Syndicate #1

4

#4

Performance

Their two new Subjects are placed into s*x pods, where Hassan and Suzan join the rest of the subjects like them. The s*x pods are to be distributed throughout each floor level of the city. The city itself is like one ripped from a sci-fi movie, where each turn and corner is designed in impeccable detail.

The s*x pods are distributed so that the audience can pick their choice directly. The Subjects are left conscious, so that the audience can feel the authenticity of the subjects.

There’s a voting poll posted in the dark web, for those who are looking to have their favorite show being played out. Anyone can suggest a setting or a story to be played out.

Who do they want as the performers to play as? Who will f**k them? Where and when they want the s*x take place? Will there be toys? How many will play at once? Those are they kind of things paying customers can pick.

After that, it’s only a matter of time to see just how many users will support the idea. When they reach a certain amount, a show can be set to broadcast.

Once picked, subjects will be proceeded to Dungeon’s show house, where there will be rooms specifically used for these subjects to perform according to the customers’ liking.

The rooms serve more as personal stages for the customers. They can even go as far as making their pick on the background settings. It’s just a swish of a screen tapping.

This business is one of Dungeon’s top money source. One mini show can earn them quite a sum. Customers won’t just get a live show. The s****l performance will be recorded, which they can bring home to be replied. Recordings are usually put to live feed or redistributed, though there are also those who prefer the shows to remain private. Whatever the people want, Dungeon will give it to them.

The place is equipped with various technology manufactured shipped from across the world specialized in its own industry. The technology is so up to date that even the military will be jealous if they see it — if they even catch a whiff. 

The mini shows are like opera shows, except instead of singing, the actors/subjects will be moaning the entire time.

To make the watching experience even more enjoyable, Dungeon has this special feature that can combined the use of VR to better the viewing. Those who are logged in using VR will have control over what angle they will take to watch.

There is also a certain type of privileges that will allow one of the audience to control a robotic arm inside the stage, to touch and feel out the subjects directly at the stage. The customer won’t actually feel the touch — the technology is not that advanced yet — but he or she can certainly make the subjects react to the contact.

And if the customers want, they can also rent the subject of their choice, to enjoy them even more thoroughly.

All of those come to certain costs, of course. But then again, nothing in The Syndicate is cheap.

Since it had first been established, Dungeon has gained a large number of subjects, making their catalogue filled with a variety of choices to pick. They have subjects from all over the world, with all kinds of ethnic, gender and age. They generate so much money that Dungeon can even treat some of their properties with rewards — especially the ones who are good in their jobs.

That allows the company to grow and put better performances. This causes the subjects to adjust to their new lives fast, to the point that they won’t even bother thinking about going back to their previous lives.

Whoever can resist such a glamorous lifestyle? Especially when s*x is a freeing thing in this underground city.

Overtime, the number of subjects grow so large. The one who were once capture eventually become permanent residences. Those who were once forced to work as subjects, now live happily, ever so willing to perform and fulfil the people’s wicked desires.

And amongst all of these faces, two fresh ones will be introduced to the customers, who are all but anticipate eager for the upcoming grand show. The show can be viewed through through a live feed broadcast through Dungeon’s dark web. People are tuning in fast, the first thing after the announcement is made.

Dungeon is putting these two new subjects together as a welcoming act for both. The audience are practically begging for a good show like this. The people love it, especially since this is an unscripted first time experience. New blood.

Already comments are flooding minutes before the start of the show. It won’t be until ratings are flooding in, when the real money starts flowing in.

Everyone are sitting at the edge of their seats in their own home, eager for the anticipated performance to begin already. Every since the first broadcast of the duo, people have not stop talking about Subject AZ101 and AZ102.  Hassan still can’t get his mind wrapped around this entire thing. He briefly registers someone pushing a pill to his palm, telling him to swallow it. He looks up to find none other than Margot smirking down at him. He gulps down the pill just as he is told, not even bother to give a second thought about it. The boy regrets his hasty decision almost immediately, but it’s already too late to take it back.

Next, Margot pushes him to enter the stage, muttering, “Good luck,” into his ear. The door is closed behind him as soon as he turns around, preventing him to asking further question.

Inside, the room that welcomes him appears very familiar. It looks just like one of the bathrooms back in his home country, luxurious and roomy. They have a large bathtub, toilet, a long vanity with two sinks with a large mirror behind it, and empty floor clear out of any hindrance that spans spaciously throughout the place. At the opposite site, there’s even a much bigger mirror, this one spanning the wall from ceiling to floor.

It strangely almost feel like home, so comfortable that Hassan wonders what the catch is going to be. He still has no idea what to make of this entire thing. Everything has been such a rollercoaster, starting from his kidnapping, to the experiment done on him, all the way to his most recent interview. And now . . . what are they going to do to him?

And what is up with this getup they put him in?

Can’t they at least have have the decency to give him shoes? The floor is cold. He has been barefoot this entirely time as they dragged him around.

From the other side of the stage, the audience watches as the boy enters the scene, wearing nothing but a spiky thick collar around his muscular neck and a simple strip of black boxer hanging by his hips. It reveals plenty of skin and muscles to appreciate, even though he’s more on the skinnier side rather than anything else, leaving plenty of smooth contortion on his honey beige skin. True to his origin, he hair and eye colors are both dark, almost black.

The larger mirror is actually a one-way the window that can only be seen through from outside. That’s not the only way the audience can see what’s going on inside though. Cameras are situated at every angle of the room, some moving more hectically than the other, indicating that they can be controlled. This gives more angles to the present audience, as well as HD quality live feed from those who are watching this performance from the comfort of their homes.

From the control room, Angelina gives command at her two trusty assistants. “Send the girl in.”

Hassan hears the hissing sound of doors being open automatically. He turns around, only to stare in shock as he takes in the the form of the new person. He would recognize that face everywhere.

The girl stumbles into the room and almost falls, as if she was pushed to get in. Thankfully, a pair of arms manages to reach out just in time.

Hassan catches his sister in law and stables her. His quick reflex doesn’t make him forget about her battered appearance though. Suzan has bruises covered all over her skin, especially her face. Purple and black spots marred her supposedly unblemished skin. There’s blood sipping from one corner of her quivering lips.

Her clothes are in a state of disarray. Her hijab is done wrong, as if someone has just decided to put it on her in a hurry, without even bothering to put it on properly. From the torn patches of her abaya, he can see some some skin that he has never seen before. It makes him draw a sharp intake of breath.

Suzan is crying, freshly drawn tears soak her beautiful dark eyes, trails down her cheeks, dampening from on top of her already dried ones.

Despite being in the terrible state that she is in, his sister in law looks just as breathtaking has he has always imagined her to be. It takes him a while to realize that this is the first time that he is seeing her face so closely, or even physically touching her arms like this. 

Suzan is a woman in her late thirties, with face is even and clear as the day itself, as if she has secretly been under the sun for some time. Her eyes are not the color of black, but instead dark brown with tiny hints of amber in them. And her eyelashes . . . they are so thick, they look so smooth, framing her almond shaped eyes in the most complimentary manner. Even despite the bruises, she still looks beautiful in his eyes, and looking at these marks only make him feel for her even more. Standing so close to him like this, he notices that she is actually a few inches taller than him, though her body is definitely much thinner. And just like him, she appears to be barefoot also.

He can’t believe at how awful of a state she is being. What happened to her? How can her appears turns this badly? D-did someone hurt her before she came? Who can possible do such a thing? C-can it be . . . the Mistress? Or her people?

“Suzan?” he tries to call her name, his voice sounds hoarse and dry for some reasons.

She looks so lost, so distraught, but the sound of him calling her finally snaps her out of her thoughts. “Hassan?” her voice crooks when she speaks, and the boy can’t help but to wince in return. Hearing her crocked voice only makes the pain even more real than it already is.

“I can’t believe this. They took you too?”

“W-we need to get out of this place. T-they are some dangerous people out there,” she urges him, clinging to his arms for support.

“I don’t think there’s really a way out of here, though,” Hassan frowns, torn between wanting to help the helpless women in his arms, and abiding to his new mistress.

“W-we have to! We gotta try!” she all but snap, then quickly breaks down in tears, hiccuping as she cries hoarsely, eyes watering like a broken dam.

“Shussh, it’s okay, Suzan. Calm down. I’m here. Everything’s gonna be okay now. I won’t let them harm you,” he says, trying to comfort her, one hand wrapped around hers, holding her, skin touching against skin, while his other hand goes to her face, erasing traces of her tears away. He doesn’t know what has come over him, what makes him feel this bold. Normally, he wouldn’t even dare try to attempt such a scandalous thing. Touching like this is like being intimate for their people.

Suzan freezes on the spot for a moment, finally realizing what he’s doing, but being comforted like this snaps something fragile inside her, and the woman can’t help but to cry even louder, causing more tears to pour out.

Hassan is being attentive. He puts his palm on one side of her face, cupping her cheek while his thumbs rub against the skin, drawing slow comforting circles. Tracing patterns on her skin soon becomes addictive, and before long, his agenda changes —from one of trying to ease his distressed sister in law, to that of a more selfish nature.

The feel of her skin against his is great, and Hassan is suddenly surged by this need to feel more of her body. Not just merely touching her face or arms, but something much, much more intimate. Like her curves, the back of her head, her cleavage, her waist, her stomach, her—

His mind feels hazy, yet at the same time, he never feels so alive before. It’s a strange feeling. He feels warm— no, it’s boiling inside.

Before he knows it, his erection is straining from the inside of his boxer, and the material has never felt so tight before.

“Hassan? What are you doing?” he barely registers it when Suzan questions him with slight distrust in her tone.

“I just— Sorry, I don’t know but . . . I feel kinda strange,” he admits honestly.

“Are you okay? Maybe you should sit down for a while?” she suggests. Strange, she should be the one who is comforted though, not him. Why is she being so nice to him? It makes him feels all kinds of things. Hassan knows that he should stop before it’s too late, but the boy just doesn’t want to. He’s far too careless, far too gone, the effects of viagra taking over him fast.

The moment she touches his arm, something deep snaps inside him. His body grows rigid all of a sudden, and the feel of hardness inside his boxer suddenly becomes something that he can no longer ignore.

He starts out slow, leaning in closer and closer until his face is right next to her. When the proximity emits heat, his resolves begins to crumble. He knows that he should be doing this, but her skin feels so smooth underneath his palm, and the boy can’t fight this strong urge to kiss her. With his sister in law being so close and warm like this, his self restraint slips, and his lips descent upon her cheek, catching the falling tears.

He tries to tells himself that he’s doing this for her, to comfort her. He tries to justify his action, but he can tell when Suzan lets out an audible gasps and stops on the spot. She looks down at him, eyes wide, surprised clearly written all over her beautiful brown eyes. But then she leans into his palm, still crying, looking for sanctuary.

Hassan gives that freely to her . . . and some more. While he’s trying to comfort her with his gently kiss and touch, his mind is clouded with racy thought of peeling her abaya off her person, situating himself intimately in between her legs, and thrusting vigorously, penetrating her inside, having his loin wrapped around her tender warm walls—

No, stop this!

But he can’t.

“I-i also want to do this,” he starts to confess. “Oh, you’re just so beautiful, so tempting. Even when you’re hurt . . .” he trails off.

Suzan barely hears him, still too drown in her own sadness. It isn’t until some time later that her senses resurfaces.

“Hassan?” she asks one more time, drawing her face away, concern written all over her pretty face. She should be concerned, but for an entirely different reason.

All of a suddenly, his hands snap up, palms encircling around her wrists, and immediately uses strength to yank her close.

Suzan winces at the impact, some of the place he’s holding is still hurting thanks to the previous assault put on her. “Hey!” she protests, but her brother in law keeps her in his steel-like grip, not showing any signs of wanting to let go. It isn’t until it’s finally too late that she finally takes notice of how his face is contorted into a tense expression, lips thinly pressed together.

“W-what do you think you’re doing?” she asks carefully.

“I-i’m sorry, Suzan, but I don’t think I can hold it anymore.” Just the feel of her skin against him is driving him wild, and every inch of his body is instinctively telling him to ravish her in the rawest form possible. He’s so hot for her, pre-c*m is dripping from inside his pants, all sticky and warm for her.

Without any warning, Hassan throws her over to the vanity, making her ass land none so gently on the top of the surface. Suzan tries to fight him off, but the boy is faster, already three steps ahead of her, pulling her legs wide apart and placing his body in between, at the same time using his own body to prevent her from closing her legs. Possessing the access to her own heat like this, Hassan wastes no time in pressing himself into her, making her feel the outline of his erection.

He catches the moment Suzan’s eyes go wide, full of understanding.

“You know, I’ve always like you. I had thoughts about you when I’m alone. I just . . . I just can’t seem to stop thinking about you.” He fantasized about her for so often that he simply loses count of how many times he has done so. She’s always at the back of his mind, never far away.

He gasps for air, as if his lungs are full.

“I know it’s not appropriate but . . . I think, I think I love you, Suzan.”

She stares at him wildly, wilder than the moment he pushes his c**k against her core.

“Will you let me have this? Will you allow me to relief myself inside you? Just this once? My brother doesn’t need to know—”

“Are you crazy? Of course not! You can’t touch me! You can’t have me! Now get off, you fool!” she all but shouts in fury. Even despite the bruises and throbbing pain, she can still act fierce.

“I can’t believe the nerve you have! How dare you! To your own sister in law! Get off me before I—” She’s quickly cut off with his kiss, his mouth devours her as hungry as the thrusting hips that he starts.

He moves himself against her, pressing against her body so close that she can’t escape the feel of his hard length. The prove of his desire over her is as clear as the day itself. He is pushing against her so deeply that he swears he can feel the outline of her cunt even through all the layers of clothing they have.

Suzan lets out a protesting moan, and he all but drown her with his mouth.

“Get off me!” she screams when she’s able to push him away with all her might. That doesn’t stop him from trying to kiss her once more though, this time at her cheek and down her neck.

His one hand disentangle her hijab out of the way, while is other hand roams around her upper thighs, heading to where the curve of her ass is, cupping a good feel from down there.

As he dry humps her, Hassan descent his lips down her collarbone, nipping and sucking at the skin as he go there. Then his other hand start to drop lower to her chest, before cupping the weight of her breast, and begin to squeeze.

The combined sensation must be too much for her, because the next thing they know, she pushes against him with so much strength that Hassan is forced to take a couple of steps back. The boy looks momentarily in shock, and that is all Suzan needs to bolt out of there.

She jumps off the vanity and heads for the door, but the thing is locked just as she first suspects. With her main option to get out of here gone, she runs to the other direction, simply wanting to get as far away from Hassan as possible. She can’t believe that even the one person she trusts can do this to her. She feels defiled, being touched like this by him.

Hassan is quick to his feet. Once he finally realizes what’s going on, he leaps toward Suzan and catches her by the waist from behind, before lifting her up ever so effortlessly, throwing her over his shoulder. Suzan punches at his back, struggling throughout the entire way.

He doesn’t carry her long, and before she knows it, Suzan finds herself being thrown down into the bathtub situated just by the edge.

Her top half is pushed to lean down horizontally at the bottom of the bathtub, while her back is planted against the tub’s wall, her ass hanging off from the edge. Hassan is there in between her legs one more time, and this time he makes sure that she is put in a situation where she has no other option but to lean against him. Suzan tries to get up, but the strange position prevents her from doing much, much to her dismay.

Hassan grabs her legs and wraps them around his waist, intending for her to cling at him, but the woman is so persistent, refusing to comply even when the condition is no longer on her favor. Decision that he doesn’t care, the boy simply tugs down the band around his waist, freeing himself from the constraints of his boxer.

His d**k arched up, pointed toward his interest. He angles his hips so that his length leans against her stomach, making her squirms in return. He dry humps her a couple of times, before finally decision that he has enough. His hands tear at her clothes next, ripping it off her body.

He goes around her body, ripping fabric until they accumulate into ribbons around her. His hands work on two directions, one at her top, and one at her bottom. His one hand reaches down until he finally pushes her skirt away, revealing the curves of her long, slender legs. A pair of pantyhose covers her from shin and below, the beige color blending in with her skin color so well that he had missed it the first time until just now.

His hands go to stroke them, touching her with mesmerizing, as if she’s some sort of an exotic pet he eyes for the first time.

Suzan takes time to catch her breath, finally able to get the break she needs. It still freaks her out how he’s touching her like this. But just as soon as he slows down, her brother in law picks up his disheveled pace again, this time grabbing at one ankle roughly to prevent her from moving, while the other hand goes to rip one of the pantyhose from the back of her feet, tearing the material until the thorn hole grows into an unamendable size, exposing the sole of her feet, and all the way up to her toes.

Then, like the hungry man that he is, Hassan starts touching the tip of her toes with his fingers ever so tentatively, slowly and carefully at first, as if not wanting to damage her. Electric sparks the moment they touch, as if their bodies know a secret they don’t. Something about the way the two touch feels familiar somehow, though none of them seem to be able to successfully recall where it had been. Hassan is too distracted by the mere presence of her, and his hunger, while Suzan just wants to get away from him. Only want of them can get what they want.

Eventually, the boy grows impatient, and he entwined his fingers around the gap of her toes, feeling her in a much deeper level. The boy lets out a gasp, and he doesn’t seem to be the only one who is overwhelmed by the sensation. Suzan can’t explain why, but his touch feels both good and familiar, even though she can’t seem to put her finger on it. She can’t even understand why she’s not recoiling from him, despite her mind shouting at her to.

The hand on her ankle eventually moves up to knee and Hassan peels of the rest of the pantyhose off of her one foot, rolling the torned out material up her ankles so that they are out of his way. Then he does something unthinkable by bending down and lowering his mouth toward her exposed foot. At the same time, he also lifts her leg up so that they meet in the middle. What happens afterward is unexplainable. Warm engulfs around her index toe, and all thoughts blink out from existence. W-what is he doing—?

Suzan simply stares at her brother in law blankly as he devours her toe like a hungry madman, slobbering his saliva all over her flesh, his tongue darting in, out and around her skin. He licks and sucks at her like her toe is just a piece of candy to him, too sweet to miss. But what surprises her most is the presence of this subconscious thought at the back of her mind that finds his strange action intriguing.

The woman sucks in her breathe, but it isn’t until a few long moments later that she finally realizes that she’s going into shock.

Her body freezes on the spot, refusing to move. Not even to fight him off. Everything so far as been a surprise. Finding her brother in law sucking at her toes is just what tips her off. Unbeknown to the woman, this state she falls into just makes it even easier for Hassan to roam her body.

It doesn’t take long before he averts his attention to someplace else of her, namely her s*x. He peels the rest of the dark fabric from her inner thighs and stomach, revealing a sensual shade of purple panties wrapped around her s*x like a gift to him. Hassan sees red, and it doesn’t take much for him to grab at the thin material and shove it to the side without any regard, exposing her s*x to the cool air of the room almost immediately.

Suzan wants to say something, to scream and curse at him. But whatever she intends to do, the words die in her mouth. He cuts her off quickly by shoving himself right into her, impaling her entire being with one violent thrust. He doesn’t even bother to prepare her or anything, just thrust his large d**k into her and f**k.

The pain is blinding, and she winces from him. She tries to lift her hips, to crawl away, anything, but his firm grip on her keeps her into place. A stray tear rolls out of her eye as realization hits her. She’s being raped . . . by her own brother in law. He’s shoving himself to her repeatedly without any regard, stretching her unprepared cunt without any care in the world. All he wants is to seek his pleasure and release inside her, and this is all it takes for Suzan to finally breaks down.

Her mind is in a state of disarray, and she’s just so fragile right now. The rape simply breaks her mind to pieces.

Angelina smirks as she watches the scene unfolds before her, eyes trained at the main screen of the control room, watching with amusement. The number of viewers skyrockets almost in an instant, no doubt that the comments are exploding from the linked live feed. People are raving about the sincerity of the raw scene from the live recording, and money is no doubt flowing in like crazy.

“This is crazy. People love the rape scene so much, dozens of them already start pre-ordering the full recording,” Margot comments, impressed by what she’s seeing from the smaller screen before her.

“Woah, look at that girl go. She’s squirming her toes while being raped. Weird gal,” Cara points out, her laughter echoes through the room uncaringly. “Hmm, I think that viagra you have him works a lot of wonder. I mean, look at him go.”

They watch from one particular camera angle that focuses right at the Subject AZ101’s nice taut ass, hammering himself into his sister in law’s cunt again and again, as hungry for her as he needs to breath air itself. And while his c**k is busy impaling the woman, his fingers are busy pampering her toes, touching her ever so intimately as if she is his.

The woman, Subject AZ102, has fallen into such a state of shock that she does nothing more but lie down there on her back, despondent. Her eyes stare wide blankly at the ceiling, all fight depleted from her body. It’s almost boring to watch her simply lie down like that, soulless, while the boy does what he likes with her. But then again, there’s also something fun about watching such tragedy occurs. Heck, these depraved people live for this type of tragedy!

The boy keeps shoving himself into her like an animal, until he finally cums deep inside her, groaning out loud. He keeps himself inside her still when he’s done, turning to lick and nip at the rest of her body. He peels her clothes of her person, so that he finally has access to her bare breasts. When her heavy breasts come into view, the boy lowers himself to her chest so that he can massage and squeezes her recklessly, while his mouth is busy sucking and slurping at her n*****s, gulping her sensitive flesh hard enough until he leaves saliva to slobber all over her skin.

Despite being initially disgusted with him, Subject Two’s sensitive feet don’t seem to be able to deny enjoying the attention they get, even when the person attached to them doesn’t seem be very aware of things.

Pretty soon, Subject One grows hard again, and this is when he proceeds with the second rape, impaling the poor, pathetic woman all over again.

The boy does such a splendid work that Angelina quickly makes up her mind about him. “Send the boy my way once they’re done. I’ve got a surprise waiting for him,” she informs her assistants, and the two women can’t help but to exchange naughty, knowing looks.

“And what off Subject Two? She doesn’t seem to be really all there, and it doesn’t seem like she’s spanning out of it soon,” Margot points out.

“Keep her away first. We’ll put her through a different test later,” Angelina answers, something sinister already scheming in her head.

When Angelina heads out, the boy is already in the progress of getting rid of Subject Two’s other side of pantyhose.

Hassan can’t think properly. He was with Suzan before, but now he’s placed in a different room. It’s the interrogation room, he realizes.

“Congratulations,” a melodious, seductive woman voice snaps him out of his trance. Hassan blinks, trying to focus his eyesight. The room spins around him slightly, making him feel dizzy. He tips to the side until his hand manages to grab something hard —the back of a chair made of steel. He starts at it for sometime, trying to get a good grip of himself, before finally lifting his gaze to take in the sight of the gorgeous woman standing before him. She’s still as flawless as before.

“W-what’s happening to me? I don’t feel so good,” he grumbles, blinking hard, his eyes heavy. But them something flashes before his mind, and before he knows it, the events from the past hour rushes into him. It leaves him alone to face the ugly truth, of the sin that he has committed. Oh God! He has forced himself upon his sister in law.

No matter how hard he tries to shake it off, the memories won’t leave him. It’s real. It really happened. He didn’t know what had gotten over him, but he has hurt her badly, he knows. He only wanted to comforted her before. Who would have know that he’d do something as despicable as that?

“The side effects of the viagra is still in your system, it seems. But not to worry. Drink plenty of water, it’ll cool you down,” Angelina advises briefly, regarding the issue like it is nothing. Perhaps it is nothing to someone like her.

“S-s-she drugged me. One of the women,” he recalls.

“I know. I told her to,” she admits bluntly.

“W-what—? Why?”

“Because this is a show, and we needed to make sure that you deliver a good performance.”

“A performance? Is this what it’s all?” he asks, tone bitter. He means no disrespect for her, of course, because the young man knows his place. Still, that doesn’t keep the boiling emotions off from him.

“You can gloat all you want later. I’m here to give you something.” Angelina steps toward him, and suddenly she feels to close to him. Hassan tries to step back, trying to put some distance between them, but she’s faster, catching one of his wrists before he can move. The boy stands frozen in place as he barely registers her wrapping something around his arm. He looks down to see a wristband circled around his slender wrist.

“W-what is this?” he asks, then reminds himself not to forget his place, he quickly adds, “Mistress?”

Just like his collar, the piece of accessory is black in color, though there’s a mini digital screen attached to it, which indicates that this is also a piece of technology that he has never seen before.

“It’s a proof of your ownership. You’re mine, and you’re part of the company’s asset now,” Angelina informs him with a satisfied smile, looking so —dare he says it?— proud of him.

“T-thank you,” he replies automatically, not knowing what else to say. If the Mistress says that he is hers, then he is hers. There’s no argument about it, even when a large part of him is still shaken from the recent event. He hadn’t meant to rape Suzan, had he?

“There’s also a room that has been prepared for you. It’s waiting for you by the living quarter sector,” she adds, distracting him from his dark thoughts.

He nods, not thrusting his own voice this time. It’s all so overwhelming to him.

“Something in on your mind. Speak,” she commands.

“Suzan,” he swallows hard at the name. He tries again. “My sister in law. Where is she? What happened to her? I remembered— The last time I recall—” He can’t bring himself to say the words. “I was with her. And then I wasn’t.”

“Oh, don’t worry your pretty head over it. She’s well taken care now.” There’s something haunting about the way Angelina says it, her eyes sparkling evilly in the dimness.