Four kidnapped women fought to the death in an underground arena in the desert near Dubai in front of 80 millionaires who paid $500,000 a year for the right to watch the killings and place bets until two survivors escaped and made their way to the road after a shootout with security guards. Anakov had been working as a massage therapist at one of Dubai’s spas for the past 3 years.
She was 28 years old and originally from Kiev. She came to the Emirates on a work visa in 2022. Her salary was about $2,000 a month plus tips. She rented a room in the Dera district with two other Ukrainian women. She sent money home to her mother every month. The spa was located in a shopping center and had a mixed clientele, locals, expats, and tourists.
Anna specialized in Thai massage and deep tissue techniques. She worked 6 days a week from 9:00 in the morning until 8:00 in the evening. In her free time, she went to the gym and did kickboxing to stay in shape. She had few friends. She mainly socialized with her colleagues and fellow countrymen. In early October 2025, a new client approached her.
The man, about 45 years old, introduced himself as Kareem. He requested a massage at his home. Such requests were common. The spa center provided out call services for an additional fee. Kareem said he lived in a villa in the Jira area and was willing to pay $300 for a 90minute session. That was twice the standard price. Anna agreed.
She arrived by taxi at the address on the evening of October 15th. The villa was typical for the area, a two-story house with a garden. Kareem opened the door and led her into a room on the first floor. The massage table was already set up. Anna began her work. 20 minutes later, she felt dizzy. She tried to say that she wasn’t feeling well, but her tongue wouldn’t obey her.
She fell to the floor. She lost consciousness. She woke up in a metal cage. It was 2 m by 2 m. There was a bare concrete floor, a single thin blanket, and a plastic bucket in the corner. The light was dim, coming from a lamp on the ceiling of the hallway. Her head hurt, and she felt nauseous. Anna got up and tried to open the cage door. It was locked from the outside.
She shouted, but no one answered. A few minutes later, she heard voices. She looked to her right. A young Filipino woman was sitting in the neighboring cage. She was crying, her arms wrapped around her knees. Anna asked in English what was going on. The girl looked up and said she didn’t know.
She said her name was Maria and that she had been working as a maid in a hotel. Yesterday, she had gone out on her day off to buy groceries and someone had grabbed her in the parking lot and covered her face with a cloth that smelled of chemicals. She had woken up here. Anna looked around more carefully. The corridor was long with metal cages on both sides.
Some of them contained women. Anna counted two more. One was dark-skinned, about 30 years old, sitting silently, leaning against the wall. The other was European with light hair, lying on the floor, seemingly unconscious. Anna tried to figure out where she was. The walls were concrete. The ceiling was low, about 2 and 1/2 m high.
The air was stuffy and smelled musty and chemical. There were no windows, so it was an underground room. There were no sounds from outside. Complete silence except for the breathing of the women in the cages. An hour later, a man appeared. He was of average height, dark-kinned with black hair.
He spoke with an accent, possibly Pakistani or Indian. He walked down the corridor, stopping at each cage, throwing in a bottle of water and a bag of food. Anna caught his eye and asked what they needed, why they were being kept there. The man did not answer. He continued to distribute food, and left. The next two days passed in uncertainty.
The women were brought food three times a day. Water once a day. They were taken to the toilet under the escort of two guards. They were forbidden to talk and any attempts to communicate were met with electric shocks. Anna tried to understand the logic. They were being kept like animals in cages. They were fed well with large portions.
That meant they wanted them to be in good shape. But why? On the third day, another woman was brought in. She was a 26-year-old Romanian who introduced herself as Jessica. She had been working as a dancer in a nightclub in Dubai. She had been kidnapped right from the club after her shift. She went out to the car. Someone hit her on the back of the head.
She woke up in a cage. Jessica was in a panic, screaming, demanding to be let out. The guards hit her with a stun gun several times. She quieted down. The fourth was an Ethiopian woman named Lena, 31 years old. She worked as a waitress in a restaurant. She was kidnapped on her way home late at night. Lena was bigger than the others, tall and athletic.
She remained calm, and didn’t cry. She looked at the guards intently, as if assessing them. On the fourth day, the same man who had handed out food came in. He stood in the middle of the corridor so that everyone could see and hear him. He said his name was Rashid and that he ran this place. He explained that the women were in a private sports complex in the desert outside the city.
No one was looking for them. No one would find them. They had a choice. Participate in the program and get a chance at freedom and money or refuse and die of hunger in a cage. The program was simple. The women would fight each other, hand-to-hand combat, one-on-one. The fight would continue until one of the participants died. Weapons were prohibited.
Only hands and feet were allowed. The winner of each fight would live. The final winner would receive $1 million in cash and a helicopter ride to any country of her choice. No questions asked, no prosecution. Refusal to participate means death. There is no choice. The women listened in shock. Maria started screaming that this was madness, that it couldn’t be done.
Rasheed approached her cage and hit her through the bars with a stun gun. Maria fell, writhing in pain. Rashid said that the rules had already been set. Arguing was useless. They had 2 weeks to prepare. Then the fights would begin. The next 14 days were spent in a training camp. The women were led out of their cages twice a day for 2 hours.
They were herded into a gym located in the next room. They were forced to do push-ups, squats, and run in place. They were taught basic strikes and holds. Two trainers, both of whom looked like former fighters, demonstrated the techniques. If anyone refused to train, they were shocked with a stun gun. They were fed generously. chicken, rice, vegetables, fruit, lots of protein and carbohydrates.
The goal was obvious to get them physically ready for combat. Anna understood that resistance was feudile. She had to play by their rules and wait for an opportunity. She trained hard. She used her experience from kickboxing. Maria cried during training but did the exercises. Jessica was fast and flexible.
Dancing had given her good coordination. Lena was the strongest. Her punches were powerful. Rasheed sometimes came to watch the training sessions. He evaluated the women and took notes in his notebook. Once he said that the first fight would be in 3 days, Maria against Lena, Anna against Jessica. Two pairs. The winners would meet in the final.
The women realized the time was up. Anna tried to talk to the others when the guards weren’t around. She suggested they team up and attack the guards together. Lena shook her head. She said there were at least six guards all armed. There was no chance. Maria just cried. Jessica said she would try not to kill Anna if she fought her.
Maybe just knock them out. Anna replied that it wouldn’t work that way. If the opponent wasn’t dead, the fight wouldn’t be over. The rules were clear. The day before the first fight, the women were shown a video. Rashid brought a tablet and played the recording. The screen showed an arena similar to an octagon for mixed martial arts.
It was 10x 10 m fenced in with a net. Around it were stands filled with men in expensive suits. Two women were fighting in the arena, an African and an Asian. The fight was brutal, without rules. blows to the head. Choke holds. 15 minutes later, the African broke the Asian’s neck. She fell and did not get up. Dead. The men in the stands applauded. Rashid turned off the video.
He said that every fight looks like this. The audience expects a spectacle. Those who do not provide a spectacle will be punished after the fight. Even if they win, women need to fight for real. Any imitation will be noticed. The consequences will be worse than death in the arena.
Anna didn’t sleep all night before the fight. She thought about what would happen tomorrow. She had to kill Jessica or Jessica would kill her. There was no third option. Anna tried to prepare herself mentally. She told herself that it was a matter of survival, that she had a mother at home who needed her, that she wasn’t to blame for this situation, that Jessica wasn’t to blame either, but only one of them could survive.
In the morning, they were fed for the last time before the fights. Then they were led down a long corridor. They turned several corners and descended even deeper down the stairs. They came out into a large room. It was the arena. The octagon stood in the center. Around it were three rows of stands. Bright lights were directed at the arena.
The stands were empty for now. The women were taken to the locker room. They were given sportsware, shorts and a top. No shoes, barefoot, no bandages on their hands, nothing but their bodies. An hour later, the spectators began to arrive. Anna looked through a crack in the locker room door. Men in expensive suits, average age around 50, different nationalities, Arabs, Europeans, Asians.
They sat in the stands, talked, laughed. Waiters in white shirts served drinks. The atmosphere was like a social event, not a deadly fight. Rasheed entered the dressing room. He said the first fight would start in 10 minutes. Maria against Lena. He brought both women out. Maria was trembling all over. Lena walked calmly, her face emotionless.
They were led into the arena and placed in opposite corners of the octagon. Rasheed took the microphone and announced the start of the evening. He introduced the fighters. He explained the rules. The fight would continue until one of the participants died. No rounds, no breaks. The gong sounded. The fight began.
Lena moved forward immediately. Maria tried to dodge, retreating to the fence. Lena caught up with her, grabbed her by the hair, and kneed her in the stomach. Maria doubled over in pain. Lena elbowed her in the face. Blood gushed from Maria’s nose. She fell to the floor of the arena. Lena didn’t stop.
She sat on top of her and began punching her in the face. Maria tried to cover her face with her hands, but the blows kept coming. Her face was turning into a bloody mess. The spectators in the stands shouted and cheered. Some gestured with their hands, signaling her to continue. 15 minutes later, Maria stopped moving.
Lena stood up and walked away. Rashid entered the arena and checked Maria’s pulse. He announced that she was dead. Lena had won. The spectators applauded. Someone whistled. Security guards entered and carried Maria’s body away. Lena was taken back to the locker room. Anna watched all this through a crack. In half an hour, it would be her turn.
She would have to do the same thing to Jessica or Jessica would do it to her. Rasheed came in and said it was time. He led Anna and Jessica into the arena. He placed them in the corners of the octagon. He repeated the rules. The gong sounded again. Anna and Jessica started cautiously.
They both moved in circles, keeping their distance, studying each other. The spectators in the stands shouted, demanding action. Jessica was the first to attack. A quick kick to the body. Anna blocked with her forearm and responded with a straight punch to the face. She hit her cheekbone. Jessica stepped back and rubbed the spot where she was hit.
The next 5 minutes were an exchange of blows. Jessica was faster, her technique based on dodges and quick counterattacks. Anna was heavier, her punches were stronger. Each was looking for a weak spot in her opponent’s defense. Both understood that they couldn’t drag it out. Their strength was not infinite, and the audience was losing interest in a technical fight.
They wanted blood. In the seventh minute, Jessica made a mistake. She tried to deliver a high kick to the head. Anna managed to catch her leg and pull her toward herself. Jessica lost her balance and fell on her back. Anna rushed on top of her and put her in a choke hold from behind. Her arms wrapped around Jessica’s neck, squeezing her arteries.
Jessica tried to break free. She scratched Anna’s hands, writhed, and tried to roll over, but her position was disadvantageous. She couldn’t breathe. After 30 seconds, her movements became weaker. Jessica’s face turned red, then blue. Her eyes rolled back. Her body went limp. Anna continued to hold her grip.
She counted in her head. 60 seconds, 90, 120. She made sure Jessica wasn’t breathing. Only then did she let go. She stood up. She looked at the body. Jessica lay motionless, her eyes open, staring at the ceiling. Dead. The audience applauded. Some stood up. Rashid entered the arena and raised Anna’s hand. He declared her the winner of the first fight. Anna looked at the stands.
She saw the faces of the men. Excitement, thrill, satisfaction, as if they had just watched a good movie. Not people to them, just entertainment. The guards carried Jessica’s body away. Anna was taken back to the locker room. They gave her water and a towel. Rasheed came in 10 minutes later. He said she had done well.
The final fight would be in a week against Lena. The winner would receive a million dollars and freedom. Anna nodded silently. She was returned to her cage. Lena was sitting in the one next to hers. She looked at Anna. She said in English that now they were opponents. Anna replied that they always had been. Lena agreed.
She added that she held no grudges. Everyone wanted to survive. It was logical. The following week, both women prepared for the final. They trained separately. Rasheed brought in specialists in various martial arts. A former boxer, a wrestler, a Muay Thai coach. Each worked with the women for 2 hours a day.
They taught finishing moves, how to quickly break limbs, how to properly perform a choke hold, how to deliver a fatal blow. Anna used this time not only for training. She observed. She studied the security regime. She counted the number of guards. She memorized the time of the guard change. She looked at the location of the cameras in the corridors.
She looked for weak spots in the security system. She noticed several things. There were six guards on the dayshift and four at night. The shift change took place at 3:00 in the morning. For 15 minutes, only two remained. One at the entrance to the cell block, the other patrolling the corridors.
There were cameras in most places, but there were blind spots. One section of the corridor near the stairs was not visible, another was near the storage room. The keys to the cells hung on the belt of the guard on duty. Two of the six had guns. The rest carried stun guns and batons. The armory was located on the first level near the entrance.
Automatic weapons and shotguns were stored there. But it was always locked and only Rashid had access to it. Anna understood she had one chance. If she tried to escape and failed, there would be no second chance. She had to act after the final fight. If she won, the guards would relax. They would think she would take the money and leave.
They would not expect her to try to escape. But first, she had to survive the fight with Lena. Anna knew that Lena was physically stronger. She had a 10 kg weight advantage. Her punches were more powerful. Her endurance was better. Anna had the advantage in technique and speed. She had to use that. She couldn’t get into a power struggle.
She had to keep her distance, work with her punches, and wear her opponent down. The day of the final had arrived. There were more spectators than last time. All 80 seats were filled. The atmosphere was festive. The men drank expensive alcohol, talked loudly, and placed bets. Anna heard the numbers. Someone bet $50,000 on Lena.
Another bet 100,000 on Anna. The odds were almost equal. Rasheed entered the arena with a microphone. He announced the final fight of the evening. He introduced Lena as the winner of the first fight, strong and ruthless, then Anna as skilled and coolheaded. He said that the winner would receive a million dollars in cash and a helicopter to anywhere in the world.
The loser would die in this arena. The women were led into the octagon. They were placed in the corners. Lena looked calm. Anna controlled her breathing and concentrated. Rasheed raised his hand and lowered it. Gong. Lena went on the attack right away. A powerful right punch to the body. Anna dodged to the right and responded with a quick combination to the head.
Two jabs, a hook. Lena blocked the first two. The third hit her temple. She took a step back. The next 10 minutes were an exchange of blows. Lena pressed, trying to close the distance and drive her into the corner. Anna worked on the retreat, holding the center of the octagon, not letting herself be pushed against the fence.
The punches were precise, like those of a sniper. Lena landed more hits, but they were not critical. Her punches were heavier, but she landed them less often. In the 12th minute, Lena caught Anna in a clinch. She pressed her against the fence and began to work her knees into her body. Three blows landed in her ribs.
Anna felt a sharp pain, possibly a fracture. She pushed Lena away and broke out of the clinch. She began to limp on her left leg. Lena saw her weakness and went in for the kill, but it was a trap. When Lena got close, Anna delivered a sidekick with her right leg to the knee. The blow was strong and accurate. A crunch.
Lena screamed and collapsed onto one knee. The joint was damaged. Anna didn’t give her time to recover. A sidekick to the head. Lena fell on her side. Anna threw herself on top of her. She started punching her in the face. Lena tried to defend herself to block with her hands. But the position was hopeless. The blows kept coming. Her nose was broken. Her lip was split.
Her eyebrow was cut. Blood flooded her face. Lena jerked sharply and threw Anna off. Both ended up on the floor. They rolled toward the fence. Lena tried to choke her from behind, but her injured knee prevented her from locking her position. Anna twisted out and ended up on top again.
20 minutes into the fight, both were exhausted. Their breathing was heavy, their movement slower. Lena was still resisting, but her strength was fading. The knee injury made her mobility zero. Anna knew she had to finish it. She applied a choke hold from behind. Her arms wrapped around Lena’s neck and squeezed. Lena gasped, trying to breathe.
She scratched Anna’s hands and writhed, but there wasn’t enough oxygen. After 40 seconds, her movements became weaker. Her face turned blue. Her eyes began to close. Her body went limp. Anna held the hold for another two minutes. She made sure that her breathing had stopped. There was no pulse. Only then did she let go. She stood up. She looked at Lena’s body.
The third woman who had died because of this madness. Maria, Jessica, Lena, all dead. She was the only survivor. The audience erupted in applause, a standing ovation. Rasheed entered the arena and raised Anna’s hand. He declared her the absolute winner. He said that in an hour she would be given a million dollars and taken to the helellipad.
Anna nodded. She played the role of a grateful winner. She was taken to the locker room. She was given a hot shower, clean clothes, and medical attention. The doctor examined her ribs and said that there was a crack, but it was not critical. He bandaged her chest with an elastic bandage. He gave her painkillers.
An hour later, Rasheed brought a black sports bag. He opened the zipper. Inside were stacks of dollar bills. Hundreds. He said there was exactly a million dollars. You can count it. Anna shook her head. She said she would take his word for it. Rasheed smiled. He added that the helicopter was ready.
Where did she want to fly? Anna said to Europe to Switzerland. Rasheed nodded. He said it was no problem. But first, they would return to the cell block. She would spend her last night there. In the morning, she would be taken to the helipad. It was too late to fly now. It was safer during the day. Anna was returned to her cell.
The bag with the money was placed next to her. She was given food and water. Rashid left. The guards remained on duty. Anna lay down on the floor of the cell and closed her eyes. She pretended to be asleep. She waited. The hours passed slowly. At midnight, the guards changed shifts. Four night guards took over.
Two left to patrol other levels of the complex. Two remained in the cell block. One sat at the entrance. The other checked the cameras in the surveillance room at the end of the corridor. At 2:00 in the morning, the guards began to doze off. The one at the entrance leaned his head back on the chair.
His eyes were closed. The second one in the surveillance room was looking at his phone, distracted. Anna opened her eyes. It was time. At 3:00, the guard shift began. The day guards went upstairs. The night guards remained. For 15 minutes, there were only two people in the block. Anna stood up in her cell. She began to moan quietly, clutching her stomach. She pretended to be ill.
The guard at the entrance opened his eyes. He looked at her. He asked what was wrong. Anna said she had severe pain in her side, probably her ribs. She needed a doctor. The guard approached the cage and looked more closely. Anna fell to her knees and clutched her chest. The guard took out his radio and was about to call a medic.
At that moment, Anna shot her arm through the bars of the cage. She grabbed the guard’s wrist with the radio. She pulled him toward her with all her might. The guard wasn’t expecting it and slammed his face into the metal bars. His nose was broken and blood gushed out. Anna didn’t let go. With her other hand, she reached for his belt and found his keys.
She jerked his arm and the keys were in her hand. The guard tried to break free, but Anna held him in a death grip. He pulled the stun gun from his belt and tried to reach through the bars. Anna let go of his hand and jumped back into the cage. The guard hit the bars with the stun gun, but the charge hit the metal.
Sparks flew, but Anna was unharmed. Anna quickly unlocked the cage. Her hands were shaking, but the key turned. Click. The door was open. The guard turned around, ran to the exit, shouted into his radio, calling for help. Anna jumped out of the cage and caught up with him in three strides. She jumped on his back.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs wrapped around his torso. A choke hold. The guard tried to throw her off, twisting and thrashing against the wall, but her technique was correct. Anna held on tight. After 30 seconds, the guard began to weaken. He fell to his knees. A minute later, he lost consciousness. Anna held on for another 20 seconds. Then she let go.
The guard fell face down, not breathing, dead. Anna took his gun from his belt, a Glock 17 caliber. She checked the magazine, 17 rounds. She took the stun gun, the keys, the radio. She heard footsteps in the hallway. The second guard was running toward the noise. She hid around the corner.
The guard ran out and saw his colleagueu’s body on the floor. He stopped and began to look around. Anna came out from behind him. She hit him in the back of the head with the butt of the pistol. The guard fell. Anna hit him twice more. His skull cracked. He stopped moving. Anna returned to the cell block. She saw six more women sitting in the neighboring cells.
A new batch for future fights. They looked at her with hope and fear. Anna unlocked all the cells with her keys. She quickly said in English that they were running away. Whoever wanted to live should follow her. Whoever stayed would die here. Five women came out of the cells. One remained. She sat in the corner, hugging her knees, rocking back and forth.
Anna didn’t waste any time. She led the others to the exit. On the way, she explained that there were guards upstairs. They had to move quickly and quietly. If shooting started, they had to scatter in different directions. They climbed the stairs to the first level. The corridor was empty. Anna led the way with her pistol. The women followed her.
They passed the security guard’s breakroom. The door was a jar. Inside, a guard was snoring on the sofa. The TV was on with the sound turned off. They reached the armory. The door was locked with an electronic code lock. Anna tried to remember if she had ever seen the guards open it. She couldn’t remember. One of the women, a tall Asian woman, whispered that she had seen the code 3 days ago when she was taken to the bathroom. Four digits. 7 3 1 9.
Anna typed them into the panel. A green light came on. The door opened. Inside were six AK-47 assault rifles on a rack, four shotguns, boxes of ammunition, body armor. Anna took one assault rifle and checked it. The magazine was full, 30 rounds. She gave two shotguns to the women.
She showed them how to remove the safety catch. She told them to shoot only if they had no other choice. They left the armory. They walked another 20 m down the corridor. Ahead was a staircase leading to the surface. A guard stood at the foot of the stairs. His back was turned to them and he was looking at his phone. Anna crept up behind him.
She hit him in the head with the butt of her rifle. The guard collapsed without a sound. They climbed the stairs. At the top was a metal door. Anna pushed it. It was locked from the inside with a bolt. She opened the bolt. She pushed again. The door opened. They went outside. It was night, desert, bright stars in the black sky. The temperature had dropped to 15°.
The wind was cold. The women in light clothing began to shiver. Anna looked around. The building complex looked like an ordinary warehouse. One story, gray walls, no windows, sand and rocks all around, not a single building in sight. Four SUVs were parked nearby, Toyota Land Cruisers. Anna ran to the nearest one. She looked inside. No keys.
She tried the others. Same story everywhere. The keys were with the guards. She heard a shout behind her. She turned around. A guard with an automatic rifle was standing in the doorway of the building. He opened fire. Anna managed to dive behind the car. The bullets hit the metal. Two women did not have time to take cover.
They fell, riddled with bullets. The rest scattered, hiding behind cars and barrels. Anna peakedked out and fired a short burst. She hit the doorway. The guard retreated inside. Anna shouted to the women to run into the desert, not to wait for her, to run north. There should be a road there. The three women ran out from behind their cover and into the darkness.
Anna covered them with fire. She fired short bursts toward the building. The guards inside responded. Bullets whistled through the air. One of the women stumbled and fell. She got up and ran on. She disappeared into the darkness. Anna waited until the others had disappeared. She turned around and ran after them.
She heard the guards shouting behind her. Gunshots. Bullets hit the sand next to her. She ran without looking back. After 100 meters, the shots stopped. It was too dark to see their target. She ran for another 10 minutes. She stopped and looked around. There was only desert around her. No one was in sight. She called quietly to the other women.
No one answered. She moved on. She kept heading north by the stars. The North Star was ahead. she would go toward it. Half an hour later, she saw a silhouette ahead. She moved closer. Two women were sitting on the ground. One was holding her leg, limping. She said she had sprained her ankle.
She couldn’t walk fast. Anna helped her up and supported her by the arm. The three of them walked on. An hour later, she caught up with the fourth woman. She was Asian and knew the code to the armory. She was walking alone and holding up well. They joined forces. Now there were four of them. Two women had been killed near the building.
One remained in the cage. One had disappeared in the darkness. They walked all night. At dawn they reached the crest of the hill. Below they saw a road. Asphalt, a two-lane highway. No cars yet. They climbed down. They reached the side of the road. They sat down to rest. The sun was rising. It was getting hot. There was no water.
Their lips began to crack. One woman with an ankle injury lay on the ground, unable to walk any further. The others sat and waited. An hour later, a car appeared. A white Toyota Camry. It was traveling from south to north. Anna stepped onto the road and waved her arms. The car slowed down and stopped 30 m away. The driver did not get out.
Anna approached. Behind the wheel sat a European man in his 50s with gray hair and a tanned face. He looked through the window wearily. Anna knocked on the window. The man opened it 5 cm. He asked in English what had happened. Anna quickly explained. She said that they had escaped from illegal detention. They needed help.
They needed to be taken to the police. The man looked at her. Then at the other women, he saw the blood on their clothes, the abrasions, the bruises. He opened the door. He introduced himself as Peter, a tourist from the UK. He was traveling from Abu Dhabi to Dubai. He helped the women into the car. He asked where to take them. Anna said to the nearest police station.
Peter nodded. He turned around and drove back south. He said it was 30 km to the city. On the way, Anna told him the basics, the kidnapping, the underground arena, the deadly fights, the escape. Peter listened, shaking his head. He said it was unbelievable, but he believed her. It was too detailed to be made up.
He promised to stay and be a witness. When they got to the police station, they reached the city. Peter stopped at a police station in the Albara district. They went inside. The officer at the reception desk looked at the women in surprise. Anna said in English that she wanted to file a report about the kidnapping and illegal detention.
The officer called his superior. A police lieutenant arrived. He was an Arab man in his 40s. He led them into an interrogation room. He sat down opposite them. He took out a notebook. He asked them to tell him everything from the beginning. Anna began to speak. She spoke slowly and in detail.
The kidnapping on October 15th, waking up in a cage, the other women, Rashid, the explanation of the rules, the training, the fights to the death, Maria, Jessica, Lena, all killed, the escape at night, the murder of two guards, the liberation of the other women, the flight through the desert. The lieutenant took notes. He asked clarifying questions.
Where was the compound located? Anna said she didn’t know for sure. Somewhere in the desert west or southwest of the city. They drove for about an hour after the kidnapping. How many guards were there? Anna said about 10, maybe more. Who organized it? Anna said the manager introduced himself as Rashid, but the main organizer did not give his name.
She heard the guards mention the name Khaled. The lieutenant called someone. He spoke Arabic quickly. He hung up. He said an investigation would begin. They needed to show the approximate location of the complex on a map. Anna asked for a map. The lieutenant opened a satellite map of the region on his computer. Anna looked at it. She tried to remember the direction.
She pointed to an area about 40 km southwest of the city. She said something was there. The lieutenant made a note. He said he would send a patrol to check it out. Anna and the other women were taken to the hospital. They underwent a medical examination. Their injuries were recorded. DNA samples were taken.
They photographed the injuries. Anna told the doctors about her broken ribs. They took an X-ray. They confirmed the fracture. They applied a tight bandage. In the evening, a senior police officer arrived at the hospital. a lieutenant colonel. He introduced himself as Ahmed al- Maktum.
He said that the patrol had found the complex, a building in the desert at the coordinates Anna had given. They conducted a raid. They discovered an underground bunker, an arena, cages, an armory, the bodies of two guards on the first level, the bodies of two women on the surface. They detained four guards who remained on the premises. The rest fled.
We found computers with recordings of fights, hundreds of hours of video, fights involving dozens of women. Everything was documented. In the desert near the complex, we found a mass grave, 11 bodies, all women, various stages of decomposition. An examination will determine the exact dates of death.
The lieutenant colonel said that a list of club members had been found, 80 names. Among them were very influential people, members of royal families from the Persian Gulf countries, Russian businessmen, Chinese millionaires, European entrepreneurs. The investigation will be difficult. It will require international cooperation. Four security guards have been detained.
Interrogations will begin tomorrow. Manager Rasheed has not yet been found. He has gone into hiding. A warrant has been issued for his arrest. The main organizer has been identified as Khaled ibn Sultan al- Nahayan, a 38-year-old member of one of the influential Emirati families, owner of several construction companies.
His fortune is estimated at $200 million. He has also gone into hiding. A nationwide and international search is underway. Anna asked what would happen to them. The lieutenant colonel replied that they were witnesses and victims. They would remain under police protection until the investigation was complete. Then they would receive compensation from the state and assistance in moving to a safe place if they wanted to leave the country.
A week later, Rashid was arrested. He was found in the port of Sharah. He was trying to sail to Pakistan on a cargo ship. During a search, they found a passport under a different name and $500,000 in cash. He was taken to Dubai. The interrogations began. Rashid told everything. He testified against Khaled and other participants in the scheme.
Khaled was caught 3 weeks later. He tried to fly to Switzerland on a private plane. He was detained at the airport. His documents, money, and phones were confiscated. On his phones, they found correspondence with club members, discussions of fights, bets, videos from mobile phones. There was plenty of evidence.
The trial began. It was closed to the public. The media were not allowed in. Rasheed received 25 years. Four security guards received 15 years each. Khaled stood trial on charges of organizing kidnappings, unlawful deprivation of liberty, organizing murders, and human trafficking. The lawyers tried to negotiate a deal.
They offered 30 years instead of life imprisonment. The prosecution refused. They demanded the maximum sentence. The trial lasted 4 months. The testimony of all the surviving women was heard. Video recordings of the fights were reviewed. The list of club members was examined, but the list was classified by order of the top leadership.
Officially, this was done in the interests of national security. Unofficially, everyone understood. The list contained the names of people who could not be touched. Khaled sentence, life imprisonment without the right to early release, confiscation of property, payment of compensation to the families of the deceased women.
Khaled was taken to a maximum security prison. The case was formally closed. Anna and the three other surviving women each received $2 million in compensation. They were offered new documents and assistance with moving to Europe. Anna chose Poland. She had distant relatives there. She received a new passport under a different name.
She left a month after the trial. The Asian woman who knew the code to the armory returned to the Philippines. Two other women chose Germany. They all received psychological support, therapy, medication for insomnia and anxiety. But the memories remained. The faces of Maria, Jessica, and Lena. the sounds of fighting, the screams, the blood.
The story leaked to the Western media a year later. Journalists received information from sources in the police. They wrote articles. They made a documentary. The UN demanded a full investigation. It requested a list of all club members. The Emirates responded that the case had been investigated, the guilty parties punished, and the list was not subject to disclosure.
International human rights organizations accused the authorities of a cover up. They said that among the participants were citizens of many countries who should be held accountable. But without an official list, nothing could be done. The investigation reached a dead end. Anna gives interviews to human rights activists once a year.
She tells her story. She wants people to know about places like this. She wants people to search for missing women. She wants people not to turn a blind eye. She lives quietly in a Polish city. She works in a massage parlor. She doesn’t tell anyone what she went through, only in interviews for documentary projects. Khaled is serving his sentence in prison.
He is being held in solitary confinement for his own safety. Other prisoners know his story. They have threatened him with violence. Rashid is in another prison. He gives interviews sometimes. He says he regrets what he did. That he was just doing his job. That he didn’t make any decisions. He just followed orders. This is the reality of modern human trafficking.
The rich create closed worlds where ordinary laws do not apply. Technology allows crimes to be documented, but connections and money allow people to avoid responsibility. The story of Anna and other women shows that survival is possible even in the most extreme conditions, but the price is always high.
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Turn on notifications so you don’t miss the next investigation. 15 young women signed contracts for an exclusive photo shoot in the United Arab Emirates. But 48 hours later, they were stripped of their identities and locked in an underground concrete structure where the only condition for their release was the death of the 14 others.
This illegal operation, organized for the entertainment of 60 anonymous spectators, resulted in the deaths of 93% of the participants before international law enforcement agencies even knew of the facility’s existence. The story, which was later cenamed Project Sand Cage in Interpol Files, did not begin with a kidnapping in a dark alley, but with a flawlessly designed corporate proposal.
In early 2023, the Dubai Elite Models Agency appeared online. The organization’s digital footprint was professionally created. An active website with a portfolio, verified social media accounts, positive reviews from bots imitating real models, and a legal address in a prestigious business district of Dubai. The investigation revealed that the domain was registered through Panameanian servers and hosting payments were made through mixed cryptocurrency transactions, making it virtually impossible to trace the ultimate beneficiary at the initial stage.
The agency did not conduct mass castings. Scouts working remotely and often unaware of the employer’s true purpose contacted girls from economically unstable regions on a selective basis. The priority was countries in Eastern Europe, Southeast Asia, and Latin America. The main selection criteria were not only appearance, but also social vulnerability, the presence of debts, the need to support large families, or the desire to quickly leave their homeland.
One of the first to receive an invitation was 22-year-old Daria, a former athlete from Ukraine whose boxing career was cut short due to injury and lack of funding. She, like 14 other candidates, was offered a contract worth $50,000 for a week’s work. The conditions included a photo shoot for a jewelry catalog and participation in a private show for private investors.
To verify the seriousness of their intentions, the agency sent each girl an advanced payment of $2,000 and business class airline tickets. This financial gesture lulled the participants into a false sense of security. The lawyers that some of the girls consulted to review the contract found no obvious signs of fraud in the documents.
The papers were competently drafted in accordance with international law with the exception of one clause on complete confidentiality and the transfer of all rights to video and photo materials to the client. The guest list also included Isabella from Brazil who worked as a waitress in S. Paulo, Leanne from Vietnam, who was trying to pay for her mother’s medical treatment, and Elena from Romania, a medical college student.
A total of 15 girls were selected. None of them knew about the existence of the others until they met at the airport. On November 4th, all the participants arrived at Dubai International Airport. The logistics of the operation were arranged so that the girls would not cross paths with ordinary tourists.
They were met at the aircraft steps by employees in company uniforms and taken through the VIP terminal where passport control was expedited. Border stamps were affixed, but as it later turned out, the entry data was not entered into the centralized database of the migration service. This indicates a high level of corruption and the presence of accompllices within government structures.
Tinted SUVs were waiting for them at the exit. The drivers hired through front companies had strict instructions not to talk to passengers, to lock the doors from the inside, and to follow the route that was transmitted to their navigators in real time. The girls were told that the filming location was in an exclusive oasis in the desert far from the hustle and bustle of the city to ensure the best natural lighting and privacy.
The motorcade headed south towards the rub alcali desert. After 3 hours of driving on the highway, the cars turned onto a dirt road leading deep into the dunes. Mobile communication was lost about 50 km after leaving the highway. Upon arrival, the girls saw what looked like a temporary film production camp, large tents, generators, lighting equipment.
They were greeted by a man who introduced himself as the assistant producer. He politely asked them to hand over their phones and personal belongings, explaining that this was due to the strict confidentiality policy of the jewelry brand’s client. The girls were offered cold drinks before the briefing began.
Chemical analysis of the liquid residues conducted months later revealed the presence of a powerful seditive cocktail based on ketamine and fast acting muscle relaxants. The effect set in after 10 to 15 minutes. The girls began to lose consciousness one after another right in the reception tent. Their bodies were immediately loaded onto a freight elevator disguised as the floor of one of the tents.
The underground complex was located 12 m below the sand level. It was not a makeshift shelter, but a capital engineering structure built using reinforced concrete and steel floors. Construction was carried out, presumably over 2 years, under the guise of drilling artisian wells. The main level of the bunker was a long corridor with 15 single cells on either side.
Each room was 3×3 m in size. There was no furniture inside except for a metal bunk bed without a mattress bolted to the floor and an open sanitary unit. The walls were lined with soundproofing material that muffled any screams. In each corner under the ceiling, there were highresolution surveillance cameras with night vision and microphones.
The ventilation system was centralized, allowing the operator to control the temperature and air composition in each individual compartment. When the girls regained consciousness, they found themselves dressed in identical gray jumpsuits made of coarse fabric with no pockets or identifying marks. There were no shoes.
The cell doors were solid steel sheets with small armored glass windows located too high to look through without effort. The first few hours were spent in panic. The girls screamed, banged on the doors, and tried to find a way out. Some, like Daria from Ukraine, immediately began to explore the perimeter of their cells, feeling the walls for weak spots.
Others, like Leanne from Vietnam, became hysterical, screaming at the top of their lungs. The soundproofing was not perfect. They could hear the muffled cries of their neighbors which only increased the psychological pressure. The realization that they were not alone did not bring relief but created an atmosphere of collective horror.
At the same time, a broadcast began on a closed server in the dark web. Exactly 60 users had access to the site, each of whom had undergone multi-level verification and made a deposit of $100,000 in Monero cryptocurrency. The audience consisted of representatives of the international elite seeking extreme entertainment that was not available in the legal sphere.
The show’s organizer, 42-year-old UAE citizen Fisel, known in certain circles as the architect, personally greeted viewers via an encrypted chat. He did not hide his face from the camera in the control room, feeling completely immune from punishment. Fisel announced that the show would last exactly 30 days or less if the winner was determined earlier.
The prize fund for the survivor was $1 million and freedom. Viewers were given the opportunity to place bets on the totalizator, on the length of each participant’s life, the manner of her death, and the final winner. 6 hours after the captives woke up, a loudspeaker system was turned on in their cells. Fisel’s voice, distorted by a modulator, but calm and business-like, filled the space.
He did not waste time on theatrical threats. He simply stated the facts. The girls were told that they were in an isolated facility from which there was no way to escape without an external key. They were told that food supplies were strictly limited and calculated in such a way that there would not be enough for everyone present. The voice announced the rules.
Food would be served once a day in the common corridor. The cell doors would open automatically for 15 minutes. On the first day, there were only three standard meal sets for 15 people. This meant that from the very first day, the organizers were deliberately provoking conflict over resources.
Fisel ended his speech with the phrase, “Only one will survive. The rest will become part of history.” After that, the speakers turned off, plunging the bunker into silence, broken only by the hum of the ventilation system. The first day passed without food or water. The temperature in the cells was maintained at a comfortable 22°, but the lights did not turn off for a second.
The bright LED lamps blinded their eyes, preventing them from sleeping. This was the first stage of sleep deprivation, a classic method of suppressing willpower used by special services. Viewers watched the victim’s behavior on monitor screens. Daria tried to do physical exercises to stay warm and keep her mind clear. Isabella prayed, kneeling in the corner.
Some just lay there, covering themselves with their hands. The psychological state of the group was rapidly deteriorating. The lack of information and sensory overload from the constant light began to destroy their psyche even before the physical deprivation began. At the 24th hour, a sharp sound like a siren rang out.
The mechanical locks on the doors of all 15 cells clicked and opened simultaneously. The doors slowly slid open. The girls cautiously peaked into the corridor. It was brightly lit, the floor covered with tile. In the center of the corridor, equidistant from all the cells, stood a small metal table. On it were three plastic containers with protein mix and three 0.5 L bottles of water.
15 dehydrated, frightened women stared at this meager ration. Their instinct for self-preservation fought with social norms and upbringing. A heavy pause ensued. No one dared to take the first step. The cameras recorded every micro movement, every glance. Viewers at their screens froze in anticipation. Suddenly, one of the girls, a Colombian named Sophia, couldn’t take it anymore and rushed to the table.
This movement became the trigger. The other 14 rushed after her. The corridor turned into a chaos of bodies. Screams, blows, scratches. In the cramped narrow passage, human dignity vanished instantly. The fight was not for a million dollars, but for a sip of water. The strong pushed the weak aside. Someone fell and was trampled.
Daria, using her skills, managed to break through to the table, grab one bottle, and dodging someone’s nails, jumped back to her cell. She did not fight for food, assessing the risks of injury as too high. The chaos continued for exactly 15 minutes. Then the siren wailed again, and Fisizel’s voice ordered everyone to return to their cells, warning that anyone who remained in the corridor would be gassed.
The girls, many of whom were bruised and scraped, some empty-handed, crawled back in terror. The doors slammed shut. The first round of the fight for survival was over, leaving most hungry and all, without exception, broken by the realization of what was happening. Video recordings extracted by forensic experts from cloud storage 2 years later made it possible to reconstruct minuteby minute the chronology of events that took place in the bunker after the first feeding.
The next 10 days referred to in the investigation materials as the resource deficit phase were characterized by a rapid degradation of social norms within the isolated group. The organizers, following a sadistic scenario, did not increase the amount of provisions, leaving the ratio unchanged, one serving for every five people.
This created an artificial deficit of 3,000 calories per person per day, which given the stress and constant wakefulness led to rapid physical exhaustion. From the 3rd to the sixth day, the feeding regime turned into systematic violence. The girls who initially tried to agree on how to divide the food quickly gave up on verbal communication.
The language barrier and the instinct for self-preservation made any alliances impossible. The cameras recorded how the more physically developed participants, such as Daria from Ukraine and Isabella from Brazil, began to form an unspoken hierarchy, taking positions closer to the doors of their cells in order to have an advantage at the start when the locks were opened.
Those who were weaker or slower went without food for 2 or 3 days in a row. On the sixth day, the first death occurred, which can be classified as natural, caused by the conditions of confinement. 20-year-old Vietnamese citizen Leanne, who had not received food since her arrival and did not participate in fights for food due to her small stature and lack of physical strength, was unable to get up from her bed when the siren sounded.
Telemetry systems connected to biometric bracelets on the girl’s wrists, the existence of which only became known after the decryption of the server’s technical logs, recorded a critical drop in glucose levels and subsequent cardiac arrest. The organizers did not intervene. Leon’s body lay in the chamber for another 12 hours until during the next administration of the anesthetic gas used for technical maintenance.
It was removed by employees in protective suits. For the other participants, Leen’s disappearance was a signal. Help would not come and weakness meant death. On the eighth day, the level of aggression reached its peak. Hunger dulled their sense of fear and empathy. During the 15-minute window, when the cell doors were opened to allow access to the meager supplies of water and protein mix, a conflict broke out between Daria, a Ukrainian woman, and Amamira, a 23-year-old Moroccan woman.
Names changed for the sake of the investigation. Amamira, who managed to grab the food container first, tried to open it right in the corridor, breaking the unspoken rule of quickly running back to the cell. Daria, a professional athlete whose cognitive functions were narrowed down to the task of survival, saw this as a threat to her existence.
The recording shows Daria delivering a short blow to the torso, knocking her opponent off her feet, and then applying a chokeold. This was not a fight in the heat of the moment. It was a cold, technical elimination of an obstacle. 40 seconds later, Amamira showed no signs of life. Daria took the container and returned to her cell.
The remaining 13 participants watched what was happening without attempting to intervene. According to the chat logs, viewers of the broadcast greeted the first murder with a surge of activity, and bets on Daaria’s victory tripled. Amamira’s body was removed in the same manner as Leen’s. 13 people remained alive. On the 11th day, the nature of the tests changed.
The organizer Fisizel moved on to the second phase of the experiment aimed at destroying the psyche of the survivors. Physical hunger took a back seat to sensory torture. An audio recording began to be broadcast through the ventilation system and speakers installed in each chamber. It was not music or white noise, but a cyclical recording of human screams, cries, and sounds imitating breaking bones.
The sound pressure was about 90 dB, making sleep impossible. The audio stream did not stop for a second over the next 10 days. At the same time, the bunker operators began to manipulate the climate control system. The temperature in the cells changed chaotically, ranging from plus 5 to + 40° C. The sharp fluctuations caused the exhausted girls to experience thermal shock, vaso spasms, and disruption of the body’s thermmorreulation.
On the 13th day, the psyche of 21-year-old Maria from the Philippines could no longer withstand it. Sleep deprivation combined with incessant screams from the speakers led to acute reactive psychosis. A video recording shows the girl banging her head against the concrete wall of the cell, trying to drown out the outside noises.
She hit herself with monotonous regularity until she lost consciousness. The traumatic brain injury led to extensive brain swelling. No medical assistance was provided. Death occurred 3 hours later. The number of participants was reduced to 12. 2 days later on the 15th day of confinement, Elena from Romania dropped out of the competition.
Unlike the Filipino woman, her reaction to stress was complete catatonia. She froze in one position, sitting on the floor and staring at a single point. She stopped responding to the opening of doors and did not go out for water and food, even when she had the opportunity to do so. Her body, weakened by hunger and temperature swings, shut down her consciousness as a protective mechanism.
Elena died of dehydration and heart failure on the 17th day. Her death was quiet and unnoticed by the others until the smell of decomposition began to spread through the ventilation system, causing the other participants to knock on the door, demanding that the body be removed. The 19th day marked the third death in this phase.
24year-old Russian Svetana, realizing the hopelessness of the situation and probably wanting to avoid being killed by others or dying from torture, decided to take her own life. Using strips of coarse fabric which she had torn from her jumpsuit over two days and woven into a rope, she managed to make a noose.
Fastening it to the grill of a ventilation hole located under the ceiling, for which she had to dismantle a plastic box with her fingernails, she committed suicide. Surveillance cameras recorded the entire process from start to finish, but the operators again did not intervene, allowing the event to take place.
For viewers of the show, this became a reason for discussions about weakness of spirit, and Fisel commented on it in a closed chat as natural selection. By the end of the 20th day, 10 girls remained alive. They were on the verge of insanity, exhausted, but those who survived had adapted to the level of cruelty, accepting it as the new norm of existence.
On the 21st day, the rules of the game changed dramatically again. Fisel announced the start of a stage he called the choice. The sound torture stopped and the temperature stabilized at 22°. For the first time in 3 weeks, there was silence, which seemed deafening after the constant noise. The organizer’s voice announced that food supplies had been temporarily increased, but the number of participants would have to be forcibly reduced.
In the center of the corridor, on the same table where food had previously appeared, a complex mechanical device with five compartments had been installed. In each compartment lay a disposable syringe filled with a clear liquid. Chemical analysis later conducted by Interpol experts on the residue on the walls of the discarded syringes showed that it was a concentrated solution of potassium chloride, a substance used in lethal injections that causes instant cardiac arrest.
The conditions of the stage were simple and monstrous. Every day for 5 days, one of the girls had to be executed. The choice of victim was left to the participants themselves. The mechanism was as follows. The doors were opened and the group had to collectively decide or force one of them to take the injection.
If no choice was made within 15 minutes, gas was released into all the cells and everyone died. It was a variation on Russian roulette, but with social undertones. On the first day of this stage, the 21st day of their confinement, panic gripped the group. No one wanted to die, but no one wanted to be the executioner either. However, the instinct for survival prevailed.
The girls huddled together in a group pounced on the weakest of the remaining ones, a 19-year-old girl from Muldova. Despite her please and resistance, they pinned her down. Daria, who had retained the most physical strength and composure, held the victim’s arms while another participant, whose name was not recorded in the reports, injected the contents of the syringe into her vein.
Death occurred within 30 seconds. This scenario was repeated for the next 4 days. The psychological barrier to murder was broken. With each passing day, the victim’s resistance weakened and the executioner’s actions became more mechanical. The group acted as a single organism, cutting off the diseased parts for the sake of the whole.
On the 22nd day, a participant from Colombia was executed. On the 23rd day, a participant from Thailand was executed. On the 24th and 25th days, two more girls died. Five remained alive. These five went through all the circles of hell. hunger, cold, noise, witnessing suicides, and direct participation in murders.
Their human personalities were completely erased, giving way to the animal instincts of predators. By the end of the 25th day, the bunker was a place saturated with horror and the smell of death. Despite the working ventilation, the survivors, Daria, Ukraine, Isabella, Brazil, and representatives from Poland, Nigeria, and Venezuela were on high alert.
They understood that the end was near. Fisizel announced that the forced selection stage was complete. The five finalists had proven their right to live. Now they had to prove their right to freedom in the final test. On the night of the 26th day, the cell doors opened and did not close again. The lights in the corridor went out, replaced by dim red emergency lighting.
In the center of the hall, instead of a table with food or syringes, lay a pile of objects, baseball bats, kitchen knives, chains, and sharpened pieces of rebar. Preparations for the final arena began. On the 26th day of the experiment, the timer above the airtight exit door stopped counting down the time until the meal was served and went out.
Instead, the emergency red lighting came on, flooding the corridor and opened cells with an ominous light that hid details but emphasized contours. The five surviving participants, Daria from Ukraine, Isabella from Brazil, Agnesca from Poland, Kioma from Nigeria, and Gabriella from Venezuela, stood at the thresholds of their cells.
In the center of the corridor, 15 m away from each of them, lay a pile of objects designed to inflict lethal injuries. two baseball bats, three kitchen knives with blades 20 cm long, a rusty chain, and a sharpened piece of rebar. There were no rules. Fisizel’s voice was no longer heard.
The only instruction was the situation itself. Weapons and no food. To survive, they had to eliminate their competitors. The first few hours passed intense inactivity. No one dared to rush for the weapons first, fearing an attack from behind. Emaciated, weighing less than 45 kg each, they resembled shadows. However, thirst that had not been quenched for a day, forced them to act.
Gabriella was the first to lose her nerve. She rushed to the center, grabbed a knife, and tried to return to her cell. This was the signal for the others. A chaotic struggle for the means of destruction began. Isabella, with her height advantage, seized a bat. Daria, whose reaction remained professional despite her exhaustion, managed to grab the second knife and immediately retreat to the wall, taking up a defensive position.
Kioma armed herself with a chain and Agneska with rebar. By the evening of the 26th day, the first blood of the final stage had been shed. Gabriella huddled in the corner of her cell did not notice how Kyoma moving almost silently slipped inside. The Nigerian used the chain as a garact. The struggle was short and brutal. The weakened Venezuelan was unable to unclench the links of the chain around her throat.
The video recorded her death from esphyxiation 4 minutes later. Kioma took the knife from the dead woman. Now she had two weapons. four remained alive. The 27th and 28th days turned into a war of position. The participants barricaded themselves in their cells using mattresses which they had been given before the final, probably to regain their strength before the fight as shields.
They only came out to check if their opponents were asleep. Sleep had become deadly dangerous. Daria, understanding the tactics of survival, slept in 10-minute bursts, pressing her back against the corner and keeping a knife pointed at the entrance. On the 28th day, Agnesca, whose psyche had finally collapsed, ran out into the corridor, screaming and rushed towards Isabella’s cell.
It was a kamicazi attack. The Polish woman struck chaotically with the rebar, but the Brazilian, who had retained more physical strength, met her with a blow to the body with the bat. The sound of breaking ribs was recorded by the microphones. Isabella finished off her fallen opponent with several blows to the head. The brutality of the scene prompted even some viewers in a closed chat room to write messages saying that the spectacle was becoming too dirty.
But the broadcast continued. Three remained. The climax came on the 30th day. Dehydration had reached a critical level. Daria knew that if she didn’t finish everything today, she would die of kidney failure. She went out into the corridor. Isabella and Kioma came out with her. It was a silent agreement. The final. Chio, armed with a chain and a knife, attacked Isabella, hoping that Daria would stay out of it.
The Brazilian and the Nigerian grappled in a tangle of bodies. Isabella suffered a deep cut to her shoulder, but managed to hit Chio in the knee with a bat, shattering the joint. While they were killing each other, Daria waited. It was a boxer’s calculation. Let the opponents wear each other out. When Isabella, breathing heavily and bleeding profusely, finally stopped hitting Kioma’s motionless body.
Daria stepped forward. The final battle lasted only 2 minutes. Isabella, being larger, swung her bat, but blood loss and fatigue slowed her movements. Daria ducked under the blow using what remained of her muscle memory and delivered one precise stab with the knife to the corateed artery. Isabella fell to her knees, clutching her throat with her hands.
And a minute later, it was all over. Daria was left alone in the hallway, surrounded by four corpses covered in someone else’s blood, clutching a cheap kitchen knife in her hand. She raised her head to the surveillance camera and just stared at the lens, not blinking until she lost consciousness from exhaustion. Daria woke up after an indefinite amount of time in a completely different environment.
It was a sterile ward similar to a private clinic, a soft bed, white sheets, an IV connected to a vein, no gray walls, no screams. A man in an expensive European suit and a medical mask covering his face sat on a chair nearby. It was not Fisel, but his intermediary. He spoke in clear English, calmly and politely, as if discussing a business deal rather than the aftermath of a mass murder.
The middleman informed Daria that she had won. She was given food, restorative drugs, and clean clothes. There was a black briefcase on the bedside table. The man opened it. Inside were stacks of US dollars, exactly 1 million. Next to it was a passport with a new name, a Lithuanian citizen with Daria’s photo, but with a different surname and date of birth.
Everything had been prepared in advance. However, the most important item in the room was not the briefcase with money, but the tablet that the man handed to the girl. There was a video on the screen. Daria saw a familiar entrance in Kiev. The camera zoomed in on a firstf floor window.
An elderly woman, Daria’s mother, was sitting in the kitchen and her younger brother was doing his homework. The video had been shot that morning. The date and time in the corner of the screen confirmed this. The quality of the footage suggested that the cameraman was only a few meters away. “Congratulations on your freedom,” said the man, closing the tablet.
“The terms of your contract have been fulfilled. The money is yours, but there is an addendum to the contract. We know where your family lives. We know your brother’s school. We know your mother’s route to work. If you say a word, write a line, or try to contact the police in any country, they will die. Not quickly.
We will send you a video. Daria nodded silently. She had no strength to resist, and she knew the threat was real. That same night, pumped full of sedatives, she was put on a private helicopter that took her to a business jet. The plane landed at a private airfield in the suburbs of Frankfurt, Germany.
She was dropped off at the entrance to a hotel with a case of money and documents. She was free, rich, and completely destroyed. The next two years of Daaria’s life turned into a gray zone of existence. She did not return to Ukraine. She was afraid that any contact with her family might provoke the observers whom she now saw in every passer by.
Daria settled in a small German town, renting an apartment under a false passport. The million dollars that was supposed to be her ticket to a new life was spent on cheap alcohol and heavy anti-depressants, which she bought on the black market. She couldn’t sleep without the lights on. She couldn’t be in small spaces.
Elevators and bathrooms triggered panic attacks. Every night she dreamed of the faces of Isabella, Koma, and that first girl, Amamira, whom she had strangled for food. Her PTSD developed in the worst possible way. She became a recluse, only going out at night to the store. Her neighbors thought she was a crazy immigrant. No one knew that this thin, trembling woman with a dull gaze was the only survivor of a 21st century gladiatorial game.
She kept silent, convinced that the system created by Fisel was perfect and impenetrable. But she did not know that any mechanism, even the most expensive one, has weak points, and often the human factor is one of them. The mistake did not happen in Dubai or Germany. It happened in Riad, Saudi Arabia.
One of the 60 spectators, a young prince from a side branch of the royal family, died of a drug overdose during a private party. The police who arrived at the scene followed protocol and confiscated all electronic devices. Usually, such cases were hushed up, but this time there was an officer who was not aware of the unspoken rules of elite immunity.
He handed the prince’s laptop over to the cyber crime department for a standard check. The technician who examined the hard drive discovered a hidden folder protected by a complex biometric password. It took a week to crack it. When the folder was opened, the technician saw neither financial reports nor personal correspondence.
There were 30 video files numbered by day. The Day One file began with footage of 15 girls in gray jumpsuits locked in cages. The Day 30 file ended with Daria standing over corpses. It was the complete archive of Project Sand Cage, which the late prince had kept as a trophy for his own viewing. Realizing the scale of what he had seen, the technician copied the data to an external drive.
He understood that if he reported it to his superiors, he would most likely disappear. Through an encrypted channel, he contacted his contact at Europole. 48 hours later, the data was on the desk of a special agent from the anti-trafficking department in the Hague. Faces were visible in the video. Names were audible. The desert outside the tents was visible at the moment of arrival.
Geoloccation experts began analyzing the landscape based on the shadows and type of sand captured on camera when the victims were unloaded. The wheels of the international investigation began to turn, but it was done in the strictest secrecy so as not to scare off the organizers before the exact location of the bunker was established.
It took Europole specialists and invited digital intelligence experts 3 weeks to geollocate the facility. The key to discovering the bunker was not the IP address of the broadcast, which was reliably hidden behind a cascade of proxy servers in Panama and Singapore, but an astronomical anomaly in one of the frames of the video archive.
In a file dated November 4th, at the moment the girls were being unloaded from the jeeps, the camera captured the horizon for a split second. Analysis of the position of the stars combined with the shadows from the dunes narrowed the search area to a 50 square km square in the southern part of the Rubalcali desert.
A comparison of satellite images from the past 3 years revealed that heavy construction equipment had periodically appeared in this uninhabited area and thermal imaging maps showed the presence of an underground heat source characteristic of industrial generators and ventilation systems. Diplomatic negotiations between Europole and the authorities of the United Arab Emirates were conducted at the level of foreign ministries in strict secrecy.
Abu Dhabi fearing a blow to its reputation ahead of a major international economic forum agreed to a joint operation but on condition of a complete information embargo until the investigation was complete. The assault on the facility cenamed Necropolis in operational reports took place in the early morning of February 14th 2026. A combined team of Dubai Police special forces supported by Interpol tactical advisers landed from helicopters at the coordinates.
On the surface, there was only an inconspicuous pumping station fenced off with a net. However, a concealed hydraulic lift leading to a depth of 12 m was discovered under the floor of the technical room. There was no resistance when they entered the underground complex. The staff, consisting of three Filipino technicians and two Sudin security guards, surrendered immediately.
The bunker was empty. The cells had been cleaned with industrial chlorine-based chemicals that destroy biological traces. However, at the far end of the corridor, behind a false wall, operatives discovered a room that was not covered by the surveillance cameras. It was a crematorium. A small gas oven intended for the disposal of medical waste was used to destroy the bodies of the dead.
Despite attempts by staff to hide the evidence, forensic experts extracted fragments of bone tissue and teeth from the ash that had not been completely destroyed by heat. DNA analysis of these fragments later confirmed a match with the genetic material of 14 missing girls. The organizer of the scheme, Fisel al- Majid, was arrested 4 hours later in his penthouse in the Dubai Marina area.
He did not resist arrest, confident in his immunity. During the search, servers containing the accounting records of Dubai Elite Models were seized. The financial records revealed the scale of the operation. In 30 days of broadcasting, the total revenue from bets and viewer contributions amounted to $18 million.
However, the most valuable evidence was the list of clients, 60 names, including European hedge fund managers, Asian tech moguls, and representatives of Middle Eastern monarchies. This list became the main problem for the investigation. Interpol’s legal department faced unprecedented pressure.
Within a week, the evidence against the viewers began to crumble. Files disappeared from secure servers. Witnesses changed their testimony, and countries whose citizens appeared on the list refused extradition or questioning, citing a lack of evidence. The trial of Fisizel al- Majid and his immediate accompllices was held behind closed doors.
The official reason for closing the trial was the threat to the national security of the UAE. Neither journalists nor representatives of human rights organizations were allowed into the courtroom. All information about the proceedings came through dry press releases from the Ministry of Justice. Fisizel pleaded guilty only to organizing illegal gambling and manslaughter claiming that the girls died as a result of accidents and conflicts between themselves and that he was merely a bystander.
However, the body of evidence, including video recordings of the executions, did not allow the judges to mitigate the sentence. Fisel received a life sentence without the right to parole. He is being held in a solitary cell in the Alsadder maximum security prison. The fate of the 60 spectators remained outside the scope of justice.
None of the names on the list of clients were ever officially made public. The investigation into them was suspended with the wording due to the impossibility of establishing their identity. Parallel to the trial, a quiet campaign was underway to settle claims with the families of the victims. Lawyers representing an unnamed charitable foundation contacted the relatives of the victims in Ukraine, Brazil, Vietnam, Romania, and other countries.
They were offered compensation of $500,000. The condition for receiving the money was strict, signing a non-disclosure agreement that prohibited any contact with the media, discussion of the circumstances of their daughter’s deaths, and the filing of civil lawsuits in the future. In case of violation of the agreement, the money was to be returned with a penalty of 200%.
Given the extremely difficult financial situation of most families, all 14 contracts were signed. The parents were given earns with ashes, in some cases with presumed ashes, as identification of the remains was difficult, and official death certificates, which listed the cause of death as industrial accident or acute heart failure.
Daria, the only survivor of the sand cage, was found by journalists 3 months after the trial ended. The trail led to a small industrial town in Germany’s Rur region. She lived in a basement apartment whose windows were always covered with thick blinds. The meeting took place in complete secrecy.
Daria agreed to speak only on condition that her voice be altered and her face hidden in shadow. The 24year-old woman looked 40. Her hands trembled so badly that she could barely hold a glass of water. Her neck and arms were covered in scars, marks from cuts she had inflicted on herself in an attempt to drown out her emotional pain with physical pain.
During the interview, Daria confirmed the authenticity of the video recordings found on the Saudi prince’s computer. She spoke in short, choppy sentences, avoiding eye contact. She said that she had not spent the money, the million dollars. It was sitting in accounts that she was afraid to touch, considering it blood money.
She lived on welfare and part-time cleaning jobs, trying to be invisible to society. When asked if she felt like a winner, Daria answered in the negative. “There were no winners,” she said in a colorless voice, staring at the wall. “Fisel is in prison, but he’s alive. The 60 people who paid to watch us kill each other are all free.
They eat dinner in restaurants, kiss their children good night, and maybe look for a new show. I killed four people to survive. I remember the crunch of bones when you hit them with a bat. I remember the smell of blood in a closed room. I left the bunker, but I’m still there.
My cell just got a little bigger, the size of this city. I wait every day. I know they remember me. and I know that one day they will come for me because I am the only piece of evidence that is still breathing. After this article was published, Daria disappeared from her apartment. Her current whereabouts are unknown.
Interpol officials declined to comment on the status of her witness protection program. The bunker in the Rub Alcali desert was filled with concrete by court order to prevent the crime scene from becoming a pilgrimage site for fans of dark tourism. The Dubai Elite Models case is formally considered closed, but rumors continue to circulate on the dark web about new closed auctions for exclusive reality shows with high stakes, indicating that the scheme created by Fisel was only a franchise of a more global death industry, the scale of which remains
unknown. A villa on the artificial island of Palm Jira in Dubai became the place where 12 women from different countries gathered for dinner after which five of them were dead and the remaining three became the wives of the man who forced them to play a game of survival. This is not fiction or a movie script.
It happened in the summer of 2018 and the world only learned about it a year later when one of the survivors decided to break her silence. Rashid al- Maktum was 51 years old, the owner of a chain of luxury hotels in the United Arab Emirates, a man with a fortune of about 2 billion earned in real estate and the hotel business. His family came from an influential clan linked to the ruling dynasty of Dubai.
But Rashid himself did not hold any official government positions, preferring to remain in the shadows, managing his business through a network of front companies and proxies. He was officially married four times in accordance with Islamic law which allows a man to have up to four wives at the same time provided that each is treated equally.
But Rasheed did not limit himself to his official wives. For the past 8 years he had maintained a separate villa on Palm Jira Island where 12 young women from different countries lived. It was not a public harum in the historical sense of the word. It was a carefully concealed system where each woman had her own bedroom, a personal car, a credit card with a monthly limit of $10,000, and a contract that prohibited her from working, meeting men, or leaving the country without permission.
The women were of different nationalities. Oxana Kovalenko, 23, from Ukraine, a former model who came to Dubai 3 years ago for a casting for an advertising campaign and stayed after meeting Rashid. Anastasia Petrova, 26, from Russia, a dancer who was working in one of Dubai’s clubs when Rasheed’s people spotted her.
Isabella Silva, 28, from Brazil, a fitness instructor who came to work at one of Rashid’s hotels and became his mistress two months later. Rosa Reyes, 24 years old from the Philippines, worked as a nanny for a wealthy family in Dubai until she was lured to Rashid’s house with the promise of a better life. There were also Amina from Morocco, Elena from Romania, Valyriia from Colombia, Nenina from Thailand, Natalia from Russia, Karina from Ukraine, Leila from Lebanon, and Sophie from France.
They were all between 21 and 32 years old. They all signed contracts in English and Arabic that bound them to complete secrecy, prohibited contact with the press or their families without permission, and forbade any romantic relationships outside the home. Breaching the contract meant immediate deportation without compensation and possible prosecution for defamation if they tried to talk about their life with Rashid.
For most of them, it was an opportunity to escape poverty or simply live in luxury that was unavailable in their home countries. $10,000 a month, free accommodation in a villa with a swimming pool and personal staff, cars, designer clothes, travel when Rashid allowed it. In return, they were available to him whenever he wanted. Rashid visited the villa several times a week, usually late in the evening, staying for a few hours, sometimes overnight.
He would choose one or two women while the others remained in their rooms. The women communicated cautiously among themselves. Some became friends while others treated each other as competitors. Rashid encouraged this competition, sometimes openly comparing them, complimenting one in front of the others, and giving gifts selectively.
He enjoyed his power over them, the fact that they were financially and legally dependent on him, that their status in the country was tied to his will. In the spring of 2018, Rashid made a decision that changed the lives of all 12 women. He decided to take a fifth wife. This was a problem from the point of view of Sharia law which allows only four wives at a time.
But Rasheed planned to divorce one of his existing wives, the eldest, who was 58 years old and no longer interested him physically. The divorce was quietly finalized through a religious judge who was indebted to Rashid’s family and the procedure took less than a month. Now Rashid had a vacancy for a fifth wife and he decided to choose her from among the 12 mistresses living in the villa.
The problem was that he couldn’t decide who to choose. They were all young, beautiful, and obedient. Each had her own merits. Oxana was the youngest and most naive, easily manipulated. Isabella was experienced and knew how to please a man. Rosa was quiet and submissive. the ideal image of a traditional wife.
Anastasia was passionate and temperamental which attracted Rashid. Rashid spent several weeks trying to choose. He met with each of them separately, spent time with them, and evaluated them. But he couldn’t make a decision. His character was such that he couldn’t stand uncertainty, but at the same time, he didn’t want to make a choice that might turn out to be wrong.
He was a gambler, loved to take risks in business and investments and played poker with friends for large sums of money. And it was this trait that led to what happened next. In early June, Rashid gathered his closest friends for a private dinner at one of his hotels. Eight men, all from wealthy families in Dubai and other emirates, businessmen, investors, one member of the ruling family, the Amir’s cousin.
They drank expensive cognac, smoked cigars, and discussed business. At some point, the conversation turned to women, and Rasheed mentioned his problem with choosing a fifth wife. One of his friends, Khaled, 46, owner of a construction company, joked that Rashid should hold a contest like in ancient times when women competed for the right to become the Sultan’s wife.
Another say, 39, an investor, suggested making it a game where the winner takes all. Rasheed listened, smiled, and drank cognac. Then suddenly, he said it was a good idea, that he would do just that. At first, his friends thought he was joking, but Rashid was serious. He said he would arrange a special evening, invite all 12 mistresses, and hold a game where the winner would become his wife.
When asked what kind of game, Rasheed thought for a moment. Then he suggested Russian roulette. He had seen it in American films and read about similar cases where people risked their lives for money or thrills. He liked the idea, a pure game of chance where no one could cheat, where only luck would decide who would survive.
His friends were silent at first, then began to laugh, thinking it was just another drunken fantasy. But Rasheed continued to develop the idea. He said it would be the perfect solution. The women would know that the stakes were high, that victory meant wealth and status, that the risk was justified. He suggested that every participant who agreed to play would be guaranteed a $50 million contract in the event of divorce if she became a wife.
It was a huge sum that could provide for three generations to come. Khaled asked what would happen if someone died. Rasheed shrugged and said it was part of the game. The women signed the contracts knowing they were living on his terms. If they refused to play, he would simply deport them without compensation.
The choice was theirs. Sad said it was crazy that there could be problems with the police. Rasheed laughed and replied that the police would not know. Everything would take place in a private villa. There would be no witnesses except themselves and any bodies would disappear in the desert. The conversation continued until 3:00 in the morning.
By the end of the evening, Rashid’s friends had agreed to attend the event. Not everyone was enthusiastic about the idea, but no one dared to refuse. Rashid was an influential man on whom their businesses and connections depended. Refusing would mean insulting him, and that could have consequences. Besides, some of them were intrigued.
The idea of seeing something so extreme, so far beyond the ordinary lives of rich people, appealed to them. Rasheed began to prepare. He bought a revolver through his bodyguard, who had connections with gun dealers. It was a Smith and Wesson model 629, a classic sixshot revolver, heavy and reliable.
Rashid practiced with it several times at a private shooting range, learning how to load it, spin the cylinder, and check the safety. He also hired a doctor who agreed to attend the party for $200,000, and complete silence. The doctor was supposed to provide assistance if anyone survived the shooting, although Rashid understood that a shot to the head at such close range was almost always fatal.
The evening was set for Saturday, June 23rd, 2018. Rasheed invited all 12 women to dinner at the villa. He said it was a special evening, that there would be an important announcement. The women took it as a normal event, thinking that perhaps Rasheed would announce new gifts or a trip. They dressed in evening gowns, did their makeup and hair.
The atmosphere was almost festive. Dinner began at 8:00 in the evening. A long table in the main hall of the villa was decorated with flowers and candles, and waiters brought dishes, wine, and champagne. Rashid sat at the head of the table, smiling, joking, and being charming. The women relaxed, talked among themselves, and laughed.
Some thought that tonight Rashid would announce which of them would become his next wife, and each hoped it would be her. After dessert around 10:00, Rashid stood up, raised his glass, and asked for everyone’s attention. The women fell silent and looked at him. He began to talk about how much he appreciated each of them, how difficult it was to choose just one for the role of wife.
He said that they all deserved this status, that they were all beautiful and worthy. The women listened, some smiling, waiting for the announcement. Then Rasheed signaled to his guards. Two men in black suits entered the room and blocked the doors. The women exchanged glances and the atmosphere changed. Someone asked what was happening.
Rasheed smiled, took a revolver out of his jacket pocket and placed it on the table. The silence became absolute. Rasheed explained. He said that he couldn’t choose between them in the usual way. That he had decided to leave it up to fate. that today they would play a game and the winner would become his fifth wife, receive a $50 million contract in the divorce, status, wealth, everything they had dreamed of.
The women listened, not understanding. One of them, Elellena, a Romanian, asked what kind of game it was. Rasheed picked up the revolver, showed it to them, and said, “Russian roulette.” The reaction was instantaneous. Several women screamed. One began to cry. Others sat, unable to move in shock. Oxana, the youngest, asked if it was a joke.
Rasheed shook his head and said it was serious. The rules were simple. Each woman would spin the cylinder, put the revolver to her temple, and shoot. If she survived, she would move on to the next round. The game would continue until there was one or more winners left. Anastasia the Russian stood up and said she refused that it was madness that she was leaving.
Rasheed gestured to the guards who were moving toward her to stop. He said calmly, “You can refuse, but then you will be deported tonight without money, without compensation, without recommendations. Your contract will be cancelled and you will return home with what you came with.” Nothing. Anastasia stood there trembling, tears streaming down her face.
She looked at the other women, at Rashid, at the guards at the door. She sat back down. Rashid asked who else wanted to refuse. Two women raised their hands. Sophie, a French woman, and Leila, a Lebanese woman. Both were older than the others, in their late 20s, more experienced, and understood what was happening.
Rashid nodded and told the guards to take them to a separate room where they would wait until morning and then be taken to the airport. Both women left without looking back. 10 remained. Rashid looked at the remaining women. He said he respected their decision, that they had shown courage, that the winner would receive not only money and status but also his respect, that this test would show who was truly worthy of being with him.
He opened the revolver, showed that the cylinder was empty, then took out a single bullet, inserted it into one of the six chambers, closed the cylinder, and spun it. The metallic sound of the spinning cylinder echoed in the silence of the hall. At that moment, eight of Rashid’s friends entered the room.
They sat down in chairs along the walls, like spectators in a theater. Each had a glass of alcohol and a cigar. They looked at the women at the table with expressions that ranged from curiosity to obvious excitement about the upcoming spectacle. Oxana later recalled that at that moment she realized they would not stop this.
No one would come to her aid. This was really happening. Rasheed placed the revolver on the table in front of Oxana. He said, “You’re first.” Oxana stared at the weapon, unable to move. Her hands were shaking so badly that she couldn’t lift her glass of water. Rasheed repeated, “Take it. This is your chance.
” Oxana slowly reached out and took the revolver. It was heavy and cold. She had never held a gun before. Rasheed explained what to do. “Spin the cylinder to mix up the position of the bullets. Put the barrel to her temple. Pull the trigger.” Oxana spun the cylinder with trembling hands, the metal clicking as it turned. She raised the revolver to her head.
The metal was cold against her skin. She closed her eyes and pulled the trigger. Click. Empty. The cylinder spun, but there was no shot. Oxana opened her eyes, lowered her hand, and began to sob with relief. Rashid took the revolver and handed it to the next woman, Isabella. A Brazilian, Isabella was calmer.
She worked in the fitness industry and was used to pressure and competition. She took the revolver confidently, spun the cylinder, put it to her temple, and looked straight at Rashid. She pulled the trigger. Click. Empty. Isabella put the revolver on the table, leaned back in her chair, and exhaled. Next was Rosa, a Filipina, small, fragile, with long black hair.
She prayed quietly before taking the weapon. A Catholic, she crossed herself, whispered a prayer, spun the cylinder. She put it to her temple. She pulled the trigger. Click. Empty. Rosa burst into tears, put down the revolver, and covered her face with her hands. The fourth was Karina, the second Ukrainian, 25 years old, a blonde with blue eyes, a former medical student who had dropped out to live in Dubai.
She took the revolver, looked at it, studying it. She spun the cylinder methodically. She put it to her temple. Everyone watched. She pulled the trigger. A shot rang out. The sound was deafening in the enclosed space. Karina’s head jerked to the side. Blood spattered on the wall behind her, on the women sitting nearby.
Her body slumped onto a chair, then slid to the floor. The revolver fell from her hand, landing on the table with a metallic clang. Blood spread across the floor, a dark red puddle expanding. Screams. The women at the table jumped up, trying to move away, but the guards at the doors did not move. Several women were sobbing hysterically.
Anastasia stood up and shouted at Rasheed that he was a murderer and that she would call the police. Rasheed gestured to a guard who grabbed Anastasia, pinned her against the wall, and covered her mouth with his hand. Rashid approached her and said quietly, “One more word and you’re next. Not in the game.
Just a bullet in the head. Right here, right now.” Anastasia fell silent and nodded. The guard let her go. Rashid returned to the table and looked at the remaining women. Nine now after Karina’s death. He picked up the revolver from the floor, wiped the blood with a handkerchief, opened the cylinder, removed the spent cartridge, and inserted a new one.
He closed the cylinder and spun it. He put it back on the table. He said, “Let’s continue.” The doctor who was standing in the corner of the room approached Karina’s body, checked her pulse, and shook his head. Rasheed ordered the guards to carry the body out. Two men lifted the dead girl and carried her out through the side door.
The blood remained on the floor, a dark stain on the light marble. The fifth in line was Amina, a Moroccan woman, 32 years old, the oldest of those remaining. She had two children at home in Morocco to whom she sent money every month. She came to Dubai four years ago, worked as a maid, then met Rashid. Amina took the revolver, her face calm.
She had lived a difficult life, seen death before, lost her husband in a car accident when she was 23. She spun the cylinder, put it to her temple without closing her eyes. She pulled the trigger. There was a shot. The second death in 5 minutes. Amina fell forward, face down on the table, blood flowing from the wound on her temple, flooding the plates with the remains of dessert.
Her hand twitched for a few seconds, then froze. The women at the table screamed again, but more quietly in shock, unable to fully comprehend what was happening. Oxana sat with her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. Isabella stared into space, her face pale, her lips moving in silent prayer.
Rasheed again gave the order to remove the body. The guards complied. The doctor didn’t even approach this time. It was obvious that Amina was dead. Rasheed reloaded the revolver, repeating the ritual. One bullet, the spinning of the cylinder, the metallic sound that now sounded like a death sentence. The sixth was Elellanena, a Romanian woman, 27 years old.
She was a hairdresser in Bucharest and had come to Dubai on a tourist visa. She met Rasheed at his hotel where she was doing the hair of one of his official wives. Elena was practical, rational, and always planned ahead. She took the revolver, looked at Rasheed, and asked, “If I refuse now, will you kill me?” Rasheed replied, “No, I’ll just deport you.
” Elena nodded, put the revolver on the table, and stood up. She said, “I refuse.” Rasheed looked at her for a long time, then nodded to the guard. Elena was led out of the room. Eight women remained. Rasheed handed the revolver to the next one. Valyria, a 26-year-old Colombian, was a former economics student in Bogota. She came to Dubai for an internship at a bank, met Rashid at a business dinner.
He asked her out on a date and a month later she moved into a villa. Valyria was smart, ambitious, and dreamed of starting her own business. $50 million could make her independent for life. She took the revolver, spun the cylinder methodically, as if she had done it before. She put it to her temple and looked at the ceiling.
She pulled the trigger. There was no shot. The cylinder stopped on an empty chamber. Valyria exhaled and passed the gun on. The seventh was Nenah, a 22-year-old Thai woman, the smallest and quietest of them all. She spoke almost no English, communicating with gestures and simple phrases. She had come to Dubai to work as a masseuse in a spa, and Rashid was one of her clients.
Nenah took the revolver with both hands. It seemed huge in her small palms. She spun the cylinder, closed her eyes, and put it to her temple. She couldn’t pull the trigger for a long time. Her finger was shaking. Rasheed said, “Go ahead, or I’ll do it for you.” Nah pulled the trigger. A shot rang out. The third death.
Nah fell from her chair, her small body hitting the floor, blood flowing from the wound, mixing with Karina’s already dried blood on the marble. Her eyes were open, staring into nothingness. The women at the table were no longer screaming. They sat in a state of numbness, a state that went beyond fear.
It was something else, a shutdown of emotions as a defense mechanism of the psyche. Seven women remained. Rasheed continued his reloading ritual. His friends watched in silence, no one else drinking or smoking. The atmosphere had changed, even for them. Some looked pale. One left the room, and he could be heard vomiting in the hallway.
But no one stopped Rashid. No one said it was enough. The eighth was Anastasia, a Russian woman, 26 years old, the one who had tried to protest after the first death. She worked as a dancer in a club, was strong, independent, not used to obeying. But now her face was blank, as if she had gone inside herself to get through this.
She took the revolver without looking at it, spun the cylinder mechanically. She put it to her temple and pulled the trigger without hesitation. There was no shot. She passed the gun on without changing her expression. Oxana was ninth again. It was her second round. She had already done this once and survived, but that didn’t make the process any easier.
She took the revolver, which was now warm from being handled by many hands, and spun the cylinder, listening to the familiar metallic sound. She put it to her temple. Thoughts of her family in Ukraine flashed through her mind, of her mother, who didn’t know what her daughter was doing in Dubai, thinking she was working as a model.
Oxana pulled the trigger. There was no shot. She put the revolver on the table, her hands shaking so badly she couldn’t control them. Isabella was 10th, her second time. The Brazilian seemed calmer than the others, her experience in fitness, where she was used to pain and pushing her body to its limits, helping her to stay in control.
She took the revolver, spun the cylinder, put it to her temple, and pulled the trigger. The cylinder spun to an empty chamber. She handed it to Rosa. Rosa, a Filipina. Second round. She was still praying, whispering words in Tagalog, her native language. She took the gun, spun the cylinder, and put it to her temple.
Her face was wet with tears. She pulled the trigger. The gun did not fire. Rosa lowered the revolver and thanked God aloud. The 12th was Valyria, a Colombian woman, second round. She took the revolver confidently, just like the first time. She spun the cylinder, put it to her temple, and pulled the trigger without hesitation.
The cartridge did not fire. The cylinder stopped at an empty chamber. She put the gun on the table. The 13th was Anastasia. Second round. The Russian woman took the revolver, her movements automatic like a robot. She spun the cylinder, put it to her temple, and pulled the trigger. A shot rang out. The fourth death. Anastasia fell backward.
Her chair tipped over. Her body hit the floor. Blood gushed from the wound, flooding her light hair. Her eyes were open, staring at the ceiling. The guards approached, lifted the body, and carried it away. Rashid reloaded the revolver. Six women remained. Oxana, Isabella, Rosa, Valyria, and two others who had not made it through the second round.
Natalyia, the second Russian, 29 years old, was next. She worked as a manager at a travel agency in Moscow, came to Dubai on a business trip, met Rasheed, and he asked her to stay. Natalyia was pragmatic, cynical, and said that love was a myth and only money mattered. She took the revolver, spun the cylinder, and put it to her temple.
She said aloud, “50 million.” She pulled the trigger. A shot rang out, “The fifth death.” Natalyia fell forward onto the table, her blood mixing with the remains of food and broken glasses. Her body convulsed for a few seconds, then went still. The guards removed the body. Rashid reloaded his weapon. Five women remained, but one of them had not yet gone through the second round.
She was the last, the 15th overall. Her name was Larissa, a Ukrainian woman, 28 years old, who worked as a translator and spoke four languages. She came to Dubai for a conference, met Rashid. He hired her as his personal translator and a month later she moved into the villa. Larissa was educated, read books, and was interested in philosophy.
She took the revolver, looked at it, then at Rashid. She asked, “Do you understand what you’re doing? That this will change you forever?” Rasheed smiled and replied, “I’ve already changed.” Larissa nodded, spun the cylinder, put it to her temple, and pulled the trigger. There was no shot. Now all five remaining women had gone through at least two rounds.
Oxana, Isabella, Rosa, Valyria, Larissa. Rasheed looked at them and said, “Third round.” He handed the revolver to Oxana. Oxana took the weapon for the third time. Her hands were no longer shaking. She was in a state of shock beyond fear. She spun the cylinder, put it to her temple, and pulled the trigger. The bullet did not fire. She handed it to Isabella.
Isabella, third round. She spun the cylinder, put it to her temple, and pulled the trigger. The gun didn’t work. She passed it to Rosa. Rosa, third round. She prayed, spun the cylinder, put it to her temple, and pulled the trigger. The cylinder stopped on an empty chamber, passed it to Valyria. Valyriia, third round.
She spun the cylinder confidently, put it to her temple, and pulled the trigger. The revolver did not fire, passed it to Lissa. Larissa second round for her, third in the overall sequence. She spun the cylinder, put it to her temple, and pulled the trigger. A shot rang out. The sixth death. Larissa fell forward, her face hitting the table, blood spattering everywhere, covering the remaining women.
Her body slid off the chair and fell to the floor in a position resembling prayer, her head pressed to her chest, her arms outstretched. The guards removed the body. Rashid reloaded the revolver. Four women remained. Oxana, Isabella, Rosa, Valyria. All had gone through three rounds. All had survived. Rasheed looked at his watch. It was almost midnight.
The game had lasted 2 hours. Six women were dead. Four were alive. He said, “The last round. Whoever survives will become my wife. All four, if they are lucky, but he changed the rules. He took a new revolver out of the box that the guard had brought. He opened the cylinder and showed that it was empty. He inserted two bullets instead of one.
He closed the cylinder and spun it. He said, “Now the odds are 1 in three instead of 1 in six. Let’s raise the stakes.” The women looked at him, unable to protest. They were beyond words, beyond emotions. Oxana took the new revolver. It was heavier than the previous one. She spun the cylinder, put it to her temple.
Her mind was empty. No thoughts, just mechanical action. She pulled the trigger. There was no shot. She survived for the fourth time. Isabella took the revolver, spun the cylinder, put it to her temple, and pulled the trigger. The cartridge did not fire. Fourth survival. Rosa took the revolver and prayed more intensely, her lips moving quickly, the words merging into a continuous stream.
She spun the cylinder, put it to her temple, and pulled the trigger. The revolver did not fire. Fourth survival. Valyria took the revolver, the last of the four. She looked at Rasheed, then at the remaining women. She spun the cylinder slowly, as if stretching out the moment. She put it to her temple.
Her finger froze on the trigger. She stared straight ahead into the void. She pulled the trigger. The gun did not fire. All four women survived. Rasheed looked at them then smiled. He said, “Fate has chosen. All four of you are worthy, but I only need three wives so as not to completely violate Sharia law. So, we’ll do another round.
Just one shot between the four of you.” The women looked at him in horror. Okana screamed, “No, enough. We survived. You promised, Rasheed replied calmly. I promised that the winners would become my wives, but I didn’t say how many winners there would be. Three or four? I’ll decide now. He reloaded the revolver, this time, inserting a single bullet. He spun the cylinder.
He handed it to Oxana. Oxana refused to take it, shaking her head and crying. Rashid ordered a guard to come forward and he held a knife to Oxana’s throat. Rasheed said, “Either you play or I’ll kill you right now. Choose.” Oxana took the revolver with trembling hands. She spun the cylinder, put it to her temple, and pulled the trigger.
There was no shot. She handed it to Isabella, sobbing. Isabella took the weapon, her composure finally cracking, tears streaming down her face. She spun the cylinder, put it to her temple, and pulled the trigger. The cartridge did not fire. She passed it to Rosa. Rosa took the revolver, prayed aloud, shouting prayers.
She spun the cylinder, put it to her temple, and pulled the trigger. The revolver did not fire. She passed it to Valyria. Valyria was last. She took the revolver and looked at it for a long time. Then she looked at Rashid. She said quietly, “If I die, you will regret it.” Rashid laughed and replied, “I never regret anything.” Valyria spun the cylinder, put it to her temple, closed her eyes, and pulled the trigger. The gun didn’t work.
All four women survived again. Rasheed looked at them, then at the revolver. Then he laughed. A long, loud laugh. He said, “Fate is clear. All four of you will be my wives. I will take four instead of three. Rules are made by people. I can change them.” The women sat there unable to react. Shock, exhaustion, trauma.
They were alive, but something inside them had died that night. Rasheed ordered the guards to take them to separate rooms, give them water and sedatives. A doctor examined each of them and gave them sedatives. The bodies of the six dead women were taken away that same night. Rashid’s guards took them to the desert to a place only they knew.
There the bodies were burned in specially prepared pits and the ashes were scattered on the sand. No traces, no graves, nothing that could be found. Four women spent the rest of the night in separate rooms of the villa under the supervision of guards. The doctor gave each of them sedatives strong enough to help them sleep despite the horror they had experienced.
On the morning of June 24th, Rasheed gathered them in the living room. They sat on the sofas, pale with empty eyes in the robes they had been given. The floor of the dining room where the game had taken place had been washed, leaving no trace of blood or broken dishes. Everything looked as if nothing had happened.
Rashid explained his plans. He would marry all four of them within the next 2 months. The official ceremonies would be held separately for each one in accordance with Islamic traditions and legal formalities. Each would receive a marriage contract guaranteeing $50 million in the event of divorce. They would live in a villa, each in her own part of the house with separate staff.
Rasheed would visit them in turn as required by Sharia law in cases of polygamy. But there was a condition. They had to sign a non-disclosure agreement prohibiting them from telling anyone about the events of the night of June 23rd. If even one of them broke their silence, the contract for all four would be nullified, they would be immediately deported without compensation, and Rashid would use all his connections to prosecute them for defamation and breach of contract.
In addition, he hinted that the women’s families could suffer if the information became public. The women signed the documents. They had no choice. They were in a foreign country without money or connections under the control of a man with enormous power and influence. Refusing meant returning home empty-handed after everything they had been through.
Signing meant gaining wealth, but living with the memories of six dead women. The weddings took place between August and October 2018. Oxana was the first to marry. The ceremony was held in a private residence with the participation of a religious figure who received a generous reward for keeping quiet about the fact that this was the fifth wife, not the fourth.
Isabella got married in September. Rosa and Valyria in October. Each ceremony was registered separately in different emirates to avoid questions from the authorities about the number of wives. Officially, four women became the wives of Rashid al-Maktum. The contracts were drawn up by lawyers, each document guaranteeing $50 million in the event of divorce, plus monthly maintenance, housing, cars, and servants.
On paper, it looked like a fairy tale about poor girls who became princesses. In reality, it was a cage built of trauma and fear. In the first few months after the weddings, the women hardly communicated with each other. Each lived in her own part of the villa, met with Rashid on schedule, and fulfilled the role of a wife.
But at night, they were haunted by nightmares. Oxana woke up from dreams where she saw Karina falling with a bullet in her head, blood flooding the table. Isabella couldn’t look at metal objects without panicking. Any glint of metal reminded her of the revolver. Rosa prayed for hours every day, trying to atone for the guilt of being the survivor.
Valyria began taking large doses of sleeping pills so she wouldn’t see the faces of the dead women. Rasheed behaved as if nothing had happened. He was attentive, generous, bought gifts, organized trips. For him, the game was over. He got what he wanted and moved on. His friends, the eight men who were present that night, were also silent.
They were bound by a shared secret that could destroy their lives if it became public. But Oxana couldn’t live with it. She was the youngest, 23 years old, and the trauma was destroying her from within. 6 months after the wedding in February 2019, she began looking for a way out of the situation.
She couldn’t just tell the police. She had no evidence. The bodies were gone. There were no video recordings and the other participants would deny everything. It would be her word against that of one of the most influential people in Dubai. Oxana began to explore her options. She understood that she needed evidence, something tangible that could not be denied.
She remembered seeing one of Rashid’s friends, Sed filming something on his phone during the game. She wasn’t sure if it was a video or just photos, but it was her only chance. In March 2019, Oxana contacted a hacker she found through a friend from Ukraine via an encrypted app. The hacker, who went by the pseudonym Siri, agreed to hack Sed’s phone for $50,000.
Oxana paid from her monthly allowance, which Rasheed transferred to her account. The process took two months. The hacker used a fishing attack, sending Sed a fake message from the bank that contained malware. When Sed opened the link on his phone, the program gained access to the files. The hacker copied all the contents of the phone, including photos and videos from the past year.
In May 2019, Oxana received the files. Among thousands of photos and videos, she found what she was looking for. A video file 2 hours and 17 minutes long filmed on June 23rd, 2018, starting at 9:00 p.m. The quality was average. The phone was held in someone’s hand, and the image sometimes shook, but everything was visible and audible.
The video showed the entire game from start to finish. Rashid explains the rules. The women take turns with the revolver. Shots are fired. Karina, Amina, Nina, Anastasia, Natalia, and Larissa are killed. Screams, crying, blood on the table. Rashid and his friends sitting in chairs watching, comments, laughter, bets among themselves on who would survive.
Everything was recorded. Oxana copied the video onto several flash drives and hid them in different places. Then she started thinking about what to do with it. Going to the Dubai police was risky. Rashid had connections in the police. The story could be buried and Oxana would disappear. She decided she needed to make it public.
So public that the authorities couldn’t ignore it. In June 2019, Oxana created an anonymous email address through a service that protects confidentiality. She sent the video to several international media outlets at once. The Guardian in the UK, Al Jazzer in Qatar, the New York Times in the US, Dear Spiegel in Germany, and Leond in France.
In the letter, she briefly described the situation, gave the names of those involved, the date of the event, and the location. She did not reveal her identity, signing as a witness. Al Jazzer was the first to respond. Journalists checked the video for authenticity, making sure it had not been edited or altered.
They identified Rashid al-Maktum by his face and confirmed that it was indeed him. On June 23rd, 2019, exactly one year after the event, Alazer published an article on its website with the headline, “Dubai billionaire forced women to play Russian roulette for the right to become his wife.” The video was posted online with the victim’s faces blurred to protect their identities, but the faces of Rashid and his friends were clearly visible.
The article was accompanied by an investigation in which journalists identified some of the deceased women by comparing them with missing persons reports. The families of Karina, Amina, Nina, Anastasia, Natalia, and Lissa were found and interviewed. All confirmed that their daughters had been working in Dubai and had disappeared in the summer of 2018.
The reaction was immediate and global. The video went viral, garnering 50 million views in the first 48 hours. The hashtag with Rashida’s name became a trend on social media around the world. Human rights organizations demanded an investigation. The governments of several countries where the deceased women came from sent official requests to the UAE authorities.
The Dubai authorities came under enormous pressure. It was an international scandal that threatened the Emirates’s reputation as a safe place for tourists and expatriots. On June 25th, police arrested Rashid al-Maktum at his home. At the same time, eight of his friends who had been present at the villa that night were also arrested.
The investigation was conducted behind closed doors. The UAE authorities tried to minimize publicity, but information continued to leak out. It became known that the bodies of six women had indeed been destroyed in the desert. The location was found based on the testimony of one of Rashid’s security guards, who agreed to cooperate with the investigation in exchange for a reduced sentence.
The remains of bones and teeth were found at the site, which were identified through dental records as belonging to the missing women. Rashid’s four surviving wives were questioned by the police. Oxana, Isabella, Rosa, and Valyria gave detailed testimony, confirming everything that was on the video. Their testimonies matched in every detail.
The doctor who was present at the villa was also arrested and gave testimony, admitting his role. The trial of Rashid al-Maktum began in October 2019 in a special criminal court in Dubai. The trial was closed to the public, but information leaked through lawyers and journalists who had sources in the judicial system. The prosecution brought six counts of firstdegree murder, coercion to participate in a dangerous game, illegal possession of weapons, destruction of evidence, and other crimes.
Rashid’s defense attempted to challenge the video, claiming that it had been edited, that the women had participated voluntarily, and that it was a game that everyone had agreed to. But expert analysis confirmed the authenticity of the video, and the testimony of the surviving women refuted the claim that it was voluntary. They described threats of deportation, knives to their throats, and an atmosphere of terror.
The trial lasted 4 months. On February 27th, 2020, the verdict was handed down. Rashid al-Maktum was found guilty on all counts. The judge sentenced him to life imprisonment without the right to early release. It was not the death penalty that the victim’s families and international organizations had demanded.
But in the UAE, death sentences for people from influential families are extremely rare. Eight of Rashid’s friends received various sentences ranging from 10 to 25 years for complicity in the crime, failure to assist the victims, and concealment of evidence. The doctor received 15 years. The guards who were directly involved in disposing of the bodies received sentences ranging from 7 to 12 years.
After the verdict was handed down, the four surviving women left the UAE. Their marriage contracts were enulled by the court and the promised $50 million each was not paid. As the contracts were concluded under duress and were part of a criminal scheme, Rashid’s assets were frozen and most of them went to pay compensation to the victim’s families.
Oxana was granted asylum in Norway where she had a distant relative. The Norwegian government awarded her $1 million in compensation for the trauma she had suffered and also paid for psychological help. Isabella returned to Brazil where she received similar compensation from the Brazilian government and protection from possible persecution.
Rosa left for Canada where the Filipino community helped her settle in and find a job. Valyria settled in Spain where the Colombian government provided her with security and financial support. All four women gave interviews to various media outlets telling their stories. They talked about how they fell into a trap of greed and naivity, how dreams of wealth led them into a nightmare, how they survived thanks to luck rather than personal qualities.
They talked about the six women who died, and how no amount of money is worth a human life. The families of the deceased women filed a class action lawsuit against Rashid al-Maktum’s estate. In July 2020, the court ruled to pay each family $20 million in compensation for a total of $120 million. The money was taken from Rashid’s frozen assets, including the sale of his hotels, villas on Palm Jira, and investment portfolios.
The story has been widely covered in documentaries and books. Netflix released a documentary series in 2021 called The Shakes Bet, which featured interviews with survivors, victims, families, investigators, and women’s rights experts. The series sparked discussions about the status of migrant women in the Gulf countries, the Kafala system, which gives employers enormous power over foreign workers, and the culture of impunity for wealthy people.
Under pressure from the international community, the UAE government amended its legislation. Rules were tightened to control private homes and villas where people could be held against their will. The police created a special unit to investigate cases of human trafficking and forced labor.
Stricter penalties were introduced for crimes against foreign workers. But for the four women who survived, no laws could bring back what they had lost. In an interview with the Guardian in 2022, Oxana said that every night she wakes up from nightmares in which she is holding a revolver to her temple again, hears the metallic sound of the spinning cylinder, and sees the faces of dead women.
No amount of money, no amount of justice can erase the memories of that night. Isabella returned to work as a fitness instructor in Rio de Janeiro, but admitted that she cannot stay in closed spaces for long without starting to panic. That sometimes she sees men on the street who resemble Rashid or his friends, and she is overcome with fear.
Rosa has dedicated her life to working with victims of domestic violence and human trafficking in Toronto, saying that helping others helps her cope with her own trauma. Valyria wrote a book about her experience, which became a bestseller in Spain and has been translated into 12 languages. The families of the six women who died used the compensation they received in different ways.
Karina’s parents in Ukraine set up a charitable foundation to help young women who want to go abroad to work, providing them with information about the risks and legal support. Amina’s family in Morocco built a school for girls in their village, naming it after their deceased daughter. Nah’s parents in Thailand used the money to educate their younger children and help the local community.
Rashid al-Maktum is serving a life sentence in a maximum security prison in the Emirate of Abu Dhabi. He is reportedly being held in a separate cell for security reasons as other prisoners have threatened to kill him. His family has publicly disowned him, saying that his actions are a disgrace to the family and contrary to Islamic values.
His former official wives have divorced him and received compensation under their marriage contracts. The story of 12 women gathered for dinner, half of whom died in a game invented by a wealthy man, has become a symbol of the extremes to which power and wealth can go when they are not restrained by morality or law.
It showed the dark side of a world of luxury and privilege, where human life becomes a stake in a game, where fates are decided by the spin of a revolver cylinder. For the surviving women, the story did not end with the verdict or compensation. They continue to live with the consequences of what they have experienced. But they also became voices speaking on behalf of those who cannot speak for themselves, reminding the world of the six women whose lives were cut short for the sake of one man’s twisted whim.
And that justice, even if belated, is still possible when there is the courage to speak the truth despite fear and threats.
