CHAPTER ELEVEN
ZAC
The place looks worse than I imagined.
I’m in Mexico and I’m currently looking at a shack. That’s the only way to even begin to try and explain it. It looks like crap. I’ve worked too hard to get to this point and I can’t fuck it up now.
Too much is at risk, too much depends on me.
“Doesn’t look much, does it?” Marco says as he steps out of the car to stand beside me.
“No, it doesn’t.” I confirm. I have to be careful because if I play this wrong then I’m out on my arse.
“That, son, is the whole point.” I hate when he calls me that but the fact that he still does isn’t lost on me. It’s a good sign and right now I’m surviving on good signs.
“If it doesn’t look like much then no one will look twice. No one will have any idea what really happens behind those walls” I know he’s right, I’m still unaware of all this shack will entail but there is no denying the man knows what he’s doing. I look over to Marco with expectant eyes because I need to keep up with the role. Marco needs to know that in this world he’s my god and what he says is law. Sick fucker because I have an idea what is planned for this little shack but whatever it is, it has something to do with the woman who left behind her pretty little panties.
“Exactly.”
****
We step closer to the shack; Marco’s smile grows bigger with each step and I’m excited and nervous all in one. He uses a lock with the front door as if we are entering any other normal house, but this place is further away from a happy house than I have ever seen in my life. As I walk through I’m shocked to see the room in front of me, a family room with pictures of children and adults on the walls. There’s a T.V, sofas, coffee table and a massive kitchen through another door that hold all the latest appliances and a massive dining table with eight chairs around it.
Wow. I look over at Marco and he’s looking around, impressed with himself, and then he turns to me.
“Not bad, is it?” He says with a laugh.
“Looks like any other home. If someone comes around who shouldn’t they wouldn’t have a clue.”
His laugh gets harder as he gestures to another door which leads into the utility room. He places a finger on what looks like a light switch and a crack on the wall starts to open up into a little archway almost, enough that you could get through. I follow Marco as he walks down the steps into a basement which is as large as the space above. There’s a small door at the other end of the room, it almost looks like another living room with an older sofa and TV off to the side except for the torture devices that line the walls. Marco walks through and I follow and when we get to the door he gently knocks. The door is opened a few moments later by Mark, who has jeans on but no top and his chest has splatters of blood on it. He looks like he’s having the time of his life and as I walk in after father and son I see the body of a woman strung up by chains. She looks so young. Late teens, possibly early twenties, and her arms spread wide above her body and the rest of her lying lifeless in the middle. She’s naked except for the blindfold that covers her eyes and the leather collar that shines around her neck. I can see the gentle curves of her body; her breasts are round and perfect as they sit above her rib cage that I can easily see.
Do those pretty little panties belong to this girl?
Why is she here? She looks so thin, fresh scars are branded all over her body and weep of her pain and I can see the fresh blood pooling and travelling down her body from each wound. To look at her you would think she was dead, but I can see the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. Her laboured breathing seems to rattle in her lungs and I’m sure that Mark must have broken one or two of them.
Poor girl. Mark has unleashed hell on this poor girl and although the room is dark I can sense the smile and pride on Marco’s face, the sick fuck.
What could she have done to deserve this?
“Have you sent anything to her shit of a father?” Marco asks his son and all I have are eyes for this poor girl who hangs lifeless before me, like a rag doll pleading for help with unsaid words. I’m here for a reason, I have to remember that as a new thought goes through my mind.
She’s here for a reason and not for me to feel guilty about. So it’s not her who’s pissed Marco off, but daddy. I have to say I like Marco’s thinking, let the daughter pay for the sins of her father. That will make daddy more pissed which will work well for us in the long run - I just don’t know who daddy could be. The words feel foreign around my tongue but I have to get them out.
“How’s it going, son?” Marco asks while his eyes remain focused on the body before us.
“She won’t fucking break will she.”
“It’s still early days. It’s not even a week yet.” I say, as Mark looks at me with disgust whereas his father turns his head to look back at us and seems to be interested in what might come out of my mouth next, but this is all new to me just as much as it is to Mark. The only one who might have a clue is Marco and the last time he did anything like this was two decades ago.
“Zac is right. We have her, that’s the most important thing, and as long as we can scare daddy that’s all I really want.”
“But I thought...” Mark begins to say before his father holds out his hand to silence him.
“Have your fun with her, son.” He stops for a moment looking between us both.
“You know what? You both can, just as long as daddy gets his messages on how she’s doing. In the next few days his worst nightmares will be facing him and his fucking sons in their pathetic faces. I’ll show them, we’ll show their whole world what happens when they fuck with me.” I look across at Mark and he’s held on by every word that comes out of his father’s mouth. Marco turns to me as he places a hand on my shoulder.
“Leave her there for a while, we have to talk.” Marco gestures for us to leave with a hand and as we pass him he begins to laugh.
“I have an idea that might make her more willing to obey and don’t worry, boys, our end game is still going ahead.” Marco says as we all walk back through the door to the basement but before I close the door I can’t help but look back at the girl, wondering who she is, gazing at that beautiful wounded body.