45. Adrian

We arrive back in NYC early the next morning. After we"d communicated our findings to Vlad and Marcel, Vlad had been adamant about checking other names on the list.

"You need repeated testing to prove a hypothesis," he"d said. I hadn"t been too happy, mainly because I was sure about it. It seemed pretty clear cut from where I stood.

Those people have all been involved with Jimenez at some point, and then Martin had profited by blackmailing them. The only thing we"d check is whether all the names on the list were guilty of the same crime or different ones.

"But aren"t you curious?" Bianca had asked when I"d brought up that point.

"Why would I be? These people may have been involved with Jimenez at some point. But that was over twenty years ago. Even if the information gave us insight into what type of businesses Jimenez ran, it"s still in the past. I doubt he kept everything the same."

"You"re right and wrong at the same time," Vlad had said. "You"re right in that the information would be indeed outdated, but you"re wrong in that it would still be viable. A leopard doesn"t change its spots, no matter how many years pass. And in our world, if you"re good at something, you keep doing it. Jimenez has never been caught. He"s never even been sighted so far. Law enforcement knows about him, but they can"t catch him because they don"t know what he looks like. If that"s not success…"

While I see Vlad"s point of view, I don"t want to go about gallivanting and crossing each name off the list.

But Bianca has other ideas. And somehow, I can"t let her go alone, no matter how deadly she thinks she is.

And so, we"ve paid a few more house visits, and for the next four days, we manage to speak to another six people, the only living ones on the list.

Again, none are too willing to talk until we proceed with a little persuasion. Only one other man was involved in the sex rings, while the others were merely guilty of investing in Jimenez"s illegitimate businesses or backing up illegal arms dealings.

All of which will look just as bad if they"re to be released to the press, fact that we"ve made clear to them. Luckily, even though we"re required to use a little more force than we would have liked to, no one ends up dead.

In my book, that"s a victory.

And so, here we are again, piecing everything together and making sense of the empire that Jimenez rules.

"His main sources of income appear to come from human trafficking and illegal arms trade. Not very surprising there," Bianca says after she finishes making a diagram with all the people involved.

"And that"s where The Block comes into play." Vlad drops this into the conversation casually, and we all turn to look at him.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, I forgot to add that by wild, I meant that it"s mostly used to auction people off. It"s truly a dissolute dump, considering all that goes in there. But it"s also one of the most exclusive auction clubs that Jimenez owns."

I frown at him. "And you just thought to mention this now?" What is Vlad playing at?

"Of course, where would be the fun of giving you everything served on a platter?" He tilts his head in a challenging manner, and without even thinking, I take a step forward.

Bianca puts her hand on my arm and shakes her head.

It takes me a second to cool down.

And that"s when I remember Vlad"s MO—quid pro quo. He doesn"t do anything for free… Maybe that"s why he was so adamant about checking the whole list. And whatever we found must have been quite crucial for him to feel that he owes us a piece of information.

I sneak a glance at Bianca to check her reaction, but she"s as expressionless as always. She knows him well enough not to be offended by this. Or at least she"s not showing it.

"What else do you know?" I eventually ask, trying to subdue my temper.

Vlad doesn"t answer but opens the drawer and throws two bracelets towards Bianca and me. Both of them have a cursive B imprinted in diamonds on a round piece of gold.

"Those are your invitations. It"s that exclusive. Wear them, and you"re in."

"And how did you manage to get these?"

"I have my contacts. But does it really matter?"

Honestly, no. Vlad could keep his secrets since it"s clear he has his own agenda and is probably pursuing something too. I don"t care as long as he"s transparent with us.

Which he isn"t exactly.

It makes me wonder how Bianca could be such close friends with him. Just as that thought takes shape, I remind myself that Vlad doesn"t feel anything, either. It"s easy to forget that when he mimics feelings and facial expressions so well.

He almost seems normal.

When I look now at Bianca and him, I see a world of difference. Ever since Bianca hasn"t felt the need to pretend anymore, her default expression has been… blank. There"s rarely anything reflected on her face. Vlad, on the other hand, seems entirely too ordinary, even in a room with people who know he"s anything but.

That makes him dangerous.

"Fine. Bianca, tomorrow we"re going to Atlantic City." She gives me a brief nod.

As I turn to leave, Vlad calls out again.

"Don"t you want to know what the crossed-out names were?" he asks in an amused tone.

"You managed to read them?" Bianca inquires, getting closer to Vlad.

"Yes. Nothing new, but Marcel and I confirmed that they all died around the time Martin came into possession of the list."

"We were thinking that they probably refused the blackmail and fought back. In return, Martin killed them," Marcel speaks, crossing his arms from the other corner of the room. I"d almost forgotten he was there, but then, Marcel always maintains a distance between himself and other people.

"Basically, the old man was the piece of shit we already knew he was," Bianca scoffs.

"Thought you"d like to know." Vlad smirks.

I announce that I"m leaving, but not before I wave Marcel over for a quick word.

"I don"t trust Vlad," I tell him.

I didn"t trust him before, but now? I don"t care that B"s known him for ten years and whatnot. And it"s not about me being jealous.

It"s really not.

"I don"t like how he just inserted himself in this. Sure, he had some info, but… something isn"t right," I tell him.

"Don"t worry. He"s difficult, I"ll allow. But he"s never screwed over Bianca, and, by extension, he wouldn"t mess with you."

"Just how well do you know him?" I ask, suddenly Bianca"s words about their friendship ring in my ears, making me doubtful.

"We were sort of neighbors growing up. You could say we were childhood friends." Marcel shrugs as if it"s not a big deal.

"I"m still not sure… But if you say it"s fine, I"ll trust you."

"I promise," Marcel responds solemnly, the corners of his mouth going up slightly.

I give him a nod, and I turn to leave. I saunter towards my car as if waiting for something…

It never comes.

I"m almost pissed at myself when I get inside and start the car. I"ve been waiting for Bianca to come after me and say something… anything, really. Ever since we"ve gotten back from Florida, she"s been more distant and emotionless than usual.

Is that even a thing?

She"s barely talked to me if it isn"t pertinent to the case. And after Atlantic City, it"s unlikely we"ll be in proximity again.

When I"d found out about her double life, I"d decided it was over. It had been a painful decision to take because I realized that I"d spent years loving someone who didn"teven exist.

But I"d done it. When I"d told her to get out of my life, I"d meant it. Who would have imagined that we would be thrown together again? I"ve gotten a good look at the real Bianca these past few days, and while she isn"t the woman I fell in love with, she is… intriguing.

I know about her childhood trauma, and I wonder how much of that shaped who she is now. Because while I do believe she"s not normal, I don"t believe she has no feelings. Her moral compass is clearly screwed, I"m not going to lie.

But sometimes I see something in her eyes, and I almost believe she loves me.

Almost.

Or maybe it"s my wishful thinking. How pathetic is that?

I get back to the apartment and get ready for bed. At least I know that Bianca has been sleeping in her own apartment and not at Vlad"s. With my growing distrust of him, I don"t think I"d be able to stand the thought of her there.

As I try to drift to sleep, I think of what the future holds. Finally getting Jimenez for all his crimes and giving my parents the justice they deserve. As for Bianca… I think the time will come to say goodbye.

* * *

The following morning, I pick up Bianca in my car, and we head to Atlantic City. When I see her carrying a massive suitcase with her, my eyes widen.

"What"s in that?" I ask, pointing towards it.

"Everything we might need. Disguises, because we"re not walking in there for everyone to recognize us, weapons, and other small things that should help us."

"Small things? I"m afraid to even ask."

She gives me a beaming smile, replying, "Don"t."

I shake my head but drive. It"s a couple of hours until Atlantic City, so we hash out our plan.

"Remember, no killing," I add to make sure we"re on the same page. Bianca frowns at me, probably because I"d agreed with her dispatching Wolfe. True, I"d been too disgusted by what he"d done to contemplate an alternative. But we didn"t need to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves this time. The no killing rule should be enforced.

"Fine," she grumbles. "But if I don"t get to kill anyone, then you don"t get to act the hero either," Bianca continues.

"Hero? What do you mean?" I sneak a glance at her, and she has a challenging look on her face.

"As if you wouldn"t try to save those people from the auction block. Please, I"m well aware of your good Samaritan syndrome."

"I don"t know what you"re talking about," I add, a little bit baffled that she"d think I"d do anything to jeopardize this when I"d been looking for a chance to come face to face with Jimenez for twenty years.

She turns towards me and narrows her eyes. "Sure. Whatever you say. It"s not as if you haven"t been helping strays ever since I"ve known you."

"That"s not exactly true."

"You had six cats when I met you. Six. All of them from rescues."

"Those are animals…" I mumble. "And I had to give them up because of your allergy."

"Yeah, if it wasn"t for my allergy, we would probably have more than a dozen cats by now. Who knows how many dogs too."

"Do you like dogs?" I suddenly ask, realizing I don"t actually know the answer to that.

"I don"t know…" she says. "Maybe… Some are cute… I don"t know." She"s fidgeting, and her answer is all over the place.

I just asked her if she liked dogs. I shake my head. Sometimes I don"t understand her.

"Anyway, it"s not just cats. Let"s not forget that homeless man you set up with a job and an apartment. Or the lost child that time during our date. You spent four hours looking for his mother. Four hours of our date." One look at her, and it"s clear she"s still holding a grudge.

"What was I supposed to do? I work in law enforcement. I couldn"t have left him alone."

"You could have handed him to someone else."

"I didn"t trust anyone else."

"See? That"s what you always do. You see someone in need, and you have to go be the hero. It"s not as if you didn"t do this with me too. Remember that first dinner? When I was being picked on? It"s a pattern." She"s relentless. I didn"t realize she"d been keeping track of this.

Truth is, most of the time, it"s not even a conscious effort. I know what it"s like to be picked on, to be the underdog, so when I see someone in a similar position, I feel like I have to act. This is also why my career is so rewarding to me. I"ve managed to help people so they wouldn"t have to make tough decisions like I had to.

I know what it"s like to sell your soul for survival, and it"s something I"ll have to always live with. If I can help one person avoid that type of fate, then it hasn"t all been for nothing.

"Okay, okay. Maybe I do… tend to help others. But this is far too important. I can"t risk anything going wrong," I say eventually.

"Good. Then we are in agreement." She gives a brisk nod, and we continue in silence.

We soon reach Atlantic City, and we head directly to our motel to check in. There"s one word that can describe the atmosphere here—gray. Everything is so commonplace, as if the presence of sin has erased all types of color from this place. There are more dilapidated buildings than not, including the hotel we"re staying at, and I can"t help but wonder why Jimenez would have chosen this place.

The room we manage to get is a double with two twin-sized beds. For all its bareness, this place is packed.

Bianca drags her huge luggage and dumps it on the bed. She opens it and shows me what she"s brought.

"You"re going as Pink?" I ask when I see her pink wig and the outfit she used to wear at the Palace.

"I felt it would be fitting." She grins, and I purse my lips in response.

Of course, it would be fitting.

"Just for the record." She puts a finger up to get my attention. "I never worked as a prostitute there. I was just waitressing."

"Really?" I ask ironically.

"Yeah, I only served drinks. I did doyou on the side, but it wasn"t in my job description." She seems so proud of herself that I just shake my head.

"Why did you do it, though?" I never got a straight answer from her. Why go to such lengths?

"I wanted you. But you would have never fucked me as Martin"s daughter. I had to improvise."She shrugs.

"Was it worth it? Living a double life?"

"Of course," she answers immediately. No remorse. Nothing.

"What else is in there?" I change the topic, not wanting to dwell on her confession.

"These…" She removes a fake beard and a pair of glasses. "As well as these…" Next are some temporary tattoos on a piece of paper and a wig. "are for you."

"You want me to put that on?" I motion towards the long-haired wig.

"Yes. Don"t worry. I"ll make you look like an outlaw." She smirks and motions me to sit on the other bed. I look at her suspiciously but relent. We need to be discreet, so the disguise goes.

"Let"s see," she says as she concentrates on applying the fake tattoos all over my neck and arms.

She then focuses on my face and carefully applies a dark fake beard before finally adding on the wig. I"d never realized how much work goes behind these disguises. Just the amount of time Bianca takes to make sure the wig is safely in place is astonishing.

After she"s done, I stand and look at the mirror.

I look… strange. My hands go to my new hairline, and I"m impressed by how sturdy the wig placement is. It makes sense why Bianca"s never budged as Pink, even when we"d engaged in more physically demanding activities. She"d tied the long hair of the wig in a tail at the back of my neck. The beard changes my face completely. It"s not too long, but it still covers my entire jaw. Those two, coupled with the multiple tattoos that now mar my skin, make me appear a completely different person.

"And these." She hands me a pair of glasses with a golden hue, and I put them on. After I turn towards her to gauge her reaction, she gives out a loud whistle.

"I"d fuck you," she says unabashedly, those words meant to be her approval.

I grunt and then watch her as she transforms herself into Pink.

For her, there are a few other challenging aspects. She starts out with a very bold makeup to change her face"s physiognomy before adding a pair of green contact lenses and finally the Pink wig.

She strips to her underwear, and I have to swallow hard as I take in her flawlessly toned body.

She takes off her bra, and I mutter a curse under my breath. She"s not even trying to be sexy; she"s clearly focused on dressing herself up, yet I can"t control myself. I shift ever so slightly to alleviate the discomfort in my pants, but I don"t look away from her.

She puts on a lacy black bra that hugs her breasts and then adds the trademark fishnets. She then dons a sparkly purple dress that barely covers her ass.

"I always wondered why Doc Martens," I say as she sits to tie her boots.

"You"ll see." She winks at me and then goes to rummage through her suitcase again. She pulls up a bunch of weapons and throws them on the bed in front of me. She looks at each of them before settling on two pocket guns and a small knife, which she then sheaths inside her boots. She then adds more ammo in each boot before she looks at me, grinning, "Done!"

She twirls around, and I"m again surprised by her transformation. We both look entirely different.

"Boots are perfect to store weapons; that"s why I usually only wear boots."

"No killing, remember?" I have to add to which she snorts.

"We need to be prepared for every eventuality," she counters, and I let her have her way.

Lastly, she puts on a choker and touches the pendant until it emits a tiny red light.

"Is that?"

"A camera. We can research faces later." I nod, glad she"d thought about this.

By the time we finish getting ready, it"s already late.

"Don"t forget this!" Bianca flings the bracelet in my direction, and I snap it around my wrist before leaving the motel room.

If anyone asks why we"re there, we"ve convened to say we"re looking for a third party for our relationship, but hopefully, it won"t get to a point where we have to prove we"re serious about that.

We take a cab that drops us at the address Vlad had given us. From the outside, it looks like an abandoned factory. Some windows are broken, and the paint is peeling off the walls.

"Here?" I ask, amazed at what I"m seeing.

"Exclusive, remember?"

We make our way to the door, and we knock. A small window opens, and they ask us to show the bracelets.

We do, and we"re then welcomed inside. The man at the door gives us both a ticket with a number.

Immediately, as we enter, there are stairs that lead towards the basement.

So, the actual club isn"t in the factory…

We come to a stop when an expansive room bathed in red light opens before us. There"s security personnel at all access points.

The room itself has a big stage in the middle and tons of space around, along with some seating areas and VIP areas in the form of balconies.

As we take a step inside, the man next to the entrance asks to see our bracelets. When we show them to him again, he takes us to an alcove that leads to a VIP balcony with a direct view of the stage.

We settle in the chairs, and I take in the view from our vantage point. VIP boxes are scattered around the room, all of them being able to zoom in on the main stage. The box itself is made up of a bench that surrounds it and a table in the middle. There are a few pairs of binoculars on the table, probably to zoom in on the auctions. Next to it is some sort of catalog.

I pick that up, and I"m disgusted to see it lists the schedule of the entertainment. My eyes quickly scan for the auction, which starts at twelve, and it goes successively from adult males and females, to virgins, and lastly, to children.

Bianca must have noticed my expression; she snatches the booklet from my hands and quickly skims it.

"Shit," she mutters. She quickly checks her wristwatch and turns to me.

"It"s almost ten." So, we need to wait about two more hours for the auction to start. According to Vlad, if something is interesting on offer, Jimenez is very likely to appear. How we"ll recognize him, I don"t know.

"What"s at ten?" I lean into her to look again at the schedule.

"It says Freestyle, whatever this means," she answers.

Just then, the waiter comes, and we order a bottle of champagne so we can blend in.

The room"s lights suddenly change to a deep blue, maybe announcing the beginning of whatever that Freestyle is.

"Maybe it"s a strip show?" Bianca says, her eyes focused on the stage.

"I guess we"ll see."

Someone comes onto the stage, and the music quiets down.

"As always, we have a freestyle event where everyone can participate. For today"s spotlight, I"m going to draw the lucky number."

I turn to Bianca and narrow my eyes. She lifts the pieces of paper we"d received and shows them to me.

"Tonight, you will get to see… number 54." Bianca shakes her head, and I almost breathe in relief when it"s not our numbers being called. I don"t even know what it"s for.

We turn our attention to the stage again, and an elderly man climbs onto the stage with a woman who could be his granddaughter.

"Since you"ve been chosen for tonight"s spotlight, you can invite other people from the audience to take part with you," the presenter tells the man.

He seems lost in thought as he scans the crowd and settles on another couple close to the stage—the presenter motions for them to get up on the scene.

"Let"s see what this Freestyle is all about," I muse aloud, and Bianca chuckles.

"It sure isn"t a rap competition," she says as the people on the stage take off their clothes.

"Okay… definitely not a dance competition either," I add.

The young woman is now naked and on her knees in front of the old man, sucking his cock. The other couple is also newly naked.

The woman is on her back, her head directly under the young woman and licking her, while the man fucks her.

As I look around, I realize that most of the other people on the floor are now engaging in an orgy.

"We should have seen that coming," Bianca adds drily, and I can only nod as I take in the debauchery before my eyes.

Bianca"s hand is suddenly on my thigh, and she nods towards the other VIP boxes, where people are in all kinds of positions, doing the same thing.

But what she"s pointing at is so disgusting, I nearly gag. One man has a young boy in a collar and leash and orders him around. The boy can"t be more than ten. I can"t watch as I see him lower himself on his knees in front of the man.

Bianca can"t either, and I hear an almost sob coming from her lips. I turn to look at her, and her face is ashen, her eyes wide and practically brimming with tears.

"What the fuck is this?" she whispers. The more I look around, the more people I see engaging in fucked up and unnatural acts.

The waiter comes and brings our champagne. We both try to collect ourselves while he"s here. He pours the liquid in two glasses and suddenly gives us a pointed look.

"You"re not participating?" My mouth almost drops open as I realize the implication.

We have to participate.

Bianca is quick to react, and she gives him a dazzling smile, her hand roaming on my chest.

"We were waiting for the champagne. Everyone has their kinks, right?" She winks at him, taking a sip from the glass and turning to kiss me.

I part my lips, and she transfers some of the champagne in my mouth. We continue kissing, and I think the waiter"s convinced because he takes his leave. She leans back and looks at me.

"I don"t know how we"re going to do this," I admit. Just knowing what"s surrounding us… it"s almost too much.

"We have to give them something. They"re watching." Bianca slightly nods to the floor, where I see the presenter behind the stage with the waiter whispering something in his ear.

"We can pretend, right?" I ask her, trying to convince myself more than anything. I"m sick to my stomach just thinking about what kids are doing in this place.

"I think this is a test," she whispers. And I have to agree. You have to be a certain kind of depraved to engage in an orgy that has children around.

Bianca"s hand squeezes mine before standing and tugging her dress over her head.

Shit…

* * *

She drops it on the floor and now stands only in her lacy bra and fishnets. She gives me a sad smile before climbing in my lap, one leg on each side.

My hand goes to her back, and I hold her close.

"It"s okay," she whispers, her mouth seeking my throat. At the exact same time, I look ahead and see at least a few people focused on our box. I guess there"s no way out of this if we want to keep our cover.

"Don"t take anything else off," I tell Bianca, as my hand goes up and down her spine in a stroking manner. "I don"t want them to see you."

My other hand finds her jaw, tipping it so that my mouth can fit over hers. I brush my mouth over hers once… twice… and she giggles.

"Your fake beard tickles."

"Are you serious?" A smile plays at my lips, and I"m starting to forget my surroundings.

"I think I know what I"d like to try…" she whispers with a mischievous smile on her face, and I know exactly what she"s hinting at.

In no time, I switch our roles so that she"s now seated on the padded bench, and I"m on the floor on my knees. I spread her legs and kiss from her ankle towards her inner thigh. Her quick intake of breath tells me I"m heading in the right direction.

I sneak a glance up, and I see her head"s already fallen back, her mouth half-open. Finding her center, I rip the fishnets, as I always do, shoving her panties to the side. Looking to draw this moment out, I nuzzle my face between her lips, inhaling her scent.

My tongue traces her entire contour before settling on her clit. I suck it into my mouth, nibbling at it with my teeth. Her thighs clench around my head, and I"m spurred forward, licking, and devouring her juices. I insert two fingers inside her, and it takes only one motion for her to come around me. I can hear the echo of her moans feeling the air and drowning everything else out.

I give her a few more licks before she fists my shirt and brings me up for an open-mouthed kiss. Her hands go to my zipper, and she takes my cock out, stroking me from base to tip. I"m so lost in her kiss that it only takes a few pumps for me to come.

"Shit," I mutter, opening my eyes and looking at Bianca"s puffy lips and glazed eyes.

"Better than drugs," she whispers and licks her lips.

Just then, the voice of the presenter echoes in the room again.

"I hope everyone"s managed to come." He chuckles at his joke before introducing the next entertainment.

The stage is now empty of the previous couples.

"What"s next?" I ask Bianca as I slide next to her after putting myself together. She"s also put her dress back on and is now looking at the schedule.

"It says Dungeon." She frowns. "Who came up with these names? And is this supposed to be some kinky shit?"

I think we"ve had enough kinky shit.

Knowing we got each other off while crazy motherfuckers were there engaging in God knows what with children makes me feel shameful and disgusted with myself. I can also see that even Bianca isn"t as unmoved as she always wants to appear and might need to put in some effort to maintain a poker face.

The presenter continues with the introduction of the Dungeon.

"Here at The Block, we aim to please every vice. And for our second entertainment of the evening, we have the Dungeon. Once again, please check your numbers as you might very soon get the chance for premium dining. Here and Live!"

As he finishes speaking, a chair is brought up to the middle of the stage.

Two big men bring forward another man, dragging him towards the chair and securing him with metal chains. The man has a collar around his neck that seems to feed electric stimuli into his body if he struggles. After settling the man in the chair, they bring forward an electric grill followed by a table with different utensils.

"Is that?" My eyes widen, and I think I finally get the implication.

"I will once again explain the rules for those who are new. A few numbers will be drawn for the chance to dine on our terrific prisoner. Along with the numbers, you will also receive a body part from which you can eat. The number which is lucky to get the heart will go last and will get the chance to personally carve it out of our lovely prisoner." He waves his hand towards the man in the chair, whose expression is that of pure terror.

The presenter calls out numbers, each one being delegated a body part from which they can take their pound of flesh. Some get the right leg, some the left, some the hands, and so on. Once they hear their number, they all head to a portion of the stage, awaiting their turn.

Bianca and I are at the edge of our seats, religiously checking our numbers, so we"re not chosen.

"And lastly…" He builds the anticipation. "For the heart… Number 103."

Shit.

I look down at my number.

103.

Bianca"s eyes snap to mine, and so fast I can barely register, she changes our tickets and stands to head for the stage.

"B!" I yell after her, but she doesn"t even look back.

I watch, stupefied, as person after person takes a turn at the man in the chair.

Most of them take little bits of meat, cooking it on the grill and eating it in front of an audience.

By Bianca"s turn, the man is still alive but barely.

"And now, for the highlight of this event. Miss…" He motions towards Bianca, and she answers, "Pink."

"Miss Pink is going to have the honor of carving out the heart. The rules are simple, young lady. You must not, at any point, kill him before taking out the heart. Think you can manage?" The presenter is treating this like it"s game night, and this is a quest.

"I can manage," Bianca replies in her expressionless manner.

The crowd is going crazy, saying she doesn"t have the guts, others asking what a woman"s doing up there, and so on.

Bianca doesn"t seem bothered as she goes to the table next to the grill and chooses a small knife, testing its sharpness on her own thigh. Once satisfied, she licks the blood off it and turns towards the man in the chair.

Many people are clapping at her display, but they stop when she kneels in front of the man and studies him. He now has holes in most areas of his body, including one on each cheek.

How he"s holding on I have no idea… but I"m pretty sure they must have fed him some sort of drugs for him to withstand this type of pain.

Bianca takes the knife and slowly makes a deep incision from his sternum to his belly. She then cuts thoroughly through flesh and muscle to reveal his ribcage. At this point, the crowd is going wild, with the presenter egging them on.

Bianca casually goes back to the table and picks up a drill, which she then uses to cut through his ribs. How she even knows to do this, it"s beside me…

I watch in awe and terror as she calmly takes a retractor and widens the gap between the ribs to reveal the man"s beating heart. He"s still alive… but his shallow breaths indicate that he won"t be for much longer.

The presenter quickly checks and announces to the whole crowd that he"s still breathing, praising Bianca"s technique.

Once the heart is in full sight of everyone, Bianca steps aside and lets them watch for a few seconds. She knows this is all for show, and she"s giving them exactly that.

Before going back, she gives me a quick look and mouths, I"m sorry. It doesn"t hit me for another moment, but she"s apologizing for not keeping her promise not to kill anyone.

She leaves all instruments on the table and turns to the man, her right hand going straight for his heart and ripping it from his chest in a bloody shower—everyone gasps at the barbaric display.

The man"s eyes, a second ago wide with terror, are now stuck forever like this.

Bianca"s standing in the middle of the stage, the heart bleeding from her hand. Her eyes look at me, but it"s like she doesn"t see me anymore.

When the presenter prompts her, she goes to the table and cuts the heart in half, spreading it on the grill. She tends to it for a while until it"s clear it"s done. She grabs a knife and a fork and cuts into it, bringing the bite to her lips. Her mouth opens, and she starts chewing and swallows.

To anyone else, she probably looks unconcerned with what she"s doing, maybe even enjoying it. But I know better. I see her eye twitch like I"ve seen it before in extreme situations, and I know.

I know she"s doing her best to keep her calm.

Just like I know what a sacrifice she"s made for me.

When she"s done, she leaves the stage amid raging applause from the crowd. She comes back to our box, quietly taking her seat.

"B… are you okay?"

"I"m fine," she says in a small voice. This time, her eyes are no longer blank.

They are bleak.