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I don’t want him to go to prison, though. He’s pure evil, and he’ll not stop now until these men are all dead, and I am once more a prisoner, sold off. It will be personal now. I realize with a cold clarity that he didn’t come for me because he wanted to sell me,orto fuck me. Not truly. He came for me because I got away, and no one does that to Don.
His ego set this whole thing in motion. Selling me wouldn’t have netted the man that much money, but it would have been perfect revenge on a girl who outsmarted him and escaped. He’s sick and twisted and won’t let anyone who makes him look weak or stupid get away with it.
He starts talking, his voice raspy. “I met him a few years ago. He was arrested on some minor charge, but when I started to investigate him, I realized that was the tip of one fucked-up iceberg. I planned on arresting him. For real. The man would have been a prize in my record. My, might I add, flawless record.”
“Yeah, we get it, you’re a real hero.” Wilder sneers.
Brody comes into the room, carrying a first aid kit, and kneels beside Wilder. “Found it in the kitchen under the sink. It’s basic but will patch you up for now. Let me take a good look.”
He lifts Wilder’s t-shirt, and I wince. Brody examines the wound and then moves Wilder forward, who grunts in pain. “Through and through. You’ll be fine. Might be tender for a few weeks, as it looks like it’s torn through some muscle, but where it is, and the lack of blood loss, tells me it missed anything vital.”
“Clean Honor up first,” Wilder says.
“Don’t you dare,” I reply, giving Brody narrowed eyes. “You said yourself, mine is a graze. Treat him, and then me.”
“This is so heartwarming,” Don says with a sneer. “You found yourself a little family, didn’t you, daughter? So, I suppose you weren’t lying when you told me what a whore you’ve become.”
Asher digs his fingers right into the wound, and Don screams.
“Say one more word to her, and I’ll pull your guts out myself,” Asher snarls. “You were telling us about Pastor Wren.”
“I’ve got a file on the man. I can send you it once I’m safely treated and at home.” Don is panting heavily, and his eyes roll back in his head.
“Yeah, that’s not going to work for us,” Rafferty says.
“Send it now. Use your phone.” Asher pulls Don’s phone from his pocket. “Do it the fuck now, or I swear, I’ll pull your guts out so slowly the pain will be beyond anything you can imagine, and I will make it last.”
“Just cut his cock off,” Wilder grunts.
“Yeah, or I might do that,” Asher says with a dangerous grin. “Or your balls. Want to lose your balls, Don? Send us the information, right now. The entire file, and then we call nine-one-one for you and get out of here.”
“You’ll have to explain this mess and all the dead bodies.” Brody grins.
“What dead bodies?” Don glances around him at the men still tied up.
Calmly, as if he’s just having a day at the office, Brody goes around to each man and shoots them. One shot, to the head. The men next in line are screaming against their gags, and wriggling to get out of their bonds, but they can’t.
I look away, too traumatized to witness it.
“Those dead bodies,” Brody says when he’s finished.
“Jesus fuck, you’re insane!” Don shouts and then gasps in pain. “Do you know who some of these people were?”
“Men who buy and sell women, and that’s all I need to know.” Brody shrugs.
“You’re not going to let me live, are you?” Don’s face is a sickly yellow color.
“Send us the file,” Asher demands.
Don doesn’t move.
Slowly, Asher unzips Don’s pants. “I’m really imaginative with a knife, and I can make this slow. One ball at a time. Then your dick.”
I swallow. Asher is the one out of all the men I wouldn’t want to have against me, not with his sadistic streak.
“Fuck me. Okay, okay.” With trembling fingers, Don grabs the phone from Asher and starts to swipe and tap the screen. He’s so shaky that he drops it twice, but Asher patiently hands it back to him.
“I don’t want to die,” Don says. It’s almost as if he’s talking to himself.
