It's funny how things are suddenly put into perspective. A year ago I would have never imagined empathizing with Hastings, or Bianca, since her obsession with him had never made sense.
Now? I want to laugh out loud at the irony, because if anything, I'm worse than Bianca's ever been.
I sneak a glance at Sisi, marveling the strength reflected in her features, and I know that what I feel for her goes beyond mere obsession. She's under my skin, in my blood, in my goddamn heart. There's no place left that she hasn't touched or left her mark on.
She owns me—every fucking atom of my body is hers.
A sudden noise snaps me back to reality, my eyes narrowed, my attention focused on whatever's coming from the other end of the tunnel.
"Down!" I yell, just as the others tune in to the noise.
I bring Sisi down with me, pleased that everyone's listened to me and is currently on the floor.
One more second and a projectile flies from the other end of the tunnel, hitting the back, a small explosion ensuing.
"Damn," I curse out. "He brought out the big guns."
"Won't the structure collapse?" Marcello asks.
I shake my head.
"The main walls are steel dressed in concrete and that was a small range projectile. Unlikely to cause any damage to the structure. Us, however,..." I trail off just as another projectile flies at us.
"We won't be able to continue forward if they keep on hitting us. I can't even see the other end," Bianca complains.
My lips stretch in a thin line as I analyze our options.
There's some sort of smoke or mist at the end of the tunnel, likely on purpose so we can't detect whoever is shooting at us. And the moment we get up to walk, we'll be hit.
"B, give me your gun," I tell her, an idea forming in my head.
"My gun?" She asks, scandalized.
"You can't see, so you can't shoot," I point out.
"Well, you can't see either."
Fucking B and her obsession with her guns. She's never let anyone handle her precious babies, and while I can respect that, in this particular case, it's just dumb.
"Yes, but I can hear."
She knows me well enough to realize that it's the only advantage we have in this particular scenario.
"Fineee," she groans, pushing her gun to me on the floor.
"What are you going to do?" Sisi whispers in my ear, her body close to mine.
"I'm going to listen for his location."
She frowns. "You can do that?"
"I hope so," I answer grimly.
The truth is that this, too, had been part of Miles' training. I'd had extensive sessions of fighting blindfolded and relying on my other senses to gauge an attack and to make sense of my adversary. And after, I'd just continued to foster those skills, my profession benefiting greatly from them.
"Everyone quiet," I say as I assume my position.
On my belly, I place one elbow on the ground for support, my other hand on the gun as I wrap one finger around the trigger.
Closing my eyes, I breathe in once before stopping my breathing all together and slowing the beats of my heart so I can have no interference.
As soon as silence greets me, I turn my attention forward to the foreign presence. My ears open up and that's when I hear it. The sound of boots balancing on the ground, of clammy hands moving around the weapon and of anxious breaths as he's undoubtedly trying to scout us.
More than anything, I hear the small moves he makes, the cold ground almost crackling under his steps.
He's advancing.
So if we're not going to him, he's slowly coming towards us.
A smile pulls at my lips and I continue to listen to his small steps as he marches forward. There's a slight hesitation to the way he's moving, as if his very life depends on this assignment.
And in a way, it does.
Because the moment when I'm sure of his position comes, the gun in my hand ready and angled up, my finger gently squeezing the trigger.
And then I listen.
There's a short pause before two breaths come out in short spurts, the sound of knees crashing to the ground letting me know I'd hit him. His body falls further, the metal of his gun hitting the cement. I document each sound, making sure he's out.
Yet even as I know him to be dead, I still listen, just in case there are more people.
"Clear," I say when I'm sure the danger's past.
We all get up, moving forward until we encounter the fallen body of a teenage boy.
"Damn, your aim was sweet," Bianca notes when she sees the bullet ripping through the boy's neck, a clean exit mark on the other side.
"He's testing me," I add tensely. "This is all a test."
"So he is watching," Sisi comments, looking around the tunnel for any cameras.
"Yes, and I bet he's enjoying himself immensely."
Exiting the main tunnel, the road bifurcates—one towards the right and the other to the left.
"We should split up," Adrian suggests.
"We'll go this way," I nod to the right, taking Sisi's hand in mine, "we'll call if anything."
"I'm coming with," Marcello is quick to interject, the same grumpy expression on his face.
"Fine." I wave my hand dismissively, since I am not in the mood for another argument.
As soon as we establish some ground rules, we split up.
Holding on to Sisi, I can't help but be amused at Marcello trailing closely behind, his attention wholly on us.
"Relax, 'cello, I'm not going to ravish your sister in a dirty hallway." I give him a bored look, although the idea has merit—at a future time.
Marcello presses his lips together, not answering my taunt. Instead, he continues walking, almost grumbling something under his breath.
"I'm not as helpless as you imagine," Sisi addresses him. "I'm really not, Marcello."
"I just worry about you, ok?" He reluctantly admits. "I know I haven't been present in your life and that my behavior can seem a little... overwhelming. But I have your best intentions at heart, Sisi."
Sisi is quiet for a minute, her teeth nibbling on her lower lip.
"Thank you. It means a lot that you care," she starts as she gives him a tremolos smile, "but I've got this. Please trust that I know what I'm doing."
"Alright," he relents, even though he doesn't seem any happier about it.
"Good, I'm glad that we've ended this family unhappiness chapter. Now we can focus on the more important stuff..." I trail off as we come to a standstill.
The entire atmosphere is different here, and as we stop before the glass door, I realize that we've just leveled up.
The door has biometric protection, so that confirms that it's not just an ordinary space. Bringing my smart watch into view, I try to tap into the framework, a little bummed when I realize it's a closed network and I can't access it as easily.
Not one to despair, I simply pull the panel from the door, quickly inspecting the wires. I have to admit that my engineering skills are rudimentary at best, but I've been known to hot-wire a few things in my life. And so a few minutes of trial and error and the door is broken—I mean open.
As soon as we enter inside, however, the difference is stark.
This room is sterile, the smell of bleach permeating the air. It almost looks lab-like in its immaculate condition.
White walls, white floors, and four electric doors.
"Dead end," I comment as I realize the doors are likely cages of some kind, each one of them having a tiny opening to allow for food.
"This looks like a mental ward," Marcello notes as he walks around.
Out of nowhere, there is a bang against one of the doors, followed by a few other bangs in each of the others.
"There's someone inside," Marcello goes to one door, returning the knock to let them know we are there.
"We need to figure out how to open these doors," I say as I study each one in part, noting they are opened by ID cards plus biom
etrics.
"I guess we'll have to do a repeat of the other door," I mutter drily when I see there's no other way to open them without breaking them down. And so I quietly get to work on the first door, taking out the electrical panel and playing with the wires. Once I have a winning combination, it's all a matter of repeating it for the other doors.
"You never fail to amaze me," Sisi whispers as she raises herself on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek.
"You need to lay low with the skinship, hell girl. You know my mind can only juggle so many things at once," I murmur softly.
Truth is, when it comes to her, my mind can't take anything else but her.
"Vlad," I hear Bianca's voice in the comm. "I think we found the main area. There's a huge arena here," she continues, describing an arena the size of a football field, full with multiple levels for spectators.
"Damn," I mutter, realizing exactly what that's for.
Suddenly memories of the trials we'd been put through resurface in my mind. How Miles had pitted us against each other.
The winner takes it all.
And I'd become so addicted to getting his approval that I'd done everything to win those trials. I'd killed, maimed, and tortured. No one had been spared from my singular purpose.
Become the best.
Remembering the things I'd done just to gain his acceptance makes my skin crawl. Because I might loathe him with all my being now. But at one point I didn't. I looked up to him.
"We'll meet you there after we check something here," I tell her, briefly explaining what we'd found.
"Vlad." Marcello calls out, his brows pinched together as he looks from door to door. "We opened the doors, yet no one tried to come out," he points out and I frown.
"You're right."
Without any preamble, I yank the first door open, surprised to see a girl who couldn't be older than ten or eleven sitting at the end of the room, her back against the wall, her eyes wide as she looks at us in fear.
"What..." Sisi whispers as she gets a better view of the girl.
Surprisingly, she looks healthy. In fact, even her clothes are clean, which is not something I would have expected given what I know about how Miles conducts his experiments.
Curious to see who else is in the other rooms, I open the next one, and the next, until I'm at the last one.
All of them house prepubescent girls.
All but the last.
My eyes widen as I note a couple huddled together next to a bed. The male is obstructing my view of the girl as he places himself in front of her in a protective stance.
"Nero?" The name slips from my mouth, but even then I know that this isn't Nero.
Their faces are identical. Short black hair and blue eyes. But this man is bigger. His body is that of a professional body-builder, his muscular built dwarfing that of the girl behind him.
"You're Nero's brother," I state.
The one who supposedly died twenty years ago.
"Nero?" his voice differs completely from Nero too. There's a hoarseness to it as if he'd stretched his vocal cords to the extreme. "Nero..." he repeats, his features clouding as if he's trying to remember something long forgotten.
"I'll be damned," Marcello mutters when he sees the man, he too noticing that he's almost identical to Nero.
"It's his twin brother," I add grimly. "Sisi, please stay back," I stretch my hand to keep her out, recognizing the protective stance he has over his female and knowing he might be dangerous if he thinks we're a threat.
"It's ok," I start, giving him a quick outline of who we are and that we're going to get them to safety.
"Brother?" He asks, frowning. "My brother?"
"Yes, Nero is your brother. He thought you'd died years ago," I explain.
But then a small voice calls out from behind him.
"We're free? We can leave?" the girl asks, peeking slowly over his shoulder.
"Shh," Nero's brother turns to her, "I don't know if we can trust them, Bia mia. You know I'd never put you at risk."
His voice is completely different as he addresses her. Softer, warmer.
Full of love.
"Nothing will happen to you. I vow to you. We are currently evacuating the entire compound," I feel compelled to explain.
"Please, T," she continues, and I see her hand reach out to caress his shoulder, that one touch rendering him incapable of refusing her.
"If you think to cheat us, you will die by my fists," he turns to me, his gaze grave.
"Agreed," I shrug.
I'm already getting restless as I think of the imminent meeting with Miles, my temples throbbing as I imagine just how I'm going to drain the life out of him—slow and painful.
The man helps the girl sit up, and the first thing I notice is the slight bump she's cradling with her hands, her stance protective as she takes a wary step towards us.
When the light hits her face I freeze.
Dark hair that flows down her back and reaching to her knees, pale skin that almost looks translucent in the stark neon light, and dark eyes that I see every time I look in the mirror.
"Katya?" My voice trembles as I utter that word. "Katyusha?"
She blinks slowly, her eyes focusing on me as if she doesn't recognize who I am.
Still, the features are identical to the Katya I used to know. The Katya from ten years ago.
Her lips quiver, her eyes glossy as she takes a step forward.
The man, noting the change in her, instinctively reaches forward to place himself between us.
"No, T. I know him," she utters softly. "I know him..." she continues, her voice breaking in a sob. "He's my brother."
"Brother?" the giant asks, turning to me and assessing me carefully for the first time. "Vlad?" he asks and I nod, surprised to hear my name coming from his lips.
"Vlad." Katya's voice rings out as she continues forward. Slowly—ever so slowly she steps into my waiting arms as I stiffly embrace her.
Katya. My sister is alive.
"How..." I find myself speechless for the first time as I look at her.
She doesn't look bad. Certainly not how I would have imagined her to look if I ever found her.
But there's this bleakness in her eyes that's replaced the youthful vibe from before.
She looks worn, and jaded, and entirely too old for her twenty-six years.
"You're here to get us out," she breathes, a hint of hope sparkling in her eyes. "T," she turns to the man, "we're really going to be free," she says before she goes back to him, sobs racking her body as she closes her arms around his massive frame. "We made it."
"Ah, Bia mia," he gently strokes her hair, "we did," he whispers as he continues to hold her.
A soft hand slips into mine, startling me from the sweet scene in front of me.
Sisi lays her head on my shoulder, her fingers tightening over mine.
"You did it, Vlad," her voice is so full of emotion, and one look at her face tells me she's on the brink of tears, "you found her," she gives me a smile that could rival the sun in its intensity.
And for the first time I feel my chest expand, relief flooding every cell of my body.
"I did," I reply, "we did," I amend, because she's been with me every step of the way.
Not wishing to risk their safety more than necessary, I call Enzo to send a team to evacuate them, telling him to take special care with them because they are family.
Once the men make it to our location, I hand them over with the promise that we'll catch up later, and that everything will work out.
Alone once more, we head to the arena.
Chapter Thirty-Five
My soul hurts for Vlad as I see his expression filled with confusion. The way I'm sure he's beyond happy to have found his sister, but unable to show the sentiment.
A myriad of emotions cross his face, as if he doesn't know which one to settle on, the feeling wholly unfamiliar.
My hand in his, I do my best to comfort him, let him know I'm there
for him with my presence.
Everything we've seen so far had been gut-wrenching, but there is light at the end of the tunnel, and as I look at Katya, her features so like Vlad, I know that we'll get through this. She might be the last piece to heal his fractured soul.
After the people we'd found are handed over to Enzo and his people, we silently continue to the arena where Bianca and Adrian are waiting for us.
I don't even know what to expect anymore. Not after what I'd witnessed since stepping off that boat, the torture and suffering housed in here beyond anything I could have ever imagine. The images of those dead children being covered in flies and devoured by maggots had remained stamped on my retina, and I don't think I'm likely to forget them anytime soon.
For that reason alone, I hope that Vlad gives Miles what he deserves.
The worst death possible.
Taking advantage of the fact that my brother is ahead of us, I quickly lean into Vlad to whisper.
"You did great." I praise gently, knowing he hadn't exactly known how to react, the hug he'd shared with his sister stiff and uncomfortable.
"She didn't look bad," he replies, almost mechanically. "She looked way better than I expected to find her."
I nod in agreement. I, too, had been surprised to see her looking so healthy.
"She's pregnant," I comment. "Do you think that man is the father?"
It hadn't been hard to guess that there was something between the giant and Katya, not with the way he was ready to defend her with his life. But the entire premise of captivity seems antithetic with a budding romance.
"I'm not sure," Vlad replies. "I don't know for sure what the purpose of that area was, especially since the other prisoners were all under twelve. But I do have an inkling," he adds grimly.
"You think he was breeding them." I say what he'd already theorized months before. Because while Katya didn't have Vlad's condition, she might have been a carrier for it.
"Yes. And it's much more plausible if Nero's brother was used as a sperm donor, since he has the condition."
"But that would mean..." I trail off, the thought horrifying.
"Yes. That would mean this isn't her first pregnancy."
It's been almost ten years. I don't even want to imagine what she's been through and how many children she's lost because of that monster. Having gone through something similar myself, I know how much of a hole the loss of a child produces in one's soul. But there's a world of difference in comparing our situations, and my heart weeps for what she must have been through.
Morally Ambiguous: A Dark Mafia Romance (Morally Questionable Book 4) Page 72