Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The theater looms at the end of the street like a corpse dressed in its finest clothes, even from two blocks away it’s impossible to ignore.
Faded bulbs flicker weakly beneath the crooked marquee that hangs above the entrance with several letters missing.
Cracks spiderweb through the brickwork, and the towering columns are stained by decades of neglect.
The windows are blacked out. Weeds push through the pavement.
Time has stripped away most of its grandeur, leaving behind peeling paint and the hollow shell of what was once something magnificent.
At night, the building feels less like a theater and more like a mausoleum.
A place built to bury secrets.
The kind that festers in the dark.
The kind that survives because nobody is brave enough to drag them into the light.
Unfortunately for the monsters inside, Tyler and I have become very good at filling graves.
We’re parked three buildings down inside the shelter of a covered loading dock attached to a forgotten furniture warehouse. The structure squats at the edge of the block, its sun-bleached sign canted above shattered display windows.
From the street, the overhang camouflages the car seamlessly.
Tyler has already coordinated with the rescue crew. I know they are standing by, ready to move the second they are clear to come in.
I sit in the passenger seat with a pair of binoculars pressed to my eyes, watching the theater. Tyler has his seat reclined in the driver’s seat with his iPad balanced on one knee, recording arrival times, and vehicle descriptions.
Silence fills the car. The city feels far away from here. Beyond the windows, the distant hum of traffic carries through the night, accompanied by the constant chorus of insects nestled within the overgrown weeds. Every so often, a dog barks somewhere farther away.
But compared to the noise persistently living inside my head lately, it feels almost peaceful.
For the last forty minutes, we’ve run surveillance.
A black Mercedes glides to the curb in front of the theater.
Immediately, my attention sharpens.
The driver exits first then moves to open the rear passenger door.
A man emerges onto the pavement wrapped in money and arrogance. His suit is tailored. A luxury watch circles his wrist as he straightens his tie, his shoes polished to a mirror shine and silver cufflinks catch the light with every movement.
On the surface he wears respectability like a second skin. He looks like a man who sits on corporate boards, donates to multiple charities, and smiles for photographs at galas that wind up in the local newspapers.
He looks out of place attending an auction for human beings.
Dread unfurls through my gut like poison.
A security guard stationed at the front entrance departs his post and approaches him. I see their mouths move as the guard steps aside, allowing him to pass and the door swings shut after he passes the threshold.
One by one they arrive. Another expensive vehicle, then another. Three buyers in total, just as Tyler said there would be.
My fingers curl around the binoculars until my knuckles ache.
I wonder if any of them have wives, daughters, or sisters.
The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
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 suppressor already 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.
Silence rushes back into the alley as though nothing happened at all.
I lower him carefully onto the asphalt while listening for any sign that someone heard.
Nothing.
Gripping him beneath the arms, I haul him behind a rusted dumpster where the darkness hides him from view.
From a distance, the alley looks exactly as it did before, as if he was never there at all.
A voice crackles softly through my earpiece.
“South side clear.”
Tyler.
One down. Two to go.
Tyler and I creep along the south side of the theater, hugging the weathered brick wall.
The farther we go, the darker it gets.
The glow from the marquee fades in the back of us, eclipsed by the darkness clinging to the north side of the building.
Blacked out windows line the upper levels like empty eye sockets, as though the city decided this place wasn’t worth saving.
Ahead, a lone guard stands near an old generator enclosure. Loose sheets of corroded hurricane shutters swing and clack whenever the wind picks up. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, scouring the area with the bored confidence of a man who believes he’s alone.
My gaze slides to Tyler.
He doesn’t acknowledge me.
His attention is fixed entirely on the guard ahead; every ounce of focus narrowed to a single target.
The same expression he wears before pulling the trigger at the range.
Without a word, he advances.
I wait where I am, my back pressed against the wall as I watch him go.
The night seems to fold around him, becoming impossible to track.
Tyler moves in like a predator sighting prey, reducing the distance between them.
Twenty feet.
Fifteen.
Ten.
The guard stays unaware.
A gust of wind shudders a loose section of the chain fencing, its metallic clatter drowning out Tyler’s final approach.
Five feet.
Three.
One.
He raises his Glock; the suppressor already threaded onto the barrel. A muted pop breaks the silence.
The guard drops where he stands, unaware that death had been stalking him for the last several seconds.
The night absorbs the disturbance. Tyler lowers his weapon and surveys the surrounding area.
When he’s satisfied that we’re still alone, he gives me a small nod.
One more obstacle removed, one to go.
The final guard stands between us and the show.
Tyler and I circle around to the front of the theater, crouching low and staying as close to the building as possible. The last guard occupies the position near the entrance; his attention fixed on the empty road.
A pool of golden light spills from the marquee above, illuminating the sidewalk around him while the rest of the street remains buried in darkness.
Warm light gathers around the theater’s entrance, outlining the guard as he watches the street ahead.
He’s focused on the wrong threat.
Tyler and I exchange a look, not words. We’ve long since learned we don’t need them.
The plan is already understood.
I draw a slow breath and slip forward.
Our footsteps are swallowed by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional creak of the aging theater.
The guard never turns or glances over his shoulder.
We split apart, Tyler taking one side while I take the other.
The distance shrinks with each measured step.
My pulse stays steady since I’ve learned how to lock everything else away until the job is finished.
The guard shifts his weight slightly.
A subtle movement.
The first hint that instinct is trying to warn him, but it’s too late.
Tyler launches into motion, and I do the same.
Tyler gets to him first. His hand seals over the guard’s mouth as he yanks him backward, pinning him against his chest before he has a chance to make a sound.
In one fluid motion I stab my knife deep into his abdomen wrapping both my hands around the handle as I use all my strength to drive the knife upwards, stopping between his ribs. By puncturing his diaphragm, his breaths taper off and then stop.
The entire encounter unfolds with brutal efficiency.
The guard’s body goes slack, his full weight sagging on Tyler.
For a moment, neither Tyler nor I speak.
We hold still and listen. Nothing.
Tyler shifts the guard with a quiet grunt and slides his hands beneath his armpits, and rises in one smooth motion, lifting the body with him.
I take hold of his ankles, and together we carry him from the theater’s entrance, careful to keep his body from scraping along the pavement as we pull him into the shadows to the side of the building.
A cluster of overgrown shrubs and neglected landscaping borders the theater wall.
Perfect.
We lower him to the ground and arrange the shrubs until everything appears undisturbed and step back onto the sidewalk just to be sure.
My gaze shifts to the theater doors and my eyes burn into them.
The buyers came for a performance.
Tonight, they are getting one.
Just not the one they paid for.