73. Nat

Beata is dead. She has to be. Watching what they did to her will stay with me forever. I tried to stop them. I struggled so hard against the asshole holding me that he punched me in the side of the face, causing me to pass out. By the time I came around again, one of Uriov's guys was dragging Beata off the blood-soaked bed.

"They're loving it so far," the skinny guy sitting behind a computer monitor says with a huge grin. Uriov looks delighted.

"Excellent. Let everyone know the main event is about to begin."

Jane was taken away ages ago. I hope Uriov forgets about her. She doesn't need to see what happens next. I'm traumatized enough for the both of us.

My head hurts and I'm dizzy. If my stomach wasn't empty, I'd be puking right now. As it is, acidic bile creeps up my gullet, burning my throat. Someone grabs me and throws me onto the bed.

The metallic scent of blood is overpowering. It's all over me, sticking to my skin like acid. The white negligee is torn as well as covered in pink streaks. I'm guessing Uriov likes the macabre Gothic vampire aesthetic because he smiles a little more.

"Are you ready?" he calls and to my horror, Kolanski appears, naked.

He looks like a fucking mole rat. Pasty white skin and a small, stubby little penis. Part of me is grateful he's so small; at least he won't hurt me if he manages to get inside my body. Not that I'll be making it easy for him.

Whenever Rick overpowered me, I froze. It was easier to dissociate from what he did to me than fight back. That was the old me. This version of me isn't going to let another asshole take what I'm not willing to give. Not without a fight.

Kolasnki stalks toward me while cameras watch our every move. I try to crawl off the bed but he grasps my ankle. For a fat guy, he's stronger than he appears.

"Get the fuck off me," I snarl, but he's not listening. His beady little eyes are glued to my breasts.

"I'm going to enjoy this so much," he coos. "And once I'm done, the Beast gets his turn."

My pathetic attempt at bravery flickers and dies. I know which monster he means. It's the man who hurt Beata. The man who made her scream so loud and often that in the end, she broke.

I have to end this. I won't survive what Beata went through. Escape plans run through my brain, each one more outlandish than the last, but the truth is, I have few options at my disposal.

While there aren't many people in here, some of them are armed. If I try to escape, I'll be shot, or worse. Maybe I can disrupt things enough to cause a premature end to the show?

I expect all the people who have paid to watch this sick livestream will be just as excited if I can somehow hurt Kolasnki. Uriov did say his viewers like feisty girls. Maybe they'll be on my side if I fight back?

It's a forlorn hope, but the best I can come up with.

Kolanski yanks me toward him, dodging my foot when I kick out. He crawls over me, practically slavering with eagerness, his tiny cock pulsating against my thigh.

The more I struggle, the more excited he gets. I can see it in his eyes. He loves this. It turns him on, the sick fuck.

As he reaches out to grope my breast, I pull the metal hairpin from the tangle of my hair. He doesn't notice because he's too busy licking his lips and staring at my body. Nobody else sees either.

I have one chance to hurt him. If I blow this, it's game over.

He smiles as I stop fighting and slump back onto the bed. The fucker assumes I've given up. Tears trickle down my face and the camera zooms in to capture my reaction, but I ignore it.

Just as Kolanski looms over me, rutting against my thigh like a horny dog, I capitalize on my window of opportunity. Thrusting the metal hairpin I'm holding, straight into his eyeball, I scream, "NO!"

There's a horrible popping sound followed by an anguished shriek. Fluid bursts out from Kolanski's eye and he squeals and gurgles before rolling off me. Someone yells and then all hell breaks loose when armed men burst into the room.

I hear him before I see him.

"Natalya!" The sound of his voice penetrates the fog in my head.

Am I dreaming?