The Blood Contract
Chapter 114: Bound to make mistakes

Chapter 114: Bound to make mistakes

The atmosphere inside the Council of Vitae was a simmering cauldron of tension, heavy enough to choke on. Every step echoed through the cold, sterile corridors like a warning bell. The harsh, unforgiving white light bathed the long hallways, and even the air seemed to throb with anxiety. Every worker who crossed paths with Salvador and Modi quickly diverted their gaze and moved out of their way as though proximity alone might trigger something volatile.

Modi walked with his usual air of calm detachment. His expression was unreadable, a practiced mask he wore so effortlessly. Beside him, Salvador looked like a storm barely contained in human form. His fists clenched and unclenched rhythmically at his sides, his teeth grinding with such force that the veins in his neck strained. His jaw was set, lips pressed into a thin line, and his brows were furrowed so deeply it seemed they might never smooth again.

They were headed for the laboratory where the monitoring of Lucian’s and Serena’s bracelets was taking place. That would be the third time they would be heading that way that day, as Salvador refused to have any patience at all.

The moment they turned into the corridor leading to the laboratory, two assistants froze mid-conversation and scurried away without a word. Salvador didn’t even look at them. His entire body radiated fury, each step deliberate, loud, and purposeful. His mood had been intolerable all day, and even the boldest members of the Council had chosen to disappear rather than provoke him—everyone except Modi, who remained the one constant by his side, steady and undisturbed.

When they finally arrived at their destination—the glass-walled lab housing the workstation responsible for the surveillance and monitoring of Lucian and Serena—they didn’t need to speak. The man at the workstation, Craig, looked up immediately, having sensed their approach even before they entered. His shoulders visibly tensed, and he swallowed hard. His eyes flicked between the two men before he let out a soft breath and shook his head slowly.

"No sign of any active spermatozoa," Craig reported, his voice careful and measured. The last thing he wanted was to be among the list of people who would offend Salvador that night.

The sound of Salvador grinding his teeth together was audible. The muscles in his jaw twitched as he stared daggers at Craig.

"Thank you, Craig," Modi said with a nod, already turning on his heel to exit the lab without a second glance.

Salvador followed closely behind, the air practically sizzling around him.

Once they were out of the room and walking through another dim corridor, the walls lined with outdated portraits of past council leaders, Salvador’s voice sliced through the silence like a blade.

"Do you know how I feel when little boys try to play smart with a project I have dedicated my entire life to?" His voice trembled with rage. "I feel an unexplainable surge of anger that is capable of making me go mad."

His footsteps quickened, echoing like a drumbeat of fury through the corridor.

Modi didn’t respond immediately. He kept walking at his usual pace, unaffected. Then, in that quiet, level voice of his, he said, "We are already at the verge of a breakthrough. You should keep your emotions in check so you don’t mistakenly ruin everything."

He didn’t even glance at Salvador as he spoke, but his tone carried just enough weight to make it clear that he wasn’t just offering advice. He was issuing a warning. He was already tired, bone-deep weary of always being the one to pull Salvador back from the edge of his many emotional cliffs.

Salvador’s laugh came out harsh and bitter, filled with disbelief.

"Verge of breakthrough, you say?" he scoffed, his voice rising. "The bastard is having protected sex with her when I need him to fucking spill his seed inside of her just once. How does that translate into a breakthrough?"

He paused mid-step, running both hands through his disheveled hair in frustration. The fluorescent lights overhead cast shadows across his face, deepening the wildness in his eyes.

"We have just a day left in this month, and I cannot wait until next month," he barked, spinning to face Modi fully now. "I will not."

Modi finally stopped walking and turned to him.

"The glove is in its last phase of testing," he reminded him evenly. "That will be completed in a few minutes."

Salvador exhaled sharply and nodded, clinging to that single shred of hope like a lifeline.

"That is the only reason why I am still this calm," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "That little boy will not have what it takes to defy me anymore once I am done dealing with him."

And with that, he turned again, walking even faster toward the glove testing section, his long coat flaring behind him like a banner of war. Modi followed, ever the silent shadow at his side.

The hallway narrowed as they approached the testing chamber. The heavy door creaked open, and they stepped into a large, cold room with a wide glass screen that separated the observers from the actual test chamber. Behind the screen, three men and a woman were seated, discussing something the two men outside could not hear.

Machines whirred softly in the background, displaying lines of data that only the trained could interpret. Salvador and Modi stood silently, watching as the glove was lowered into place on one of the men.

Minutes passed.

The scientists inside moved methodically, watching, and recording reactions. Salvador’s hands were behind his back, clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. Modi, arms folded, stood unmoving.

Then, the man in charge of the test—a tall, bespectacled man in a long, silver-lined lab coat—stepped out from the inner chamber and into the observation room. The moment he saw them, he offered a respectful bow.

"Good evening, sirs."

Modi nodded politely.

Salvador, still bristling with restrained energy, snapped, "Go on with the report."

The man straightened, adjusting his glasses. His expression, however, betrayed a hint of pride.

"It is successful," he announced. "The glove works perfectly. Out of the three test subjects, only one was able to break out of the hold, despite all of them knowing before time that the glove was about to be used on them."

Salvador’s eyes narrowed, focused intently now.

"The one who broke out," the scientist continued, "did so only at the very last minute. So, realistically, we can say there’s only a two-in-a-hundred chance that anyone would be able to break out of the glove’s hold, especially if the element of surprise is maintained."

He went on to detail the phases of the restraint, the neurological suppression points, the effect duration, and response time. Salvador listened in silence, the tight coil in his chest loosening ever so slightly.

"Perfect," he finally breathed, the first real smile tugging at his lips in days. His eyes sparkled with grim satisfaction.

He turned to Modi, his mood transformed in a snap.

"Now text that bastard and get him here tonight."

Modi’s brows lifted slightly. "Tonight?" he echoed, visibly surprised.

"Yes, tonight," Salvador growled, his voice sharp and unyielding. "There’s no way we are slacking off on this matter. There is only one day left, and I am not waiting until next month."

Modi held his ground. "It’s way past midnight, Salvador," he pointed out. "There’s no way Lucian would leave the comfort of his house at this time to come to this place unless it concerns something that is of great interest to him. And I can assure you, Salvador, that there is nothing in this building that is of any interest to Lucian."

His words were calm, but there was an edge underneath—one of logic, of reason. Still, Salvador wasn’t moved.

"Then let’s hit something that is of interest to him to draw him out," Salvador snapped back, tossing out the first desperate idea that came to him without thinking. His hands were moving now, gesturing wildly, his voice rising again. "Let’s use whatever bait necessary to get that bastard here. I don’t care what we have to do."

"Relax, Salvador," Modi said firmly, his voice lowering but gaining weight. "You are making decisions out of emotions at the moment. We are bound to make mistakes if you keep going like this."

Salvador opened his mouth, ready to argue again, but Modi held up a hand.

"We still have a day left," he repeated. "I will send him a message and make sure he is here in the morning. We will have enough time for the rest of the plan after that."

Without waiting for Salvador to argue further, Modi reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his phone, already typing.

His voice, as he spoke again, was quiet but final. "There is no other way around it. Put your overflowing energy into making sure every other thing is ready and there will be no last minute changes. Let me handle Lucian and Sere—Leah."