Provoke

Chapter Eight

Mace

I hadn’t heard from Leeta since Tuesday. There had been a missed call from the day before, but whenever I tried calling back, I got no response. That concerned me, but just then I had bigger things to worry about.

The time had passed so slowly all day, but now it seemed to be racing toward seven at full speed. I hadn’t bothered going home; I’d stayed back at work and caught up on some paperwork. With each minute that passed, the anxiety in the pit of my stomach grew. So many things could go wrong, but I needed to do this. There was no backing out now.

At twenty minutes to, I grabbed my keys and left.

Our meeting place was an abandoned house that Cash had arranged for me—a derelict old shack. Looking at it from the outside, you wouldn’t expect inside to house a perfectly set-out room. I walked through the hallway, taking in the peeling wallpaper and rotting wood frames, and entered the room.

One room, right up the back of the house.

It was freshly painted a sterile white. Mirrors lined the walls. The white sheets on the four-poster bed, and the steel table and chairs gave the place a very clinical feel.

Three cameras were positioned around the room to ensure every moment was captured.

It was through these cameras that he would be watching.

The highest bidder, paying some exuberant sum to interact in a live rape that would be streamed through a private webpage to his computer.

And I was the rapist. Only, I couldn’t do that. The thought of putting anyone through that kind of pain made me sick. And angry. So fucking angry.

“Hi, Mace.”

I turned around and smiled at Cassandra. Her long, blond hair hung in waves down her back. Her brown eyes looked unusually large as she peered around the room. She had been here before, but I guess, just like for me, this didn’t get any easier for her.

“Cassandra. How are you?” Probably an awkward thing to say to the woman you were about to pretend to rape on camera, but what could I say? I get awkward when I’m shitting myself.

“Good. Nervous.” She looked down, her hands clutching at her handbag. She wore a pretty green sundress that hung just above her knees.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” I walked toward her, placing my arm on her shoulder. She relaxed and nodded.

“I know. I’m okay. I want to do this. I want to help.”

From the start, I was very open with the women I employed. They knew my family, and most of them had known Anna personally. Her death had rocked the worlds of many people. These girls supported what I was doing. That, and many of them had done much worse than this for a few dollars.

At least I was compensating them well.

“I’m going to have to tie you to that chair.” I pointed to the white steel chair that sat next to the bed. She nodded and began to undress. I turned around to give her some privacy. Privacy? I was about to fuck her under someone else’s direction, and I was concerned about her privacy? This whole thing was twisted.

The truth was, if there were any other way, I wouldn’t be doing this.

I hated every fucking minute of it. The entire time, my head was filled with thoughts of Leeta. I hated myself for doing this to her, but I’d hate myself even more if I didn’t.

Cassandra sat down in the seat. I began to wind the ropes around her, securing her into place. Fuck—she’s terrified. Her eyes, those eyes show so much fear. I kneeled in front of her, taking her hand in mine.

“I’m here, Cass. No matter what happens, just remember that it’s me, and I’d never hurt you, okay? I’m so sorry I have to do this to you.”

She shook her head. “I’m okay, Mace. I’ll be fine.”

“I . . . you know I can’t stop once I start, right?” I asked her softly, touching her face with my thumb.

“I know,” she whispered.

#

Seven o’clock. Showtime.

I glanced over at Cass, who was tied up in her chair, blindfold and mouth gag in place. My heart dropped. Was this what Anna had been put through? I clenched my fists beside me as I walked over to switch the cameras on.

After a few minutes of silence, a voice—that voice—boomed through the room. I had no idea how many “buyers” there were, but there were at least two.

“Well, she’s a pretty little one.”

I didn’t answer; I knew to just wait for direction. This was his rape. I had little to do with it. I was simply his means to an end. What kind of depraved person did this? Live-streamed rape to the highest bidder . . . How were there people out there sick enough to do that . . . and to pay for that shit?

Who knew there was such big money in passively participating in a rape? I had no idea how much they paid. I was sure it was a hell of a lot more than I received—not that I kept any of the money. Every last penny of my income from each job went to my ‘victim’. Honestly, I wanted nothing to do with it. The less I could associate myself with all of it, the better.

“Is she still conscious?”

I walked over to her and removed the gag, and tapped her softly on the cheek. She began to cry. I couldn’t tell if the tears were real or just for his benefit, but it ripped my heart out all the same.

“Wonderful. This one we will keep lucid. I want to see the pain in her eyes. I love seeing that fear.” He chuckled, a sound that twisted through my heart, shredding it to pieces. I leaned forward and slipped the blindfold from over her eyes.

My heart pounded as I stared into them, so scared and brimming with fear. This wasn’t acting—she was genuinely terrified. It was one thing to be passed out and not remember anything, but to have no control and no idea what was coming next . . .

“Untie her. I want her on that table.”

I did as I was asked, slowly unravelling her from the chair. Once the ropes were free from her, I grabbed a handful of her long blonde hair and forced her to her feet. The key was to be as forceful as I could without hurting her. She knew me, she trusted me; the last thing I wanted to do was break that trust. I jerked her forward, dragging her over to the table. Lifting her by the hips, I sat her on the edge and pushed her down until her back was flat against the cold metal. She gasped and closed her eyes, blinking back tears.

Her legs were fused tightly together. She was doing so well, as if she were sensing what I needed from her. I needed that fear, that reluctance, because as soon as he caught even the smallest sniff of something being off, he’d be gone.

I had one chance at this.

“Stick your fingers in her pussy. Make her nice and wet.”

I pried her legs apart and slid two fingers inside her. She cried out and tried to push my hand away. I forced them back inside, this time harder.

With the cameras switched off, I shut off my laptop and packed it up, ready to get the fuck out of there. Cassandra sat on the edge of the bed, watching me. I walked over to her and sat down.

“I’m sorry,” I began.

“Don’t be. What you’re doing . . . you need to catch this sick fuck, Mace. He’s not the only one, is he? That was a different guy,” she whispered.

I nodded.

I couldn’t be sure exactly how many there were, but he was the second ‘client’ I’d dealt with. There were women out there going through this for real. For them, it was no act. There was no payment, only torture—and who knows what else. I hadn’t been asked to do anything beyond rape, but I couldn’t help but wonder.

“Did . . . did I hurt you?” I asked, curling my arm around her shoulder. I felt nothing beyond compassion and respect for Cass. It took a strong person to do what she had just done.

“No. I’m fine, Mace. Just promise me you will catch this sicko. I . . . I can’t stop thinking about Anna.” Her voice broke as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Me too,” I muttered, anger raging through my body.

#

I walked her to her car and waited until she had safely driven away. Once she was out of sight, I got into my car and started the engine. I had no idea what to do next. It felt like I was stuck on the same piece of the puzzle, and I couldn’t quite reach the next step. I was missing something, but what?

I checked my phone. A message from Leeta flashed up, and my stomach dropped.

Sorry babe, not feeling well. Will call you tomorrow xx

“Fuck!” I yelled, slamming my fists against the dashboard.

Why am I so damn angry?

The guilt was eating me up inside. I could wrap it up however I wanted, but when it came down to it, she was never going to forgive me for this. I couldn’t tell her. I’d lose her for sure. And stopping this wasn’t an option, either. Those sick cunts needed to be fucked over for what they did to Anna—what they were still doing to God knows how many innocent women. If it wasn’t for me, those two clients would have paid someone else to rape those women.

I’ve saved three women from rape.

I had to look at it that way. Three women saved from rape, and if I could get to those guys, I could save a hell of a lot more. I couldn’t go to the cops, because they’d never believe me. Not with my family background. Besides, these guys were mine, and they were going to pay.

I was doing this for Anna.