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Chili pulls up Delilah’s file. She’s there, on screen, smiling and shiny and beautiful.

I pace away from the screen, flexing my hands, barely able to look. I want to put a fist through the fucking computer.

“What’s next?” Warren says calmly, like he knows how close I am to losing it.

“The movies.” Chili’s tone is dark.

“What kind of movies?” I whip around.

“I’ll show you.” A click on the screen. Another file labeled GOODS. “Hang on. It’s rough.”

I close the distance between me and Delilah, pulling her into my arms.

“As of last week, this is the most recent one.” Chili clicks play on one of the videos.

Grainy video footage kicks on. A hand focuses a camera. Blurry for a second, then…

The camera zooms in on a girl. She has curly red hair and wears a thin, silk nightgown. She’s on a bed, hands twisted over her head and tied to the bedposts. Beside the bed, a black tarp. Her scream, a blistering rattle, echoes off the walls. “Please, please, please,” she begs.

“Fuck me,” Warren grits out.

A man enters the screen. He’s dressed in a black suit and wears a cloth mask over his head. Back to the camera, he approaches the bed.

“Cole…” Delilah looks up at me, her voice low and filled with anxiety. I can feel the terror pulsing through her slender body.

“Don’t look,” I tell her, and she buries her face in my chest.

“Oh, Christ.” River turns away as the man climbs on top of the girl.

“Speed it up,” I snap, disgusted. No one needs to see this. Chili obeys and then resumes normal speed at around eight minutes.

The girl lies there, half-naked, crying on the bed. The man exits the frame, and when he returns, there’s a rope in his hand.

“Fuck.” I clutch Delilah tighter, keeping her safe, shielded, as dawning horror crests over me.

Hearing about something awful and seeing it with your own two eyes are completely different things. After her abduction, I knew Delilah was in danger. But I wasn’t prepared for this.

We all watch as the masked man knots the noose around her neck. The girl thrashes, fighting, but her hands and legs are bound and it’s useless.

My world stops, red blurring the edge of my vision.

Time ticks on.

Two minutes.

Six minutes.

Then the man steps away, the girl lies there limply, and the camera cuts out.

“What the fuck did we just watch?” Warren blinks, still dazed from the movie, then looks around at the rest of us.

Ezra stands there, trying to stay cool; only the absence of his glasses gives him away. He’s a mess.

“Torture porn.” River looks disgusted.

“It’s fake, right?” Delilah asks, her face pale and terrified, as she glances up. Tears form in her eyes. I can’t tell how much she’s seen.

“That’s the thing…I don’t think it is.” Syd’s tone turns dark. “I think this man, whoever this Mr. Please motherfucker is, is making these movies that start with sex and end in real murder, then selling them to the highest bidder.”