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The camera is placed on what looks to be a counter. It shows a metal table in the middle of the room. It’s got strategically placed medical restraints—black and white leather belts around it—from one side to the other—to strap something down. Or more like someone. I know because we’ve used it before. On people we’ve tortured. On Ashtyn.
The door on the opposite side of the room squeaks open. The noise is so loud it hurts my ears. A man enters the space. He’s dressed in all black. Combat boots and cargo pants with a chain linking his belt loop to a back pocket. He’s got a gun strapped to his thigh. Looks to be a .45 in a holster. A long-sleeve T-shirt with a vest over his chest and back. It reminds me of a bulletproof vest that a SWAT member would wear. But it doesn’t say that. He’s got a mask on that covers his face.
“Who the fuck is this?” Kashton demands. I don’t answer because my guess is as good as his.
He walks over to the far counter and opens drawers and cabinets, placing items on a rolling cart next to him. He knows where everything is, which makes me nervous. Reaching up, he presses the button to the radio he has on his vest. “Bring her in,” he commands, letting go of it. His voice is altered, so I can’t tell who it is.
I really wasn’t sure what we were watching until now, and my heart races with nervousness. Fear. Of what we’re about to watch.
“Fuck,” Kashton hisses. “We’re going back.” He storms toward the front of the plane to give the pilot his new orders.
My eyes stay glued to the fifty-inch TV, praying this is some joke. That theherbeing brought in won’t be Ashtyn.
The guy on the screen grabs a few more things from a drawer and pulls out a few packaged items. He rips the package open and places the them on the cart, arranging them so everything has its own place.
The door opens once more, and two men enter. They’re dressed identically to the guy already in the room. Not a single piece of skin showing on their bodies.
One walks backward while he holds the ankles of a woman. The other guy walks forward, his arms wrapped around her upper body.
My fear that it wasn’t going to be Ashtyn has my breath catching when I see the woman they’re dragging in.
She struggles in their grasp. Her body rocks back and forth as she bucks and tries to free herself, but it’s useless. The only thing she wears is a hood over her head. She’s naked and the 666 I branded on her is clear as day. Our fathers made me do it to remind her who she was, that it was her cross to bear in a way. Now it’s a beacon for anyone who wants to hurt me.
“Shit,” Kashton hisses, running back to me and catching sight of the TV.
She struggles helplessly, and by the sound of her lack of voice, I’d say she’s gagged underneath the hood that they have tied around her neck.
They shove her into the side of the table, bending her over it while one of the guys holds her down with a hand at the back of her neck. The other removes a knife from his pocket and cuts the zip tie that holds her wrists behind her back.
Before she even gets the chance to fight with her hands, they toss her onto the metal table, slamming her down. She goes to roll over and pull her knees up into a ball on her side, but the two men waste no time strapping her down in the restraints. White leather cuffs are wrapped around her wrists and secured down by her side to the table. Black leather belts are secured around each ankle, forcing her to keep her legs open. Another one is strapped across her upper shoulders, securing her chest and head down.
“When was this taken?” Kashton demands.
“I…I don’t know.” My eyes quickly drop to my laptop. “I just got it. How far out are we?” I ask him.
Shrugging, he shakes his head. “Don’t know. Told him to turn the fuck around. He wanted to argue, saying we couldn’t. I punched him in the goddamn face and said just fucking do it.” He drops to the chair next to mine and grabs my laptop, getting to work on the email to see if he can track it.
“She’s ready for you,” the first guy who entered says into his radio.
Time seems to slow as I watch her lie naked and strapped to the table as they watch her. My eyes scan her body, noticing she has bruises on her thighs, a cut on her arm, and dirt on her knees. What the fuck happened since I left her?
A fourth guy enters the room, dressed like the others, wearing a mask and gloves. Not a single inch of skin is showing. ACE is written across his vest. He walks right up to the table, and his mask tilts down to look at her. “How was she?” he asks as the original guy rolls the cart over to him.
“Fucking handful.” One laughs, reaching down and slapping her breast.
She arches her back the best she can and fights the restraints, the sound amplified in the cabin over the engines.
Ace slowly pulls another strap out from the other side of the table and lays it across her lower stomach. “Feed that through,” he tells the other guy who slides his end through the metal ring and then hands it back to Ace. He pulls it tight, pinching her skin, and buckles it as well. “That should be enough. Not like she’ll put up much of a fight.” They all laugh. “Will you,sweetheart?” he asks, leaning his mask-covered face down toward the hood that covers hers. “Let’s get started.”
She continues to thrash around the table as he dunks what looks like a washcloth into a glass bowl full of liquid. He wrings it out and then runs it over her heaving chest and flat stomach. She’s got dried blood on her, making me even more confused. What the fuck happened before they brought her into this room?
Then he moves it to her pussy, making her jump and fight once more. She’s wearing herself out. She’s doing what they want her to do. Once satisfied, he begins going over each leg.
He’s washing her. Then he tosses the washcloth back into the now bloody bowl and picks up a dry one. He dries her off while her struggle gets weaker and weaker every second.
He tosses it to the side, and it falls to the floor. Then he walks over to the counter and grabs a knife. My heart hammers as he goes back over to her and places his hand on her hip. “This is going to hurt,” he tells her. “But as long as you stay still, it’ll be over sooner rather than later.”
Her body jerks as he presses the tip into her skin, forcing it to split.
