The Blood Contract

Chapter 125: Shoot her next

The morning arrived in slow, muted colors. Pale light filtered in through the curtains, brushing against the walls like a hesitant whisper.

Serena lay motionless beneath the thick duvet, her body still, as though the weight of her sorrow had anchored her to the bed. The ache in her chest had not lessened with sleep. In fact, sleep had barely come. It was another day, but nothing felt new about it. Everything hurt.

She stared blankly at the ceiling, her eyes dry from lack of rest, yet somehow heavy. The dull ache in her chest had taken permanent residence there, a constant reminder that she had lost someone who once held a crucial part of her world together.

Last night had been the worst so far. Every time she had dared to close her eyes, she was dragged into dreams that refused to bring peace. Instead, they were haunted by memories of the one person who would never return. A smile here, a voice there, a touch on her shoulder. Waking from them only deepened the emptiness.

She had no reason to get up from the bed. The world beyond her blanket was cold and harsh, unforgiving in its insistence that life must continue. So she did not move. Instead, she fixed her attention on the ceiling for a while before she pulled the covers over her head again, shutting out the light, the air, and the pain.

Beneath that protective cocoon, she silently begged for sleep to return. If she could just drift off, just for a while, perhaps she would escape the hollow in her chest. But sleep did not come.

She was still cocooned in stillness when a gentle knock echoed from the door. The sound was distant, as though it came from another world, but she responded anyway. "Come in," she murmured without shifting much, pulling the duvet just low enough to expose her face.

The door opened with a soft creak, and Lucian stepped into the room. His eyes quickly took in her still figure, mostly hidden under the covers. Concern etched itself across his features.

"Hey," he said gently. "You alright?"

He had not meant to leave her alone the previous night. But when she told him she needed space, had assured him she was fine, so he reluctantly left her to grieve in solitude. That night, behind the closed door of his own room, he had let go of the tears he had held back for far too long.

Serena responded to his question, her voice quiet but not unsteady. "Yeah, I am."

Lucian frowned. She had not moved an inch since he entered. "You need to get out of bed," he said, his tone soft but firm.

Her brows furrowed at the suggestion. "Why?"

"Because breakfast is ready," he replied simply. "And you need to eat."

She turned her gaze away, her expression listless. "I’m not hungry. I don’t want to eat anything."

Food was the last thing on her mind. Her stomach had gotten tired of grumbling and had gone quiet. Her mouth, however, was a different case. It felt as though it would fight anything that came close to it.

Lucian was unmoved. There was no way he was letting her do what she was suggesting. He spoke again, his voice still calm but now laced with insistence. "I’m not accepting that, Serena. You have to eat."

"But I’m serious," she murmured. "I have no appetite right now." noveldrama

"Serena, please. You skipped lunch and dinner yesterday. I cannot let you go without breakfast this morning. You need to force yourself to eat something. I don’t want you falling ill."

His voice broke slightly at the end, revealing more than just worry. There was fear there too. "I wouldn’t know what to do if you got sick. I don’t have another doctor I can trust with your health, and until I do, please let’s not take that risk."

Marlowe was the only one who had an idea how to handle Serena’s health. Now she was no more, and he doubted if anything happened to her, a normal doctor would know what to do.

Serena didn’t argue anymore. She instantly knew what he was talking about and understood that he was right. She had to be extremely careful with her health from now on.

Finally, she exhaled a long, defeated breath. "I don’t have the strength to go downstairs," she admitted, her voice scarcely above a whisper.

Lucian did not hesitate. "Do you want the food brought up here?" he asked.

"No," she replied with a frown, clearly uncomfortable with the idea.

Lucian sighed and stood. Then, with quiet determination, he stepped toward the bed. Before she could register his intentions, he leaned down, threw off the duvet, and scooped her into his arms.

"What are you doing?" Serena asked, her eyes wide in surprise.

"Carrying you," Lucian said without pause. "I have the strength to take you downstairs."

When he turned toward the door, with her cradled securely against his chest, and her arms loosely at her sides, she quickly spoke up before he could reach the door. "I haven’t brushed my teeth."

Lucian pivoted without hesitation and walked straight into the bathroom.

"Should I hold you while you brush your teeth?" he asked, his face not holding a hint of a jest.

Serena shook her head quickly. "No, let me down. I can handle myself from here. Thank you."

Lucian nodded and gently set her down. Without another word, he stepped out, giving her privacy.

After a few minutes, Serena emerged, freshened but still weary. She found Lucian standing exactly where she had left him.

"You’re still here?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied simply. "Making sure you don’t crawl back into bed. Come on, let’s go."

He extended his hand. Serena hesitated briefly, then reached for it. His fingers closed warmly around hers, and he led her out of the room.

As they descended the stairs, neither of them expected what they would find waiting below.

In the living room, Modi stood with a woman at his side. Across from him was Darrell, eyes blazing with fury, his entire posture charged with rage. The air crackled with tension, a volatile current winding through the room like an invisible fire.

Darrell’s voice erupted first. "You deceived me, you bastard. You connived with that devil and put us in this mess!"

Modi opened his mouth. "I did not—"

But he got no further. Darrell’s fist flew, slamming into Modi’s face with brutal force. The impact echoed, sharp and violent.

Modi staggered back, grabbing his jaw.

"Say it again," Darrell snarled, taking another step forward. The distance Modi had instinctively put between them vanished as Darrell closed in again. His face was a mask of wrath, his body poised for another blow.

Lucian stepped further into the room, his voice cutting through the storm. "What is going on here?"

His gaze landed firmly on Modi. "What are you doing in my house?"

Modi straightened, wincing slightly as he turned his face toward Lucian. "We need to talk."

Lucian’s expression darkened. "You have got guts, Modi."

Modi raised his hands, palms open, not in surrender but in appeal. "Look, I am sorry about what happened. But you have to hear me out. This is important."

Serena had been frozen in place until that moment, her hand still gripping Lucian’s tightly. But now her fingers curled harder around his. Her eyes burned with the force of the hatred she barely kept in check. Every part of her wanted to silence Modi, to stab his tongue continuously until he would not be able to utter another word. Yet she said nothing. She did not move, save for the silent tightening of her grip.

Lucian’s jaw clenched. He turned to Adrian, his voice quiet and deadly. "If he is still standing there in five seconds, you have my permission to shoot."

Adrian, who had been standing silently off to the side, moved instantly. He drew his firearm without hesitation and raised it, pointing the barrel directly at Modi’s head. The click of the gun being cocked echoed louder than any shout.

The woman who had accompanied Modi fell to her knees. Her voice trembled with panic. "No. No, please, Mr. Draven. Please, don’t shoot. I know it is very hard to believe right now, but Modi is actually on your side. You need to hear him out."

Lucian’s gaze shifted to her, cold and unmoved. "Shoot her next if she is still there after five seconds."

Adrian only nodded, understanding the assignment and ready to deliver. He began counting after Lucian stopped talking.

Modi saw then that there was no negotiating, no persuading. Lucian was not bluffing. There would be no discussion, no forgiveness bought with hurried explanations. Not now. Not like this.

He knew when to cut his losses.

Without another word, he turned and exited, the woman scrambling after him. The door closed behind them, and silence fell like a thick curtain.