Into the Wolves' Den

by Jon Athan

He didn’t want to kill the girl—not yet, at least.

He believed he was falling in love with an eight-year-old girl. He knew it was just a phase, though.

He was aware of the statistics regarding missing children. Every minute, every second, mattered.

Just please don’t ask me for any kid stuff. If it’s not on the shelves out there, then it’s rented out. They’re always rented out.”

“Alvin! Al–Alvin Vaughn! I bought them from a guy named Alvin Vaughn!”

He felt like his penis was set ablaze, he felt the shaft burning, but it wasn’t even attached to his body anymore. Phantom pain was a terrifying phenomenon.

The man was dead, and he murdered him in a fit of rage.

Murder was a jarring experience. He kept telling himself: he was a pedophile, most people would have done the same, he deserved it.

Dead body disposal wasn’t his specialty.

At that moment, during his worst suffering, he cried for the only person he trusted in Montaño—Officer Keith Klein.

Riley’s

I think this was supposed to say Dwight otherwise im confused?

rancid stench—feces and boiled eggs and burnt hair and cooked meat, all of it mixed together in a blender, consumed, and vomited on a sweltering road during a hot summer.

The French called it: tache noir de la sclerotique. Death extinguished the bright, hopeful glimmer from her eyes.

Her sister—once a vibrant, funny, and intelligent girl—was reduced to a slab of cold meat.

I’m sure you’ve heard about the suspected ‘struggle’ in the woods. We have reason to believe your girls, as well as a young Brooke Page, we’re abducted at that site.”

There’s a house… a house in the woods. It’s far, far, far from this damn shithole.

Keith memorized all of the information—down Hill Lane, dirt road surrounded by rocks, fallen tree, walk to a house.

can sell her to some millionaire in the Middle East looking for a child bride, to a cartel looking for a foreign prostitute or a drug mule, or to the Chinese so they can harvest her organs. That girl is money. She. Is. Money.”

She starved his sadomasochism by bottling her pain and refusing to give him a reaction.

The deaths of her sister and best friend simultaneously weakened and strengthened her. She lost everything already, so she couldn’t lose again. She was broken until there was nothing left to break. She was unbreakable.

One of the girls had zoned out. She was there, but she wasn’t there. She left her body during her torture.

The guests wore animal masks. Some of the masks covered their entire heads, others shielded the top-half of their faces.

Keith’s mouth hung open. He recognized him as Jon Aston, an actor on a popular television show about a lawyer working with violent drug cartels.

Jon was a respected man in Hollywood as well.

Elizabeth Jones. She starred in a show about a pair of detectives investigating a serial killer targeting homeless people in Los Angeles.

He found well-known actors, actresses, businessmen, businesswomen, retired athletes, news anchors, socialites, and even a politician.

He owned the mansion, he hosted the party, and he purchased the prisoners as sex slaves. He earned his punishment.

The young woman continued to beat her rapist’s head with a bent platter.

“They won’t… They won’t ever know about this party, you imbecile. I paid… I paid them. The…” He cackled deliriously, then, with a full breath of air, he shouted, “The police chief was here! He was here!”

He passed away in his expensive pool—dickless, footless, armless, lifeless.

“Mr. Paul Watts is upstairs in the master bedroom. He was... having a ‘session’ when you entered the house. His ‘subjects,’ as he calls them, refused to release him from his handcuffs because they thought you were a cop.

Keith recognized him because of his eyes—his vibrant, deviant blue eyes. The man was Riley’s father, Paul Watts.

He was a master of torture, he was a masochist, but he could only handle so much pain.

As Paul whimpered, Keith said, “You deserve this, just like your son.”

“How does that feel?!” Keith barked. He threw the empty bucket aside and shouted, “This is hell! This is what I hope you’ll feel for the rest of eternity!”

These pictures supposedly originated on the deep web. They involved adults wearing animal masks standing beside weeping, terrified children.

Monsters like Allen and Riley exist. As a matter of fact, those real-world monsters are worse than the characters portrayed in this book.