Going over potential theories, it's getting increasingly clear why Miles would resort to carriers of the gene for his human incubators instead of people who actually had the mutation.
"Because they are so rare, Miles wouldn't waste their potential like that. Not when he already had a shortage of people to include in his experiments to begin with," Vlad explains.
Miles would keep the girls with the mutation for his experiments and breed the ones with the carrier gene. It would also explain the differences in how the former were treated versus the latter. Because for all the trauma Katya nonetheless had endured, the conditions in which she was living could be considered luxurious compared with the others.
This should be a crime against humanity.
I can't help but shudder the more I think of the horrors these walls have seen, and all the suffering they've absorbed from all the innocent children who've lived and died here.
It doesn't take us long to reach Bianca and Adrian, both of them waiting outside a door.
"You didn't go inside?" Vlad asks.
She shakes her head.
"We didn't know what to expect since it's a huge open area," she grimaces. "I threw in a mini mobile camera to get some footage, though."
She removes a small tablet from her bag, showing us the video feed from inside.
"There are cameras everywhere," I point with my finger, surprised to see it's not just CCTV. No, these are big, professional cameras fully equipped with ring lights and speakers.
There are stairs on each side of the room leading down to the main field. All around, I see a seating area for spectators, and I realize that this is exactly like a stadium.
"He's broadcasting the events," Vlad comments. "Smart," he smirks in spite of himself. "Since these are life and death trials, never mind the fact that it's mostly children competing against each other, a lot of people on the dark web would pay good money to see it."
"How are we going to go inside, though? Bianca is right that it's too open. They could hit us from all sides," Marcello asks, pursing his lips.
"Leave that to me."
Vlad doesn't even wait for us to reply as he pushes the door open, almost flying down the stairs and striding inside the stadium until he's in the middle of the field.
"Long time no see, Miles," he shouts.
I don't even think as I follow after him, my brother and the rest hot on my trail.
And just as we reach Vlad's side, the entire stadium comes to life. The big lights we'd seen earlier flash, light infusing every corner of the stadium.
"Welcome, welcome," a chuckle resounds from the speakers.
Vlad turns his face towards a big booth on the right, a twisted smile playing at his lips.
"I'm guessing you know why I'm here." Vlad challenges, his chin raised high, his eyes two slits as he focuses on that particular spot.
"I would have preferred for this meeting to happen under different terms," Miles' voice booms, "but I'm nothing if not adaptable."
"You might find it hard to adapt to my fists," Vlad mutters drily.
"Ah, but how I missed that wicked sense of humor, Vlad. I've been anticipating this meeting for years. You've turned out to be just like I predicted. Invincible," he proudly quips.
"Not quite." Vlad smirks. "You did whatever you could to take away every bit of humanity I had. Sadly, it didn't quite work out. I am here after all."
"It took you long enough though." Miles remarks through the speakers.
Vlad's fists are clenched by his side, and I know Miles stroke a chord in him.
"I'll refer to my initial assessment, Vlad. Your specs are impressive, but there's always been one thing keeping you back from achieving perfection," Miles continues, "your puny attachments. I thought your sister was the key to breaking that, and for a while I really saw my success in you. But you had to continue on the path of no return," he tsks.
It's odd, but his manner of speaking reminds me a lot of Vlad. And I'm not the only one to notice, as the others regard Vlad with an odd look on their faces.
"Vanya," Vlad stresses the name of his sister, his jaw locked tight with tension. "What did you do to her?"
More laughter.
"What I did to her?" Miles chuckles. "Wouldn't you want to find out? Who knows..." he trails off, amusement clear in his voice. "I might even have the video."
"Vlad," I feel compelled to go to his side.
Because I know how to read him better than anyone. I can see behind his polished facade and into his tortured soul. And I know that right at this moment, there are turbulent seas behind his dark eyes, his control threatening to snap.
"Breathe," I urge him, my voice soft as I lay a hand on his arm. "Breathe," I repeat when it doesn't seem he's heard me.
But slowly—ever so slowly—his breathing does regulate, the tension gradually relieved as he brings the world into focus again.
"Thank you," he whispers low, his gaze still stuck on the illuminated booth.
"I have a deal for you." Miles bursts out, and a screen flares to life behind us.
Turning, I gasp when I see the image on the screen.
Vlad and Vanya.
They're both huddled in a small, dirty cell, their eyes defiantly looking at the camera.
"What do you want?" Vlad grits his teeth.
"Simple. I want to watch you fight my best soldier. One last trial." There's a sick amusement in his voice. "If you win, the video is yours. If you don't... well, you don't."
Vlad frowns.
"That's it?"
"But..." Miles trails off, a mischievous quality to his voice. "No weapons for you. No bulletproof equipment either," he continues and I still.
No weapons? Nothing?
"You have a deal." Vlad is quick to reply, already working the buttons of his shirt before throwing it to the ground. He does the same with the bulletproof vest. He's effectively taking everything off but his boxer briefs.
"No weapons," he raises his arms to signal.
"Vlad." I take his hand in mine. "It's too dangerous. You don't even know who you're fighting against," I try to plead with him.
Because one thing is clear. This is another one of Miles' tests. And I fear that it may be too much.
"Don't worry about me, hell girl. You know there's no one out there who can beat me."
"No weapons, Vlad. For you. That means he can have weapons. How is that fair?"
"Miles is anything but fair. Trust me that I'll be fine," he says, taking my hand off his.
"Take care of her," he nods to Marcello before striding away.
I can only watch stupefied as he openly courts death. And for what? A video to open his wounds raw again?
"Vlad. Sisi is right. This is madness. Do you really need that video? You know he killed her. It should be enough," Marcello tries to argue.
A lopsided smile appears on Vlad's face, half his face obscured by the play of shadows.
The white of his teeth gleams, his canines even more emphasized by the skewed lighting. The change is immediate.
The predator is back.
"I need to know," Vlad answers curtly, the danger reflected in his eyes unmistakable.
And just like that, I know.
"Let's go," I motion them to the bleachers, my eyes still on Vlad's almost naked body. "Trust him," I tell them when I see them hesitate.
"Sisi..." my brother groans, but I quickly shake my head.
"Think about this," I try to be as rational as possible. "Your men are coming here. In fact, as we speak they are on their way here. If anything were to happen," I pause, because I can't fathom anything happening to Vlad. Now or ever. "They will have our backs."
"Fine..." he reluctantly agrees, and we all head to the seating area of the arena.
My hands in my lap, I'm trying my best not to show just how much I'm worried about this upcoming fight. Because while my trust if fully placed in Vlad and his abilities, this is Miles we're talking about. The same Miles who's been eludin
g Vlad for the past ten years.
He's bound to have something under his sleeve, and I know he's going to play dirty.
Alone in the middle of the field, Vlad looks like a barbarian warrior with his inked body and rippling muscles.
"I didn't know he packed that under his clothes." Even Adrian remarks, admiration in his eyes.
Truth is that Vlad's body is a work of art. Not one ounce of fat, every muscle is defined, some better emphasized by the presence of the jet black ink against his pale skin. The tattoos make him look even more dangerous if one pays attention to the details—the war scenes beautifully depicted on his flesh, the demons fighting to get out of him and lay siege to the world.
And as I watch him take his stance, I know he's ready to unleash them on whoever Miles will send.
"He's going to win," I state confidently.
"Of course he's going to win," Bianca snorts. "The guy's a war machine. I don't think there's anyone who can best him," she abruptly stops as the doors in the arena open to reveal Vlad's opponent.
"I think I misspoke," she amends, blinking in surprise at the newcomer.
As he steps further into the arena, I get a good look at him.
He's massive.
That's my first thought as I take in his monstrous frame. Whereas Vlad's built is muscular but lean, his opponent looks like he's had his muscles pumped with air.
But it's not the way he looks that has me freaking out. It's what he's wearing.
His entire chest area is covered in some sort of armor with spikes protruding from within. It seems that the armor covers every weak spot in his body, thereby making him really indestructible.
He's holding a battle axe in each hand, wielding them around as if they're an extended part of his body.
"Dear God," the words slip from my lips.
He looks anything but human as he advances forward. And as I get a better look at him, I realize he has the same blank gaze as the soldiers we'd fought earlier.
"How can he get past that armor?" Bianca shakes her head, echoing my own thoughts.
There are very few open spots in the armor where the pieces meet each other. But other than that, there's absolutely no place Vlad could hit without hurting himself first.
The warrior smirks at Vlad, and that's when I realize he's holding something else under his armpit.
A helmet.
"My god," I can't help the way my body starts to shake, anxiety clinging to me like a second skin as I look between Vlad, all but naked, and the newcomer, all but armored.
He puts his helmet on, and just like his armor, it has spikes all over the top surface.
"I don't think I've ever seen an armor like that." Adrian notes, frowning at the metal piece.
"It must be heavy, right?" I ask, my eyes glued to the arena. When they agree, I continue. "Then Vlad has the speed advantage. I'm sure he can work something out. You know him," I half-turn, a feeble smile on my lips, "he's unbeatable."
"I wish I could share your enthusiasm, Sisi," my brother comments, his features grim.
The moment they are both within a few feet of each other, the battle's already begun.
I try my best to make out Vlad's expression, curious how he feels about his opponent. But then I remember.
He doesn't know fear.
And so my anxiety sparks up, because I don't want him to have reckless confidence. Not in the face of that.
They circle around each other, and Vlad seems to be assessing him, his eyes roving over the armor in what I can only guess is an attempt to find a weak spot.
"How do you even fight something like that..." Bianca mutters, getting closer to her husband.
"I don't think you do," he answers grimly.
His words worry me since he has years of experience as an underground fighter. So if anyone could gauge the odds of the match it would be him.
Yet the more he speaks, the more agitated I get.
Calm down.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath.
This is Vlad we're talking about. He's not only physically unbeatable, but he's also a genius. And if someone can beat the armored guy weaponless, then certainly it's him.
The giant charges him first, thrusting his armor-clad body into him and hoping to penetrate him with the spikes. Vlad is indeed faster as he ducks, rolling down on the floor towards the man's feet.
Gripping his ankles, one of the only areas not covered by spiked, he flexes his muscles to throw the man forward.
Vlad's entire face turns red from the exertion, and as much as the giant struggles to get out of his grasp, he can't. Instead, I watch dazed as Vlad uses his unnatural strength to lift him off the floor enough to catapult him forward.
The giant loses his equilibrium, the momentum causing him to fall face forward, his helmet slapping his face from the inside. No doubt, at the contact with the ground, the spikes also reverberate through his whole body. He reels back in pain, sluggishly trying to get up.
"No way," Bianca curses.
"How much do you think that man weighs?" I ask, still shocked by what I'd just witnessed.
"At least four hundred pounds. More with the armor." Marcello mutters an answer, his eyes fixed on the fight, his expression showing the same type of wonder I'm feeling.
"It's the angle that baffles me," Adrian comments, "that was one hell of a throw."
"I told you he can do this." I repeat, my confidence stronger than before.
He can do it.
Just as the man tries to scramble up, Vlad quickly jumps up, managing to snatch one of the battle axes from the giant.
"Now they're a little more evenly matched," Bianca says, her eyes glued to the middle of the arena.
This time, it's Vlad who tackles his opponent, barging into him with his axe raised. The other man parries the blow, trying to land one of his own on Vlad's body.
They movements are in synch as one hits and the other deflects, axe hitting on axe. Still, I can see that the other man is trying to get Vlad closer to him so he can get crushed by his armor.
But as they continue to duel, it's pretty clear that their skills are on a similar level in that area.
"You can do it," I whisper, a prayer to help him win.
The battle continues with Vlad keeping a comfortable distance, but still striking at him with his axe. Yet one wrong move and the giant's axe passes right by Vlad's arm, the blade skirting the skin just close enough to scratch the skin and draw blood.
My heart in my throat, I can't help it as I stand up, my hands held together in a prayer.
A cruel smile appears on Vlad's face as his fingers brush against the blood on his shoulder and bringing it to his lips.
The giant cocks his head as if he's trying to understand what he's doing. And right in that moment Vlad strikes.
He's so fast it's almost unreal as he swings the axe right at the base of the man's neck. But instead of trying to breach the armor, he does something else. He lodges the blade right where the helmet meets the chest armor, and wiggling it around, he applies enough force to lift the helmet up a little.
He retreats, removing the blade and twirling in a blinding move that even his opponent has a hard time following.
Switching hands, he places the axe in his left hand, distracting the man with his right as he repeats the blow. This time, the momentum serves to help him send the helmet flying in the air.
The man releases a battle cry, his eyes wide and crazed as he simply charges Vlad.
I watch Vlad's expression's attentively, and I notice the way his lips curl up, his eyes crinkling with amusement.
He's enjoying this.
The man is on him just as Vlad throws the axe aside, the force propelling it somewhere in the bleachers. Then, using his hand, he spreads his open palms on the giant's shoulders even as the spikes seek to burn holes through his skin.
A gasp escapes me at the sight.
But he knows what he's doing.
Hands on his shoulders,
he lifts himself in the air. One moment he's doing a handstand on the man's shoulders, the spikes entering his hands, blood slowly pouring out of the wounds, the next he's behind him, doing a spin in the air and landing back to back with the man.
But this time, he manages to grab the giant's neck in the space between his armpit and his elbow, putting pressure right at the unprotected area of the neck.
Their heights are similar, but as Vlad increases the pressure on the man's neck, he starts bending backwards, following Vlad's movements.
I note the slight curl of the corner of his mouth, the way he starts slowly walking, dragging the giant's body with him.
It's all a game.
It was all a game. I'm almost sure he let himself get hit to make the other man think he was going down and then gain an opening over him.
The giant continues to struggle, Vlad's grip on his neck is too strong to allow for any movement.
He drags his flailing body in a circle all around the stadium in a slow fuck you to Miles. Heading back to the middle, he looks up at the booth as he simply squeezes tightly, the neck snapping, the man's movements stopping.
Instead of letting the body fall to the floor, though, he takes the axe the man had dropped and grabbing him by the hair, he proceeds to cut the head off the body.
Three hits—that's all it takes for the head to become detached from the neck, blood flowing to the floor.
"Ew," Bianca scrunches up her nose in disgust.
Rotating his arm backwards, Vlad leans back before throwing the head with all the strength he can muster towards the booth where Miles is. The glass crashes as the head breaks through.
"Vlad," I call out, but he doesn't hear me.
Instead, he's walking slowly, yet intently towards the booth. His entire body is strung high, adrenaline coursing through his veins and making him even more unpredictable than his reputation.
I want to go to him, but Marcello holds me back, shaking his head and telling me to let him deal with it.
And as I turn my head back in Vlad's direction, I see him climb up the wall, using different wires to hold his balance until he reaches the booth.
Morally Ambiguous: A Dark Mafia Romance (Morally Questionable Book 4) Page 73
