Page 66
VLAD
" E veryone should be out by now," I mention as I kick open a door leading to the basement.
As we'd looked through the building, I'd also found an old blueprint of it. While I can assume that the underground level's been built much later than the building plan, I'd found a door that leads directly there.
"Shouldn't we wait for the others?" she asks as she takes off her nurse’s outfit, dumping it on the ground. I do the same with my white doctor's coat, the extra clothing only impeding our movements. And we'll need all the freedom to move.
"They'll come. Eventually," I add dryly.
There's this anxiousness building inside of me, every step I take making me imagine the moment I'll finally confront Miles for everything he's done to us.
Vanya.
Not for the first time, I wish she were still here. I wish she could see me making Miles pay for what he did to her, and for all the suffering he put us both through.
More than anything, I wish she could see me keep my promise.
I won't fail you, V.
Decades of preparation, and it was all for this moment.
Holding tightly onto Sisi, I lead us down a windy path to a cellar-like space. Cobwebs everywhere, it's clear this particular entrance has not been used in a long time.
"The others are in the building." Sisi nods at me just as we reach a long corridor.
"Stay close to me," I tell her, my eyes already scouting the area.
Taking a deep breath, I let myself scan my surroundings, all my senses ready to pick up any signal.
There's an eerie silence, the only noise, our steps as we carefully move forward.
Sisi scrunches her nose in disgust when we reach a particular area where the stench of the old cellar is too much.
I tighten my hand on hers, letting her know she should be on guard. According to the plans we'd looked at, this tunnel should lead somewhere. But the destination hadn't been recorded on the blueprint, likely because it was built much later. I could wager a guess, though, as to where this leads.
I still, placing my hand up for Sisi to stop too. Raising a finger to my lips, I motion for her to be silent and listen to the noise.
It's very faint, but as I close my eyes and hone in on it, I can almost make out the sound of footsteps.
One. Two. Five.
My hand up, I use my fingers to indicate how many people are heading our way. She nods at me, a grim expression on her face that slowly gives way to excitement.
I should know, since it emulates my own very well.
I guess that until our reinforcements arrive we'll have time for one tiny play.
Stretching my arm out to her as if I'm inviting her to waltz, I wink at her, and she knows exactly what to do.
She fakes a curtsey as she lowers her hands to her feet, getting her shoes ready for fighting. Her entire outfit's been custom made for one purpose: to suit our style.
And we'd had enough time practicing to develop a very particular style. Especially as my stretched out hand tightens over hers, tugging her into me with a whirl.
"Ready for the showdown, hell girl?" I ask, amused.
I don't know how prepared the men coming our way are going to be, but I have no doubt that they are no match for us together.
Her lips curl around the corners as she bats her lashes at me, her arm coming to rest around my shoulder.
"You don't have to ask twice," she purrs slowly.
I may have taught her how to fight and hold her own, but we'd also trained so we could complement each other in a battle. Inspired by the first time we'd faced those men in the restaurant, we'd practiced for hours until our bodies became in sync—not that they weren't already.
There's something about the way we communicate. Half the time words are obsolete as one glance says everything.
The sounds of boots hitting the floor becomes louder and louder until the five men I'd counted appear in sight, weapons raised and aiming at us.
"You know it might hurt, right?" I drawl as I trail my hand down her back, where her latex suit is covering bulletproof equipment.
"You can kiss it better later," she murmurs.
My lips are already on hers, the corner of my eye studying the movements of the men as they charge and…
I spin her around to a silent tune, the only noise the bullets whizzing past us as we move in sync, avoiding most incoming shots, while closing the distance between us and the men.
It's a waltz of death as Sisi and I glide on the floor, every step taking us closer to our targets.
And just as I see that we're in the right spot, I spread my hands over her waist, raising her up in the air.
The men seem completely baffled by our display, and they're not even trying to aim at us any more, bullets fly haphazardly in all directions as one barks some orders at the others to focus.
It's in vain, though, as their eyes are stuck on Sisi's sinful shape as she twirls in the air. Almost mesmerized, they don't even see the knives as they shoot out of her hands and land in their chests.
The leader of the unit screams some commands as two men go down, the others immediately entering a different formation as they surround us.
"Ready?" I ask, smirking.
"Let's do this," she says, her hands firmly on my shoulders as I swoop her in the air, her legs stretched out, the blades at the tip of her shoes extended.
Spinning her around, I give her enough momentum to coordinate the attack, her blades nipping two men right at their jugulars, blood immediately gushing out.
"One more behind me, hell girl," I whisper, lifting her high before lowering her to the ground and pushing her backwards.
She glides on the ground between my legs, and bracing herself on her elbows, she sends her foot right in the last man's face, the blade making contact with the area under his chin.
Finger on the trigger, he manages one last shot before he drops dead.
"Well." I dust my suit, opening up my shirt to remove the bullet stuck in my bulletproof vest. "I'd say that went well."
She's smiling widely at me.
"That was rather easy," she replies when I help her up.
"And sexy as fuck." I whistle, my eyes roving appreciatively over her figure.
Even if the men hadn't aimed their guns at us or meant to kill us, they would have still ended up dead, because they'd been a little too generous with their gazes.
Taking back our weapons from the fallen men, we're ready to move on.
"I have to say, those were not what I expected," she notes as we continued walking. "We didn't even have to try. And I 'm a beginner," she adds, almost outraged by their performance.
"I'm guessing someone's simply playing with us," I say as I narrow my eyes at the exit of the tunnel.
And so it seems, because as soon as we're out of the old tunnels, we find ourselves in the middle of some weird intermediary chamber, two men and one woman waiting at the exit.
"What is this, The Hunger Games ?" I groan as I realize it's just a game. Likely Miles is watching us even now, having fun at our expense.
"I'll get the girl, you get the guys." Sisi nods at me, her fight stance in place as her attention is focused on the girl.
Wielding a long chain, Sisi's opponent doesn't look to be older than eighteen. But what immediately strikes me is her gaze—it's blank.
"Sisi," I call out, my voice tense. "Please be careful. She's not normal."
I quickly scan my own opponents, noting the same glazed eyes—emotionless.
I need to finish with them as quickly as possible, because if these are part of the experiment, then chances are that they are anything but ordinary.
And Sisi doesn't stand a chance.
One eye perpetually fixed on Sisi, I take a step forward toward my own opponents. Both are holding battle axes, and as they look at me a smirk appears on their lips.
Ah, the taste of war.
It's something I'm intimately familiar with, as I'd had a hard time adjusting to the real world after I'd returned home. Every interaction I'd had with someone would start with the thought of killing them, this thirst for blood so deep within me it had taken me years to learn how to subdue.
And I know exactly how they feel. There's excitement in war, in fight, in the taste of the kill.
There's an intoxicating high that comes only when you have power over death, and for more than half my life I'd been a slave to it.
To this beast inside of me that's never satisfied for anything less than destruction—total annihilation.
They move forward, their smiles widening, and in their arrogant minds they can already taste victory.
Unluckily for them, they were sent after the wrong person. Now the question is rather simple. Weapons or no weapons. But as they charge forward, I don't get to make that decision. They make it for me.
My lip curling upwards, I just duck and dodge, avoiding every strike of their axes, one eye still on Sisi.
One kunai in each hand, she's holding tightly on to the hilt as she parries the strikes of the other girl's chain.
The air whooshes past my face as the blade of the axe glides one inch away from my skin.
Realizing I'd let them have their easy fun, I decide to end the game. My hands shoot out, both wrapping around the shaft of their axes just as they swing them toward me.
Oh, they're strong.
But not as strong as I am.
One foot forward, I push against them, letting my hand become slack for one moment as bait before holding tightly and wrenching the axes from their hands.
The force of my push sends them backwards, and for a moment they look disoriented as they realize their weapon is missing.
There's something odd about their reactions.
Besides the dead eyes, because been there, done that, there's something else, their focus a little off.
And as they continue to charge me, using their fists now, I immediately note what's wrong.
Robotic.
It's like their entire purpose is to end me, but without the conscious action behind it.
Fuck!
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