Page 73 of Beautifully Broken
I found him, fucking finally. It has taken me almost a year of my time to find the monster.
Everyone thought I was crazy being so obsessed with this cold case, but I knew it was important.
I went through every item of evidence that was catalogued in this case and finally found a small trace of DNA, just enough to test. It was enough to locate John, an ironic name as he whores out girls from his underground club.
He owns a mechanic shop and, hidden in the basement, runs an illegal strip and sex club.
He calls it Unholy , and it’s an invitation only establishment. Tonight I’m taking it down.
I sneak out of bed, careful not to wake Van, and get dressed in a black lace bra and thong with platform black glitter heels.
I slide a red silk minidress over the top.
Gathering my hair in an elaborate twist anchored with lethal hairpins and a set of hair chopsticks sharpened into knives.
I complete my makeup for that smoky eye devil angel look.
As I pull into the parking area next to the shop, I look around, making sure everyone is inside, and go to the side door I found. The doctor who helps the girls as much as she can is waiting to let me in.
“Thank you for taking this risk. You are saving those girls and getting me out of this. I will get my clinic ready to take everyone so we can make sure they are safe and get medical care. I will put them up at my house until they figure out the next steps.”
I stumbled upon her one day when I was looking for a way in. She had her own story of abuse and terror after she married one of the men who is a part of this world. Thankful to have found a way out of her situation and a way to save these girls, she gave me everything I needed to do this tonight .
I force myself to keep breathing steadily, even though every inch of this place makes my skin crawl.
The second I push through the heavy black door, I’m hit with a wave of heat and that overwhelming scent of excess — expensive cologne, leather, and something too sweet, too artificial.
It’s the smell of everything that disgusts me about this place.
The air itself feels like it’s trying to suffocate me, thick and rich with the weight of money that isn't earned. Along with power that isn't deserved.
That’s the type of place this is — a place where anyone with enough cash can get in, where the truth doesn’t matter. Where people are bought and sold, and no one even blinks.
The moment I step inside, the world feels like it shifts.
The room is massive, glowing with an opulence that’s almost suffocating.
Crystal chandeliers hang above, their diamonds sparkling like the eyes of vultures, feeding off whatever remains of the people they’ve swallowed whole.
The walls are lined with polished marble, every surface gleaming like it’s been polished with the sweat of people who would never even notice the suffering beneath their feet.
The tables are filled with men, powerful, dangerous, empty-eyed men, draped in tailored suits that cost more than I make in a year.
Women in dresses that shine under the golden lights, their movements slow and practiced, like they’re part of some twisted dance to keep these men entertained.
But it’s not about the show, I know that.
It’s about power, control, and manipulation.
It’s about everything that’s wrong with this world, wrapped in gold and velvet.
I hate it.
I hate the way they look at everything, like it’s theirs for the taking.
The way they talk in hushed tones, smiling behind their glasses, making deals in the dark corners of this hellhole.
They don’t care who they ruin. They don’t care who they destroy as long as they get what they want. But I won’t let them keep it.
I slip deeper into the room, my heart hammering, but I keep my face calm, even though every inch of me wants to rip the whole place apart.
The music pounds in the background, the deep bass vibrating through my chest, but it’s all just noise to drown out the truth.
Every person here has blood on their hands maybe not literally, but it’s there, in every deal they make, in every breath they take .
There’s a small part of me that still wants to walk away.
To turn around, leave this nightmare behind.
But I can’t. Not now. Not after everything they’ve done.
Not after everything I’ve learned. I move toward the back, knowing that’s where the power is, the people who run this place, the ones who keep the blood flowing.
They don’t care who they destroy, who they break, as long as they stay on top.
But I’ve got a plan. I’ve got something bigger than money to bring them down.
And when I’m done, this place won’t be some shining palace of excess.
It’ll be nothing but ashes. A monument to the greed and corruption they’ve built their empire on.
No one gets away with this. Not while I’m still breathing.
I linger in the shadows offstage, tucked just behind a velvet curtain, the bass of the music throbbing against my ribs like a second heartbeat.
My eyes never leave the group gathered at the private table near the edge of the stage.
Eight men. Eight monsters. The worst kind of filth this city has to offer.
Rape. Murder. Trafficking. Their crimes are whispered about in back alleys and dark bars, but no one dares speak their names aloud. Too dangerous. Too many bodies buried, too many cops bought and paid for.
John sits at the center, bloated with power, a king rotting on a throne built from broken lives.
Around him: the police chief, the district attorney, the chief medical officer.
These guys were supposed to protect us, but they’re just a bunch of bloodsucking wolves in suits, getting away with murder.
No wonder the case sat cold for five long years.
No wonder no one had lifted a goddamn finger to bring them down.
Until the girl. Until the one who tried to run, tried to survive. She made it to the next city before the damage caught up to her, before the internal bleeding, the shattered ribs, the violence they carved into her body finally won.
She deserved justice. She deserved fire.
And I was here to deliver it.