The Blood Contract
Chapter 90: Congratulations

Chapter 90: Congratulations

Lucian couldn’t decide what emotion to settle on. Was it the shock that clenched his chest first, or anger that began its slow, molten rise the second his brain registered what his eyes were seeing?

There, at the top floor of his own house—his territory, his domain—stood Vincent. Not just standing, no. He was holding Serena in his arms, swaddled tightly in white sheets like she was some fragile trophy, some twisted, priceless treasure he had just claimed.

Her head hung limply against Vincent’s chest, her red hair cascading like spilled ink over his arm. The audacity. The violation. Lucian’s breath hitched in disbelief, his muscles freezing as every cell in his body screamed in protest.

Shock halted him, mid-step, like a puppet with its strings cut. The air felt too thick to breathe. But then... the shock cracked, and the anger surged.

His face, once expressionless from the initial blow of disbelief, slowly twisted into something else entirely. His jaw tightened. His eyes, already dark, now looked like molten coals—burning, furious, void of mercy. His lips pressed into a hard, thin line, and without a word, he began to move again, each step like the ticking of a time bomb.

But just as he was closing the distance between them, Vincent moved. With a flick of his wrist, a glint of metal flashed in the dim hallway light. It was his gun, previously hidden beneath the sheets covering Serena’s legs.

The sound of the gunshot cracked through the air like a whip.

Lucian froze again, not out of fear, but out of calculated restraint. The bullet hit the wall, deliberately off mark, but loud enough to tear through the silence of the house like a siren.

Serena’s body jolted slightly in Vincent’s arms from the force of his movement, and the noise echoed with such intensity that it sent a ripple of chaos through the rest of the mansion.

The bathroom door in Serena’s room slammed open and Marlowe came bolting out when she heard the gunshot. Simultaneously, heavy, urgent footsteps filled the stairwell, Adrian and Darrell leading the charge up, with Modi, Salvador, and Carter trailing close behind.

"If you come any closer," Vincent warned, his voice dark and venomous, "I’m going to send you to your family in hell."

His eyes were wild, his stance defiant. But Lucian wasn’t listening to words anymore. He was calculating.

His head tilted just a fraction. His eyes narrowed. He assessed every angle, every line of Vincent’s body, knowing for sure that he would have trouble aiming perfectly with Serena in his arms.

And when Vincent’s lips finally sealed shut from his threat, Lucian moved, really fast.

His body cut through the air like a whip, darting in a zigzag, unpredictable and sharp, forcing Vincent’s aim off. Another shot rang out, this time wilder than the first, bouncing into the ceiling and leaving a burn mark in the white paint. But before Vincent could steady his hand for a third attempt, Lucian’s fist collided with the side of his face with a sickening crack.

Vincent staggered, disoriented. Lucian moved to stand behind him.

He drove his elbow hard into Vincent’s right arm—specifically, the one holding the gun. The impact sent a jarring snap through the joint, and Vincent let go of Serena’s legs.

With vicious precision, Lucian wrapped his arm around Vincent’s throat, constricting his airways, while simultaneously twisting his right arm backwards into an unnatural angle.

Needing to fight for air, Vincent released his grip on Serena, and her body crumpled slowly to the floor like a broken doll, the sheet that wrapped her loosening at the edges.

Adrian arrived at the top floor just then, halting for a split second as he took in the scene.

Without hesitation, he rushed forward, scooping Serena gently into his arms and retreating with her back to her room, nearly colliding with Marlowe, who had arrived at the scene already and was watching wide-eyed. Behind them, Darrell and the others arrived, fanning out at a cautious distance, instinctively recognizing the danger coiling in Lucian’s every muscle.

And then Lucian’s gaze shifted, catching sight of them. Not just his men, but Council members.

They stood there—stiff, wide-eyed, and unspeaking.

His fury, already blazing, tripled.

They were the reason Vincent had dared to do this. They had empowered him. Enabled him. Without their support, he wouldn’t have made it past the gate. The implication burned hotter than any flame Lucian had ever known.

With an animalistic growl, Lucian twisted Vincent’s arm harder. The gun hit the ground with a metallic clank, sliding across the polished floorboards. Lucian’s foot came down hard, kicking it far out of reach.

"Let me go, you bastard!" Vincent coughed, his face flushed dark red from lack of air.

"That’s enough, Lucian," Carter’s voice broke in, wavering slightly despite his attempt to sound firm. "Let him go."

Lucian turned his head slowly toward Carter and gave him a crooked, deranged smile—more a warning than a grin.

Then, with no further warning, Lucian shifted his weight and tackled Vincent to the floor. His chest slammed into the ground with a dull thud. Lucian wrenched both arms behind his back and knelt on him, one knee pressing down in the space between his shoulder blades.

"What the fuck do you think you’re doing?" Vincent panicked, letting out a ragged gasp as his lungs fought for air.

Modi’s voice pierced the air. "Don’t do it, Lucian!"

But it was too late.

Lucian’s hand jerked Vincent’s right arm upward with brutal force.

And... Pop.

The dislocation echoed around the room just as Vincent’s scream shattered the air.

He rolled to his left side, curling away and grabbing at his shoulder, face contorted in agony. Lucian stood over him, breathing heavy, his rage still seething beneath his skin.

"I warned you," he growled, his voice laced with death, "to stay away from me and anything that has anything to do with me."

He took one step forward toward the retreating Vincent.

That was all it took for Salvador to step in between them, hands up, his stance firm but cautious.

"That’s enough," Salvador said, voice deep and commanding.

But it was a mistake.

Lucian’s eyes—glassy and murderous—locked onto Salvador like a predator spotting its next prey.

"What the fuck are you doing in my house?" Lucian snapped, abandoning Vincent momentarily as his fury pivoted. His steps were slow, calculated, but deadly as he advanced toward Salvador.

Sensing the danger, Salvador instinctively began to backpedal, arms still up, trying to talk his way out.

"We only came to clear up a small misunderstanding," Salvador explained, voice wavering despite his efforts. "Your men blew everything out of proportion."

"Bullshit," Lucian spat.

Modi stepped between them just in time, blocking Lucian with a firm hand.

"Stop it, Lucian," he said. "This is just a big misunderstanding. We can clear this up with dialogue. It wasn’t supposed to escalate to this point. Just... calm down."

Lucian didn’t answer. His jaw clenched, grinding. His eyes, however, remained glued to Salvador with venomous hatred.

Behind them, unnoticed by most, Vincent began to crawl.

His breathing was ragged, his body trembling from pain and humiliation, but indignation boiled inside him, thick and hot. His one goal: the gun.

He moved slowly, dragging himself across the floor like a wounded animal. Closer. Inch by inch. The weapon gleamed, almost taunting him. He stretched his hand...

Crunch.

Adrian’s boot came down hard on his fingers.

Another sharp scream tore from Vincent’s throat, echoing louder than the last. Lucian turned sharply at the sound, his eyes narrowing at the pitiful sight of the man who had dared to touch his wife, seeing how he had been trying to reach for the gun.

He stalked back over.

Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees and began to pummel Vincent’s face. Blow after blow landed, thudding into flesh and bone. Blood splattered, teeth loosened, skin split.

"Never lay your filthy hands on my wife," Lucian snarled with each hit, the words a mantra of rage. "Never. Touch. Her. Again."

He raised his bloodied fist for a fifth strike, his knuckles split and slick with red.

But just then, Modi and Carter lunged, grabbing him by both arms and yanking him away from Vincent with all their strength.

"Get him out of here!" Modi barked, turning toward Salvador and the rest of the council entourage. "Now!"

Salvador and the others didn’t argue. Two men hurried to Vincent, lifting his bloodied form off the floor and dragging him out of there.

Lucian ripped himself free of Modi and Carter’s grip, his chest heaving, face streaked with blood and fury.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Modi asked, exasperated.

Lucian turned to face him slowly, eyes narrowed.

Carter, catching the look, stepped back quickly, hands raised in surrender, wanting no part of what he saw in Lucian’s expression. But Modi... Modi stood his ground.

Lucian’s voice was low and lethal. "This is the last time I’ll say this, Modi. Let this nonsense not repeat itself, else I’ll damn all consequences. Get your people out of my house before I lose the last big of respect I still have for you."

And with that, he turned and stalked toward his room, each footstep a thunderclap of fury.

"And the council will pay for every single damage done to my house as a result of your uninvited presence here," he threw over his shoulder as he reached his door.

He slammed it behind him with a resounding bang.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Modi exhaled, his hands scrubbing roughly through his hair, weariness dragging down his shoulders. His eyes finally landed on Adrian, who still stood near the gun.

"Tell him to see me at the office... when he’s calm enough," Modi said, but Adrian frowned.

"I’m not telling him nothing, Modi. You should call him yourself and tell him. We’ve been managing him for days and y’all show up to finally bring out the devil in him. Congratulations. You succeeded," Adrian responded, then turned around and went into Serena’s room.

Modi shifted his gaze to Darrell, and the latter frowned also. "Don’t look at me," Darrell uttered.

Modi sighed and walked away from the house without another word.