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There are six guards total, and two should be off. They’ve been rotating shifts, but Brandon said we’re leaving, so maybe they’realloutside.

I got this.

Looking around, I find cover so I can shoot and not be hit by their erratic return fire. My only hope is an old-school refrigerator with the door removed and resting against the cinderblock wall. Those things are made of pure metal and bullets won’t get through. I wedge myself behind it with a breath and a prayer.

Then I...

I scream.

Loudly.

Two men barrel down the wooden stairs. When they see Brandon lying on the cement floor face down, they rush toward the body.

“Boss?” one of them cries out, shaking him.

The other one notices I’m not in the cage and looks around. “That bitch escaped.”

Shaking, I aim the Glock at that guy’s head, tears leaking from my eyes. I’ve killed plenty of bad guys. Today is no different. One of them walks back toward the steps, while the other stares in that direction. They must think I took off that way when they came down. Like I’d be so stupid to risk my life wandering around an unknown environment.

There’s too much in my way, though. I can’t take the shot from behind this damn metal door like I wanted to. Moving with stealth, I sneak out and get behind the guy who’s closer to me. With the gun jammed into the back of his head, I pull the trigger, using his skull as a silencer.

It deadens the sound, but oh fuck, what a mess.

He falls and I catch him, so he’s blocking me. The second guy spins around, his jaw dropped open. In the time it takes him to process that he’s looking at his buddy with half a head, I drop the dead guy and put a bullet inhisskull.

Only, this one made noise.

I grab both their guns, one with a silencer on it.

“Could have fucking used this,” I whisper-curse, jumping back behind the refrigerator door to wait for the others to come downstairs.

Two more guys bound down the steps, guns drawn.

Feeling stronger and more in control, I nick one off, and when he falls, I duck for cover as both the door and the refrigerator take on a hail of bullets. One hollow point pierces through and lands in the wall five inches from my head.

I fire off two rounds from the Glock for cover then lift the door by the handle, rushing forward using it as a shield. It’s just not a very good one because it’s heavy as hell and hard to keep straight. At least it will disorient this guy, seeing an avocado-green refrigerator door with feet coming at him.

Running at top speed, I crash into Guard #4 full force and knock him down. When I’m on top, I empty the Glock and blow off his head.

He’s the last of the four, five including Brandon.

I curl into a ball, but vomit rises quickly in my throat. I tighten my stomach and hurl all over the floor. I gag and yak up bile since I’ve barely eaten anything.

Groaning sounds out behind me.

Uh oh.

Before I can turn around or get to my feet, Brandon flops on top of me and holds a knife to my throat.