Page 36 of Broken Empire
I found a fast-forward option on the video and clicked it right to the end so I could scroll through the entire chat log to see if there were any clues about Shay’s location in it.
By the time Leah made it back from the bathroom, I had several new pieces of information. Each one made me feel sicker than the last.
“People keep referring to her as a doll,” I said, glancing at Leah as she returned to her seat beside me. “She was purchased by a man they call PyotrTwoDelta for something called the Dollhouse.”
“Do you know who Pyotr is?”
“No,” I said in a hollow voice. “But I know what he does when he and his fans are sick of the dolls.”
“What?”
I showed her a link that someone had posted in the stream chat. It went to a poll on an external dark web site hosted by the user PyotrTwoDelta. Shay’s name was on top, with 467 votes out of 1508. The rest of the votes were scattered between nineteen other female names.
“What does this mean?” Leah asked, eyes widening.
“According to the chat log, this Pyotr person runs polls every few weeks to see which ‘dolls’ are the favorites and least favorites amongst his fans,” I said. “Whoever comes out on top of the ‘least favorite’ poll is the next to be killed. Once that happens, Pyotr sells viewing access to the death tape on his site.”
Leah’s eyes flickered over to the screen again. “It says Shay is the current least favorite,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah.” My voice was so thick with emotion I could barely speak. “They’re going to kill her tomorrow.”
Leah’s hand flew to her mouth. “Fuck,” she whispered, panic flashing in her eyes. “What can we do?”
I swallowed hard. “We need to find Pyotr.”
12
Shay
I hadn’t sleptfor a whole day.
Every time I closed my eyes, vivid memories flashed in my mind, deepening my despair. I thought of Killian’s strong arms wrapping around me on that dock in Long Island, telling me I was safe from Cooper without a word needing to be spoken. I thought of his hands roaming my body, laying claim to me like a king laying claim to a new empire. I thought of his beautiful blue eyes, flashing with a mix of fear and fury when he discovered what his friend Derrick had done to me. I didn’t want to accept it at the time, but that moment was when I knew, deep in my bones, that he’d started to see me as his.
You should’ve stayed with him.
Regret and longing ate at my guts like acid on old pipes as I lay on the trashy heart-shaped bed, staring listlessly at the chandelier above me. I couldn’t stop thinking about what was going to happen to me soon, and whatcould’vehappened if I listened to Killian last week.
He told me he didn’t want to leave me alone outside the art gallery. He told me he wasn’t sure it was safe. But I insisted. I told him everything would be fine, and he should go and help his brother out of whatever situation he’d gotten himself stuck in.
I thought I was doing the right thing… but look where it got me.
“Please, Killian,” I whispered up at the ceiling. “Help me.”
I wanted to be with him again. Wanted to tell him how I felt. How deeply I’d fallen for him, and how badly I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t going to get the chance, because the rest of my life was only going to last for a day. Maybe a day and a half if I got really lucky.
I rolled over and closed my eyes, tormenting myself with memories of my old life. My friends. Auditions for commercials and daytime soaps. Bellingham. Those mouthwatering cookies and cannoli at Trattoria Ilaria.
I wished I appreciated it at the time. But I didn’t. I let those moments pass by like they were nothing, always thinking there would be more.
The door to my suite opened with a soft creak. I sat up, heart instantly pounding with terror, but it wasn’t a black-masked handler I saw on the threshold. It was a small blonde woman.
She stepped inside, carting a black suitcase behind her. “Hello,” she said, offering me a small smile as she lay the case on its side and began to unzip it.
“Who are you?” I asked, heart still jackhammering in my chest as I eyed the case. I was half-expecting it to contain torture implements or syringes filled with mind-melting drugs.
“I’m Freya,” she said, as if that explained anything. She finished unzipping the suitcase and opened it up.
