Chapter 28 - Blood Covenant
Elena looked at the heavy black pistol in Vincent’s hand.
The metal gleamed under the flickering fluorescent bulb. The weight of that weapon represented the ultimate conclusion to her nightmare—a bullet between Marcus’s eyes, the final silence of the voice that had haunted her sleep for half a decade.
Marcus stared at the gun, his chest heaving like a dying dog’s. Tears of pure, unadulterated terror leaked from his swollen eyes, mixing with the blood and grime on his cheeks. He began to sob, pressing his hands together in a frantic, pathetic prayer.
"Elena, please... I’m sorry! I’m sorry for the basement, I’m sorry for the belt, I’m sorry for everything! Don't shoot me! Don't become like them! You're good, Elena! You're an angel! Don't murder me!"
Elena slowly reached out her bandaged hand. Her fingers touched the cold steel of Vincent’s gun.
She felt the raw power resting in the palm of her hand. She felt the urge—the violent, seductive urge—to pull the trigger and watch the monster who had tormented her cease to exist.
Then, she looked down at her other hand. Wrapped in gauze, burned from pulling Lily’s cure from the flames.
These hands had bathed her daughter. These hands had stitched torn blankets, baked bread, wiped away tears, and held Vincent’s face in the dark of the night.
These hands were made to protect life, not to carry Marcus Vance’s filthy soul to the grave.
Elena gently pushed Vincent’s hand down, lowering the weapon.
Marcus let out a ragged, hysterical laugh of relief. "Thank God... thank God! I knew you didn't have it in you, you weak—"
*CRACK!*
Elena swung the heavy steel wrench with all the strength in her body, smashing it across Marcus’s jaw. Teeth and blood sprayed across the iron hull as Marcus’s head whipped violently to the side, his body going limp, crashing unconscious onto the wet concrete.
Elena let the wrench fall from her fingers. It hit the ground with a dull, hollow clatter.
She looked up at Vincent, her eyes clear, shining with tears that she refused to let fall.
"I don't need to kill him to be free of him," Elena said, her voice steady, profound, carrying a strength that took Vincent’s breath away. "He is already dead. He is nothing. A pathetic, broken insect."
Vincent stared at her, his steel-gray eyes softening into an expression of sheer awe, reverent devotion, and an unshakeable, eternal love. He holstered his weapon, stepped forward, and pulled her into his arms, wrapping his coat around her shivering body, burying his face in her rain-soaked hair.
"You are the strongest woman I have ever known," Vincent murmured against her ear, his voice rough with emotion.
Behind them, Dante led two armed guards down the stairs, quickly untying Maria and securing the unconscious Marcus Vance in heavy steel zip-ties.
"Boss," Dante called out, holding up a radio. "It’s Morales from the manor. He needs you. Now."
Vincent kept one arm firmly around Elena’s waist, taking the radio with his free hand. "Morales. Report."
Through the static, the doctor’s voice came through, strained, trembling with exhaustion and urgency: *"Don Vincent... the synthetic compound is stabilized. We just injected the first dose into Lily’s IV line."*
Elena grabbed Vincent’s wrist, her heart in her throat. "Is she breathing? How is she?!"
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*"She went into cardiac arrest three minutes ago,"* Morales’s voice cracked over the speaker. *"We brought her back with the defibrillator, but her vitals are crashing. The synthetic compound is clashing with a foreign stabilizer we couldn't identify. Don Vincent... if you want to say goodbye, you need to get here now."*
***
