my life in motion. I’d planned to become a doctor, but after what happened with Shelly, I knew I needed to do something to help girls… women like her. So I became a psychologist and spent my life learning every technique to help heal those victims. Along the way, one of those techniques involved the BDSM lifestyle, using Dominance and submission to gain back their power.” He sighs, and I look up to meet his eyes. “But that’s not all, goddess. That’s not everything I need to tell you.”
I nod, urging him to go on, growing addicted to the feeling of learning things about Neil that no one else knows. I believe him now. I believe he feels I’m the love of his life; I’m not just a replacement. Because if he didn’t, why would he be telling me his deepest, darkest secrets?
“There was a patient. Up until her, I’d gotten lucky. All of them were success stories, healing and moving on with their lives. But then it happened again. She ended up committing suicide before I had a chance to help her. And there was no justice for her. Shelly killed herself; her attacker wasn’t the one who slit her wrists. This patient’s attacker wasn’t the one who filled her belly full of pills. But before all that, both of the rapists got away with it. Neither even did jail time. There was always an excuse. Age for the first, and then the second for inadequate evidence. I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to do something. These motherfuckers couldn’t keep getting away with what they were doing to these women. And so I formulated a plan.”
A sense of urgency fills me. Excitement at his words. I’m hooked, wondering what’s to come from his lips as he tells me this story that seems like one of those things that happens to someone else, but never to you. He’s telling me the story of how he became not only a psychologist, but also the creator of his amazing security team who saved my sister.
I need him to speak faster. I need him to get it out now. Rip off the Band-Aid and let me see the scar beneath it, a wound that was there but healed. Something that nearly killed him, but he survived with a little permanent spot of proof that it actually happened; it wasn’t just a bad dream. Then, I’ll allow myself to hope. Then, I’ll be able to believe I can fully heal too. Because Neil did.
“With all the skills I learned as a psychologist, I used my profiling abilities to find someone with talents I didn’t have. Computer knowledge—in my mind, I was thinking maybe a hacker. Instead, I found a child prodigy turned technological genius. I found him on my own, approached him and confided in him what I wanted to do. It was a leap of faith on my part, and thank God it worked out,” he breathes.
“Seth,” I murmur, more to myself than him but needing to say something to keep him going.
“Seth, aka Seven at Club Alias. But I’ll get to that bit later. Seth was Plan A. More often than not, whether the victim was a success story or not, the attacker got off with minimal punishment. They were never held accountable for the crimes they committed. Seth helped dig into backgrounds, get past firewalls… really anything we needed in order to make these men pay in our own special way. We drained all their accounts and gave the money to the victims by anonymous donors. Public humiliation by an unknown source, like exposing personal information they certainly did not want let loose. That sort of thing.
“The plan was going great. It was making me feel a hell of a lot better, this twisted game of Robin Hood—instead of stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, we were stealing everything from the rapists and giving it all to their victims. It was doing wonders to lessen the guilt I never let go when it came to Shelly, and then with every patient I was never able to help. I could sleep better at night knowing I was doing something.”
I want to say something, anything about how he shouldn’t have felt any kind of guilt over Shelly and the other girls, but I realized I didn’t have room to talk about feeling undeserved blame.
“This went on a while. And right when I was feeling like I was really doing