The Blood Contract
Chapter 44: The antidote

Chapter 44: The antidote

Serena couldn’t speak. She wanted to, but she was afraid her voice would betray her, just like her body was already doing.

"Tsk. I don’t even know what to do with you," Lucian shook his head, his voice a low, dangerous murmur. "You insist on testing my patience without realizing that I’ve got very little of it. If I say don’t touch me, I mean don’t touch me. The next time I say you shouldn’t do something and you do it, there will be repercussions." His fingers flexed slightly against her skin. "Do you understand?"

Serena frowned instead of answering the question, her lips pressed into a thin line, and Lucian tightened his grip further around her neck.

"Do you understand?" he repeated, his voice colder now, and this time she nodded her head, the movement stiff and reluctant.

"Words," he said, "I want words."

"Yes," Serena finally spoke, the single syllable forced out between clenched teeth.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I understand."

Just then, Darrell arrived in front of Serena’s room, his steps silent against the floor, only for his eyes to stretch to the maximum when he saw the position Lucian and Serena were in—Lucian looming over her, his body blocking hers, and hand choking her.

He knew it. The moment he saw Serena in front of Lucian’s door, he knew they would end up fighting.

He had returned upstairs to deliver an urgent message to Lucian, his footsteps hurried, but after knocking and checking the guy’s room and not finding him, he decided to check Serena’s room, hoping he would be there. Who knew this was what he was going to meet? The air was charged, the kind of stillness that came before a storm.

"Boss," he called out, his voice cutting through the silence, interrupting Lucian, who was about to deliver another set of instructions to Serena, his expression darkening at the intrusion.

Lucian turned his head towards the door, his gaze sharp enough to draw blood. "What?" he asked, scowling at Darrell, the word clipped and impatient.

"Council of Vitae. They are downstairs, and they are asking to see madam," Darrell explained the reason he was there, lowering his eyes, his posture tense under Lucian’s glare.

Lucian shifted his attention back to Serena, then loosened his grip. He uncurled his fingers and let her neck go. His features became a little softer as he asked, "Do you want to speak with them?"

Serena shook her head, her dark hair swaying with the movement. "I don’t," she said, suddenly remembering her anger and bringing the frown back to her face, her eyes flashing with defiance.

"Good," Lucian uttered, climbing down from the bed, his movements controlled but fluid. He picked up the duvet, which was lying comfortably on the floor, then faced her once more. "Lie down properly."

Serena shot him the evil eye, her glare sharp enough to pierce steel. "Don’t tell me what to do," she said, and this time, Lucian couldn’t help the disbelief that clouded his features. It wasn’t even up to 10 seconds since he let her go, and she was back to her arrogant self.

Hearing what she said, he folded the duvet into his arms, the fabric bunching under his fingers, and headed towards the door, his stride unhurried but purposeful.

"What are you doing? Give me back my duvet!" Serena demanded, her voice rising, and he paused, his shoulders tensing for a fraction of a second before he turned.

"If you want the duvet back, then lie down properly," he said to her after turning around to face her, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Serena ground her teeth, the sound audible in the quiet room, but still moved to lie down properly, just as he said.

When she did that, he walked back to the edge of the bed, his shadow falling over her, and laid the duvet over her, tucking her in, his hands surprisingly gentle. "Sweet dreams," he uttered, the words almost mocking, then walked out of the room without looking back, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click.

As soon as he was gone, Serena’s anger reached boiling point. She kicked the duvet away from her body, the fabric flying off the bed, and punched it several times, releasing some of her anger on it, her fists striking the soft material with enough force to bruise. Why the hell was she so compliant? She asked herself, her chest heaving. It must be because she didn’t have any energy to fight. If not, he would have seen the other side of her. Yes, that must be it, she convinced herself, her nails digging into her palms.

He had wished her sweet dreams. She hoped he got the opposite—bitter, ugly, and angry dreams, the kind that left him gasping awake in the dark.

***

Meanwhile, outside, Lucian walked back to his room, his footsteps heavy, and grabbed a shirt before heading downstairs to see the people who had decided he would not have peace in his life. Darrell trailed behind, his expression unreadable, still trying to make sense of the scenario he just witnessed in Serena’s room.

On getting to the living room, Lucian met four people standing, three of which he didn’t know and wasn’t interested in knowing, their presence an unwelcome intrusion. He fixed his attention on the one person whose face was familiar, his gaze sharpening.

"Lucian," Modi called out his name, his voice holding no emotion, his posture rigid.

"What is so important that a whole Modi Aguero could not wait until morning before visiting my house?" Lucian asked, coming to stand a few meters in front of the man, completely ignoring the other people with him.

"I’m not a morning person, and you and I know you are not one either," Modi responded, his expression unreadable.

"What do you want?" Lucian probed, wiping the faintest signs of jest from his face, his patience wearing thin.

"We need to see Serena right now," Modi answered in a serious tone.

"My wife is sleeping," Lucian answered, intentionally emphasizing the word "my wife", the possessiveness in his voice unmistakable, in case they had forgotten that they conducted the joining.

"Take us to her room, then. It’s important we see her tonight," Modi insisted, his voice firm.

"Her room?" Lucian raised a brow, his lips curling slightly. "She is in "our" bedroom, naked, and asleep. You still want to see her in that state?"

"Mr. Lucian Draven, we have no intentions of disrespecting you or your wife," the man standing next to Modi spoke up, successfully attracting Lucian’s attention, his tone measured. "It’s just that this matter is one of life and death."

"Who are you?" Lucian asked, his eyes narrowing.

"This is Salvador Roberto," Modi introduced the man, and the name instantly rang a bell in Lucian’s, Darrell’s, and Adrian’s ears, though none of them gave any reaction, their faces carefully blank. "He’s a senior official of the Council of Vitae," Modi continued with the introduction with a steady voice.

"His face doesn’t ring a bell," Lucian commented in a deliberately dismissive tone.

"That’s because I’ve been away for a long time and only just returned a few days ago," Salvador said, eliminating all doubts from Lucian’s mind that he was the over-three-hundred-year-old man who suddenly came back to life and regained his youth with the help of Serena’s blood. "The dagger that the attackers cut your wife with is laced with a deadly poison. That is why it’s important we see her now," Salvador revealed, his expression grave.

Lucian remained quiet for a while, observing the man, his gaze calculating. "Are you a magician?" he suddenly asked, to the puzzlement of everyone there.

"Of course not. Why did you ask?"

"I want to understand how your seeing her will eliminate the poison and cure her," Lucian revealed, his face as serious as a rock, his arms crossed over his chest. "If you have something to say to her, tell it to me, and I’ll deliver the message, or you return in the morning when she is awake."

Salvador let out a tired sigh, then moved his hand into the inner part of his coat. As soon as he made that move, two guns were pointed at his head and cocked instantly—one by Adrian, the other by Darrell, their movements swift and precise.

Salvador froze, his breath catching. He lifted his other hand in a surrender gesture, his fingers spread wide. "Easy, boys. It’s just medicine," he said, and slowly brought out a brown bottle from his inner pocket, showing it to them, the glass glinting in the light. "You shouldn’t be hostile to your guests, Mr. Lucian."

"It’s not called being hostile. It’s called precaution and alertness," Lucian countered, his voice low and dangerous. "You should be careful how you move in my house because one wrong move can cost you your life."

A smile appeared on Salvador’s face, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "This is the antidote. You’ll notice that the wound looks abnormal, with dark and thickened edges and no blood clotting. 10ml of this solution should be poured onto the wound, and the rest should be taken by mouth at once after thirty minutes of applying the first one to the wound."

Lucian accepted the bottle and scrutinized it, turning it over in his hands, his expression unreadable. Satisfied, he took a step back, and Adrian with Darrell lowered their guns, though their stances remained tense.

"Have a good night, gentlemen and ladies," he uttered, his tone final, and was about to turn toward the stairs when one of his men hurried inside from outside with a serious look on his face.