71. Nat

"I've been waiting for you," the mayor says, licking his lips as his gaze slides down my body. He makes my skin crawl. The last time we met was bad enough. Being forced to share the same space with him again, while wearing a whole lot less, is excruciating.

Instead of answering, I look away, opting to focus on the damp spot on the wall behind one of the lighting rigs.

Uriov chuckles. "Just as well she wasn't blown up, eh?"

"True," Kolanski concedes. "I figured it was easier to erase her but I'm happy she's here now."

"I'm sure you are, old friend." Uriov slaps Kolanski on the back and the smaller man grimaces. I feel like their relationship isn't quite as cozy as Kolanski would like to believe.

"Are we all set up for tonight?" The mayor's excitement is palpable. Whatever Uriov has planned, it's clear he's heavily involved.

The two men stroll off, chatting away like they're the best of friends and this is a fucking garden party.

Meanwhile, Jane and I are left behind like unwanted toys. Jane's catatonic and I'm on the cusp of having a breakdown. It's been well over 24 hours since I left Max's place and there's no sign of anyone coming to the rescue. I'm beginning to lose hope.

A few minutes later, Uriov's men take us back to the room with the attached bathroom. Some more sandwiches are tossed on the bed and then we are left in peace.

Only I can't relax. Not now I have a fair idea of what's about to happen. Mickey didn't go into detail about what he saw on the PlayPen website, but my imagination is more than happy to fill in the blanks.

If we don't get out of this place before this evening, we're fucked.

The hours tick by and with each minute that passes, my anxiety ratchets up a little more. I've tried hunting for a way out of the room we're locked in but the window is boarded over and the door isn"t budging. In the end, I lie on the bed next to Jane and we hold each other.

"We're fucked aren't we?" she says eventually.

"Literally." She snorts at my terrible joke before her eyes well up with fresh tears.

I think about all the women and girls who have been where we are right now. Did they lie down and accept their fate, or did they fight back? "Once we get back out there, I'll create a diversion and you run," I tell her.

It's me Uriov and Kolanksi want. Jane's merely an added extra. If she runs, I doubt they'll chase her.

"You know that's not going to work, right?" she points out. "Anatoly will have guards everywhere, and besides, we're in the middle of nowhere. Where am I going to run to exactly? The nearest tree?"

OK, so she has a point. My plan sucks. But I have to do something!

Maybe there's something in the bathroom I can use. Tired of feeling helpless, I leave the bed and go back into the bathroom. There is a bottle of hand soap and some cheap shampoo in the shower cubicle. Short of squirting them in someone's eye, they won't help us much.

I open the drawer of the vanity unity. At first glance, it's empty, unsurprisingly, but then I spot a small metal hairpin wedged down the side. Not exactly a lethal weapon, but it could potentially hurt an attacker if I got desperate. Since there's nothing else, I stick it in my hair, just in case.

"Do you think they'll kill us?" Jane's question hits me right in the solar plexus as I walk out of the bathroom. From the wobble in her voice, she's been thinking about this for a while.

"No," I reply firmly. Before I can expound on why I believe we're safe from being murdered and dumped in a shallow grave, the door opens and one of Uriov's meatheads walks in.

"Come with me." He gestures at both of us, not missing an opportunity to slide his lecherous gaze down our bodies. Because provoking a violent temper tantrum by refusing to move is stupid, we follow him.

Knowing what is likely going to happen has not prepared me in any way. We're back in the room with all the cameras and lights. This time, there are more people milling around. Some of them actually look like professional camera operators. In the corner, a guy sits behind a monitor and keyboard, tapping away.

This time around, there's a table with all kinds of fun accessories, including dildos, bondage gear, and worse, knives. Jane looks like she wants to vomit. I do too, but I'm trying to hold it together for her sake.

If they expect me to have sex on camera, I can do it. I'll just close my eyes and pretend it's Max. It can't be any worse than the times when Rick raped me for his own amusement. If I can move on from that, this will be a walk in the park, right?

My self-motivational talk works right up until the point when they bring another young woman in. She's crying, her skinny arms covered in lurid purple bruises. The moment she turns around, I recognize her. Beata, the young blond girl who thought the mayor was charming. The girl who dreamed of being a model.

"Natalya?" Her confusion is palpable when she sees me standing next to Jane.

"Five minutes and we go live," someone shouts.

"You, get on the bed," a goon orders, shoving Beata in the direction of the large bed in the center of the room.

"No," she cries, "I'm not doing this!" He slaps her around the face and then picks her up and deposits her on the mattress.

"Fight back, girl, our audience loves a fighter."

Jane turns away and vomits all over the floor. A cameraman curses and she's pulled out of sight. My legs wobble and the room fades. For a long minute, I think I'm going to pass out, but Beata's screams pull me back.

"Look at me, Beata!" I yell. She turns in my direction, her face wet with tears. "Whatever happens, keep looking at me." I can't take her place but I can reassure her she's not alone. I don't know if it will help, but it's all I have to give right now.