The Blood Contract
Chapter 70: Waiting for some miracle

Chapter 70: Waiting for some miracle

The few seconds Serena spent in front of the lab door, waiting for Marlowe to open up, felt like the longest she had ever waited in her entire life.

Every breath she took echoed in her ears like the ticking of a slow clock, and every beat of her heart was thunderous with worry and dread. She stood frozen, her hand halfway to the knob, uncertain whether she should knock again or wait in agonizing silence.

Then, finally, the door swung open, and she stepped inside without saying a word to Marlowe.

Her legs carried her automatically forward, propelled by urgency, concern, and the unmistakable tug of instinct. The sharp, sterile scent of antiseptic hung in the air, mixing unpleasantly with the underlying metallic tang of blood.

Serena’s eyes moved towards the bed instantly, her breath catching. She saw Lucian lying on it, unconscious. Her heart dropped, and she moved towards the bed without hesitation, the rest of the room and its contents fading into a blur.

Without paying attention to any of the machines, her eyes quickly searched for signs of life. Her gaze swept over his still form, desperate for movement, for something—anything—that meant he was still with her. A relieved breath escaped from her when she realized that he was still breathing. It was shallow, yes, but it was steady. He was alive.

Like the last time, he had many tubes connected to his body. Only this time, he wasn’t shirtless.

His shirt, however, was completely unbuttoned, exposing his chest. His pants were a different issue. One leg was complete, but more than three-quarters of the length of the second one had been cut off, exposing his thigh, around which a fresh bandage had been rolled tightly. The sight of it made her stomach twist painfully.

"Is it a deep shot?" she heard Adrian ask, his voice cutting through her thoughts like a sudden breeze.

And then Marlowe’s voice echoed next, calm but firm. "The bullet wound is just a scratch. The reason he’s like this is because the curse was triggered, probably due to stress. I’m not sure what happened there, but he was brought in unconscious," she explained. And to put their minds at ease, she added, "He’s stable now. There’s no cause for alarm."

Despite the assurance in Marlowe’s last words and voice, Serena still felt alarmed. Deeply so. The knot in her stomach refused to loosen. She did her best to hide it from her face, maintaining a composed exterior, but her mind was moving around frantically in panic.

If Marlowe’s treatment for temporary relief was effective, the curse shouldn’t have been triggered again just less than twenty-four hours later. Not so soon. Now, if the treatment was not effective, then there was only one other proven way to get Lucian relief: her ability.

But anytime she suggested it, Marlowe had strongly opposed it. She knew the reason, as the woman had explained it to her. Every time she used the ability, it shortened her life span. A little at a time. A cost that couldn’t be reversed.

But what sort of life would she be living if Lucian died, and Elias remained in the grasp of the Council of Vitae? And worse, if the organization continued to exist and drag other people into their twisted system? She didn’t want that kind of life. A life where she was safe, but everyone she cared about suffered.

Glancing around, she searched for something, her eyes scanning every tray, every shelf, every corner of the lab. And when she found it—a glint of silver near the sink—she wiped every expression from her face as an idea began to take form in her mind. Her shoulders straightened, her breathing slowed, and her expression became unreadable.

Turning around, she faced the other two people in the room and said, "If it’s possible, I’d like to be alone with him for a few minutes. Five minutes at most." Her voice was even, calm, betraying none of the frantic resolve building in her chest.

Both Adrian and Marlowe frowned, their expressions mirroring one another’s concern. But it was Marlowe who asked, "Why do you want to be alone with him?" Her gaze suggested she had become suspicious, brows narrowing slightly. But Serena didn’t let it shake her resolve. Her expression remained unchanged—cool, composed, unwavering.

"You said he’s currently unconscious, and I heard that if you speak to unconscious people from your heart, they’d hear you. I want to speak to him from my heart," Serena gave her well-thought-out response.

Adrian looked like he bought it, his posture relaxing slightly. But Marlowe didn’t believe it. However, she still nodded, offering a fake smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Take your time," she said before walking out, following Adrian out the door.

Once they stepped out, Serena moved quickly to lock it, the soft click of the mechanism sealing her alone with Lucian. Then she proceeded with her plan. She grabbed the scalpel she had initially targeted with her eyes, the weight of it cold and metallic in her hand, then moved hastily toward Lucian, her heart pounding against her ribs.

But she hesitated when she grabbed his hand. Her fingers tightened around his slowly, the memory surfacing in vivid flashes.

She remembered their hands had been cut by the council, and they had joined their bleeding palms together, after which she lost strength. That must be how she transferred the healing to him.

The problem now was that he had been shot and must have lost a lot of blood. Wouldn’t cutting his palm make him lose more blood? What if she did more harm in the process of wanting to do good? The thought paralyzed her momentarily.

She stood there for a few seconds, conflicted. Her gaze moved between his face and the scalpel. A few more seconds passed, and she finally made up her mind. She was only going to give him a small cut. Just enough. That way, she would be able to control the bleeding very fast.

With her mind made up and her jaws tightly clenched, she drew the scalpel across her palm first, wincing and drawing blood. The sting was immediate, but she didn’t flinch. Then she moved on to his palm and made a small cut, careful and quick.

The moment the red liquid bobbed up to the surface of his palm, she dropped the scalpel and joined their bleeding hands together, hoping for some miracle to happen.