The Blood Contract
Chapter 82: She needs to know

Chapter 82: She needs to know

The sound of a knock on the door echoed like a cannon blast in the silence of the room, dragging Serena forcefully out of the depths of her sleep. Her eyelids fluttered, heavy with sleep, her lashes brushing her cheeks as her brain fought to make sense of her surroundings. A dull ache throbbed at the back of her head, the kind that came from worry and exhaustion, the kind that hadn’t fully left even in her sleep.

As her eyes cracked open, the sight of the ceiling mirror greeted her first, and that was when she remembered where she was.

It was at that moment she felt it—a weight pressing gently on her stomach. Her breath caught as she instinctively looked down, and her heart gave a strange jolt when she saw it was Lucian’s hand, lying limply across her.

Slowly, her gaze traveled to his face. At first glance, he appeared to be sleeping, but something wasn’t right. There was a stillness in his expression that didn’t feel natural. His chest barely moved. His lips, parted ever so slightly, were still.

A sharp wave of dread gripped her.

"Lucian?" she called out, her voice was barely a whisper.

She leaned in closer, studying the rise and fall of his chest—if there was any. But she wasn’t patient enough to see it as panic coiled tight in her stomach.

Her heart pounded against her ribs like a drum, thudding faster and harder with each passing second. Her brows knitted tightly together as she brought her shaking fingers to the side of his neck, pressing against his skin to find his pulse.

Nothing.

No—it was there. But it was barely there. So faint, and it was slipping away like mist.

Her throat constricted.

"Lucian," she said again, louder this time, tapping his cheek lightly. "Lucian, wake up."

But he didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t respond to her touch or the desperation in her voice.

Then the knock came again, firmer this time. The sound vibrated through the room like an ominous toll.

"Who’s there?" Serena called out, her fingers still tapping Lucian’s cheek, her other hand shaking him gently. "Lucian, please—please wake up."

"It’s Adrian, madam. I have a report for Boss," came the familiar voice from outside the door, calm as ever.

Her chest tightened in frustration. "Forget that report. Get Marlowe here now!" she snapped, her voice breaking near a yell.

She pushed herself off the bed, her limbs trembling as if the floor beneath her was shifting. Her entire body felt like it was teetering on the edge of collapse, but she forced herself to stay upright. Her heart thundered violently in her ears, drowning out the sound of her own frantic breaths. Anxiety clawed at her from the inside out, a suffocating force that threatened to pull her under.

’But he was still breathing even though he was barely doing so.’ That was what she clung to. That fragile sliver of hope.

She looked him over her eyes sweeping over his right arm. And that was when she saw that the IV line had been disconnected.

The bag that had been hanging at his bedside, dripping its contents into his veins, was now completely empty. Dry. Lifeless. That meant someone had removed it. That meant Marlowe had been there at some point during the night.

Her heart dropped lower into her stomach. How had Marlowe not noticed? Was his condition already deteriorating then, or did it happen in the early hours of that morning?

She squeezed her eyes shut and raked her hand through her already tousled hair, her fingers tangling in the messy strands. The pressure building behind her eyes was unbearable. Her head threatened to explode with unanswered questions, with the fear that the man who had saved Elias was slipping away right in front of her and there was nothing—nothing—she could do.

The door burst open a moment later. Marlowe entered in a rush, followed closely by Adrian, whose urgency was painted all over his face. And behind him was Darrell, his steps brisk, eyes scanning the room like he had been summoned to witness the unthinkable.

Serena instinctively stepped aside, her movements jagged, to make room for the doctor. Her eyes stayed fixed on Marlowe’s face, searching for any flicker of reassurance—but all she saw was grim concentration. Adrian and Darrell stood like statues, faces drawn, stunned into silence at the sight of Lucian lying so still.

He didn’t look like himself.

He didn’t look like a man who could command armies with a word or silence a room with just one glare.

He looked like a man on the verge of death.

Marlowe didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. The silence said enough.

She worked quickly, examining him with the kind of clinical speed that only came from years of dealing with life-and-death moments. But there was a tremble in her fingers. A look in her eyes that gave her away.

Then she hurriedly left the room without a word, disappearing like a shadow down the hallway. No one followed. No one dared interrupt.

She returned minutes later with a syringe in her hand. The clear liquid shimmered under the light, the needle poised like a final prayer.

She injected it slowly into Lucian’s vein. As the last drop emptied into his bloodstream, everyone held their breath.

Marlowe watched him for a few seconds, her focus solely on his still form.

And then she shook her head.

"We’re losing him," she said.

The words hit Serena like a slap.

"What do you mean we are losing him?" she cried, her voice cracking, her breath catching in her throat. "He said he was feeling better last night. He said your medicine was beginning to work. How come we’re losing him now?"

Her voice was rising higher, sharp and ragged with confusion and fury. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Couldn’t process it.

Marlowe dragged her fingers through her hair, the gesture echoing Serena’s earlier one. She looked torn. Haunted. But before she could utter a single word of explanation, Serena’s next question lashed out like a whip.

"Why can’t I heal him, Marlowe?"

Her tone wasn’t just questioning anymore—it was accusing. There was venom laced beneath every syllable.

Marlowe’s face twisted in anguish.

"I’m sorry, Serena. I’m in a very tight corner right now and I really can’t tell you."

That answer only poured gasoline on the fire building inside her.

Just as Serena’s mouth opened, fury radiating from her every pore, a new voice sliced through the air.

"She can’t tell you but I can." Adrian spoke.

Serena’s head whipped in his direction. Her breath caught. His voice was calm, but there was a tension beneath it. Something brimming at the surface, ready to break.

"Adrian," Marlowe called his name, her tone a warning—sharp, urgent.

But Adrian didn’t blink. His eyes stayed locked on hers.

"What, Doctor?" Adrian said, answering her warning. "Are we supposed to just let him die? Just like that? Tell me, Doctor, are you supposed to just stand around like this and watch him take his last breath?"

His words were laced with restrained fury, and it was clear they weren’t only directed at Marlowe, but at the impossible decision they were all being forced to witness.

"We are not supposed to take hers either just to save him!" Marlowe fired back instantly, her voice cracking at the edges.

"We don’t even know if anything will happen to her yet," Adrian argued.

"Exactly. The uncertainty is the issue," Marlowe snapped. Her hands clenched at her sides as she continued, "Lucian still has traces of Splera de Plifa in his system. The antidote didn’t completely eradicate the poison. That is the reason his situation has degraded to this level. Don’t forget that poison was made for her. If she heals him, we don’t even know what it would do to her." Her voice was shaking now, her body trembling like she was holding back a scream. "Lucian already has a lot of guilt weighing him down. It would kill him if anything happens to her while she tries to save him. And not just him—it would kill me too."

Serena’s head snapped back and forth between them, her eyes wide and wild with confusion.

"What the hell are you two talking about?" she demanded, exasperation bubbling over into rage. "What is going on?"

Adrian’s face faltered.

His eyes shifted to Marlowe once more, silently asking for permission one last time. When she didn’t speak, he shook his head.

"I’m sorry, Doctor, but I still think she needs to know. Let the decision to either save him or not be hers to make."

Then he turned to Serena, his eyes meeting hers directly, his next words spoken with slow, deliberate finality.

"The reason you cannot heal him is because Boss doesn’t want you to heal him. So he asked the doctor to seal your powers up. And she did. That’s why no matter how much you try, you will not be able to do anything to save him."

The words hit Serena like thunderclaps. Her jaw dropped.

Her gaze drifted from Adrian to Marlowe in stunned disbelief, her eyes flickering with betrayal, confusion, and disbelief.

She blinked once, before a breathless, incredulous word slipped from her lips.

"What?!"