It's nearly 11 PM the next night.
I finish laying Fat Jim onto his oversized dog bed inside one of the five rooms in Slim Joe's rented penthouse. Carol, my partner, left hours ago—after I assured her I'd handle Fat Jim's nightly routine.
I take my time. Deliberately.
My hands move slowly as I secure an extra-large diaper around the bulldog's body, but my attention stays on the living room.
I strain my ears, listening.
So far, nothing.
The door suddenly swings open.
"Haven't you finished yet?" O'Brien's sharp voice cuts through the air.
"J-Just… one more thing," I mutter, strapping the last piece in place before patting the dog's rear. "Done."
O'Brien watches me, unimpressed.
"Good. You can go home now. Be back by 6 AM."
"O-Okay."
Under his scrutiny, I have no choice but to leave.
But I'm not worried.
Last night, I planted a micro eavesdropper behind the cupboard.
I may not be inside the penthouse, but I'll hear everything.
To avoid suspicion, I head straight to my motorcycle, fire up the engine, and ride away from the hotel.
Once I've circled the block, I slip into a narrow alley behind the building. Killing the engine, I wait in silence.
Five minutes later—
The penthouse doorbell rings.
Footsteps. Then the door opens.
"Hello, girls," O'Brien's voice oozes charm. "You must be the lucky fans getting a private meet-and-greet with Slim Joe."
A girl—her voice young, eager, trusting—chimes in.
"Yes! Well, actually, it was only supposed to be me, but my sister begged to come along. Is that okay?"
"Of course," O'Brien says smoothly. "How old are you girls?"
"I'm 15, and she's 13."
I freeze.
My entire body locks up.
I press my earpiece, whispering urgently, "Jen—where are the cops you promised?"
"They're moving," Jennifer's voice comes through.
"They're only 15 and 13. They need to hurry."
"Don't worry, Babe," she assures me. "They'll be there on time."
Meanwhile—
"Come on in," O'Brien tells the girls. "Slim Joe will be here any minute."
I hear small, excited giggles as the girls step inside.
"Go ahead—sit on that couch, make yourselves comfortable," O'Brien continues, his tone too friendly.
Then, heavier footsteps cross the room.
I picture O'Brien walking away, leaving the girls alone.
"I can't believe we're actually about to meet him!" The younger girl squeals.
"Me too!" the older one whispers, barely containing her excitement. "Okay, okay—we need to stay calm. Your phone's ready, right? Fully charged?"
"Yes, yes!"
Their voices stab through me like a knife.
They have no idea.
Then—
Slim Joe's voice.
"Hello, girls…"
The moment they recognize him, the room erupts.
"AAAAAAAAH!"
"OH MY GOD!!!"
The high-pitched screams pierce my ears, nearly blowing out my earpiece.
I hear Slim Joe's deep laughter beneath their hysteria. Heavy footsteps approach.
They ran to him.
He probably has his arms around them now.
My hands tighten into fists.
"Okay, okay," Slim Joe soothes, chuckling. "Would you mind if I freshen up first before we start? Just a quick five-minute shower."
The girls, still giddy, eagerly agree.
Then—
"Tony?" Slim Joe calls.
"Yes, Boss?" O'Brien responds from a distance.
"Fix these lovely ladies some refreshments."
"I'm on it, Boss."
"Great. Thank you."
A pause.
Slim Joe's voice lowers, dripping with fake charm.
"Just wait for me, gorgeous ladies. I won't be long."
There's a soft rustling.
He's touching them.
I can hear it.
I grit my teeth.
"You're so cute," he murmurs. "What's your name?"
"Rosie," the younger one answers shyly.
"Rosie… beautiful, just like the flower," he says smoothly.
I feel my stomach churn.
"And you?"
"Jasmine," the older girl replies.
"Jasmine… stunning name for a stunning girl."
I clench my jaw so hard it hurts.
Then—
"Here are your drinks, girls."
O'Brien's voice cuts through.
I hear glasses being placed on the table.
Slim Joe chuckles. "Enjoy your drinks first. I'll be back before you know it."
The girls giggle.
"Okay!"
As I hear footsteps leaving the living room, the excited whispers of the two girls gradually fade.
Then—
Silence.
Too much silence.
The only sounds are slurps and small gulps.
"This fruity soda is really good!" Rosie, the younger one, says, her voice light with excitement.
"Hey! Don't drink so fast—it's embarrassing," Jasmine scolds, though I hear her slurping too.
After that, the room falls eerily quiet.
I frown.
Slim Joe has a pattern. I know for a fact he'll try to take these girls to bed, but so far, nothing sounds off.
Except—
"Hey, Rosie, don't fall asleep now!" Jasmine's voice suddenly lowers into a whisper.
"I'm just so sleepy, Sis…" Rosie murmurs.
A beat of silence. Then—
"Are you out of your mind? We're about to meet Slim—hey!" Jasmine's voice cuts off sharply.
"She's really out," she then mutters, mostly to herself.
The drink.
Jennifer's voice comes through my earpiece. "Scott… the drinks."
"I know," I whisper back. My fingers clench into fists. "He drugged them."
"Where are the cops?"
"They'll be there in less than five minutes," she assures me. "But we can't break in yet—we don't have enough evidence."
I grit my teeth.
Inside the penthouse, Jasmine murmurs faintly.
"Why is it getting so warm in here…?"
Then—
A sound.
A soft, breathy sigh.
It takes me half a second to realize it's not a sigh. It's a moan.
A rustling follows, fabric shifting.
My grip tightens. Something is happening.
Another breathy noise.
Then—a sharp tearing sound.
Buttons. Being pulled loose.
Footsteps.
And then—
O'Brien's voice.
"It's working," he mutters.
Slim Joe's response is calm. Too calm.
"It always works."
O'Brien hesitates. "The little one—she's completely out."
Slim Joe just laughs. "That doesn't matter. I like the quiet ones."
My stomach churns.
I force my voice low. Controlled. "Jennifer—the cops. We have enough evidence."
She hesitates. "They're still stuck at the lobby. Hotel management is stalling them."
I freeze.
"WHAT?" I hiss.
"They won't let them in without a warrant."
Inside the penthouse, Slim Joe's voice turns darker.
"I'll take the little one first. You can have fun with the older one. Then we switch."
My body goes ice-cold.
"I'm going in," I say, already shifting to move.
"Scott, no!" Jennifer snaps. "You'll ruin the case!"
I don't care.
I hear movement.
A shuffle. A weight being lifted.
"Jen," I whisper, voice trembling with rage.
Another voice cuts through my earpiece—O'Brien's.
"Let's have fun, baby," he murmurs.
A zipper slides open.
A soft rustling.
I move.
Jennifer's voice crackles through, still trying to stop me, but I don't hear her anymore.
I take off.
I sprint through the backdoor of the hotel's kitchen.
A staff member freezes, trash bag in hand, staring at me.
I don't slow down.
Emergency exit.
I shove the door open, charging up the stairs.
Fortieth floor.
My feet pound against the metal steps.
Jennifer's voice is still in my ear, blurred, distant, meaningless.
I don't stop.
I don't breathe.
I reach the top floor, storm down the corridor, and—
BAM.
I kick the penthouse door open.
And I see hell.
O'Brien is on top of Jasmine.
His pants are halfway down.
His hands are pinning her wrists.
Her eyes are shut tight.
Her legs are kicking, trying to push him off.
I don't think.
I move.
My boot slams into his ribs.
He flies.
His body crashes against a bookshelf, then collapses to the floor.
He groans—but I don't stop.
I kick him again.
His body jerks.
This time, he doesn't move.
I don't care if he's breathing.
I turn.
Main bedroom.
Slim Joe.
I step inside and—
Everything in me shatters.
Rosie.
She's naked.
Slim Joe is right beside her.
His hands—
His hands are on her.
I don't feel rage.
I don't feel anger.
I don't feel anything.
Just cold.
One thought fills my head.
I'm going to kill him.