Instead of starting with an interview opening, like the one before where consent was given and the deal was struck, this one started right into the action, as the camera filmed a young woman already tied up in an upright position, with her arms and legs spread. She wasn't naked, but the outfit she was wearing disturbed me greatly. She had a maid's uniform on. The very same I'd worn every single day I'd worked at Becker's penthouse. Lex noticed the same thing instantly, and he sent me a troubled glance.

On the screen, the woman started talking, addressing the man behind the camera, but the sound was off so we couldn't make out her words. I reacted first, turning it on again, and her pleading words filled the surrounding office, chilling me to the bones. She was begging whoever was filming to let her go, promising she wouldn't tell anyone about any of this.

"What is she saying?" Lex asked, reminding me she was speaking Spanish.

I translated it for him, having a hard time understanding her fully because of her sobs and Colombian accent. The video cut, and it picked up to a later stage, with a few people in the room with her. Among them, I recognized Becker, as well as Senator Parker. Adding to those two, I counted seven men and a woman. All of them were dressed stylishly, in suits for the men and an elegant red cocktail dress for the woman.

Now that the angle was wider and the lighting better, I recognized the room. It was a large ballroom in Becker's penthouse, the kind where one could host private events and receptions. The very one we'd been tasked to clean from floor to ceiling for his party last Saturday.

The poor woman was still tied in the middle of it, to some sort of reinforced frame, begging the people in the room to set her free. When Becker came closer, she called him by name, trying to appeal to his better nature. "I think... I think this might be Ana-Lucía's friend," I told Lex. "The one she told us about, the one Becker was interested in and who disappeared months ago."

"Really?"

"Yes, she's the right age, and she comes from Colombia as well. And she seems to know him. The timing matches too. Lex, what the fuck are they about to do to her?"

He paused the video, removed his glasses, and passed a nervous hand over his tense face. "I don't know. Fuck... I hoped we'd find messed up things in there, but this is too much."

"Maybe it's like you said. Maybe it's like the Lola thing, but worse."

"I might not understand what she's saying, but the way she begs sounds very convincing."

"Maybe it's one of these consensual non-consent agreements?" I tried. I refused to believe there could be evil as terrible as this in this world. One that would let a poor, helpless, nineteen years old woman get abused so atrociously by a bunch of rich assholes.

"Okay, if that's the case, there should be a disclaimer kind of thing, like he did for Lola, right?" Lex pointed out, which made a lot of sense. "He wouldn't risk having it unrecorded, in case any of this ever came out."

"You're right. Maybe it comes later? Or was there a separate video with it?"

After a long moment of thinking about all this, he pressed play again. On the screen, Becker's guests seemed ready for an evening of fun, a waiter passing around a tray full of champagne glasses. They had opted for a minimalistic service, because there wasn't anyone else to assist, other than the cameraman, whose identity was unknown so far, and two waiting people I'd never seen before.

When Becker spoke, gathering everyone's attention, Lex and I leaned over, thinking we'd get our answer and some explanations as to what would come. "My friends, thank you for coming tonight. There are some of you I see too rarely, and others I seem to see too often." A couple of people laughed, including the Senator. Fucking pig... "Anyhow, we have gathered here tonight for one thing and one thing only. And what a pretty thing it is." More laughter, more taste of bile in the back of my throat. "Our chrysalis for the night is Magdalena," he continued, gesturing toward the tied-up woman. He went closer to her, which prompted more of her pleas, but he ignored her and very creepily smelled her hair.

"What a perfect name for such a pretty whore," a man said off-camera.

"It is, isn't it?" Becker concurred. "As you may know, I've refused all offers you've made to secure the finale. This one, my friends, is for me." A few people complained, but he dismissed them. "We don't have any new members tonight, so I won't go over the rules. So, let us begin, shall we?"

The two waiters came back pushing two serving trolleys, with white cloth masking what was on them. Becker revealed what lay beneath the first one, and it confirmed my suspicions. Neatly arranged on the spotless surface were ten framed butterflies. Ten Catasticta Lycurgus. And there were ten participants. Was there one for each of them? Would they all leave the evening with a butterfly, as a token? A souvenir to remember this night by? And why were all of the frames wooden, except for one that was gold? Since the one in Becker's office had a golden frame, I assumed it was the one he'd taken that evening.

The content of the second cart was much more disturbing, and I swiftly pressed pause so we'd have time to see it all. It all looked like torture instruments, with flogs, paddles, and whips, but also knives, needles, pliers, a blowtorch, a hammer...

Lex and I turned to each other, completely lost by what was happening. Was Magdalena really okay with all this? Just how much money were they offering her? Who would agree to such an insane thing?

A few guests picked some tools, and the torturing of that poor woman started without any trace of approval or consent. We paused it again, trying to assess exactly what this meant. "This isn't hardcore BDSM, right?" I asked, forced to accept the truth.

"It doesn't seem to be. But we need to make sure. Maybe Magdalena's agreement comes at the end, like some post-scene conversation?"

"Yeah, it's possible. But I don't want to watch more of it. I don't think I can."

"We can skip to the end to check, or we can fast forward, to make sure that doesn't happen in the middle of it?"

"We'll just... jump into it. Watch a tiny bit every few minutes."

"Alright."

Because he could probably tell just how uncomfortable and distressed I was, Lex bent my way and rubbed a reassuring hand on my back. While drawing soothing circles there, he pressed his lips on my temple. My hand naturally moved to his nape, and I grazed at the short hair on the back of his skull, trying to compose myself.

"This will get him out of our lives forever," he promised.

"I know. This is just... so fucked up. That poor woman. I can't believe anyone could be this twisted. And there are nine— no, twelve other people in the room with him. How is no one helping her out? How is this happening?"

"I guess he just knows how to pick his entourage. Alright, frecks. We check this out, and then we take a serious break to go over what we need to do with this."

I nodded, he pressed one more kiss on my temple, and we returned to our viewing of Becker's disturbing party. As Lex skipped into the video, Magdalena's state worsened. Even though we only glimpsed at an instant every few minutes, I couldn't keep my eyes on the screen, looking away more often than not. How could anyone treat a living thing this way? My stomach was twisted in knots, giving me the impression that I might puke at any moment.

The more we skimmed, the more I knew we wouldn't get that consent bit we were looking for. Contrary to Lola, who'd been fooled into accepting a bad deal, Magdalena hadn't had a choice. She was forced to be here, to endure all of this, to suffer these monsters' doings.

It went on for over two hours. They abused and hurt her for a hundred and thirty-three minutes. As Lex had said, Becker was good at surrounding himself with freaks as mad as he was.

By the end of the video, all life had left Magdalena's eyes, and her initial beauty had completely faded. They'd even cut her lush hair at some point, pushing the humiliation as far as they could. It seemed she wanted nothing more than to stop existing, to die and be freed from the hell they'd put her through. The cameraman came closer to get the details of her injured face.

We had to find her. Lex and I had to find her and see how she was doing. We had to help her, however we could. After witnessing all this, there was no way I wouldn't reach out to her and make sure she'd recovered from this. Not that anyone could ever recover from such a thing.

Becker came into view again and bent close to her ear. With a whisper loud enough to be recorded by the camera, he spoke words that sent cold shivers up my spine. "Now it's time for your metamorphosis. What a magnificent butterfly you'll make, my pretty chrysalis..."

Before I could understand what was happening, Becker raised a knife and planted it sideways into her throat, and then dragged it to her front, tearing the skin open. Too stunned, I couldn't do anything but stare at the screen as blood poured out of her gaping wound. Magdalena didn't even scream, her widened eyes staring right into Becker's, blood pouring out of her mouth with gurgling sounds.

Lex got over his utter shock before I did, and he quickly closed the video player. But it was too late. Those images, so terrible, so gore, and so atrocious, were engraved into my mind. They replayed over and over in front of my eyes as I stared at the blank screen.

I heard Lex call my name. Like an echo, a distant call behind a double glass door. But his voice couldn't make it through the dense fog clouding my mind.

She was dead. Magdalena was dead. Becker had killed her. And he'd kept a butterfly to remember her. One he exposed for all to see, right in his office. Along with all the others. These were like his own fucked up hunting trophies. The women who'd died.

The memory of this wall, which I'd looked at with so much interest, made me even more sick than I'd been until now. There had been a hundred and twenty-six of them when I'd first started there. A hundred and twenty-six dead women. And last Saturday, while we'd been going on with our lives, another one had died. Another butterfly had joined the others.

Tears of grief, of horror, and of guilt filled my eyes. If I'd been better at this, if I'd found the safe earlier, had gotten to the laptop sooner, that last woman could have been saved. We would have uncovered all this and prevented her death. That poor, innocent woman that the snake guy had brought to him – not a chrysalis from Tennessee, but a human being – could still be alive.

Lex kept talking, but I couldn't hear a thing, my ears ringing with the realization that because of my incompetence, someone was dead. Someone had known the worse possible fate – tortured, raped, and killed, just like Magdalena. And I could have stopped it. I should have.

My head was spinning, my lungs defective and shallow. I needed to breathe, to go on the balcony for air... So I stood from my chair. My mind was overflowing, riddled with shame and regret. I needed to get out, or I would faint.

My body gave up under me, and I fell onto my knees, using my hands at the last moment to lessen the impact. A woman was dead, all because I was too stupid to find a fucking safe. I could feel Lex's hands on me, could sense that he was kneeling by my side, talking to me, but I couldn't do anything about it. I'd never had a panic attack of this magnitude. Didn't even think it was possible.

Becker was a murderer. He'd killed Magdalena all those months ago, and God knew how many more.

A hundred and twenty-seven...

And he'd noticed me. Just like he had her. He'd noticed me, and he'd wanted to see more of me, to make me part of the waiting staff, so I'd bring him his coffee, tea, dinner...

Oh, God... What would he have done to me? Would I have ended as she had? Would I have been tortured and abused for hours, unable to do anything but endure it? The images we'd just seen, the rapes, the cuts, the hits, and then the knife in her throat... They all came back as I envisioned them happening to me.

This time, when the sensation of sickness invaded me, I couldn't chase it away. My stomach churned, and before I could prevent it, I vomited my half digested dinner onto the floor. Lex spoke again, and I sensed his hands pulling my hair back. More came up, splashing on the floor between my hands.

What of him? What would have happened to Lex if I'd ended as she had? My suffering would have been great and terrible, but it would have ended, eventually. What of his? Spending the rest of his life knowing what had happened to me. Or not knowing and imagining the worst. But this was the worst.

I remained arched like this until there was nothing left to hurl, and then my dry heaving turned into sobs. During my entire month as an employee there, I hadn't, not a single time, realized just how dangerous it really was. It went beyond Becker knowing I was part of the Nammota thing. It was about him being a killer of women, a fucking sociopath.

Lex pulled me upright, on my knees, and he passed a bunch of tissues he must have gotten from the desk on my mouth and chin. Tears were wreaking havoc, streaming down my face, and he wiped those with his hand before pulling me into his arms, holding me tightly against him.

A woman was dead. Whoever was behind that last butterfly had known the same fate as Magdalena. And I could have prevented it. If only I'd been more rigorous. If only I'd grasped what was at stake, instead of only thinking about Lex and me, about our freedom.

I tried telling Lex, but my words weren't making sense, not even to me. "It's okay," he soothingly said, holding me tighter. "It's okay, Andrea. I'll take care of you. You're alright. Shh..."

It took me a moment to understand he'd lifted me from the ground, but when I did, I wrapped my arms around his neck. With a hold on my back and one under my legs, he took me out of the office, making sure he wouldn't step into my regurgitations splattered on the floor.

As he led me somewhere into the suite, I drowned in despair, his familiar embrace not enough to pull me out of it. I cried for Magdalena, for the faceless woman from Tennessee, and for all the other butterflies framed in Becker's office. Those creatures I'd found so fascinating and beautiful in the past... How could I have been so completely oblivious to the terrible meaning they held?

This man, whom I'd found charismatic and mildly attractive, was a fucking monster. And I'd been in his presence, had piqued his interest... My tears doubled over as I started crying for myself too, and for Lex, and for what might have happened.

All these poor women... Their deaths had been unavenged for too long.

The best thing, the only thing we could do now, was to correct that. Clearly, Becker had never been suspected, since we'd found no evidence showing that the police had ever looked into him in the past. Whatever he did to get rid of the bodies and evidence, he did it flawlessly.

But we had everything we needed to get him. To have him scratched from the surface of the planet like the piece of shit he was.

I wouldn't rest until the man was obliterated.