Sibby took the fall for the murders.
After chopping the bodies into pieces and loading them in the trunk, we sat on the hood of my Mustang, where I was once again reminded just how broken this doll actually is. Sounds like her father was a piece of shit.
Can’t help but muse over the fact that she has a reason to end up the way she did and I… don’t.
Just as I was getting into my car, the cops pulled up. Sibby refused to get in, insisting that she needed to stay with her henchmen. Men who don’t actually fucking exist.
And I didn’t have time to stay and argue. I had chopped up pieces of body parts in my trunk and needed to not only get away from the police but dispose of the evidence without getting caught.
So, I left. The police chased me for five miles before I lost them. I have backup license plates on hand, so once I got to a safe area, I changed my plates and clothing, burnt the evidence, and drove home.
There are one hundred and sixty-two people in Seattle with the same make and model, but they’ll never be able to pin anything on me even if they magically narrowed it down to me.
In the end, the police pinned the murders on a mentally unstable girl and an unknown accomplice. I figured the Society would look into the crime and find an unknown accomplice suspicious. Enough to up and move.
But after looking into Sibby myself, I found that she was born into a fucked-up cult and wanted for the murder of her father.
Leonard Dubois rivaled Jim Jones, spouting about being God’s disciple and tricking hundreds of people into believing in his word.
He was a rich man who came from old money. He spent his riches on building a compound for his followers, confining them to a stretch of land for the rest of their lives. That’s where Sibby was born and raised, up until she committed a heinous crime and fled.
There are reports of Sibby’s mother committing suicide via poison, and it seems that’s what led to the broken doll finally snapping. She snuck into her father’s bedroom at night with a knife and stabbed him to death.
One hundred and fifty-three times to be precise. Rage was a factor. Sibby made it clear that she is perfectly capable of stabbing a man past her body’s physical limits if angry enough. Robert was proof of that.
It took three days for them to connect Sibby to murders across the country. All cities that Satan’s Affair has rooted the haunted carnival in have numerous cases of missing person reports in each location for the past five years.
If all the people reported missing from Satan’s Affair had connections to her, Sibby has killed around fifty people.
I was genuinely surprised that the haunted fair didn’t come under fire sooner with so many reports connected to them, but then I had learned that most of the victims were lowlifes, with very few people that cared enough to look for them.
Whether Sibby was correct in thinking they were demons is subjective. But what I can say is that even though none of them have records, save for a few petty crimes, it doesn’t seem like they were good people either.
So, in the end, an unknown accomplice will be looked into, but with Sibby’s past coupled with her claims of having henchmen, there’s a good chance the murders of the four men will be chalked up to what I had hoped.
Wrong place, wrong time.
She really was the perfect scapegoat. I just wish I didn’t fucking care.
That was three nights ago, and with the threat of the Society relocating, Jay has been monitoring Savior’s closely. We’ve hacked into their camera feed on the main floor, and by the looks of it, they’re staying still.
Obviously, no cameras reside in the dungeon. That’d be too easy.
“Any word on the building being demolished?” I ask Jay, my phone to my ear.
“Nope,” he replies, popping the P dramatically. I want to pop him in the face for it. “You going in tonight?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say, rolling my head and cracking my neck. The tension has already started seeping into my shoulders. I have a sinking feeling I’m going to see some shit that will threaten to send me into a tailspin.
But I have to maintain control. If I don’t, I will die before I save those kids, and that’s just not an option.
“Still keeping an eye on Addie?”
Jay sighs. “Yes…” he trails off, and I can feel the question hanging from the tip of his tongue. I want to reach through the receiver, snatch it, and crush it before he can speak, but he’s too quick. “So, uh, this is like the love of your life or some shit?” he asks awkwardly.
The sigh I try to keep internal bleeds out and through the phone. “The one and only,” I clip, my tone signaling that I don’t want to speak about Addie right now, but the fucker doesn’t ever listen when it comes to my personal life.
“She feel the same?”
I can’t help the slight smirk from forming on my face. “She’s getting there,” I reply cryptically.
Jay finally takes the hint and drops it. “Well, you will be happy to know that no one has gone in and out of her house except her friend for the past three days.”
Mark’s threat still rings around in my head. Like a stray bullet ricocheting in a constant loop inside my brain.
The Society knows about Addie, making her a target. They may love children, but they absolutely do not pass up beautiful young women to sell and ship off to other countries. There’s no shortage of demand when it comes to the skin trade. Evil people have their tastes, and some prefer their victims to be fully grown women just as much as some prefer them adolescent.
The tension in my shoulders grows as my thoughts run away from me. A single moment—that’s all it takes for her to go missing. Vanish out of thin air within a short trek from her car to the grocery store entrance.
She doesn’t know the danger she’s in, but that will change soon. I refuse to hide the truth from her. And I’m sure she’s not going to like hearing that our self-defense lessons are going to be ramping up.
Now I just have to figure out how to keep my dick out of her during those lessons.
Fuck it. Won’t happen.
I smile, knowing she will try to use those moves on me, but the thought only makes my cock thicken in my slacks.
I haven’t seen her since the House of Mirrors, and I know deep down that makes her angry. She probably feels like I fucked her and got bored, but that’s the furthest thing from the truth.
I’m a fucking fiend for her now. It’s been the most challenging three days of my life staying away, but I need to infiltrate Savior’s and save these kids. I haven’t had a minute to myself, and as much as I ache for my little mouse, these kids need me more.
This time when more tension rolls in, it’s because of my visceral need to be inside Addie, fucking her into oblivion and making her delirious with how hard I’m going to make her come.
“Be ready, I’ll be at Savior’s in an hour,” I warn Jay before hanging up the phone.
For now, I need to push Addie out of my head. But later tonight, I’ll be pushing myself inside her so deeply, I’ll be ingrained in every crevice inside her body.
“There’s some pretty high-profile people there,” Jay announces through the small chip in my ear. I’ll be taking it out before I get out of the car. Currently, I’m in a line, waiting for valet parking.
“Including the president,” Jay tacks on at the end.
I inwardly sigh, rolling my neck from the stress spearing into my muscles. This job is hard on my body, even when I’m not shooting people in the face and actively avoiding flying bullets. Maybe I can entice Addie to give me another massage later. I’d love nothing more than to return the favor.
“Anyone I should be concerned about?”
I hear Jay typing a mile a second in the background, the keys clacking obnoxiously. I have asked the fucker to get a less noisy keyboard, but he insists the loud clicking brings him peace.
And as much as it annoys me, we get so little of peace in our daily lives. So if a fucking obnoxious ass keyboard brings him some sort of semblance of it, then I won’t give him shit.
Well, not too much, at least.
“Several senators and governors, along with a few A-list celebrit—ah shit, is that Mary Barker? Come on, don’t tell me she’s a part of this shit too?!”
I roll my eyes, shaking my head at Jay’s theatrics.
“Jay,” I snap. “Focus.”
There are only a few cars ahead of me, so I don’t have much time to talk until I can get in and put the chip back in without anyone noticing.
I’m not walking past their security systems with it in my ear. I’d be shot and killed right then and there.
“Sorry,” Jay mutters, his voice now somber from finding out his favorite actor is a pedophile. “There’s no one I can see at the moment that is of high concern. Not any more than they already are, considering you’re walking into a pit of pedos. Let me know when the chip is back in, I’ll keep you updated.”
Just as it’s my turn, I pluck the earpiece from my ear and slip it deep into an inner pocket with lead lining. Handing over my keys to the stone-faced valet guy, I round the car and pause in front of Savior’s.
Snapping my jacket closed, I refrain from cracking my neck again. Tonight is about making an impression. Others will know that I was friends with Mark, and after his unfortunate death, they will be looking at me.
Mark has spread my name around to plenty of his colleagues at this point.
I may be new to Savior’s, but they’ve been expecting me.
Savior’s looks like the type of club I’d expect to run an elite sex dungeon and perform rituals.
The main room is massive. The stage is right in the middle of the room, a large pole front and center with a girl swinging around it—completely naked. Her tits bounce as she lifts herself up, wrapping her long legs around the pole and bending backwards, her breasts on full display as she gyrates her hips.
I don’t bother looking at her body. What I look at are her eyes. And it takes control to keep my jaw from clenching when I see the telltale glazed film in them. Black circles decorate the flesh beneath her dead gaze, and I want nothing more than to carry her out of here and get her somewhere safe.
Biting back the anger, I chant to myself in my head that all these girls will be saved. Just like the other clubs, I’m going to get them all out. There will be nothing left of these fucking gentlemen’s clubs when I’m done.
And then I’ll move on to the next city, the next state, the next country if I have to.
I refocus on the rest of the club as I work to keep my face blank and my breathing even.
As usual, the familiar ouroboros is decorated in many fashions across the walls. But that’s not what catches my attention.
Evidently, I’ve walked into a place where people enjoy the sight of blood almost as much as the feel of it.
The ambiance is dark and moody and shows clear signs of sadism. The lighting is dim, the shadows swallowed by the black walls and furniture.
A deep red, the color of blood, is accented across the entire area. Red frames around old age paintings that indicate devil worship and sacrifice. Red shades around the mini lamps adorned on each wall. Red glasses, ashtrays, and drinks… And red heels and outfits that are covered in real diamonds and crystals.
Though I wouldn’t exactly consider their clothes as outfits. More like strings of fabric and jewels.
Yet, they managed to make the place drip with elegance and money.
“Zack! So nice to see you here,” a voice booms from behind me. Arranging a calm, but pleasant look onto my face, I turn and see a man I recognize very well. Daniel Boveri.
He’s a lawyer for the president, and someone Mark mingled with often. He’s a charming man—the tall, dark, and handsome type. With his thick black eyebrows set low over dark eyes that give him a menacing look, black hair, and a snake-like smile. He’s pushing his fifties, but the man isn’t hurting for women.
Dan exudes confidence and from the few times we’ve spoken, I understand why he’s a lawyer for the president. He’s incredibly manipulative.
“Dan, nice to see you,” I respond, shaking his hand firmly when he holds his out to me. He’s wearing all black, but I catch sight of a few small spots on his button-up that are darker than the fabric. Though from what I can see, I don’t notice any traces of blood on his skin.
“I was wondering when I’d see you here. Mark spoke about bringing you a few times.”
“I’m sure he did,” I murmur. That’s news to me.
“Very unfortunate what happened to him. Can’t believe some psycho little girl managed to do all that to those four. Still never found their bodies, did they?”
I shake my head empathetically, appearing to be just as shocked by Mark’s death.
“Not that I’m aware of, man. Doesn’t she keep talking about henchmen or some shit?” I ask with a mocking smirk on my face. I hate to use Sibby’s mental illness to my advantage, but in this case, if it means saving hundreds of children and women, I’ll weaponize whatever I need to in order to see that I complete my mission.
God, I even sound a little like her. Sibby believes killing evil people is her mission in life, something she was born to do.
And I can’t entirely disagree with the thought when you’re constantly risking your life to do something you feel is right. Even if other people will see it as wrong.
Dan laughs, the tone cruel and judgmental. “Yeah, thought I heard someone mention that.”
I scoff in disgust. “Girl says she had five henchmen. If they only saw one getting away, can’t imagine if there’s more out there on the loose.”
That little remark will circulate and taint the minds of the Society. If they believe that Sibby’s henchmen are real, then it’ll keep suspicions low. At least until the therapists get to Sibby and realize that her henchmen are all in her imagination.
By then, these fuckers will all have bullets in their heads, and the children they exploit will be long gone.
Dan and I mingle for the next several hours. The women here are abused, all blitzed out of their minds and accepting of the punishments for doing nothing wrong.
“Are you looking to be initiated into the club?” Dan asks casually, pulling my attention to him sipping his Scotch and eyeing me over the rim of his glass.
His gaze is probing and studious, but I give him nothing in return. The muscles in my face stay firmly in place as I respond, “Aren’t I already in?”
A smirk crosses Dan’s face, and with the dim lighting and the dancing shadows, it makes him appear sinister. I don’t even blink at the sight.
I’m much fucking scarier.
“Not even close, brother.”
I quirk a brow, sipping at my own whiskey. When I give him an expectant look, he chuckles.
“If you truly want in, you need to have an acquired taste. And to reap the benefits of our club, it’s not God you’ll be handing your soul to. The Eternal Rebirth are entities in the cosmos that are far more powerful than any God you’ve heard of.”
I grin. “I have many acquired tastes,” I say, adding a bit of darkness to my tone. Not hard to do when I’m not lying. Their tastes are spilling the blood of the innocent, and mine just happen to be killing everyone who does so.
“Pray tell, what do those tastes entail?” Dan inquires, his tone whimsical and almost amused.
I shrug a shoulder nonchalantly and take a sip of whiskey while pulling my phone out with the other hand. I pull up a picture of Daniella, a girl I saved five years ago.
She’s deep in a safehouse, as she was an orphan with no home to return to when I rescued her. It’s an innocent picture of her dressed in Barbie pajamas. What sells the illusion is the haunted look in her eyes and the bruises marring her skin. The picture was taken after we first rescued her. She was ten at the time, and I made sure to ask her permission before showing this to anyone.
This is the first time I’ve had to befriend pedophiles before I killed them, but I knew that if I was ever going to convince them I was just like them, I’d need to show proof.
And I’ll be damned if I show a random girl off the internet and risk their safety. At least with Daniella, it’s an old picture and I can ensure nothing will ever happen to her.
Handing the phone to him, I say lowly, “My latest toy.”
The words taste like fucking tar on my tongue, but I force them out anyways.
Dan’s brows skyrocket to his forehead, but an evil, happy little smile forms on his face.
“You share?”
I nearly break his hand when he hands me the phone back, his gaze lingering on the picture. Instead, I tuck the phone back in my pocket and bare my teeth.
“I get jealous.”
His head tips back, and a booming laugh echoes across the space. The noise of the room swallows the sound, but it feels like dynamite in my ears.
“Understood, my friend. And when they grow too old?”
I smile salaciously. “Organs are a hit in the black market.”
He grins. “I think you’d be perfect for initiation then. Next one is a week from now. You interested?”
“What’s this initiation entail?”
“The expectations will be asked of you when the time comes. But when it’s over, you get lots of that,” he enlightens, nodding towards my tucked away phone. He flashes a feral smile. “Lots of that, in whatever shape, size and gender.”
“And this is safe?”
Dan shrugs a shoulder. “We had a spy, leaking videos, but the Society is confident they’ve found the traitor. And those videos haven’t been seen. They were immediately taken down once they were uploaded.”
False. The particular place they’re uploaded on the dark web, I had a signal put in place. The second that video was posted, Jay or I would immediately get a notification. We had forty-five seconds to download it before it was removed.
That quick.
But it was plenty of time for Z.
Interesting that they believe they caught the mole. I’ve no way to verify that, but it doesn’t matter anymore.
Where there was once a mole, is now a wolf.
I finish off the last of my whiskey in one swallow, relishing in the burn as it travels down my throat. I smile at him once more—a feral smile of my own. I feel the scars on my face crinkle and the demonic feeling swirling in my gut slipping through, glinting in my mismatched eyes. He takes it for what he wants to see it as.
“I’m in.”
