one not here. But he’d be here if he could. I know he would.
We form a V, with me leading the way to the large steel double doors. There’s a chain and a lock on them. Anthony comes up behind me with the bolt cutters while we all keep our guns raised. The heavy steel chain drops to the ground with a loud clank, and he quickly bends and pulls it away so I can pull the doors apart. They open with a loud groan.
They definitely know we’re here.
A cold sweat breaks out across my body. They better not have touched her. That image that flashed through my mind yesterday, of her cold and dead on the ground, flashes into my vision again. I try to blink it away, but it won’t disappear. I shake my head and grind my teeth, keeping my gun held high. The huge room is empty, with concrete floors that are rundown, but bare. No place to hide. Which is good and bad. It’s two stories with a thin hall lining the upper level. It’s made of rickety wire mesh flooring so each inch is visible. Six doors are on each level, with two on each side and the back wall.
She’s behind one of them. Twelve doors to look through.
My gun moves to each door, each corner. Empty.
“Start at the left. Bottom floor,” I call out with determination and confidence.
“We splittin’, Dom?” Pops' voice rings out, but I shake my head. I’m calling the shots. My problem, and my girl. I’m grateful Pops is ready to back me up. I don’t know how many of them there are. I want our numbers high.
I lower my gun as I reach the first door. I look back at the crew as I test the handle. Locked. I bet they’re all fucking locked. They’re steel doors. Not fucking easy to break down, but we got this.
I put my gun up to the keyhole and fire. Once, twice, three times. I give it a hard kick, and it jostles slightly. Another shot, and another kick. Everyone has their guns ready to fire as the doors open. They swing open with a bang, crashing into the walls. Boxes are piled high, nearly to the ceiling in several rows. I take a step in with caution, keeping my gun in front of me as I sweep the room. But a faint muffled sound from a distance makes me stop.
I motion for everyone to be still. I swear I heard something. I swear I did. I almost move forward, but then I hear it again. She's not in this room. I hustle my ass past everyone and move on to the next door. My Becca. I hear the sound clearer as I reach the door in the back left corner.
Locked.
Bang! Bang! Bang! I kick it open with no mercy, making my leg scream in pain. Again I fire, and then so does Johnny. We fire together, kick together. The door swings open, and my heart stops. My Becca is hanging upside down, tied up by her ankles over a sink to the right of the room. Her head has her just barely balanced on the edge of a sink that’s overflowing. Her hair is soaked.
They left her to drown. They tied her up, and put her head in a sink and filled it. As I take in the sight of her, she slips and her head falls back into the water. I run to her as her body thrashes, and she tries to swing herself to the edge again. I pull her head out as soon as I get to her. Guns fire around me. I don’t even know where mine is. I don’t bother looking up. A bullet whizzes by my head as men shoot. My family and others return fire. Footsteps ring out on the steel stairs at the back of the room. More gunshots. But all I can really hear is my doll breathing, gasping for air.
My fighter. My survivor. I rip the soaked blindfold off her eyes and turn off the faucet.
“It’s alright. I got you.”
“Dom!” she screams out, and sputters up water.
“It’s me, doll. I got you.” She shudders in my arms as I lift her weight up and try to cradle her body as best I can. My entire body is trembling. Loud, heavy footsteps race toward me. The screaming has stopped. The guns aren’t firing anymore.
“They got away, boss!” I barely hear Johnny yell. I