the blind spots between pools of night, using the shadows to mask my presence until I’m close enough to strike.
By the time he senses someone behind him, it’s already too late.
My hand clamps over his mouth, trapping the startled cry that tries to escape.
His entire frame bucks against me, heels scraping the pavement as he fights to understand what’s happening.
He scratches at my wrist, struggling to break free, but I hold him in place as my other hand draws my knife up and opens a crimson line across his neck.
He battles wildly as desperation consumes him fueling every frantic movement, until his limbs lose their purpose and hang limp, the last traces of resistance gone.
