Page 2 of Milk & Malice: Vadik
But I didn’t ask for the salary because I cared about money. No, I asked because I didn’t want to be seen as desperate, even though I was.
I would’ve signed away my soul on the blood of my son if it meant vengeance. And Adrik? Adrik had looked into my eyes and seen the monster curled up behind them.
Two devils. Shaking hands.
The idea of exposed scalpels, bone saws, and nerve endings no longer horrified me. They thrilled me. The vision of pain wasn’t frightening—it was clarity.
I rose, body aching but animated for the first time in months. I extended my hand, and the Pakhan gripped it.
In that moment, the man called Dr. Vadik Novikov ceased to exist.
In his place was something else. Something born of fire and loss. Something with purpose.
Now I just needed to get out of this asylum.
The staff who fed me through clenched teeth. The orderlies who whispered when they thought I couldn’t hear.
They’d be next.
I smiled.
Not from joy.
From resurrection.
They thought they’d buried me here.
They forgot that surgeons make the best butchers.
Chapter 1
Vadik
It would take months at this rate, and I hadn’t even found the right specimen—let alone begun any procedures. Ankles and wrists were no good for long-term integrity, but I’d already figured a way around it. The titanium and keratinised components were designed, manufactured, and on their way to me.
I glanced at the man’s bloodied knee. The cartilage around it was smooth, rounded—a beautiful specimen. My future pet couldn’t be too frail. She would need strong bones.
With a sigh, I picked up the drill and pushed it through.
He screamed.
I smiled.
His stump was strapped down so I could work uninterrupted. The screams were just a bonus.
He didn’t know it, but he served me well. Because by the time I chose a pet, her surgeries would be perfected—not these half-hearted trials.
I’d collated sketches, blueprints, and anatomical notes over the years—and more recently, enough to ensure my success. I would become the only doctor to create a functioning human cow.
A small shard of bone bounced off my Perspex mask. I smiled.
I had never felt more alive.
???
I was reading the ingredients on a probiotic drink when I saw her—bending forward, arm outstretched for the same organic kefir I’d chosen. Full-fat. Raw. The good strain.
She had taste. That was promising.
