He is still touching me. Eww, but exactly where I need it. I hand him the Benjamin, and he now takes it. He takes all three lines. Fucking idiot.
I turn the ring on my finger, slip the cap off so the small needle points inside. And when he comes up after the last line, I grasp his neck. The needle digs into the skin, but he’s too high to recognize anything. His body becomes limp. I catch him, so the sound of his falling body raises no suspicion.
The moment he is on the floor, I get to work. I don’t have much time; he won’t be out long.
I take the test kit from my purse and swab his mouth, pluck ahair, and scrape off some skin cells from his scalp, and store everything in vials. Evidence. Insurance. Tools.
Then I grab his phone, unlock it with a face scan, plug in the exploiter I brought, and emulate the system onto it. When it’s done, I put everything back to where it was.
I look at him lying there. It could be over right now. But it would be too easy. No. I am going to skin him alive, bathe him in acid, and chop off his penis. Killing him here would not suffice.
I take a lipstick from my purse and write on the mirror.
Room 601, The Herald, tomorrow 8 p.m.
His hands twitch.
I am walking out of the room, swiping over my lips with my thumb for the cameras, walking to the elevator, and stepping inside without looking back.
Men like him always need the chase. And they always pay for it.
I’m in my hotel fifteen minutes later.
I open my laptop and access the emulated phone. It was, aside from the DNA, the only thing why I did what I did tonight.
I comb through his phone for the rest of the night, saving the most important stuff to build my case and get more information on his blackmail and secrets.
“There you are,” I say when I find it.
A video. Hidden deep in his secret file vault.
What a pain in the ass he had been to crack. I usually attack and crack from a distance, but in Jared Sutton’s case, it was impossible without the physical access.
Screams echo through the quiet hotel room as I watch the video. Screams that don’t touch me. Several powerful men are raping a girl.
One of the men is Robert Grand-Hives, now Prime Minister of the UK. Another is a tech CEO I have already on my list for raping another minor. The third, I don’t know who he is. I have never seen his face, but I will inevitably find him.
Apparently, Sutton has filmed the video while jerking himself off.
“What a disgusting piece of shit you are,” I whisper as anger surges through my chest. “You’ll pay for all of it.”
The video goes on for over two hours. Each man fucks her multiple times until she passes out from choking. None of them cares; even worse, they seem to get off it even more.
There are more videos.
Videos of the same girl.
More men.
And I will kill them all.
Because I am the girl.
I add more names to my list.
Thorough as I am, I scan through the rest of his phone. I find an email thread about the prototype spyware tool Zeus built to infiltrate systems and collect data. I know immediately I need to get my hands on it before I kill him. It’ll come in very handy.
I open a folder full of names, high-profile ones. It is only then that I realize how much deeper Sutton’s organization runs. Initially, this had been about revenge. Revenge for what he and all the other men have done, but what I find here is so much more.
