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Prologue
Kody
If I had learned anything throughout my twenty-nine years of life it was that things could always get worse. I used to relate the phrase to work, relationships, deadlines, even backstabbing friends or cheating men. I never had to face excruciating pain or torture before. Now that I was, it didn’t take long to realize even the smallest degree of discomfort went a long way.
“You have to stop. Y-You. Please…stop! St—”
Agony made the words nonexistent. My breath disappeared into a void of never-ending shock as the tip of the knife dug deeper into my shoulder. How I still managed to be surprised by the varying sensations after hours of enduring cigarette burns, superficial cuts, and brands was beyond me. I didn’t even know how I’d gotten here. Nothing about what was happening made sense. Everything was a blur, jumbling together when I tried to think. My body was covered with marks. According to the masked monster who took me, we were far from finished. He’d mentioned to the audience that he’d take breaks between bids…but we weren’t done.
This was day one. Skin day, according to his announcement to the online viewers.
“Stop. I’m begging you. S-S…” I tried to suck in air. I was crying so hard I could barely breathe. “Please. Just tell me what you want! Why are you doing this?”
He didn’t answer. He just stared down at me from behind the mask with dark, empty eyes. For a moment I thought they narrowed, but it was hard to tell as his gaze traveled back to the wound.
With every winning bid, the torment grew. My captor took his time. He drew out each act as if I were his masterpiece. The slices were meticulous. Each burn from the cherry of his cigarette was a perfect circle. Eleven. That’s how many times he’d used me as his ashtray since we started. That was his choice. No one bid to torture me that way. Even the brand eventually cooled from the number of times he’d repeatedly burned through my thighs.
“I d-don’t have money. I have no one who can pay. My mom.” I stopped, barely able to get the words out. “She’s dead.”
Seconds passed, and I choked on the sob as he chuckled. The answer was glaringly obvious. I wasn’t here for ransom; I was here for death. A show. His show.
Lightheadedness swept through, and my eyes rolled. Something sounding close to a demonic, low toned scream was leaving me, but all I knew was the way the knife was slowly digging deeper into the laceration just below my collar bone. My body was trying to bow on the metal table. The straps prevented me from lifting. The force I was putting into them should have done some cutting of their own. Maybe they were. I felt nothing but the layers of muscle giving way under the slow scraping from the blade.
“I. I. Can’t! Help! Someone h—”
But no one was coming for me. I was fading, falling away from a reality I couldn’t afford to go back to. I was going to die on this table. If I was lucky…it’d be today.
****
Drip.
Drip.
The steady sound of water registered, but it was the unbearable burning that pulled me from the darkness. My mouth flew open, but it was my body that screamed as I jolted. The moment my mind could pinpoint where the pain was coming from, it spread like wildfire. Every heartbeat. Every breath. Every pull against the shackles I was wearing, brought more tears. My hands were trapped above my head, but it did give me some movement. When my fingers extended, I could feel the stone wall inches away. It was cold. Cold like the hard floor beneath me.
Hesitantly, I tried rolling to my side as memories from the torture came back. Tears streamed down my face, one cascading over the bridge of my nose as I managed to put weight onto my bicep. The grunts leaving me echoed, drawing my stare across the large room. Without the spotlight shining down on me, I could finally see my surroundings. A dim illumination directly above wasn’t from a single bulb. The running lights spanned the width of the room. They looked custom installed. Expensive. There was plexiglass three-quarters of the way down, separating a small bed that was mostly hidden in the shadows. To the left of me was a shower nozzle and knobs, and a toilet was on the other side. The desk I’d seen before with the computer was in the far corner. Something random bounced around the screen, but I couldn’t see what it was. There was no sign of bidders. The blinding spotlight was barely noticeable over the metal table I’d been lying on. What I could see was tripods holding cameras. Several of them, and they were tall.
Were they pointed at me now? Here? While I was sleeping? Or was there more?
Just the thought had me trying to curl into myself. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening. How did I even get here?
My head pounded sickeningly as I tried scouring through memories. Everything was foggy. Nothing made sense. I’d been at work. Did I leave work? Had I made it home?
Flashes collided, jumbling into an uncertain mess in my mind. Nothing was evident at the moment. I couldn’t think past the pain. What I did know was that if I didn’t find a way out of here, I was dead.
Whimpers left me as I pushed from my feet, bringing me closer to the wall. I managed to stay on my side as I sat and leaned against the cold surface. The thick cuffs along my wrists were heavy, and they needed a key.
What was I going to do?
I blinked through the racing thoughts, my stare stopping on the floor not far from the metal table. I wanted to scream. To cry. The million questions I’d just been pondering were reduced to only two as I took in the drain: How many people died on the same table I’d been lying on not hours ago? How long before it was me?
With my kidnapper’s experience, I clearly wasn’t the first. There was no way I’d be the last. So how did I take myself out of the picture entirely? How could I escape?
Movement on the bed had me pressing harder into the wall behind me. Doubt suffocated my mind as it tried to convince me I was already dead; that this was going to be impossible to get out of. I couldn’t believe that. He’d mentioned on the table, day two would be much more fun. Time was ticking down. Soon, the horrors would return. I had to stay strong no matter what acts he committed. I’d never been one to lay down without a fight. I wouldn’t die without one either.
Chapter 1
Jase
Loud parties and social gatherings just weren’t my thing. Back in my younger days, I endured them for the sake of my friends. Watching my brothers have a good time helped ease the worry. Military life wasn’t always easy, and they were mine to protect and keep safe. But all that changed. Years passed. The unimaginable happened. My world and so many others were completely turned upside-down. I went from public tolerance, to self-destructive partying, to isolation. It was crazy how things had played out. How life could shift from day to night in a single moment.
“Eight years. May we never forget.”
My teeth ground as Rian lifted his beer and moved it towards the webcam so that I could see it come closer. As his bottle took over one of the many monitors on my wall, I lifted my whiskey. “Never.”
I finished my drink, placing the glass down so I could immediately refill it. From the look on my best friend’s face, he wanted to ask something. He didn’t. I may have been close to shit-faced drunk, but I saw the moment his demeanor changed. I could read him like a book, and he’d already found a way around interrogating me.
“Don’t. Not tonight.” I put down the decanter, taking a sip before leaning back in my chair.
“Jase, come on. I can’t remember the last time I saw you sober. Hell, I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen your actual face in person. Talk to me.”
“And tell you what?”
“Tell me what the fuck is going on.”
“Nothing. And you saw me this morning during our meeting. I wasn’t drunk then. I’m never drunk during meetings.”
Rian’s eyes rolled. “Drunk, no. Do you have alcohol in your system, yes.”
“Don’t give me that shit. I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not. Did you do it?”
I didn’t have to ask what he was referring to. My need for vengeance was well known between the two of us, and given our past and online expertise, I knew right where to find it.
“Not yet.”
“Don’t. We’ve gone down that road once before. We did what we needed to. We said never again. We promised.”
I took another sip as I stared across my living room at Rian’s worried face. His light eyes were narrowed, and his brown hair was disheveled from its usually neat appearance. We weren’t who we used to be. Not even close. Not even a little. I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t process how we’d gone from having a purpose to…this. And by this, I didn’t mean that in a bad way. We had it all. We were financially set, and yet I’d never been mor
e miserable.
“I know what I promised.”
Rian pulled his tie free, nodding. “I miss it to, you know.”
