Page 16 of Sinful Submission

“Last chance.”

“Please...” Melted skin slurred his words. “She’s not here! They knew you’d come...”

“Who knew?”

But his eyes had rolled back, his consciousness fleeing. He was useless now, so I snapped his neck and dropped him into the spreading flames.

The one with the broken knee tried crawling away. I grabbed his collar and hauled him up. “Your turn.”

“Wait! I can help!”

I slammed him into a burning wall. His clothes ignited immediately. The screams echoed off the iron barrier.

“Either talk or burn.”

“They moved her! Hours ago!” He thrashed as flames climbed his legs. “It’s a trap!”

“I know.” I held him against the fire until his back blackened. “But you’re still going to burn.”

More shouts came from above. I cracked my neck, too hype to wait for them to come to me.

I took the stairs three at a time, the smoke thick but not blinding. Not yet. On the second floor, storage, shipping crates, and old furniture would make for the perfect kindling.

A bullet whined past my ear. There were four shooters using crates for cover. They were better trained than the ones outside. But it was still not good enough.

I dove behind a brass desk as they opened fire. I counted the shots and tracked muzzled flashes through the smoke, pinpointing their positions. I took in a silent, deep breath and waited.

When the first magazine emptied, I moved low and fast, as flames spread across the floor behind me. The nearest shooter never saw me coming. I shoved my knife into the back of his neck, cracked his spine, and twisted the blade as blood oozed from his mouth. As he fell, I used his body as a shield, pushing forward.

“He’s here! He’s?—”

The speaker’s head snapped back, and my bullet tore between his eyes. His partner broke cover, panicked, and decided to flee. I gripped his arm and drove my knife through his palm into a burning crate. His scream harmonized with the crackling flames.

It was music to my ears.

The last one tried running, but if he expected to flee from me, he should’ve been gone long ago.

I had him before he reached the stairs and pushed him to his knees. Smoke wreathed us like a demon’s breath as I pressed my gun to his temple.

“The girl. Where is she?”

“I don’t know! We were just told to keep you busy but ensure you didn’t make it out of this building!”

“By who?”

“I never saw his face! Please!”

The building groaned, the support beams weakening.

I zip-tied him to a metal pole and let him watch flames approach. His begging followed me to the third floor, where I found more resistance. There were six men with body armor and automatic weapons. Finally, someone worth killing.

They’d set up a crossfire zone. That was decent premeditated thinking. But they hadn’t counted on the fire.

Or me.

I triggered the last accelerant line, causing flames to erupt between us and breaking their firing lines. In the chaos, I moved.

The first two died before they realized I was there. The third got a shot off – it tore through my jacket but missed the mark before I stabbed him in the eye. He fell to his knees screaming while I was on to the next.

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