The sound of the gun fire was met with equal intensity from inside the studio.
Sin and Fletcher stayed low and out of harm’s way until the shooting paused. With stealth-like speed and silence they made their way toward the doors. On Sin’s count, Fletcher blew the lock with his .357 and kicked open the door. In complete sync with his movements, Sin tossed in two flash-bang grenades. Seconds later, the only sounds were those of whining and whimpering from the occupants of the studio.
Sin and Fletcher dove forward and slid into the studio. Sin taking the left flank and Fletcher sliding to the right.
“Two o’clock, in the rafters,” Fletcher yelled.
Sin’s line of sight instinctively went to the location, where she spotted a sniper. He seemed disoriented from the flash and Sin disposed of him in fast accord.
Fletcher rolled further right to get a better angle on the room. In the corner of his eye, he spotted a red dot―a tell-tale sign of a laser-sighted gun. He aimed straight for the dot, and took out its operator.
The smoke of the flash-bang dissipated and what Sin saw made her skin crawl. The stage that was set up to look like an S/M dungeon and shackled in the middle of it was a frightened, young girl.
Ximena.
With no one else spotted in the studio, Sin sent Fletcher back to check for any other guards that might still be in the building. He moved―low and fast―and soon disappeared from her view.
Sin waited about thirty seconds―although it seemed like forever―to make sure she didn’t see or hear anyone else. She was about to run toward the stage when she heard a familiar voice behind her.
“Drop the guns, or I’ll blow your fucking head off.”
York.
“I told you I was better than any Special Forces puke.”
Sin felt the cold steel of the barrel of his gun against her head as he pushed her forward.
“All clear,” he yelled.
A man dressed in skintight black leather, complete with a black leather cowl and gloves, emerged from behind the stage.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Sin mumbled.
The dungeon master walked—strutted—to the middle of the stage where Ximena was quivering and wrapped an arm around her neck. He reached for and grabbed a red hot branding iron with his other. He turned his attention from Sin to the camera. “Well, looky who’s here,” came the voice under the mask. He turned his attention to the camera and continued, “We got us a special treat for you tonight.”
Sin glanced from him to where the camera was set up. It was unmanned. Behind the camera were twelve video monitors.
“So,” Sin said, “Do I finally get to meet the sick fucks who paid to see innocent girls tortured and killed?”
The man in leather laughed. “You don’t get to meet no one, O’Malley.” He held the branding iron a little higher, just inches from the trembling girl’s face. “I was just about to brand this little cow before I butcher her. Want to watch before I kill you?”
Sin was led to the stage, York’s gun pressed against the back of her head and forced to stand next to Miller.
“Ooh, she’s sexy,” a modulated voice rang out.
“A little old for my taste,” echoed another.
“What would you pay, ladies and gentlemen, to see this whore scream for mercy?” Miller said.
Number signs started showing up on the monitors. In seconds, the total was up to forty thousand.
“But first, the girl.” This voice seemed more authoritative to Sin. “Then the bitch, and then the wedding ceremony.”
Electronic laughter could be heard coming from the speakers.
“You heard the requests,” Miller screamed. “Strip or I burn the girl!”
Sin glared at the monitors, quickly scanned the room for other gunmen and then moved her hands to her belt. “Is this what turns you perverts on?” she said as she began to loosen her belt. “Are you all so inept as human beings that the only way you can get your rocks off is seeing someone being tortured?”
Sin saw a red light blink on and off on one of the monitors.
Sin figured one of the guests was about to speak since Miller clammed up at the sight of the light. She stared in Miller’s eyes and waited to hear what was said. Instead, Sin heard a gunshot.
She half expected to feel the searing pain that comes with being shot. Instead, she heard a gun and a body drop. Sin watched as Miller’s eyes opened wide as he seemed to look through her and not at her. She used that distraction and brought her hand from her belt, which now held her pearl-handled razor and sliced Miller’s wrist, forcing him to drop the hot iron and release Ximena.
Sin whipped around to see York lying on the ground bleeding from the gut. In her peripheral vision, she saw Fletcher standing in the doorway, pistol still aimed at the stage. She nodded her thanks as his shadowy figure ran behind the stage.
“Help me!” York’s eyes bellowed the fear that comes with death. His breathing was labored and garbled.
Sin walked over, picked up her revolvers, and without looking at him, put a bullet in his head. “No problem,” she said, “I’m glad to be of assistance.” Keeping one gun aimed at Miller, she placed the other in her holster. Taking her free hand, she reached for Ximena.
She fell into Sin’s arms.
“Unlock the cuffs, or I’ll shoot you where you stand,” Sin ordered.
Miller pulled a chain off his neck and threw the keys toward Sin.
Her eyes never left his―not even for a nanosecond―while she caught the keychain in midflight. She kept her gun and eyes on Miller as she bent down and unlocked the shackles from Tia’s ankles.
“Where are the other girls?” Sin said, standing back up.
“I don’t got
