Buried beneath the euphoric high she's riding, paranoia clouds her senses.
Who is he on the phone with?
I bet it's that bitch, Kathy.
Why else would he need to leave the room?
Maybe he's ratting us out.
No, that's crazy.
Would he turn the rest of us in to save himself?
You're being paranoid.
I retreat almost as quickly as I delved into her mind.Jesus Christ, I would not want to be in that hellscape of a mind any longer than completely necessary.
If I attempt to slide past the gates of one of the hunters' minds, they'll know it instantly.
In a shadowy alcove, a couple I've tried ignoring continues to fuck.
Loudly.
How the rest of the guests ignore his grunting and her obnoxiously fake cries of pleasure, I have no idea. They'regrating my ears from out here, drowning out whatever bits of Silas's conversation I might have been able to hear otherwise.
The man seems far too lost to be of any help to me, but the woman is certainly putting on the performance of a lifetime, focused on keeping up the charade enough that she's gotta be more sober than he is.
If I had to describe her thoughts, they would be, in one word, unimpressed.
And so, why then, is she wasting her time?
This is a fucking nightmare. I came here for Silas. And yet, he's just handed me off to one of his stupid buddies before giving me what I've already paid for. Thrice over.
More if the mental anguish he's put me through is any compensation.
Rage, pure and hot, floods my veins.
Whatever this woman is trying to get from Silas, it's bad enough that he's basically fucking pimping her out before he'll give it to her. And the nameless man beneath her is enjoying every second of his completely unwilling partner, his grimy hands sliding all over her as she rides him harder, wishing for it to be over.
A slap, far too loud to be pleasant, followed shortly by her silently cursing the foul man beneath her, radiates through my skull, and I'm momentarily distracted from the reason I'm here in the first place. Silas is not only a possible tormentor for Isla, he's a goddamn fucking blight that needs to be removed from this plane of existence altogether.
And his friend, too.
Hating myself for using her torture this way, I pry further, searching her mind for the answer. The reason she's not storming out the door right now and putting an end tothis. Preferably with a flamethrower, if her fantasizing is any indication.
Not the worst idea.
I would love to burn this hellhole to the ground just to prevent Isla from ever possibly being brought inside this stylized torture chamber.
Finally, through a vault in her mind she kept locked, one she refused to share with a single soul, I find the answer.
A sex tape.
Silas has a sex tape of this woman somewhere, and she'll never be free of him unless she gets it back.
Not my problem.
Not my problem.
