Page 135 of The Cute Psycho

"What's his name?" I ask, and Sisi looks at me with worry in her eyes.

"Nero. He's around your age. Talk to Agosti."He doesn't even wait for me to reply as he hangs up.

"Marcello's still holding a grudge," Sisi comments, and I have to agree. He's still sulking from last time, but I know he's going to come around. He always does.

"Maybe this Nero will know more," I add, a little optimistic for the first time.

After the flashbacks I had of what happened to Vanya and me there, I know I'll rain hell on everyone involved. They should really find their God fast and pray, because nothing will stop me from making their lives a living nightmare.

My plan set for the day, I only leave when my girl is purring with satisfaction.

A short while later and I'd managed to schedule an appointment with Nero at Enzo's house. I'd called Agosti, and I'd explained the circumstances—or as much as he needs to know—and he'd been rather accommodating in helping me meet with Nero.

I arrive at his house a little after noon, and I'm invited to his study. From the first moment I look at Nero, I can see a familiarity.

I don't know if I've met him before, but his eyes have the same quality as mine — both soulless. It's further confirmed when he moves, a robotic stiffness that I'm somewhat familiar with. In my case, though, I'd spent years trying to fight it, observing how people around me behaved and emulating those behaviors.

"Vlad." I smile at him as I stretch my arm to greet him.

His eyes are blank as he just gives me a nod, going to the couch and taking a seat.

Damn, but he's even ruder than me.

I take a seat next to him, continuing my observation.

His back is straight, not touching the couch, his hands on his knees as his spine makes a ninety-degree angle. He's like a soldier on a drill. His eyes are facing forward, as if I'm not in the room, but I can see small movements at the corner—he's assessing his surroundings.

"I assume you're curious about why I wanted to talk to you since we've never met before," I start, keeping my tone jovial.

He still doesn't answer, merely facing forward. For a moment I have to wonder if he's like Seth and the cat got his tongue too.

"Project Humanitas," I get to the point, and his jaw twitches, a sign that the name means something to him.

"What do you know about Project Humanitas?" he asks, and I get to hear his voice for the first time. It's raw and scratchy, as if he'd been exposed to smoke for prolonged periods of time, his vocal cords damaged.

"I was there." I shrug, waiting for him to give me more than a facial twitch.

Slowly, his face turns toward me, his eyes narrowing.

"I'm told we were both taken out at the same time. By Valentino Lastra," I add, happy that he reacts to the name.

He's silent for a while before asking.

"What did they do to you?" He blinks slowly, almost mechanically.

I guess it doesn't hurt to show him, since I'm making an educated guess that he's been through similar things as me. Opening my shirt, I show him the ridges from the surgical scars, and he nods.

Surprisingly, he does the same, showing me a large scar on his back, running from his neck to his pelvis.

"I'm surprised you lived," I comment, noticing the extensive scarring.

"Ditto," he replies, putting back his clothes.

"What do you remember?" I ask, telling him that a lot of my memories from captivity are gone.

"You're lucky," he says quietly. "There's not a day that I don't remember what they did to me... what they tried," he chuckles.

"What do you mean?"

---