In a small room, Haruhito was sitting on a bright red bench, holding onto his phone. "You just had to go and make a fool out of yourself, Haruhito." A man, older than him stated. He had seen Haruhito's damn appearance on TV with his family and had to call him for that.

Haruhito rubbed his nose, inquiring his older half-brother, "He made me bleed, can you believe him though?"

"I wouldn't blame him, whether or not he knew anything about you," Toshiya answered matter-of-factly.

Haruhito wanted to lash out towards him, but his throat was stiff. His mouth opened once, but nothing manifested.

"Come back home, Haruhito," Toshiya bid him, lifting a sheet and then writing into it. "I'm sure everyone back home would love to chew you out after what's happened." The older man chortled under his teeth, as the younger rolled eyes. Then, a smirk beamed on his face.

"Hey, at least little Mari-chan loves me to no matter what," he retorted, lips pursed at him.

Toshiya pouted, frowning right at his younger brother. Haruhito pointed at him, feeling some happiness in this banter.

"Just book the first flight back home, you twit," Toshiya grunted, dropping the call.

Toshiya tossed his phone on the desk with a very audible sigh. His wife erupted from the kitchen, wiping a glass, asking, "How is he, dear?"

Toshiya pulled his bangs away, stating, "Not too badly broken up, he lost to some silver-haired boy."

Hiroko shook her head, "Regardless, it's nice that he puts himself out there," She pointed one finger at the television. "he's showcasing what he has learned and it's something he could put on his university resume."

Toshiya blew his lips. "Though what will keep him from falling off a yacht?" he then looked out through the window, "Though I think I've found a fine specimen for the company's experiment…" Toshiya trailed, thinking about the young, victorious, man.

x0x

Ugh, Viktor thought, his very mind and atmosphere a big blur, what happened? The young man groaned, his hand rubbing his head. Wait a minute—Viktor stared at his head. This was odd. If he was unconscious and then woke up, he should've been restrained at this point. How long had he had been gone? All he remembered was someone in a crisp black shirt and white pants tackle him, escort him into a car and gave him some water, causing him to fall into a slumber. Viktor looked at his legs and noticed that he was on a hammock on a large, balcony that was right by the beach.

Funny, why would they throw him in here? If he really was a danger, why not throw him into a cell with ties on his arms? He was pretty sure that they would do the same with Black Aria. With no time to ponder, he peered below, hoping that there was pole or something he could use a weapon; unfortunately, that was only an empty table with a mat right by him.

"Oh, you're awake," beamed a voice on Viktor's left. Viktor averted his head and Mrs. Fowler and David right at the door. Viktor's blood began to boil, narrowing his eyes at them. He gritted his teeth at them like an agitated rottweiler, but David frowned and pouted, stepping up to him, "Hey, hey, there's no need for the hostility, you should be glad you're not in the basement right now."

"My son is right," Mrs. Fowler told her hand on his shoulder. "In fact, this was my son's idea—my husband and we figured that it was wrong to take you against your will; and that if you were interested in vacation and not a partner, you wanted that and nothing else."

Oh, thank Jesus Christ, Viktor figured. He then raised a brow up, crossing his arms as he asked, "Then do you know anything about the Blades of Silver Tournament? Where people would fight in matches? Who won after my match?" Viktor hoped maybe Pedro. His father was clearly more of a gunman than a hand-to-hand type of person.

"I looked up the results today and that man Nikhil Nikiforov defeated that large Mexican guy," David reported.

Viktor cupped his forehead, groaning. This had to be some sort of joke—a stupid, harmless prank-like joke. How much damage did father enlist on poor Pedro? Damn, Viktor was sure Pedro had family and friends somewhere too.

"Apparently, you're his son, aren't you… Viktor?" David asked him.

Said young man nodded, "Yeah," curling up and rubbing his arms. "And by the way, how long was I gone?" He was afraid that the hotel charged him extra by now. He needed the money in order to get back home.

"Oh, don't worry, you were gone for the whole night; it's noon right now." Mrs. Fowler smiled. "Is your mom really a beta?" she asked. Never in her days had she ever heard of an alpha father-beta mother couple. In her family, it was strictly, only Alpha-Omega. Hardly any betas were produced at all.

"Yes, you could say so," Viktor told her. Though, when was the last time he ever saw her? In fact, why did she even go and marry his father? Why would she isolate herself from everyone else?

"Oh, well, to make up for what happened, we booked a flight for you to Barcelona, along with some extra cash for whatever you may like." Mrs. Fowler told him.

"I wish to continue on in the Tournament," Viktor lifted a hand to her. "it's what I should be doing. That man is my father and he's my business." As much as he would not admit it, he couldn't stand the sight of him hurting anyone innocent.

Mrs. Fowler looked disheartened, but nonetheless, she told him, "Alright, Viktor, though at least allow us to drive you back."

x0x

Viktor took a deep breath, walking into the hotel, holding his arms out. He had bid the Fowlers goodbye, stepping out their vehicle. David smiled at him one last time, as Mr. Fowler looked at him with a hollow stare. Not only that, he appeared as if he had been crying, as before they drove off, David touched his shoulder. Hm, maybe now, David would be able to find a suitor on his own, other than his father trying to play cupid instead. Maybe not all omegas were dumb; the one Viktor met had a brain and they knew how to use it. Viktor walked up to his hotel room, cleaned his body up, and put on a new outfit. A maroon tank top, a pair of black-jersey shorts, and the same boots as last night. The next match would be in a few hours, so Viktor cruised down the hotel to the bar they had.

Right when Viktor sat at the counter, the hairs on his back stood, when something brushed by him. There, taking a seat next to him was Nikhil—his father. He bore the usual: a cool look on his face with a small smile. Some would say he had a friendly face, but oh, they would be far wrong—and terrified—if they knew the truth.

"What do you want, dad?" Viktor breathed vehemently to him.

"Nice to see you too, son." Nikhil greeted in return as if his own son had politely greeted him first. "How did winning your first fight in public feel like?"

"You still haven't answered me, yet." The young man darted his eyes to him. "What in the name of Christ do you want, dad?"

"You. I need you to join me," Nikhil answered him, his tone as smooth as platinum marble.

"For what, that group, Dead Man's Circle?" the young man spat. A group made up of Alpha men and advocated domination of their kind over omegas and betas. In time, they managed to make their 'peace' with omegas, but the same couldn't be said for betas.

"You can't keep this lifestyle forever, Viktor." Nikhil rebutted in a cool tone.

"I can get your orders, sirs?" kindly demanded a man in his mid-thirties with an accent. He was wearing an old, white shirt, a red apron, and black slacks.

"I'll take a green margarita, please," Viktor told the bartender, pulling out a few pesos for the drink.

"I'll take a mojito," Nikhil requested, pulling out the same amount of money as his son. Viktor growled quietly, as the bartender went to work on their drinks. He enjoyed that time away from talking to his father, he hated hearing his stupid voice as there would be no other break from it.

"What are you saying? I'm perfectly fine where I'm at; there's nothing to hold me down!" Viktor plastered his hands on the counter.

"Oh, perfectly fine, Viktor?" Nikhil held the urge to laugh at him. "I've seen where you've been all alone; what would happen if something to you, Viktor, with no one to help you? Hm?" he sassily raised a brow at him. Viktor's more than obvious combat style was one reason he should join. "You need someone you can rely on, such as us." He hissed like a snake, the 's' streaming through his teeth as if he were cold. That was another reason. Viktor's thoughts raced to that damn cop—Officer de la Iglesia. God, who led that guy attend the police academy and graduate? His partner would even retreat to a bar like this to escape just even the very thought of him. The bartender returned with their drinks and went on his merry. Viktor took three sips, slamming the glass down; that was most likely one of the best things he had ever tasted in his emerging adult life.

"I earn a lot of money doing what I do," Viktor stirred his margarita around, staring at it.

"Oh, Viktor, you poor child." Nikhil chuckled, taking one sip of his own drink. "Join us, child, and your income will be overflowing."

"Otherwise, you can be like your mother, isolated from the rest of the world like a tucked away coffin in a mausoleum."

"What the hell…?" Viktor muttered under his teeth. Nikhil his head, just enjoying every second of his own son's confusion. Viktor turned to him, demanding, "Why would you say that about your wife?" Clearly, for one reason, he was a psychopath. A psychopath with a tacky looking gray suit jacket, of course.

"That statement is more than enough so much that you're stapled in now," Nikhil double-lifted his brows. "Though I suppose it really isn't her fault, the poor old thing. Being forced to move back in with her mother, and the latter dying months after didn't aid her psyche all that much either. You obviously know about that, we were all there at your grandmother's funeral, weren't we?"

Viktor was six when they were. He was sitting on the pew, Nikhil and his mother somewhat bickering right by his later grandmother's casket, Vassilissa wiping her face with a tissue. He was staring right at them, until another woman—chipper than his mother—appeared, asking for his hand. That was when he forged his new relationship with his Aunt Katiya. Oh, she was a joy; he would never forget the time they danced to Harry Belafonte's 'Jump in The Line' in her living room.

"Of course; do you still love my mother, though?" Viktor rebutted. "Did you love her even after she tuned out?"

"A man's heart is just as secretive as the sun at night," Nikhil simply commented, tilting his head at him. "You decide, Viktor," Nikhil told him. "As for now, let's just enjoy ourselves before tonight—though not too much." With that, Nikhil took one sip of his drink, walking away and heading straight to the TV that was hanging on the left corner of the room. Viktor stared at the horizon, fingers fiddling in the glass.

'Pedro… I'm sorry I hadn't seen you fight, but—you're free now, and get to spend time with your family again.' Viktor smiled, closing his eyes.

x0x

Jesus this is so short! Whatever happens with Leo and Guang-Hong is for you to think.

Be sure to review and check out my other fics.

MA6/QD.