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Charlie
KACELA
The man shut the door behind him, gesturing at the body hanging from the shower rod.
“Don’t worry. I’m not intending on that being your fate. I needed to make an example out of her so that the other girls know what is expected of them.” The door opened again and another man slipped out, splattered with blood, bringing a webcam out of the bathroom. I felt sick. I realized they had filmed the girl’s torture and death to show it to others as a warning.
“Set up in the basement, Steve,” the first man said, flicking his fingers and dismissing him. Steve grabbed a towel off from the bar in the bathroom and shut the door behind him, taking his camera and heading towards the elevator, his face impassive.
“You didn’t have to kill her,” Lia said suddenly, next to me. “She was loyal. She delivered me to your men.”
The man shrugged. “But she let herself get taken in the first place,”
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