The Blood Contract
Chapter 78: What Video?

Chapter 78: What Video?

The journey to the hospital unfolded in silence, stretching on like an invisible thread drawn taut between tension and calm. The rhythmic hum of tires against the asphalt was the only sound that dared to break the stillness inside the car. Serena sat stiffly, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes occasionally drifting toward the man beside her.

Lucian looked like a marble statue—untouchable, unreadable, serene. His head rested heavily against the seat’s headrest, eyes shut as if in deep slumber or meditation, his breathing slower than before, though still far from normal.

His palm clenched tightly every once in a while and his jaw worked in unison. Serena knew he was trying to hold in the pain that attacked him every few minutes. He hadn’t moved a muscle since they began this drive, giving the impression that any disturbance might shatter something fragile within him.

The silence was eventually broken, not by Serena, but by Darrell, who sat in the front seat, eyes scanning his phone with the sharpness of a hawk.

"Adrian’s at the pickup point. Elias is out of the council building. He’s on his way to meet Adrian."

Lucian responded with a faint hum, a flicker of acknowledgment without opening his eyes or moving. The hum hung in the air like a thin veil, and then nothing more.

Serena perked up at the name Elias, but when Lucian didn’t react beyond that near-silent sound, she swallowed her urge to ask for details. She could only hope—pray, really—that this dangerous dance they were in would end well. That Elias would make it safely.

But far across town, safety was the last word one could use.

A chase raged on through the veins of the city like blood pumping from a frenzied heart.

The black sedan knifed through traffic, its glossy surface reflecting neon signs and streetlights like a blur of chaotic intent. Horns blared in protest as the vehicle swerved between unsuspecting cars, narrowly missing a cyclist who yelled a curse, his voice snatched away by the wind.

In the backseat, Elias sat upright, wedged between two men who radiated silent menace. Though his face was partially hidden beneath a dark hoodie, his sharp eyes darted through the rearview mirror, scanning, calculating. Every muscle in his body was wound tight, but his face betrayed no fear—only readiness.

Behind them, chaos erupted like wildfire. Two black SUVs—armored and aggressive—roared through the streets, lights flashing in erratic pulses. Security operatives leaned out the windows with radios crackling, barking orders into the void. Beside them, sleeker, unmarked cars driven by council agents swerved through traffic with reckless abandon, their faces set like stone as they closed in on their prey.

The city had become a hunting ground.

Shadows bent and lights streaked past as the sedan tore down a narrow road lined with aging tenements and graffiti-tagged walls. Laundry flapped from windows above, and bystanders scattered in panic, some shouting, others simply running without looking back.

Then—a break in the buildings. An overhead bridge loomed ahead.

Under the concrete canopy, the tension in the car coiled like a spring. A slight nod passed from the driver to the man beside Elias. The plan, rehearsed in whispers and blood-stained maps, was in motion. The driver spun the wheel hard, tires shrieking in protest. The car swerved, slid sideways across the rain-damp pavement, and skidded to a stop beneath the bridge’s shadow.

No hesitation.

All three doors flew open. Elias and the two men exploded out of the vehicle, their movements fast and fluid. Just ahead, another car—smaller, gray, engine idling—waited like a loyal dog in the dark. Without missing a beat, the trio leapt in. The doors slammed, the driver gunned the engine, and the new car roared away in the opposite direction, vanishing into the tangle of city streets.

The abandoned black sedan, now empty and eerily silent, whirred to life on its own. A program initiated. Its steering wheel jerked. The wheels spun. It shot forward on its final journey—straight into the stone wall that held the bridge. The impact was deafening. Metal screamed. Glass exploded into glittering shards. The front crumpled like paper, smoke billowed up.

The pursuing vehicles arrived seconds later, momentarily stunned by the wreckage. Operatives jumped out, guns drawn, eyes darting wildly—only to realize their targets were no longer in sight.

"Where the hell—?" one cursed, radio pressed to his mouth, voice edged with panic.

But there was no answer. The ghost trail had already moved on.

Back on the road, the new car sliced through the city like a blade. They didn’t speak. There was no need. The mission was etched into their bones. Every turn, every stoplight, every side street—they knew the path. They had mapped it like soldiers mapping a battlefield.

Ten minutes later, another bridge. Another exchange.

Like clockwork, the car skidded to a stop. This time, Elias was the first to jump out, already stripping off his jacket and throwing it into the backseat. The others followed, each discarding their outerwear, gloves, and anything else that might link them to the previous vehicle.

In the waiting car, clean clothes lay folded on the seats. They changed swiftly, movements precise and practiced, like actors switching costumes backstage.

A new car, a new face to the chase. The discarded car was left to drive itself again—this time careening into a light pole in a quiet residential block, startling a sleeping dog and triggering several porch lights.

Once more, confusion bought them time.

But the council agents were relentless. Like wolves with the scent of blood, they followed the trail of debris and damage, trying to piece together a pattern, a direction.

One final switch.

This time, the escape vehicle was a dull silver sedan, dented just enough to blend into the ordinary grime of the city. As Elias stepped in, he glanced back at the still-burning wreck of their last car. In that moment, he shed the identity he’d carried for days—the prisoner, the fugitive. What remained was purpose.

The driver this time was Adrian.

"Everything clean?" Adrian asked, not turning around.

"Clean," one of the masked men replied.

Adrian nodded, eyes fixed on the road. He didn’t wait for confirmation. He hit the gas, tires hissing on the rain-slick pavement.

The city started to fall behind them.

Fifteen minutes passed. Then, without a word, Adrian pulled up to a quiet alleyway beside an abandoned shop. Three of the four men got out swiftly, disappearing into the shadows without a goodbye or glance. They had their own exit plans, their own shadows to melt into.

Now only Adrian and Elias remained in the car.

For the first time since the chase began, Elias allowed himself to breathe.

Then the hospital came into view—tall, sterile, and silent in the dimming light. Adrian pulled up near the back entrance, where no unwanted eyes would look.

Inside the hospital waiting room, tension coiled in the air like a living thing. Serena sat beside Lucian and Darrell, her legs bouncing slightly in anticipation. Doctor Vishan stood by the corridor, checking the time again and again, anxiety showing in his small, calculated movements.

When the door finally opened, Serena’s heart jumped in her chest.

Elias stepped in, his figure upright but his face weary. He looked thinner than she remembered, darker under the eyes, but alive—free.

Without a second thought, Serena surged to her feet and threw herself into his arms. He caught her with a soft gasp of relief.

"Sis," Elias whispered, voice cracking slightly. His arms wrapped tightly around her, anchoring them both in that fleeting moment.

They pulled back just enough to see each other’s faces, their matching smiles tinged with exhaustion but burning with warmth.

"I heard you were forced to get married," Elias said, his eyes flicking with concern toward Lucian and Darrell, his mind already trying to deduce which of them played the unwanted groom.

Serena gave a short laugh, shaking her head. "Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. You know I can take care of myself. It’s just for a short time. Did they do anything to you while you were there?" she asked, her eyes scanning his face and form, searching for damage.

Elias shook his head. "Apart from that time when they tried to scare you with that video, nothing else. Even then, it wasn’t serious. They just inserted some tubes and took them out after filming."

Serena blinked, confusion sharpening her features. "What video?"

Elias was about to explain—but a sharp cough sliced through the moment.

Lucian had shifted finally, leaning forward with authority, voice cool and clipped.

"We don’t have a lot of time. He has to go with the doctor, and we need to leave before trouble finds us."

His words were not a suggestion. They carried the weight of a man who knew how quickly things could spiral.

Serena frowned slightly, sensing something deeper behind the interruption, but before she could press, Doctor Vishan stepped forward as well.

"It’s true. We have to go, Elias. Every second counts."

Elias looked at his sister again, reluctant to leave just when he had finally found her again. "I’ll find a way to reach out to you once I’m settled," he said.

But Serena shook her head, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Don’t. I’ll find you after all this is over. Don’t reach out until you hear from me. Promise me."

Elias nodded solemnly, and she hugged him once more—tight, fierce, protective—before finally letting go.

Without another word, Elias turned and followed Doctor Vishan down the corridor. Serena watched him disappear around the corner, her chest tight, her thoughts racing.

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