Chapter 27 #2
One minute and forty-three seconds of graphic lacklustre sex as she rides him reverse-cowgirl-style in his chair—her face disinterested now he can’t see her, her lips parting for ooohs , and aahhs as she sells her part of this exchange where needed.
The girl is quickly paid with a wad of crumpled notes and shooed out of the office.
Ezra’s father does up his pants and falls back into his chair, lighting up a post-coital cigar in celebration for that mediocre fuck.
Back in the records room, I had intended to press play when Ezra came into the shot, but it was something else that had piqued my interest. My eyes flick to Lenora, knowing by her wide intense eyes that she sees the same thing I had.
Before I knew who he was, I had realised that the man from the photos of previous owners of Blackwood hanging on the wall upstairs was the same man in the video.
You can only make out the back of Lenora’s head in shot, but when she takes a seat opposite him and kicks her feet up onto the desk, she’s wearing the same expensive red-soled shoes with the alligator skin she’s wearing right now.
We both look down at her feet in unison as realisation dawns on her pinched-lipped face.
This was the proof that Isadora had that would exonerate Ezra.
On the screen, a lurking Simon creeps in through a door behind the man like the weasel he is. Lenora pauses the tape as Simon raises the axe in preparation above the man’s head, that twisted gleeful grimace lighting his face.
“And we all know what happens next,” Lenora mutters flatly as she turns to face me, unpausing the video again.
The brutality lasted for seconds, not minutes like you’d expect; it was over quickly, and once the deed was done, the CCTV cut to a similar shot of the same office, the dead man still very much dead, the time stamp noting the hours that had passed and an unconscious Ezra on the floor with the bloody axe in his hand.
“Now there’s no disputing anything—you really have seen everything.”
The levity in her tone is misplaced as she scowls my way.
“Call the boys, tell them to get Ezra and head down here,” Lenora orders Simon.
He whips out his phone, and I try to wiggle myself into a better position to get onto my feet.
He levels the bat with my face in warning, nudging my shoulder, coaxing me back down to the ground.
Caressing my cheek with the bloody end of it, I obediently rest back down on my knees.
I mentally weigh up my lack of options, unwillingly enlightened by the epic fuckery of my current situation.
I don’t know how many concussions I have left in me, but the idea of that bat connecting with my skull again is enough to keep me pliant for now.
“You think they’ll be up for this?” Simon snorts, unconvinced as he types out a message, satisfied for now that I won’t give him any more bother.
“If they want to get released, they’ll do as I say.
”
A minute or so later, Simon’s phone pings with an incoming message, and all eyes are on him again.
“Caleb said he isn’t in his room.”
“I wonder where he might be,” she caws studiously like this is all some game, and she’s the grand master piecing together the clues.
I wouldn’t mind playing a couple of games of hopscotch on her face.
“Tell them to check her room, kick the door in if you have to. Someone went against protocol and installed a shiny new lock.” She beams, letting me know I have no secrets from her.
“So you watched Simon kill a man; one more sick prick with a call girl addiction to add to the pile. You don’t need to involve Ezra. Clearly, he has no idea about any of this,” I comment, hoping it will save him from whatever she has planned.
“Looks like you’re just not getting it, Cara. But you will.” Her face splits into a sinister grin, and the sass in me dies. “Get those off her, and get her on the table.”
My freedom from the handcuffs is brief—too brief to tamp down the fear pounding in my chest.
I’m hauled to my feet, struggling against Simon’s hold of me as he throws me over his shoulder, striding over to the metal examination table. I groan on impact when my spine takes the brunt of the hit. It all happens too quickly, and my sluggish body is useless to fight back.
“Now you can struggle; I’d actually prefer if you did. Watching what remains of your…” Lenora ponders her next word as though it’s important as Simon tightens the leather straps around my wrists and ankles, “spirit,” she spits, nodding at Simon and shooing him away when he’s finished his task.
He returns a moment later with a branding poker, the cursive letter B burning red from the heat of the open fire, crackling and fizzing as the cool air hits it.
“The marks on the women in the photos…” That’s all I get out before Simon pushes it into the tender skin above my breast, the blood-curdling scream ripping from my lungs, my soul wishing it could be expelled along with it.
I choke on the sound, my limbs stiff and rigid as shooting pains pummel every nerve ending in my body.
I welcome the bliss of unconsciousness that drags me away into the darkness, the blurred edges of oblivion soothing this brutal reality.
Peace.
Calm.
Nothing.
The tangy taste of smelling salts coats my tongue as a sharp vapour fills my nose. Panting breaths fill the room as I thrash against my restraints. My head is foggy, that knitting-needle-stabbing-behind-my-eyes feeling in full force as I blink back against the bare overhead bulb searing my retinas.
“Cara?” All the colour drains from my face when I turn and see Ezra standing in the doorway, the Knox brothers at his back, shock alight in those mesmerising mismatched eyes of his as concern seeped in anger tugs at his features.
“What the fuck is this?” he barks, spreading his attention between everyone in the room, his fists tightening as a vein throbs in his neck, likely deciding who he’s about to kill first.
Lenora cups her hands, turning to him with a saccharine smile. “Ezra, how lovely of you to join us.”
For a man of his size, Ezra moves fast. He lunges for me, but he doesn’t get far. The crack of Simon’s bat splits the air, a fresh splattering of blood across the length of it as Ezra collapses to the floor with a dull thud.
A choked protest claws its way up my throat.
The ragged whispered pleas for the twins to help Ezra are swallowed by the pounding of my thumping heartbeat filling my ears.
My body gives out, slumping back against the table; the room spins around me, any thoughts of an escape melting into the void as I sob.