Helios sighed quietly. "Ask your questions," he said in a tired voice.
Dante hesitated only for a single breath. Then he asked the question that had been tormenting him for hours. "Why? Why did you torture that man in such a cruel way?" His voice was steady, even though his hands trembled restlessly. He feared the answer — and what it might mean for their relationship.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his fingertips pressed against the mattress, while Helios had taken a seat opposite him. With his legs crossed, he rested on the only chair in the room, looking exhausted to the core.
Yet his posture was flawless, as always. If it hadn't been for his unhealthy pallor and the bandaged foot, one could hardly have believed he had been through something terrible. His voice was rough, but unmistakably the same. The Helios Dante knew — or thought he knew.
His gaze was calm, penetrating, his green eyes seemed to look straight into Dante's soul.
"Because of the information that guy had," Helios explained. There was not a trace of remorse in his beautiful, cold eyes. "He wouldn't talk. No one down there would have hesitated to kill us just to protect their little secrets. I had no choice, Dante. If I want to get information on my own, this is the only way."
Dante took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. "I understand you can't muster much physical strength," he began with a hint of bitter sarcasm, "but how did you even get him onto the table? Did he lie down willingly?"
"No, I hoisted him up there. Believe it or not, I can manage a bit of strength," Helios said with a raised eyebrow. "To come back to your question: I tortured him to get information that concerns you. And he told me a few things that aren't uninteresting."
So he was still dodging the question…
Dante clenched his hands to keep them from shaking in anger. Helios was still evading. He spoke of information, but not of the true reason why he had acted with such brutal force. This evasion was driving Dante nearly insane.
Dante decided, for now, to take the opportunity to hear the information himself and then steer the conversation back to what interested him most. Namely, the reason behind Helios' actions.
Why he had done what he had done.
And, above all, to learn who Helios really was behind his façade.
Even though it was extremely difficult, Dante decided to play along with Helios' game for now. It frustrated him to the core that this man still wasn't willing to lay everything out on the table.
He exhaled slowly and forced himself to stay calm. "All right," he said quietly, "what things?"
"One thing you already know. You are the only immortal they ever created, and they know nothing about you. Of course, there's a possibility that more of your kind were accidentally created, but I highly doubt it."
"Yes, you told me that already after we… found you."
Helios nodded, ignoring Dante's remark completely.
"The second thing he revealed to me is that they changed the formulas so many times over the last ten years that the original one — the one they probably used to alter you — doesn't exist in that form anymore. Luckily, there were some very old records in the archives that should include the original. And even if not, we brought enough substances for me to analyze."
"I figured that was why you took so much with you," Dante said, glancing at the three bags they had dragged out of the complex.
"Exactly."
"Did he tell you anything else?"
"He did. As you know, he explained the layout of the lower levels to me, the location of the archives, and where their most important substance was stored: Ambrosia."
Dante raised an eyebrow and shot Helios a mocking look. "Really? Ambrosia? You mentioned the name down there, but they can't be serious."
Helios chuckled quietly, though it ended in a slight cough. He cleared his throat a couple of times before continuing.
"That was exactly what I thought the first time I heard it," he grinned. "Damn hypocrites. They think in the name of science, anything is acceptable. There were corpses down there, and plenty of people on the brink of death. They dragged all kinds of people into that place. The elderly, the sick, children, women and men of all ages. Not just the dying — they even kidnapped healthy people."
Dante rubbed a weary hand over his face. He had expected terrible things down there, but this — this he hadn't imagined. He hadn't seen any children.
"Really? Children?" he asked in a hollow voice, the words nearly catching in his throat.
"There weren't any children down there at the moment," Helios explained, "but I found some documents detailing everything. Age, gender, condition upon arrival, and what they did to them." His expression turned angry. "It's unbelievable what they allowed themselves to do."
Dante rubbed his face again, exhausted. "There were so many innocents down there," he murmured.
"They were barely alive," Helios said, his voice leaving no doubt about how serious he was. "None of them could have gotten out of there alive. Not on their own feet, nor if we had tried to carry them out. Let's just hope the fire gave them a quick death."
Dante nodded. He, too, hoped that at least they had been granted a quick end. The facility had been filthy, and it was obvious at first glance that keeping people alive had never been the goal.
Only the fulfillment of their objective mattered. Immortality or death, nothing else.
Dante had seen enough to know that the people experimenting down there had no scruples whatsoever. That they did cruel things in the name of science, just as Helios had described. He didn't even want to know how many had died down there alone, nameless, forgotten, their souls forever trapped in that hell.
Helios continued while Dante forced himself to keep listening.
"In any case, it seems that 'Ambrosia' was their ultimate substance. Their final ingredient. I just don't know what's in it. But they must have achieved some sort of success with it, otherwise they wouldn't have kept it as their last resort. As far as I could see, there are no records about it, only about what was given to the test subjects beforehand," Helios explained. "They apparently changed these formulas so many times that without documentation, it will be very hard to identify the one they tested on you ten years ago."
Dante exhaled slowly. His patience was wearing dangerously thin. He wanted his question answered, once and for all. But Helios didn't seem anywhere near finished with his report, so Dante clenched his jaw and kept listening.
"What exactly does that mean?" he asked sharply.
"Not much more than this," Helios replied, as if reciting an ordinary to-do list. "First, I'll have to sift through all the records. I need to find out what's in 'Ambrosia' and what exactly they injected into you. I'll have to test your blood, and I'll need a few rats to verify my theories. But I can't promise you anything. There's so little 'Ambrosia' left that I won't be able to run many tests. We only have this one vial."
So Helios didn't even know if he could keep his promise. But if anyone could make him mortal again, it was Helios. Of that, Dante was still fairly sure. At least in that one point, he still trusted him.
Dante felt a cold stab in his chest. So everything depended on a tiny glass vial. If that was used up, they would have nothing left. No second chance.
Dante exhaled in frustration. "So if the vial is empty, that's it? No chance to reproduce it and make me normal again?"
Helios nodded. "In the worst case, you'll be immortal forever."
"Shit," Dante spat out through clenched teeth.
Helios raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh? Suddenly you have so little faith in my skills?"
Dante was silent for a moment. Finally, he answered honestly, "I never doubted your skills."
Helios studied him intently. "Then why are you so angry with me? I'm still the same person."
"No, you're not," Dante said bitterly.
"Nothing has changed, Dante. You just know more now than you did before. I'll keep my promise, you'll keep yours, and after that, we'll go our separate ways. I don't see any problem with that." Helios's voice was provocative, his gaze cold and arrogant. It drove Dante nearly mad how unaffected Helios seemed.
He still wanted to pretend he was the same?
To Dante, he had become a completely different person.
Helios stared at him silently for a moment before sighing and turning his eyes to the window. "I still can't believe Father was behind all of this and allowed it to happen."
"Seems to run in the family…" Dante muttered in an annoyed tone. But the moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them.
Helios's expression hardened. His eyes burned with rage as he glared at him. "What did you just say?" he asked in an icy voice. "If you have something to say, Dante, then say it clearly so I can understand you."
Dante looked at the young man, who sat there like a god of death upon his throne. If he hadn't been immortal, he might have feared for his life at that very moment. Helios looked at him with the gaze of a killer, one Dante had rarely seen in a human being.
If looks alone could kill, Helios would never have needed poisons.
Dante clenched his teeth.
And yet Helios was probably the most beautiful killer he had ever seen — if he really was one.
"I asked you a question, Dante," Helios repeated.
The situation was complicated, and there was no way out but the direct one. What could Helios do, really? Kill him? He was probably the only person Helios could never kill — at least not as long as Dante remained immortal. Besides, Helios had heard exactly what he'd said. So why not push him even further to get answers?
"I said that cruelty and a lack of conscience apparently run in your family," Dante explained calmly, though his tone was cutting. "And by the way, you still haven't answered my question."
Helios laughed joylessly, placing a hand over his face, then looking at him through his fingers. Majestically, he rose from his chair. He staggered slightly, as if his leg would not carry him. With slow, limping steps, he approached Dante, his eyes cold and arrogant.
He stopped in front of Dante, placed a hand under his chin, and forced him to look into his eyes. There was no violence behind it, no harsh grip, and Dante met his gaze willingly.
How could he have ever looked away from those eyes?
"Don't you ever dare compare me to that scum of a father again," Helios warned with a cold smile.
Ah, so that was it — he was angry because I compared him to his father.
Apparently, there were only a few things that could truly push Helios over the edge. His father seemed to be right at the top of that list.
"Was Spider right?" Dante finally forced out. "Did you enjoy torturing that man?"
Helios looked at him silently for a moment before answering. Dante watched every flicker of his expression, waiting for any hint of a lie. But there was nothing. Helios's features were so perfectly composed, it was as if they had been rehearsed, giving away no weakness at all.
"It wasn't exactly my style," Helios replied coolly, "but yes. In a way, it was liberating."
Not his style... that was more of an admission than Dante had expected. But if he was already talking about having a style, then he must have killed before. The words cut into Dante like a thousand knives stirring his insides, and it hurt to learn this truth about the young man. All at once, Dante realized he might not know Helios as well as he had thought.
He had only seen the tip of the iceberg.
But why was he so shocked, when he had always suspected it?
"How many have you killed?" he asked tonelessly.
"You saw how many died by my hand. Maybe two or three more beyond that," Helios answered, noticeably calmer now. A faint smile played around his lips. "Why are you looking at me like that? You have very likely killed far more with your own hands than I have."
"Yes, but unlike you, I served in a war — and saved your ass more than once," Dante hissed.
Helios's eyes flashed coldly. "For which you were paid quite handsomely," he shot back.
So at least five people. Dante himself had killed the researcher, even though Helios had tortured him — Helios had not finished him off. Still, five people was far too many for an ordinary civilian.
Helios released Dante's chin and straightened up again.
"Is that all?" His voice had returned to that cold, distant tone. "Or do you want to know something else?"
Dante shot him an equally frosty look. "Why?" he forced out. "Why do you do it?"
"Better not ask questions you don't really want answers to," Helios said. He let out a quiet snort and turned away, reaching for his coat and beginning to pack up the remaining materials.
"Okay, then just keep it to yourself. But don't forget that trust is the foundation of any alliance. And to be honest—my trust in you is barely hanging on as long as you keep shutting me out. I can't tell if what you're saying is actually the truth or if you're still playing your games with me," Dante growled, his voice brittle with pent-up anger.
Helios turned toward him with an exasperated look, rolling his eyes theatrically. "Oh, please. Stop being so dramatic."
"I'm dead serious," Dante shot back sharply. "You might be a rich genius, a born strategist, and maybe you've gotten everything you wanted up until now. But don't forget this: over the past few weeks, you've lost people you could truly trust. If you keep going like this, one day you'll end up completely alone, and no one will want to see what you're hiding behind that perfectly constructed facade."
He paused for a moment, taking a heavy breath. This conversation was tearing at his nerves like nothing else had in a long time. Finally, he spoke more quietly, almost pleading, "I want to see who you really are, Helios. Not this polished, artificial mask. I want to see your true core. Only if you show me what's beneath that fake surface can I even know whether I'm truly able to love you."
Helios fell silent. For a fleeting moment, his expression looked strangely vulnerable, a faint flicker of uncertainty crossing his face — so quick that Dante wasn't sure if he'd imagined it.
"I'll keep that in mind," Helios murmured curtly at last. Then he turned away and quietly began packing up his things.
Dante also fell silent, grabbing his own bag and starting to put away his gear. His gaze kept drifting back to Helios while a storm of thoughts raged inside him. There was no point in pushing further; at least he had gotten off his chest what had been weighing him down.
He still couldn't comprehend it. Helios really was a killer. A psychopath who had no problem torturing or killing other people. Dante had worked under Helios for so long, and never even suspected he might have murdered someone. Had Helios told the truth? Was it really only those five people?
Or had there been even more?
A cold shiver ran down Dante's spine as he looked back at Helios one more time. He seemed completely composed again, eerily calm.
Maybe, Dante thought with growing dread, that untouchable calmness was exactly what should have warned him from the start.
After all, Helios hadn't had any qualms about killing Dante himself multiple times, and Dante was fairly sure that Helios' revenge on Belladonna wouldn't be pleasant.
Not that Belladonna deserved a fair punishment.
Dante didn't want to imagine those slender hands holding a scalpel for torture again. Didn't want to think about how little humanity there was in Helios' eyes when he… operated.
He wanted to see him differently. Wanted to believe that Helios was just a brilliant scientist, eccentric but harmless, with that biting humor that had made Dante laugh so many times. He wanted to see the genuine smile — not the mechanical one Helios showed everyone else, but the one that maybe only Davis had ever seen.
And for that, Dante hated himself.
He couldn't afford to romanticize Helios. He had to see him for what he really was: a perfect killer, emotionless, dangerous. Someone you shouldn't even exchange another word with by choice.
As long as their deal lasted, Dante would keep protecting him.
After that, Helios would be on his own.
Maybe he should just focus on his job from now on, and avoid any unnecessary interaction with Helios. No conversations, no pointless contact. Mentally, he resigned himself again to the field cot waiting for him back at the estate.