Chapter 10 – The Devil’s Vow

The Devil's Vow

The sky above Black Hollow churned with restless clouds, thick and heavy, as if the heavens themselves were holding their breath. The cathedral ruins stood in eerie silence, the echoes of their last battle still clinging to the air.

Eleanor's palm burned where she had cut it, the dried blood a stark reminder of what she had done. Victor was free—but at what cost?

Maria moved quickly, wrapping a strip of cloth around Eleanor's wounded hand. "You're losing too much blood," she murmured.

"I'll be fine," Eleanor said, though her legs trembled beneath her. "We need to go before he recovers."

A few feet away, Victor sat against the crumbling stone, his breathing ragged. His hands trembled as he stared at his wrist—where Lucian's mark had once been.

"It's really gone," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.

Maria shot a glance toward the darkness beyond the ruins. "Not for long. He won't let this go unpunished."

Eleanor's stomach twisted. She knew it, too. Lucian never lost. And now, she had made an enemy of him in a way no one ever had before.

She forced herself to stand. "We go back to the safehouse. Now."

Victor hesitated. "You're sure it's safe?"

"No," Maria said bluntly. "But it's better than waiting here for him to come back."

Victor pushed himself up, wincing. His body was weak from the ritual, but his mind was sharp. He met Eleanor's gaze. "You shouldn't have done that for me."

Eleanor exhaled sharply. "And what? Let you rot under his control?"

Victor's jaw tightened. "Now he'll come after you instead."

A cold wind swept through the ruins, and in the distance, a low chuckle echoed through the trees.

Too late. He was already here.

The Devil's Return

The shadows moved before Lucian did.

He emerged from the darkness, his golden eyes burning with something between amusement and pure, unfiltered rage. The air around him seemed to hum with unseen power, his presence commanding even in silence.

Eleanor stood her ground, though her pulse pounded like a war drum.

Lucian tilted his head, studying her. "You surprise me, Eleanor."

She forced herself to meet his gaze. "Good."

His smile was slow, predatory. "You think you've won something tonight?"

Maria shifted slightly, reaching for the knife at her belt. Lucian didn't even look at her. With a flick of his wrist, Maria was slammed backward into a pillar, gasping in pain.

Eleanor moved toward her, but Lucian took a single step forward—and the world seemed to freeze.

Victor stiffened beside her, his breath shallow. He had been free for only minutes, and already, Lucian was pulling him back into his orbit.

"Let them go," Eleanor demanded. "This is between you and me."

Lucian laughed softly. "Oh, Eleanor. You still don't understand, do you?"

His gaze burned through her, and suddenly, he was standing right in front of her, too close, his breath warm against her skin.

She didn't flinch. She wouldn't.

"You think breaking one little mark makes you powerful?" he murmured, voice like silk. "Do you think you're safe from me now?"

Eleanor's fingers twitched toward the dagger hidden beneath her cloak. "I think you're weaker than you pretend to be."

Lucian's smirk faltered—just for a fraction of a second.

And that was enough.

Eleanor gritted her teeth. "You need them to choose you, don't you?" she pressed. "That's why you didn't just take me when you had the chance. You need people to give themselves to you."

Lucian's expression darkened. His silence was confirmation.

Maria, still slumped against the pillar, gasped out, "That's why the ritual worked. We severed the choice."

Eleanor turned back to Lucian. "That means you can't touch me, can you? Not unless I let you."

Lucian's jaw clenched.

And for the first time since she had met him, he looked truly angry.

"You're playing a dangerous game, Eleanor," he said softly.

She lifted her chin. "So are you."

A long silence stretched between them. The wind howled through the ruins, whipping Eleanor's cloak around her.

Finally, Lucian exhaled slowly.

"I should kill you for this," he murmured.

Victor tensed. Maria gripped the dagger at her belt.

But Lucian only smiled.

"But I won't."

Eleanor narrowed her eyes. "Why not?"

Lucian took a step back, golden eyes flickering with something unreadable. "Because now, you interest me."

Eleanor's blood ran cold.

Lucian's smile sharpened. "You have a fire in you, Eleanor. And I want to see how brightly it burns before I snuff it out."

The words sent a shiver down her spine.

Lucian reached out—not to touch her, but to gesture toward her injured hand.

"Next time," he whispered, "when you bleed, it won't be by your own blade."

Eleanor didn't move. Didn't breathe.

Then, with a final smirk, Lucian vanished into the darkness.

The moment he was gone, the air felt lighter, as if an invisible weight had lifted.

Maria groaned, rubbing her ribs. "I hate him."

Victor let out a shaky breath. "You and me both."

Eleanor didn't answer. Her gaze was still locked on the spot where Lucian had stood, his words replaying in her mind.

This wasn't over.

He was watching her now. Waiting.

And the worst part?

She wasn't sure if she feared it… or if some part of her was drawn to it.

To Be Continued…