Page 184 of His Hell Girl

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 mouth, 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.

"Ineedto 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. 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 bestnotto show just how much I'm worried about this upcoming fight. Because while my trust is fully placed in Vlad and his abilities, this is Miles we'retalking about. The same Miles who's been eluding 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 packedthatunder his clothes," Adrian remarks, admiration in his eyes.

Truth is that Vlad's bodyisa 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 armorcovers every weak spot in his body, thereby making himreallyindestructible.

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