The Blood Contract
Chapter 117: Only one person

Chapter 117: Only one person

Darrell was the first to finish getting ready.

He moved with sharp, controlled urgency, dressed in dark slacks and a fitted jacket, his face locked in a focused expression that made his usual boyish charm vanish completely. As he grabbed the car keys from the counter, his other hand remained glued to his phone, screen lit, thumb redialing the same two numbers over and over again. First Lucian’s. Then Adrian’s.

Still no answer.

The calls rang endlessly, each one diverted straight to voicemail. His jaw ticked with each failed attempt. The longer the phones rang without a response, the heavier the pressure grew in his chest.

Behind him, soft footsteps approached. He didn’t need to turn to know it was Marlowe. Her presence had a stillness that clung to her like a second skin.

She stopped beside him but didn’t speak—not immediately. Not while the phone was still pressed to his ear. She could see from his posture that he was straining to keep himself composed.

Only when he let out a deep, frustrated sigh and finally pulled the phone away from his face did she speak.

"Any luck?" she asked, her voice low but tense, eyes watching him carefully.

Darrell shook his head and let the phone fall to his side. "No," he said, his voice edged with worry. "I’ve tried both of them—multiple times. Neither Boss nor Adrian is answering."

Marlowe ran her fingers through her long hair, tugging it away from her face as she began to pace slowly across the polished floor. Her bare feet made no sound, but the tension in her body was deafening.

"This doesn’t feel right," she muttered as she paced. "Something’s off. I’ve had a bad feeling since that call came through."

She paused suddenly in her pacing and turned to face Darrell, eyes sharp with a decision already forming behind them.

"I think I should go with you," she said, her tone decisive. "I don’t think I can stay back here and wait. I’ll die if worry."

Darrell didn’t miss a beat. He shook his head immediately. "No," he replied firmly. "We can’t all walk into this blind. If something is wrong—if things go south—we need someone on the outside. Someone who isn’t caught up in whatever game they’re playing."

Marlowe’s brows furrowed, and for a moment she looked like she wanted to argue, but Darrell didn’t give her the chance.

"If you don’t hear from me," he continued, "I need you to get help. Go straight to Bonnie. Boss has sealed that deal with him already. If the council’s trying anything shady, Bonnie will know what to do."

The name settled in Marlowe’s mind like an anchor. She gave a small nod, though her face remained tight with reluctance.

At that moment, footsteps sounded on the stairs, and both of them turned just in time to see Serena descending, fully dressed and clutching her phone. She had changed into a fitted jacket and boots, her expression drawn tight with concern.

She walked up to them quickly and held up her phone. "Seven missed calls," she said. "All from the same number."

When her eyes met Marlowe’s and she saw the strained worry etched into the woman’s face, her own fragile composure wavered. She clenched her jaw tightly, willing herself not to panic.

Marlowe took her hand gently. Her fingers were cold, but her grip was steady.

"Be careful," she said. "And if anything feels off—even the slightest thing—you call me immediately. Do not hesitate."

Serena nodded, and though she tried to look brave, her voice came out soft. "I will. I promise."

Darrell moved toward the door. "Let’s go, madam."

Serena glanced back one last time at Marlowe, who stood rooted in place, arms folded, her eyes following them until they were out of sight.

Then Serena and Darrell climbed into the car, the heavy silence between them punctuated only by the hum of the engine. They said nothing on the drive, each lost in thought, each holding on to the small hope that this was all just a misunderstanding.

But that hope was growing smaller by the second.

By the time they arrived at the Council building, the atmosphere felt odd. The same unnerving quiet from earlier now seemed louder somehow, as if the building itself was holding its breath.

And, just like before, Modi was already standing in the receiving area, as if he had been waiting for her, which was exactly the case.

Serena’s eyes narrowed as they stepped out of the car. She walked ahead of Darrell, her eyes locked on Modi.

"Good morning, Mrs. Draven," Modi said with a small smile, his tone extra light.

"Good morning," Serena replied curtly. "Where is Lucian?"

She didn’t waste time on pleasantries. There was no patience left in her, not when her instincts were screaming.

Modi tilted his head and gestured with his hand, his smile completely fading from his features. "Come with me. I’ll take you to him."

Darrell took a step forward to follow Serena, but before he could get far, two guards stepped into his path, arms extended in perfect synchronization, stopping him cold.

Darrell’s brows shot up as he looked from one guard to the other. "What is this?" he asked sharply, turning to Modi for an explanation.

The sudden halt caught Serena’s attention. She stopped walking immediately and turned to see what was going on. Her gaze moved from Darrell to the guards, and finally landed on Modi.

"Why are they stopping him?" she asked, her voice rising just slightly—not enough to be considered yelling, but enough to convey that she would not be brushed aside.

Modi looked completely unfazed. "It’s protocol," he said smoothly. "Only one person is allowed in the secured area where Lucian is currently located."

Serena crossed her arms, her chin lifting with firm defiance. She didn’t buy it, not even the slightest. With how suspicious they were acting, she was not going to believe a word that came from him or anyone else in that building.

"What kind of attack did he suffer that you had to keep him in a secure location which allows for the presence of only one person? Serena asked, her narrowed eyes fixed on Modi.

"You’ll know what it is when you see him. For his safety and privacy, I cannot describe it in words. Let’s go, please." Modi responded in a calm voice, one that suggested he was not in a hurry.

"I’m not going in without Darrell," she said. "If that’s your rule, then you can wheel Lucian out here, and I’ll do whatever I need to do in this room. Otherwise, we’re not going anywhere."

The steel in her voice echoed through the space, and even the guards blinked at her audacity.

Modi let out a long sigh, one filled with frustration masked behind diplomacy.

"We’re running out of time," he said. "Every second counts. If you insist on being stubborn and something happens to Lucian, then you’ll have only yourself to blame."

Serena’s jaw tightened, but he wasn’t done.

"If you’re so insistent on being with Darrell, you can come back to the receiving room to meet him after doing what you need to do. But right now, Lucian needs you."

The only part of Modi’s speech that struck Serena with any force was the last line. The idea that if she hesitated, if she didn’t act now, Lucian could be gone, and it would be her fault.

Her fingers curled into fists, but then her gaze shifted to Darrell.

He gave her a small nod. "Go," he said quietly. "I’ll be right here, waiting. And remember what Marlowe said."

Serena inhaled deeply and slid her hands into her pockets, where her phone remained tucked safely in one of them. She gave one final look at the guards, then turned back to Modi.

"Let’s go," she said.

Modi’s smile returned. "Gladly."

As they began walking, Modi cast a brief glance over his shoulder. It was subtle, but the message in his eyes was clear. The guards caught it immediately.

The second Serena and Modi disappeared from view, one of the guards turned back to Darrell.

Darrell had just reached for his phone, intending to make a call, to inform Marlowe about what was going on.

But the moment his fingers wrapped around the device, it was snatched cleanly out of his hand.

"What the—?"

He didn’t get the words out before the other guards stepped forward, grabbing him by the arm and shoving him against the wall.

"Hey! What the hell is this?" Darrell demanded, trying to push back, but they were faster, stronger, and clearly prepared.

They disarmed him in seconds, removing the gun he had holstered discreetly under his jacket. His protests were ignored entirely.

Without a single explanation, they dragged him away, down the opposite hallway, until they reached a secured door.

One guard entered a code on the panel, and the door clicked open.

Darrell barely had time to register his surroundings before he was shoved inside a cold, dim cell. There was already someone sitting on the bench in the corner—Adrian.