"You can't promise that, Vlad. Even you are not omniscient or omnipotent," she chides gently, leaning back to look at me.
"I'll be the very near damned thing if it means making sure you're safe, Sisi."
"Oh, Vlad," she sighs, her eyes clear and fuck, so damned beautiful. "No matter how much I'd like to argue that sometimes things simply happen, I can't. I know what you're feeling because I feel it too," she takes my hand and places it on her chest, right above her heart. "The thought that those men could get to you while you were incapacitated, or unable to fight them off almost killed me. I would have done anything to keep you safe."
"Then you understand. There's this monstrous rage inside of me, ready to be unleashed at the mere suggestion that you'd be in danger. And it's not my berserker rage. No, this is something so much more potent, so much more violent that I fear no one would make it out alive."
"I trust you," she immediately says and the words warm my heart. Just a while ago I'd thought I would never be able to gain her trust back. "And I know I'm safe with you," the corner of her mouth pulls up. "You're my protector," her smile widens, "my guardian devil," she cheekily adds and I find myself returning the smile. "As long as you're around I know that nothing and no one can harm me."
It humbles me to realize that she truly means those words. She actually trusts me to protect her, and in that moment I vow to never disappoint her.
"But maybe now you can tell me what that was all about," she looks at me questioningly, and I release a deep breath.
"I'm not entirely sure. Remember Meester from the club?" I ask, reminding her of the short encounter and that he's been the owner of the fighter who'd lost against Seth. "I don't know why he'd send people after me. To my knowledge, the only time I offended him was years ago when I refused marriage to his daughter. But he would have had plenty of time to make attempts on my life before now," I add pensively.
Things aren't making much sense, and the more I think about it, the more I become suspicious of everyone.
"That's odd," she notes and I agree.
"I know I'm currently persona non grata on the East Coast, especially since I killed the leaders of most of the Russian syndicates in the area. Honestly, I would have expected any of them to be behind the attack, but Meester?" I shake my head, unable to find a logical connection. "Maybe if he's acting in conjunction with them?"
"Do you think he might be connected to Miles too?" Sisi asks, biting her lip in consternation.
I'd already given her a rundown of the situation with Miles, or at least the new information I'd gathered recently, including the fact that the attack at the warehouse must have had something to do with Miles.
After I'd realized that he had gone to Giovanni Lastra for funding, I'd gotten the idea that he couldn't have been the only one he'd reached out to.
Following the attack, when Vanya had called me out for being too complacent, I'd done a little digging inside the other syndicates' financials. The results had been rather predictable and most of them had been investing with a ghost company for years.
The only way I'd managed to connect that to Miles had been by cross-referencing some of the older transactions with those of Lastra, since he'd ended up making some payments to Miles.
As it stands, it's clear that Miles's enterprise isn't just the absurd work of a mad scientist. It's a business. And he's managed to rope some of the most dangerous men from the East Coast in it.
I'm still unsure about what he promised them or what the terms of their agreement were. I have to wonder if he promised them a cut of the business when he succeeded in creating the perfect soldier, or if they'd simply been interested in obtaining those soldiers for their own organizations.
Still, it seems a bit ludicrous that so many people would blindly invest based on mere theories and conjectures. In my memories, and to my knowledge, Miles had never succeeded in creating a perfect soldier.
There must be something I'm missing.
"Possibly," I admit. "I have Seth working in Boston, gathering intel from one of the ruling Bratvas. From what he's been telling me, it's not only money that these people have been funneling into Miles' business, but also people."
Sisi frowns. "You mean they've been scouting potential test subjects?"
"I'm a little unclear on that. Seth's managed to compile a list of missing people, but so far none have had the mutation. There is a chance it wasn't in their records. But with how rare it is," I purse my lips, "I doubt all would have had it."
"Then why would Miles need them? More tests? Maybe he's trying something different?"
"That's what we need to find out," I add grimly.
While in New Orleans, I'd tried not to think too much about Miles and the people gunning for me. I wanted to enjoy my time alone with Sisi. Together, in our little bubble, everything had been nothing short of perfect. But it seems I can't neglect this forever.
"One thing is for sure, though. Miles knows I'm looking for him, and he's been trying to take me out for a while," I say, a bleak expression on my face. All my snooping had gotten his attention at last. "But now Meester? If he's also working with Miles, then it might make sense."
"What's the plan?" she asks, "because you always have a plan," she raises an eyebrow at me, and I chuckle.
"You're right. I've been keeping in touch with Nero and he's been sending me information about his time with Miles and whatever he could remember. Based on that, I put together a couple of places where Miles could have had his headquarters. Of course, I doubt he'd still be there today, but it's a place to start."
"If he's part of such a huge network, then I doubt he'd be so untraceable," Sisi comments.
"And yet he's been eluding me for years," I reply absentmindedly before I still, my eyes widening. "Shit," I mutter.
"What?" Sisi frowns, stepping away from me.
"Let's do a quick recap," I stand up, pacing around the aisle of the plane. "I found out about Project Humanitas from your brother, Valentino, right around the time I realized Vanya had died. So that's about fifteen years ago," I start, feeling a small bubble of excitement build inside of me as I always do when I'm on the brink of a discovery.
"Then Misha's attempted coup happened around ten years ago, when Miles took Katya," I continue and my eyes widen as I remember the events.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" I curse out, suddenly everything dawning on me.
"What? What is it?" Sisi stands up, coming to my side.
"I got it all wrong, hell girl..." I shake my head. "When Bianca and I were ambushed, there were maybe six people total. If Miles was involved in the planning of it, then he should have known that six people would have never held me back. Let alone the fact that Bianca was with me too."
"You're thinking they weren't sent to kill you?" She narrows her eyes, but I see her features light up slowly as she gets it too. "They were sent to delay you," she finally says and I nod.
"Miles didn't want me dead. He just wanted me away so he could get to Katya. Just like he probably knew that Misha stood no chance once I got back."
"He played your brother. But why? All this work not to kill you and just take your sister?"
"Miles' mind doesn't work like regular people," I say, gritting my teeth. I should know because I've been emulating his way of thinking for the better part of two decades. "He needed Katya to continue his experiments in-house. But for me," I shake my head, smirking, "he had other plans."
"I don't understand," Sisi frowns.
"Think about it. Valentino found me in an abandoned place, with Vanya dead by my side. There was no one else around save for Nero. Now, why would Miles let me go if I were his miracle?"
Sisi blinks twice, and I watch as the wheels slowly turn in her head. My little nun may have grown in a convent, but there's no denying her innate intelligence and sage judgement. From the very beginning I've been in awe of the way her mind works, her keen senses of observation almost unparalleled.
Few people I've met have mana
ged to surprise me as much as her, and that's one of the highest praises I could give someone. Of course, also one of the reasons why I love her so much.
"He did it on purpose. He wanted you to be found. But why..." her brows furrow, her head tilted to the side as she ruminates. "God, he wanted to..." her eyes widen at the realization and I nod.
"Exactly. He wanted to study me in my natural habitat so to speak. This means that I must have passed his tests, and I was ready to be let loose into the world. Nero too, and I wouldn't be surprised if it were Miles who got Nero his new bionic pieces through an intermediary. He's been observing us."
"My God! That's why he's always been a step ahead of you," she whispers, now getting the full picture. "He's been watching you this whole time, hasn't he?"
"That's what I think," I nod.
"Then why would he want you dead now?"
I smirk, suddenly the entire thing looking a little different.
"What if he doesn't exactly want me dead? What if it's just another test?"
"Damn," Sisi mutters, rubbing her arms. "That would make sense."
"But also, it might be that Miles is not personally behind the attacks," I add, offering another angle. "It is a business at its core, and me going after it full force would affect a lot of people."
"That's true too," Sisi sighs. "We have our work cut out for us, don't we?" She makes a feeble attempt at a smile.
"We'll figure it out, hell girl. Now if only I could remember everything that happened while I was with Miles... I could at least understand the entire scope of his research."
"Don't force yourself," her hand reaches for mine, squeezing it in comfort. "The memories will come. When you're ready for them," she says and I grunt.
"There's another thing that's been plaguing me for a while," I tell her. "There was a third person involved with Misha. It's just circumstantial evidence, but based on the circle of connections, it must have been another syndicate person. Someone with interests in New York."
"You're right," she agrees, "because who else would have direct access to both Misha and Miles if not someone who knew them both?"
I'd already gone through all of Misha's connections from New Jersey—most of them dead by now—and I'd come empty-handed. Still, there is one more person...
"I need to look again at all the people Misha had been in contact with," I tell her.
What I don't say is that I'm becoming increasingly sure that this person could be Meester. He knew my father and our family, and he sure as hell knew Misha. Besides, his heated attempt to get me married to his daughter years ago to get some footing in New York does make him suspicious.
But I haven't uncovered any evidence that he's been in contact with Miles—one way or another. That he'd sent an entire squad to finish me off does put him in the running, but I don't want to speak without having any proof to back up my hunch.
"We should do one of those connection boards like they have in detective shows," Sisi suggests, excited. "That way we can keep track of everyone."
"You know what, hell girl? That's not a bad idea at all," I praise her, entrusting her with the task of doing that when we get home.
Home...
Funny how it had never been home before. But one plucky former nun and my entire life's been turned upside down.
"Shit, Sisi. Your brother," I groan as the thought suddenly crosses my mind.
Surprisingly, he hadn't come looking for me in New Orleans. Knowing Marcello, I would have assumed he would send an entire army to rescue his saintly sister from the clutches of the devil–armed with holy water, of course.
But now that we'll be back in the Big Apple, there's no way Marcello won't be alerted to our presence.
"Don't worry. I'll handle that," Sisi puts her hand up, a serious expression on her face. "We'll go to the house and we'll calmly explain the circumstances. He's bound to understand, right?"
I don't want to scare her by telling her that there's no way in hell that Marcello's going to understand. But I find myself agreeing with her anyway.
"Exactly, it shouldn't be too bad," I nod, my features strained.
But she is right in one respect. The faster I solve the situation with Marcello, the sooner I'll have time to focus all my attention on Miles and his cronies. Though I am sure there will be blood spilled.
"There's also Guerra," Sisi bites the inside of her cheek, looking worried. "I don't think they're too pleased either. They'll want some type of retribution to save face."
"I'll deal with Guerra, don't worry," I wave my hand dismissively. They're the least of my concerns right now.
"How?"
"Let's just say I have something they want," the corner of my mouth tugs up. "And they would certainly be put out if I were to offer my services to DeVille instead."
"You're devious," Sisi punches my arm playfully.
"It's the politics of our world," I shrug. "And you're becoming better and better at dealing with them."
"I adapt," she replies, a haunted look on her face. "I always adapt."
Snaking an arm around her, I bring her into me, her front flush against mine. It will never cease to amaze me that despite our different sizes we fit so well, her place right at home in my arms.
"You don't have to adapt anymore, hell girl. From now on, the world will adapt to you." I tell her, taking a strand of her hair and pushing it gently behind her ear to get a better look of her lovely face.
She raises her eyes at me, her gaze dazed as she's trying to ascertain the veracity of my words.
"I made a vow to you Sisi. I'll lay the entire world at your feet. No one will ever look down on you again."
I tip her chin up, leaning forward to press a kiss on her lips.
"From now on, everyone will bow to you." I continue, watching a small tear make its way down her face.
Pressing my thumb to her skin, I wipe it away.
"You're my goddess," I murmur softly, "my wife, my partner," I lay another kiss on her cheek, tasting fresh tears, "my everything. And that means we rule together."
"Sometimes you're too sweet." She lifts her hand to stroke my jaw, her lips widening in a gorgeous smile.
"Only for you, hell girl. You're my one exception."
"And you're mine." She replies, twinning her arms behind my neck and tugging me towards her, our lips meeting in a heart-stopping kiss.
Truth is, everything I'm doing is for her, and will always be for her. Including facing my past.
Because I know we'll never be able to live in peace with so many loose threads hanging over our heads.
The images come unbidden. My brows twitch as I see myself going deeper and deeper into a foreign landscape, the entire scenery unfamiliar and confounding.
Yet one thing is for sure.
This is me.
"You have twenty minutes to complete the task," a voice rings out through a speaker.
I look around me, establishing my environment.
The room is the size of a stadium, bleak gray walls surrounding it. In front of me, there are a few walls that look like obstacles, all of different sizes, obscuring what lays behind them. There is a big board close to the ceiling displaying the names of all the participants, each having a zero next to it—the score for today's game.
To my right and left, I see other children, all around my age. They are in a tense position, their eyes focused as they are waiting for the signal.
I don't know how I know that, but I just do.
In fact, the entire situation feels somehow off. I feel like myself, but yet my mind feels empty for some reason. There's a steely determination to win against all odds. I see it clearly how the only thing that matters is victory.
Aside from that, I can't feel anything.
There's no fear, no worry—nothing. I pat myself down to make sure my weapons are in their designated spots, and at the same time I get the opportunity to check that I am in fact human.
There's a hollowness in my mind that I've never e
ncountered before. Even in my worst moments, I've never been this empty. Like my entire body is just a case housing an absent consciousness.
Still, there's a sharpness to my gaze as I filter and catalogue everything around me. I take note of how many people I'm competing against and I'm making ten simultaneous plans—one for each potential move my enemy might make.
"On your positions," the voice from the speakers announces, and I flex my knees, ready to take off at the designated time.
My hands are wrapped around the hilts of knives secured to my waist, and I know that I will let no one beat me at this.
In fact, my mouth pulls up as I imagine the river of blood that will flow from my hands—the only positive emotion I've felt so far.
The signal is given and everyone starts running.
I don't know much about the obstacles or what lays behind the walls, but I know that nothing can stop me.
I pass a first wall, and I see from the corner of my eyes a small automatic weapon hidden in the floor. It's swift and silent as it opens up and starts shooting towards us.
One boy gets nabbed in the arm, while another gets shot in the face, his entire skull exploding before my eyes, pieces of blood, bone and brain matter scattering across the floor with some landing on me too.
I smirk as I duck and dodge, watching the twitch of the weapon closely and calculating angles.
From the first moment I noticed it, I started observing for patterns, the way the body would slightly tilt to one degree in either direction before loading up to shoot.
A matter of focusing on even the tiniest movement, and I'm able to calculate the place the bullet will land.
While everyone is trying to haphazardly avoid the incoming bullets, I know exactly where they will hit a second before they do.
Luckily, my body is well trained, and there's no delay between my mental command and the execution of the movement. Fluidly moving through the bullets, I'm rushing towards the point of origin, jumping in the air and landing right behind the barrel of the gun.
I know I have a couple of seconds at most before it turns towards me, so I channel all my strength in my arm, grabbing the metal body and wrench it from the floor, throwing it backwards. And because I'm keeping track of the limited time, I don't linger.
Morally Ambiguous: A Dark Mafia Romance (Morally Questionable Book 4) Page 56