He starts shaking harder.
“You organized the livestreams,” she whispers, void of emotion. “You sold it. You laughed while they cried.”
“I just streamed what I was told to!”
She thrusts a second knife into his other calf, eliciting another guttural scream from him.
Blood gushes from the wounds, soaking the money and poker chips left on the table before running over the sides in thick drops pattering on the floor.
Cassidy hovers over him, droplets from soaked strands of her hair splash on his skin while her voice stays disturbingly steady.
“You chained girls in cages and tortured them for money.”
“You don’t understand who I work for,” he spouts out. “If I disappear, they’ll know.”
“That’s the point.” I confirm as he looks over at me.
He must see something in my face that says he’s not leaving this house alive, and it seems to destroy the last little bit of hope he had left.
His breathing turns ragged.
“Please,” he begs. “Please don’t do this!”
Thunder makes the shitty windows shudder.
Cassidy straightens composedly, leaving him writhing next to her before looking over at me.
There’s no hesitation in her expression, no uncertainty.
“What do you want to know before he dies?” she probes.
The room falls into a tense oppressive silence.
Monsterinyourcloset868starts talking over himself, tripping over his words in bewildered desperation.
“There are accounts! I can give you names, locations, everything!”
I observe him, not because I care about saving him, but because while information matters, networks matter more. Men like him never operate alone, and they always have knowledge of other trafficking rings in the area.
Cassidy takes out a pair of fabric scissors from her vest and starts cutting his pants off him, then his boxers while humming a Lincoln Park song.
“Who funds the streams?” I ask point-blank.
His throat bobs before he answers, trying to catch a glimpse of what Cassidy is doing.
“The site’s protected through offshore servers; I only handled local operations.”
Cassidy cuts the rest of his fabric off, leaving his bare hairy ass on display.
“Wrong answer.”
“I SWEAR!” He shouts, salvia flying everywhere.
She snaps on a pair of latex gloves she removed from her vest.
He starts hyperventilating.
“The highest paying clients,” he chokes out. “That’s who matters. Private buyers. Invite only.”
