Bloodbound: The Alliance
Chapter 97 - 99

Chapter 97: Chapter 99

Kelsey POV

I push myself up, my breath hitching as I lift my head from my arm as chaos unfolds all around me. Blood streaks on the pristine altar, a stark scarlet against the wedding’s white elegance. Gunshots thunder through the air, jerking my head as I glimpse the man in black storming a gunman.

He collides with brutal force, knocking the rifle skyward. A burst of bullets sprays the air before he disarms and finishes the assailant with a weapon drawn from his waistband—a double tap, precise and final. Pivoting seamlessly, he takes down two more attackers, his movements a violent burst of efficiency.

The officiant lies dead alongside several Vacheron relatives. My gaze lands on Avara amids, the carnage, blood pooling beneath her, its crimson tide spreading across the immaculate floor.

Panic slams through me. My scream rises but feels swallowed by the cacophony. Desperation surges as I push up, but a heavy force rams me back to the ground. Luciano covers me with his body, shielding me as bullets rip through the air, shattering decor into a storm of splinters that rains down in sharp fragments.

Without hesitation, Luciano drags me to my feet as I stagger, my legs shaky, as we flee. Over my shoulder, I catch a fleeting glimpse—Vance gathering Avara in his arms while Silas shields them both.

Luciano pulls me forward, and we race into the botanical gardens, the air thick with fear and the acrid stench of gunpowder. Behind us, the once-idyllic scene dissolves into a hellish nightmare, fading as we sprint toward the safety of the manor house. That’s when we’re intercepted by the on–site security, most of them disheveled and injured as they encourage us onwards before they proceed to confront the assailants.

The journey feels like a grueling hike. By the time we reach the ground level via the back door, Vance is drenched in sweat, his white shirt plastered to his chest, turning nearly transparent. Save for the dark patches of blood leaking from Avara, whose pallor deepens with every passing second, her skin as lifeless as a starless sky.

"We need to stop the bleeding!" Silas yells, his voice cracking with panic, his glassy eyes darting to check our rear as we make our way toward the primary lounge.

Luciano surges ahead, yanking the runner off the ornate table with a violent pull, sending glasses and decor shattering to the floor. The crash reverberates through the tense air as Vance hurries to lay Avara carefully on the now-bare surface, improvising it into a makeshift operating table.

"We have an on-site physician," Vance says quickly, his voice strained. "My grandfather keeps one here—but his cottage is on the far side of the east keep. I’ll go get him, that’s if he’s still alive."

Before he can sprint off, Silas grabs his arm with a firm grip, pulling out a pocketknife and pressing it into Vance’s hand.

Vance glances at the knife, his expression twisting in disbelief. "What am I supposed to do with this against assault rifles?"

"It’s the difference between life and death," Silas says.

Vance hesitates for only a second before snatching the knife and bolting out the door. My chest tightens as a thought seizes me, and I blurt, "What about Uncle Al?"

Luciano nods frantically, though his gaze never leaves Avara, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Dad and Colton made it out. They split off in a different direction." A flicker of realization crosses his face, clarity breaking through the cloud of emotions. "But...I haven’t seen Landen. Not at all."

My stomach drops. "What if he’s hurt?"

"Who gives a fuck!" Silas explodes, his face red, veins bulging with fury as he gestures toward Avara. "She’s the one bleeding out!"

"Landen is an asshole, but he’s a person, too," I say as I start walking backwards. "Stay with her, I’ll try to find him because clearly he never made it out of the manor."

Pain and frustration pull Silas’s face tight, breaths blasting from his mouth. "Kelsey—"

"Stay with her."

I turn away.

"I’ll go with her," Luciano volunteers. "You know what to do," he says to his brother before leaving with me.

We emerge into the main hallway again, and before I can react, Luciano slams into me, lifting my feet off the ground for a heartbeat before shoving us into a concealed alcove. My scream dies in my throat, cut short by the impact. At the end of the corridor, gunmen exchange fire, their shouts and gunshots reverberating off the walls. They haven’t noticed us—Luciano simply pulled me from the crossfire just in time.

That’s when I’m aware of just how ragged, harsh and uneven, his breathing is like he’s on the verge of breaking. I clasp his face in my hands, forcing his steely, tear-glazed eyes to meet mine.

"She’ll be fine," I say firmly, though my voice cracks, and a tear slips down my cheek. "She’s Avara. Surviving impossible things is what she does."

Luciano nods, but it’s unsteady, his panic barely held at bay. "Do you have any idea where Landen could be? This place is massive, and we don’t have time to go an expedition."

"We’ll check his room," I reply. "If he’s not there, then he’s on his own."

Luciano peeks out to ensure the coast is clear before grabbing my hand. I sprint behind him as we rush up the stairs, my heart hammering in my chest. Door after door leads to empty bedrooms, their untouched beds mocking our desperation. Finally, we burst into a room unmistakably Landen’s—made bed, scattered clothes, and the familiar chaos of bottles of alcohol littering the floor.

"Not here," Luciano mutters, frustration etched across his face.

"For his sake, I hope he’s passed out somewhere, sleeping off a bender," I say, stepping back into the hall.

The moment we’re outside, Luciano freezes mid-step. His head tilts slightly, and he raises a hand to his ear, signaling that he hears something. I stop breathing, listening intently, but it’s faint. He moves toward the wall, pressing his ear to the surface, his hands brushing along its length as though searching for a hidden clue.

When his hand stops on a specific section, he backs up and gestures to me. A bedroom but locked. Then, with one swift kick, he breaks through, sending the door swinging open brokenly. Inside, the room is pristine—but now I hear it too. Thudding against the wall, desperate and urgent, accompanied by muffled moans.

Luciano doesn’t hesitate, rushing to the walk-in-wardrobe. He pulls the door open, and we both stop short at the sight of Landen, bound and gagged, on his back, his feet slamming against the wall in desperation and tethered to a post. His eyes meet ours, and relief washes over his face, his struggles ceasing as his head drops on the floor.

Luciano snaps out his pocketknife and moves quickly to sever his bonds, while I undo the cloth gag stifling his screams.

"Who did this?" I ask as Landen gasps for air, rubbing the raw, reddened marks around his wrists.

"Vance," he snarls, his voice low and venomous.