“Well, you heard the man, Sophie,” I say calmly. “Ladies first.”
Chapter 50
Brooke
Igot the idea from one of my favorite revenge horror movies, the kind that never really leaves your head once you see it. The setup had stuck with me for years, the image of someone forced to balance over something that would eat them alive the second they slipped. It felt right for Sophie.
The industrial tub sits against the wall, stainless steel, deep enough that you could lose a person in it without much effort. Four thick wooden planks lie across the top, two near where a chest would land and two near the hips and thighs. They are spaced just narrowly enough that a body can lie across them, but not comfortably, and definitely not safely. Hot water already fills the tub halfway. Steam rolls up in steady waves, turning the air thick and humid.
Beau hauls Sophie out of the cage with no sedation. Her face looks pale and clammy, but her eyes are clear and pissed off. She twists hard in his grip, teeth bared.
“Get your fucking hands off me!” she snarls.
Beau doesn't look impressed. He rolls her onto her stomach on the floor and pulls her arms behind her back. The rope slides around her broken wrists and ankles, tightening into a clean hogtie before she can twist away. She thrashes anyway, muscles jerking, breath coming out in harsh bursts.
“You should save your energy,” Beau scoffs. “You’ll need it.”
Together, we lift her and carry her to the tub. Four wooden planks stretch across the width of it, spaced a few inches apart. Steam rolls up through the gaps in slow, thick waves. Beau lays her across them on her stomach, her body perpendicular to the boards. One plank sits under her shoulders, one beneath her abdomen, one at her hips, and one under her knees.
The wood creaks as her weight settles. The structure holds, but not comfortably. The gaps between the planks leave parts of her unsupported, forcing her body into a strained, uneven line. Heat curls up around her face when she exhales.
She tests it immediately, shifting her weight. The planks answer with low groans and a slight dip that brings her closer to the steaming surface.
“You might want to be still for this,” I say.
That gets her attention. Her breathing stutters, then slows just enough. She makes smaller movements now, careful ones. Each one earns a soft creak from the wood and a subtle drop toward the water below.
Seth sits at the metal table nearby with both their phones in his hands, Sophie’s in one and Elliot’s in the other. Screens glow against his fingers while he scrolls through message threads and location logs. He looks calm and patient, like he is reviewing paperwork before a meeting.
Elliot watches everything from his cage, hands locked around the bars, jaw clenched so hard the muscles jump. His ruined leg stretches out in front of him, but his eyes stay sharp with anger and fear.
I crouch in front of Sophie so we are almost eye level, the tub between us.
“Here is how this works,” I say. “You tell the truth and maybe you die faster. You lie and things change.”
She swallows. Her throat bobs against damp skin.
“Where is Grant?” I ask. “And where is John?”
She lets out a weak laugh that sounds thin. “Fuck you.”
“You don’t have enough time for that,” I say. “Answer the question.”
“They’re going to kill you,” she rasps. “You’re not going to get to them. They’re going to get you.”
I don't respond.
I plant my hand on the back of her head and shove her face straight into the hot water.
Her scream cuts off under the surface. Bubbles rush up around her ears. Her whole body lurches against the ropes. The planks groan as her weight shifts across them. The water climbs over her skull and cheeks, covering her completely. The heat hits her skin and steals her breath.
“Let’s see if you can last a minute.”
I hold her there while she thrashes, counting silently in my head. Her legs jerk and pull against the hogtie. Her shoulders strain against the plank beneath them. The wood flexes with every violent movement, but it holds.
Twenty seconds.
Thirty.
