Bloodbound: The Alliance
Chapter 101 - 103

Chapter 101: Chapter 103

Avara POV

The car door swings open, and Vance leans forward, one hand extended to assist me, but a firm grip halts him. He glances back, finding Silas’s hand resting heavily on his shoulder, his dark eyes issuing a silent warning. Vance shrugs off the gesture with a rough jerk, closing the distance to lift me into his arms with a surprising tenderness. A sharp stab of pain rips through me, and I gasp involuntarily. Luciano moves toward us, his protective instincts flaring, but I raise a hand, signaling both boys to stop.

I don’t resist Vance’s help—I can’t. Standing is an effort beyond me, let alone walking anywhere. My arm curls around his neck, my head resting against his shoulder as he carries me up the drive toward Colton’s palatial manor. The Romanesque structure looms at the hilltop, its elegance muted by my pain. Security teams stand watch as the convoy empties, bodies spilling into the vast estate.

Vance’s voice cuts through as we cross the threshold. "I don’t have a sister, so maybe I can’t get used to how fiercely they protect you. I understand it—sure. But does it piss me off? Absolutely."

A faint smile flickers across my lips despite the ache. "Believe it or not, they weren’t always like this. They hated me once—thought I was our parents’ favorite because I was the youngest, and I was the only girl. And I admit, my mom and I did have something special. I just think she always wanted a daughter, especially after having two boys. However, everything changed when our mom died."

Vance falters, his stoic mask slipping as his gaze dips to meet mine. "I didn’t mean—" He stops himself, exhaling sharply. "I’m sorry. That was thoughtless of me."

Colton’s authoritative tone disturbs the moment as he appears in the grand foyer. "For her comfort, Avara should have one of the ground-floor rooms. The specific room is at your discretion," he says to Vance, then shifts his attention to the rest of my family. "There are more than fifteen bedrooms available. You’re all free to choose whichever suits you." Without waiting for a reply, Colton strides toward the grand staircase.

Landen casts me an inscrutable glance before he ascends the staircase after his father. At the second landing, he breaks off, veering in the opposite direction without a word. Vance strides forward with me in his arms, heading straight down the main hallway. Only a few doors down, he pauses at a random door. Silas materializes behind us, pushing it open, and as we step inside, the rest of the Du Ponts, Kelsey included, trail in after us.

Vance gently lowers me onto the massive, plush-draped bed. The mattress yields under me as I shift into a soft recline, my movements sluggish but deliberate. Around me, every gaze lingers, their silent scrutiny suffocating. I feel like fragile porcelain, cracks spiderwebbing with every step they take closer.

"I promise, I’m okay," I say, breaking the tension as my eyes sweep the room. "If that’s what you’re all wondering."

"You were shot," my dad snaps, his tone cutting, almost affronted by my composure.

"Twice," Silas adds.

"And staring at me like that won’t change it," I reply, my tone steady despite the storm in their expressions. "What happened to me shouldn’t stop your progress of lobbying congress or federal agencies for policies and funding."

"Oh, it hasn’t," Luciano interjects, his wry tone laced with an edge of judgment. "But that’s not something either of you should be concerning yourselves with right now."

My eyes shift to my dad, questioning, and he answers without hesitation. "I have a queue of meetings with corporate leaders, negotiating trade agreements, and I asked your brothers to join me in attending the global business expos."

Silas cuts in with a smirk that doesn’t reach his eyes. "Other than soldier boy here," he gestures toward Luciano without looking at him, "I agreed only because I need some distance—from all things Vacheron. But if you need us to stay, we will."

Vance’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t bother to look back at Silas. The tension between them feels like a taut wire, ready to snap.

I sigh as I glance between my brothers. "There’s not much for you to stay for," I admit, patting the mattress beneath me. "You’ll come back and probably find me in the exact same spot."

Kelsey snorts softly, her amusement brief. She doesn’t say anything, just watches from the corner.

"Someone’s bringing over a few things from the house tomorrow," dad says with measured practicality. "But if you feel unsafe or overwhelmed—"

"No—"

"I don’t believe you," he snaps and my brothers’ eyes swing to him, gawking.

"You never say when there is something wrong with you," dad continues. "If we didn’t see you get shot, and it didn’t pull you under. I’m sure you would’ve found a way to patch yourself up without anyone knowing. That’s the kind of person you are," he says ambiguously, for the impression of nobility should be commendable in concept, but there is an ominous shadow over his words. And it disappears with a smile. "I just want to be sure."

"Like I said. It’s not like I can go anywhere," I repeat.

"We should get settled in, then we’re getting you something to eat," Silas says as he makes a start for the door, drawing Luciano to his side, then dad follows.

"What about you?" I ask Kelsey.

Kelsey narrows her gaze at me. "What about me?" she counters.

"Your fashion show," I remind her, leveling my gaze. "You stopped talking about it even before the wedding."

She gestures broadly to the room around us, then back at me. "As you can see, I’ve been a little busy."

"You’re kidding, right? Landing an investor for your fashion show has been your biggest goal for years. This is your shot to go international, and I’ll be damned if my little boo-boo gets in the way."

Her jaw drops. "Two bullet holes aren’t boo-boos!"

"She’s right."

Our attention snaps toward Vance, who’s been silent until now. His expression is calm but resolute.

"You should be focusing on your designs," he says matter-of-factly. "We can clear out a room and set it up as a studio. It’ll be bigger than your boutique, of course, and give you the space to work from the comfort of our home."

Kelsey’s face hardens, a biting retort poised on the edge of her lips. Before she can unleash it, I interject.

"That’s so generous. Thank you," I say quickly, forcing a smile.

Vance jerks his chin toward the door. "Let’s go. We’ll talk to the housekeeper about the remodeling."

Kelsey follows him out grudgingly, her movements stiff with annoyance. I hold the strained smile until the door clicks shut, then let out an explosive breath. Fumbling with the zipper of my jacket, I pull out my phone and call the last number marked No Caller ID.

"You said you’d call me back," Simon barks, his voice rough with irritation.

"Are you kidding me? Everyone here has been breathing down my neck. I’m surprised I even got to you this early."

"I need to see you," he blurts, the edge in his voice a mix of demand and desperation.

"Not possible," I reply, glancing at the closed door. "You can’t just walk into Lex Luthor’s lair. High-tech security. Serious surveillance. Trust me, I’m fine."

"If Botan’s involved, you’re nowhere near fine."

My stomach clenches at his words, and my eyes flick to the door again. "He wasn’t part of this."

"Are you fucking with me?" Simon snaps, his anger crackling through the line. "You’re going to defend him after everything he’s done to you and—"

"Don’t you dare," I cut him off, my voice sharp. "Don’t talk to me like that, especially about him. I’m not defending him. I know better than to let emotions get in the way again. He was at the wedding, yes, but Botan’s attacks are calculated—audacious, brutal even—but not chaotic or sloppy like this. Open fire isn’t his style, and you know it."

Silence stretches between us, heavy and tense.

Finally, Simon exhales. "I just want to see you—to make sure you’re okay. For myself."

"Don’t you have work to do?" I probe lightly. "What does an off-grid ex-detective even do these days?"

"Ex-detective with a military background," he educates. "I worked with joint task forces with the FBI and CIA. These days, I freelance as a liaison between intelligence agencies. I can shuffle my hours whenever you need me. Trust me, I’ll find a way in."

A soft smile tugs at my lips despite the tension. "When things calm down, I’ll sneak you in through the backdoor myself," I tease.

"I’ll chalk that up to pain meds talking," he retorts, his tone lightening slightly.

"Get your head out of the gutter."