Page 7 of Broken Empire
“Yes. Our New York chapters have found that the state park just outside Bellingham is an excellent place to grab unsuspecting hikers and campers. It’s not too far from the city, so it’s very convenient. Also, the authorities never suspect a thing. They always assume the missing people got lost and died of exposure, seeing as that’s quite a common occurrence in parks.”
My stomach lurched again. “Holy shit,” I said. “That’s why the Bellingham Triangle exists?”
Robert chuckled. “I haven’t heard that name for a long time,” he said, rubbing his chin. “Do peoplereallystill call it that?”
“Yes. Cori told me about it,” I said softly, recalling our conversation on the train to Bellingham all those months ago. “I thought it was just a conspiracy theory.”
“Well, it’s not. Almost everyone who’s gone missing in or around Bellingham ended up in one of our black rooms.” Robert arched a brow. “Here’s another piece of Bellingham trivia for you. You know that massive lake a few miles out of town?”
“Mirror Lake?” I asked, forehead creasing.
“Yes. That’s where the New York chapters dump the bodies once the black tapes have been created. It’s the perfect spot because it’s close to the city, and it’ll never dry up or be drained. Also, decades ago, some members made up stories of hauntings to put local people off going there at night, and it worked surprisingly well. Hardly anyone visits the place anymore, so it’s very easy to dispose of things there without being seen,” he said. “The bodies are wrapped in plastic, weighed down with rocks, and dumped amongst the sunken buildings that are still there from when the reservoir was created.”
A chill shot through me as he spoke, and I wondered how many other urban legends around the country could be attributed to sordid Schöneberg activities.
I looked down at my lap again. “I really don’t understand how you can do things like this,” I said. “Especially to people you know. It just… it doesn’t make sense.”
Robert sighed and put a hand on my shoulder. “Look, Shay, this isn’t personal. I think you’re a talented young woman, and you’ve been a great friend to Cori for a long time, so it’s genuinely sad to see you go like this,” he said. “But I just can’t risk having you out on the streets anymore, considering what you know. Like I said earlier, the Hellfire Club feeds directly into the Schöneberg Group, so if you takethemdown, you take all of us down too. We have to dispose of you to ensure that never happens.”
“But I was never going to tell anyone what I saw. Doesn’t that make any difference?” I choked out as tears welled in my eyes again.
“Too bad. I can’t take the risk.” He paused and tilted his head slightly to one side. “It’s lucky that Killian inadvertently told me about it, really. Imagine if he hadn’t. You would’ve been out in the world forever, free to tell anyone.”
I felt a sudden twinge of relief amidst all the aching horror. Unlike Killian, Robert had no idea that I wasn’t alone when I witnessed the Hellfire club initiation ritual all those months ago. I wasn’t planning on telling him, either.
I was curious about something, though.
“What if it wasn’t me who saw that ritual?” I asked, raising my chin. “What if it was someone like Cori? Would you do this to her? Sell her on the black market and have her killed just to shut her up?”
His eyes flashed. “I wouldn’t want to, but yes, I’d have to do it. For the greater good.”
A chill shot through me. He was pretending to be capable of feelings like regret and remorse, but I saw the truth. He was a sociopath. A heartless automaton who only cared about shielding himself and his endless source of money and power.
I sat up straighter as an unanswered question from earlier re-entered my mind. “What exactly is going to happen to me in here?” I asked. “What does the Russian man want?”
“The man who bought you owns nineteen others already. You’re the final one he needs for his doll collection.”
My brows shot up. “Hisdoll collection?”
“Yes. He’s a strange fellow. Wildly rich, though. One of our biggest consumers.”
“What does he do to his… dolls?” I asked, voice laced with a mix of incredulity and dread.
“Every single one of them is put in a room like this one, and he invites viewers to watch them perform while they’re dressed up in costumes. Then, after a week or two, the voting starts.”
I stiffened. “Voting?”
“He puts it to a vote and lets the viewers decide—who’s leaving the Dollhouse this time?”
“Who’s getting killed on camera, you mean.”
“Yes. If you aren’t voted out, you stay on for a while longer to perform in the red rooms.”
“What do you mean when you sayperform?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “Is it just torture? Or is there sexual stuff too?”
Robert nodded. “You’ll probably be expected to have sex on camera as well as the other stuff.”
“It isn’t sex,” I muttered. “Sex is consensual.”
