Bloodbound: The Alliance
Chapter 96 - 98

Chapter 96: Chapter 98

Landen POV

I stand on the elevated platform, a round dais with my arms outstretched like a king soaking in the adoration of his people. Two tailors flurry around me to ensure nothing is out of place. Draped in pristine white—a custom-tailored shirt, pressed trousers, and designer shoes—I keep my eyes fixed on the standing mirror, where my father’s reflection paces behind me in his own immaculate ensemble.

"Luciano told me what you said—and you will apologize," he commands, his voice sharp enough to cut glass. "Not just for this offense, but for every slight since she entered your lives."

"Does it even matter?" I counter, my tone biting. "In less than twenty-four hours, she’ll be out of it."

My words hang in the air for only a moment before he explodes into motion, yanking me backward with a force that seems inhuman, spinning me around until his iron grip clamps onto the back of my neck. His eyes, searing with unrestrained fury, bore into mine, pinning me in place as a jolt of fear ripples through me.

"It does matter." His voice a storm rumbling just below the surface. "It matters how you’ve disrespected her, and it matters even more what will happen to you if it continues. My dealings with the Du Ponts are merely just beginning. And as for her, she’ll be free of you soon enough. But until then, you will treat her with the respect she deserves—and with the kindness that’s undeserved by you. Do we understand each other?" His grip tightens, sending a flash of pain across my face before I manage to choke out a reply.

"Yes, sir."

Satisfied, he releases me with a shove, and I stumble back, my pride crumbling alongside my footing.

"Good," he says, his tone hard as steel. "Things are going to change. I’ve failed both you and Vance since your mother passed, allowing you both to grow weak in ways I should have prevented. I take responsibility for enabling your behavior, but at least Vance is trying to make something of himself. You should consider doing the same."

"Since when have you cared?" I blurt. "About either of us? When Vance had his... episodes and was admitted to a facility. Twice. You weren’t there! The night I tried to take my own life—you weren’t there, but Vance was. So don’t you dare call him weak when he was strong enough to build me up whilst he crumbled. And where were you throughout all of that? You weren’t just absent. You were apathetic, so don’t come here with your fucking high horse. Talking about some shit because you know nothing. Because what I’m trying to be is anything but like you."

For once, he doesn’t have a sharp retort—no verbal blade to cut me down and leave my spirit shredded. His silence feels almost remorseful as he takes a cautious step toward me, but I back away, shaking my head. My breath comes in uneven bursts as I turn and leave the room, heat rising under my skin until it feels like the very air around me is ablaze.

I descend to the second landing, brushing past caterers and coordinators, their chatter and movements a blur against my turmoil. The preparations for the wedding, set to take place in the sprawling botanical gardens of my grandfather’s estate, seem like a cruel parody of joy.

Entering the kitchen, I ignore the culinary team working at full capacity, pushing past the chaos to fling open the refrigerator. My hand closes around a champagne bottle I’d already uncorked yesterday, and without hesitation, I tilt it back, letting the bubbles flood my throat. Tiny streams of liquid escape, trailing down my chin, but I don’t care.

A firm hand presses down on my bicep, halting my next swig.

"I’m all for pre-gaming," Alec says lightly, his cautious smile attempting to diffuse the moment. "But maybe not before your wedding."

"It’s not even real!" I snap, my voice a raw edge of frustration.

Alec glances around, his expression shifting to something more guarded. "The rest of the world doesn’t know that. And it’s like you said... it’s almost over, right?"

I take another long gulp, ignoring his words. Alec makes a move to take the bottle, but I twist away, clutching it tighter. Then, my phone buzzes. The Caller ID flashes on the screen. I answer as I elbow Alec away, as he tries to swipe the bottle from my hand.

"And what the fuck do you want?"

"I... I need you."

A sobering moment as my arm whips to hold the bottle against Alec’s chest and impulse makes him grab it before I move away. I shoulder past servers as I hurry my way back upstairs and to the third landing, to Vance’s bedroom.

As soon as I reach his door, I invite myself in and I see him at the centre with his back turned to me.

"Vance, you good?"

He turns slowly and I see his chest heaving painfully, and I’m quick to close the gap.

"Hey, remember what doc said, easy breaths," I say, demonstrating for him as I inhale a deep breath.

He tries to speak again, but his voice falters, trembling like the rest of him. I grasp his broad shoulders, steadying him, trying to ground him.

"Focus on me," I urge gently, my voice soft but firm.

His words break apart like brittle glass. "I need to tell you something, but I—b-but—"

"You can always tell me anything," I assure him, my hands sliding up to cup his neck, pulling him closer so he can see the sincerity in my eyes. "There’s nothing you could say or do that would change the fact I’ve got your back. Always."

But then my gaze drifts past him—to the bed. The sight of zip ties and a strip of cloth scattered at the foot chills my blood.

"I’m sorry for everything," he bursts out, his voice rising over mine in a desperate wail. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry, but I just have to—"

"There’s nothing to apologize for," I say quickly, cutting him off. "Nothing you could do would ever break what we got."

A flicker of relief flashes in his eyes—too steady, too unnatural. "I’m glad to hear that," he replies, his voice eerily calm.

I whip my gaze back to him, startled by the sudden shift. The tremors in his body are gone, replaced by a terrible stillness. Before I can react, he shoves me from his grip only to seize me again, spinning me around and yanking me back against his chest.

His arm locks around my throat in a chokehold, cutting off my breath. Panic surges as my lungs claw for air, each rasping breath slicing my throat. My hands claw at his arm, my body thrashing, but his grip is unrelenting, like iron.

In the reflection of the standing mirror, I catch his face—or what little of it remains visible. Half-hidden in shadow, sparing only the heavy set of his brows and his eyes glaring intensely, holding an abnormal abhorrence. My vision blurs as the edges of consciousness slip away, my strength sagging as his grip refuses to relent.

Kelsey POV

The botanical garden has been transformed into a vision of ethereal splendor, radiating a dreamlike quality. Garlands of fresh blooms and shimmering strands of jewels cascade from every corner, complementing the all-encompassing white theme. Rows of white-draped chairs flank a pristine runway carpet that stretches toward the altar, a lavish masterpiece adorned with opulent details that verge on excess. Every guest is dressed in full white, creating a surreal uniform of elegance.

At the heart of this grandeur, the officiant waits, framed by Vacheron cousins, divided between bridesmaids and groomsmen. Luciano and Silas stand stoic, their poised demeanor contrasting the exaggerated grandeur. I take my place as the maid of honor, surrounded by a scene so meticulously curated it feels like a page torn from a magazine.

The ceremony begins, and the guests settle into their seats. A ripple of astonishment sweeps through the crowd as Vance strides confidently down the aisle. The murmurs escalate into audible gasps when he takes the groom’s place at the altar—a stead meant for Landen.

Colton and Uncle Al exchange matching expressions of disbelief, their shock barely masked under the weight of decorum. Landen, Silas, and I trade bewildered glances, the unspoken question hanging heavy in the air. I can only offer a subtle shrug, the surreal turn of events leaving us as stunned as the rest.

As the music swells, the guests rise hesitantly, shifting awkwardly into position. Colton, acting unfazed, gestures to the officiant to proceed, and a young boy in a miniature tuxedo walks down the aisle, holding a velvet pillow with an ornate ring perched on top. With a winning smile, Vance accepts the ring and tousles the boy’s hair before sending him off.

Any lingering confusion dissolves as Avara appears, a vision in her golden wedding gown. The intricate gilded embroidery glints in the light, trailing a luminous path behind her as she glides forward. Her heavy veil shrouds her face, likely obscuring her view beyond the immediate steps ahead.

When she finally reaches the altar, the officiant launches into the ceremony’s opening words. As they near the moment of exchanging vows, Vance is instructed to lift her veil. With deliberate care, he unveils her face, revealing her wide, comically stunned eyes, mirroring the astonishment felt by everyone watching.

As the officiant nears the objection portion of the ceremony, Avara’s gaze drifts beyond the crowd, her eyes locking on a lone figure. My attention follows hers to a man whose commanding presence seems to dim the vibrant scene around him. Dressed in a stark black suit and holding a bouquet of black-painted roses.

Alarmed by her obvious fixation, I try to capture her attention, silently willing her to look away as the guests begin to notice and cast questioning glances behind them. A sudden glint of steel catches my eye. From the periphery, two men step forward, rifles raised and aimed directly at Avara.

A scream rips from my throat, but it’s too late. The deafening crack of gunfire shatters the serene atmosphere, and in the first burst of chaos, Avara is the first to fall. The idyllic world around us dissolves into panic and devastation as the world descends into darkness.