Mess slid through the doorway. I picked up the toilet lid and stepped to where I wouldn’t be seen by anyone entering the bathroom, yet not be hit by the swinging door. And then I waited, feeling sick to my stomach over what I was about to do.

Go away, I thought. If she would go out with the guard, get in her car and leave, or fly away on her broomstick, or whatever mode of transportation demon women favored, we could still keep to our escape plan. It was one thing to whack a guard across the head with the lid from a toilet tank, another entirely to hit her. Yeah, she was a demon. Yeah, she’d told me straight up she wouldn’t help us, that she’d bring us back if we tried to escape. She was the enemy. The enemy. Just as much of an enemy as those guards. And maybe if I kept repeating it to myself, I’d believe it.

I’m not your salvation, she’d said. But she’d untied me when I’d asked. She hadn’t punished me when I’d slapped her. She was just as trapped here as we were, but she was standing in the way of my girls and their freedom. It was her or them. I needed to make a choice, and that choice was clear.

Didn’t make it any easier to do this. I’d slapped her, but this seemed so…excessive. I was about to hit her as hard as I could in the head with a heavy chunk of ceramic. I needed to knock her out—make sure she was really knocked out so we’d have time to escape before she came to. Which meant what I was about to do might kill her. She was a demon and I didn’t know how much force to use, so I was going to give it everything I had. I couldn’t risk her just being stunned. I couldn’t risk her stopping us.

Could someone kill a demon with a toilet tank lid? I was probably about to find out.

I heard the high-heeled footsteps across the floor. Darn it all, why hadn’t she just left? Why hadn’t she just checked Tasha’s hair and walked away?

The door opened, and I didn’t think any more, I just swung. The demon woman wasn’t very tall, so I made sure to put an upward arc into the toilet tank lid trajectory. It hit with a sickening thunk, and the woman flew backward, slamming against the wall. Everything slowed. There was a spray of red. It painted the floor and the heavy lid, hit my face in warm droplets and splatters. As she slid down the wall I saw another streak of red. I think I killed her. Oh my God, I killed her.

She lay crumpled in front of me, her beautiful face unrecognizable—a mess of crushed bone and torn flesh. Blood seeped onto her clothing, oozing from the back of her head and along the long black tresses. I remembered how her hair had felt in my hand, how silky and smooth it had been, how incredibly gorgeous she’d been, how sultry.

“I’m not your salvation.” Bile burned in my throat. I hadn’t wanted this. I hadn’t wanted this at all. I’d been forced to make a choice. If I’d just had more time, I could have convinced her to change her mind, to be on our side. If I’d just had more time.

But I didn’t have time. The last time had resulted in the death of those I loved. This time… I hoped that this time I’d made the right choice.

I’d killed her. I was pretty sure she was either dead now or soon would be. I stood there in shock, staring at the crushed, bloody face. Then I took a breath, got a better grip on the toilet tank lid, and went out into the main warehouse room to find the other women staring anxiously at me.

I killed her. I killed her. What if I could have changed her mind, talked her into helping us? What if I could have saved her?

What if she could have saved me?

Kitten gasped, and clasped a hand over her mouth.

“I did it. I did it. We just have to take down the guard, and get out of here and you’ll all be safe.” The words were flat and emotionless. My hands were shaking. I was covered in blood that reminded me in a darkly humorous way of the color of my hair.

“Damn, girl,” Sugar said. I wasn’t sure if that weird note in her voice was admiration or apprehension.

“Are you okay?” Pillow asked taking a step toward me. She raised a hand to touch my shoulder, only to lower it with a grimace.

I killed her. Maybe I could have convinced her to help us, to come with us. Why did my decisions always end in death? Why?

I nodded at Pillow. “We need to get ready. Get ready for the guard. When he comes…then we’ll leave and you’ll all be safe. I need to make sure you’re safe.”

They slowly surrounded me. Mess reached out a hand for the toilet tank lid. “I got this.”

“No. I got this.” I took a step back, clutching the lid to my chest. “Me. I got it. I’ll…I’ll do it.”

“No, you won’t.” Her voice was soft, kind. Her image blurred. I started to shake so hard I nearly dropped the lid. “We agreed that I’d do it. And you’re in no condition to be hitting someone else upside the head right now.”

“I killed her. Her face…her head. I killed her and I don’t want you to have to do that. I’ve already got blood on my hands.”

I had more than blood on my hands. So many had died. They’d died. Let me be the one who sins and leave them clean. Let it all rest on my soul, so they can be safe and free.

“No.” Mess reached out and took the lid from my hands. “It’s my turn, Red. It’s my turn to be strong. That’s how we do it. Sometimes you’re the strong one. Sometimes it’s me. Right now, it’s me.”

I nodded, looking down at my hands. Blood. Her blood. I rubbed my palms down my sweat pants, trying to get it off.

“Go clean up and change,” she told me. “Hurry, before he gets here. I don’t want you to see.”

I looked over at the bathroom door, feeling a surge of panic. “I can’t go back in there.”

“Here.” Pillow held out a towel. “It’s damp from my shower. And I put a change of clothes over on your cot.”

I followed her over, changing and kicking the bloody clothing under the cot, wiping my face and hands as best I could with the damp towel. Then I sat on the mattress. Kitten sat on one side of me. Tasha and Pillow sat on the other, blocking our view. Sugar and Pistol stood at the end of the cot, Baa and Lacy across from us.

We heard the squawk of the door opening. Kitten hid her face in my shoulder. I shut my eyes tight.

A sickening thud. The clang of a platter hitting the floor. I took a deep breath, opened my eyes and stood, edging past Sugar and Pistol to see.

Catcalls was on the floor next to a spilled tray of sandwiches, a pool of blood spreading from his head. He had been knocked out, but it was instantly clear to me that Mess hadn’t used near the level of force that I had. She stood over him, toilet tank lid poised and ready for another strike if the guard so much as stirred.

“He’s down,” I told her. This time it was me taking the lid from her hand and setting it on the floor.

“Did I… Is he…”…?”

“No. You didn’t kill him.” I wasn’t sure how I knew that, but I did.

“I should have. You heard. He killed one of the other girls. He deserves to die.”

“So let Red finish him off and let’s get out of here,” Sugar said, eyeing the open door. I knew what she was thinking—we were all thinking the same thing. There was still one more guard, and if we didn’t get out of here, there was a good chance Pockmarks was going to catch us.

I looked over at the other girls, all staring at me, waiting for me to tell them what to do—hopeful, expectant. “We need to go. Now. Remember the plan. If just one of us can get out and bring help, we win.”

“But we need to stick together, to help each other,” Kitten protested. “We’re family.”

I nodded. “We’re family, and we’re all going to get out of here, but if something bad happens, and any one of you has a chance to get free, then go—go and send help.”

Everyone nodded, and we cautiously made our way out the door of what had been our prison for the last three days.