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DECLAN

T he night vision on these cameras is top of the line, providing crystal-clear images even in near-total darkness.

In that moment, before her eyes fluttered shut, I felt the culmination of five years of anticipation.

Terror.

Her demons are in this room, and I intend to hunt them out.

I will find them and use every means at my disposal to extract the truth.

With a grin, I press the on button to all three of the Sybian Saddles, anticipating the buzzing sound that will soon fill the room.

Noticing her wince, I immediately turn hers all the way up.

“Let’s go demon hunting, shall we, heartbreaker?” I whisper to her.

She tried to break me.

Now it’s my turn to break her soul.

She squirms on the hard bench, her legs dangling over each side, swinging gently back and forth. Her arms tense, but she’s careful not to move them too much.

It won’t be long before they’re dead anyway.

Soon the only sensation she’ll know is a wave of intense, sensual pleasure washing over her.

Over and over again.

That is when the balance of pleasure and pain tips, possibly torturously.

But this time, it’s not just physical pain to endure.

It’s mental.

The process of degradation, harsh and unforgiving, weeds out the weak with brutal efficiency.

For some, it turns them on.

For others, it will make them crack.

Find their weakness and use it. Just how our father taught us. Although probably not with the intention of this.

And I’ll be watching every second to find hers, ready to use on her later.

The illusion of being the villain must remain intact. We’ve helped her twice.

She’s on her own now.

I’m out of her spell.

It’s almost time to come face to face with my heartbreaker.