Chapter 17: Untouchable

The drive back home was terrifying. My hands gripped the steering wheel tighter than ever, knuckles white, and my heart hammered in my chest. Every shadow on the road seemed alive. Every honk, every creak of the car made me flinch. What if I got caught lying? One misstep, one word too many, and I could lose everything—possibly even my life. But the plan… the plan just might work. All that mattered was bringing a dead body home and convincing everyone it was the deceased Dhampir.

Hours passed in tense silence. The streets blurred under the tires as the city gave way to sprawling suburban highways. My mind raced with contingencies, every scenario more terrifying than the last.

Finally, I reached the gates of our great estate in Lagos. The ironwork glimmered under the faint moonlight, and the towering walls seemed to pulse with the history and power of the place. I brought the car to a stop. Moments later, the head of security appeared, striding toward me.

David.

Even in the dim light, he looked terrifying. Massive, broad-shouldered, his jawline hard as stone, and his eyes—sharp, calculating, and icy—could make anyone falter. The aura of authority around him was almost tangible, like a living wall of intimidation. Seeing him there, so unexpectedly alive and alert, made my stomach tighten.

“Tunde… is that you?” His voice rumbled like a distant thunder, disbelief mixing with excitement.

“Yeah, David. We did it. After all these years, we’ve finally done it.” My voice was low but steady, though inside, I was trembling.

His face lit up, and the stern mask seemed to crack for just a moment. “Where’s his body?”

“In the trunk,” I said, trying to sound casual.

David’s grin spread like a predator savoring a victory. “Oh, that’s wonderful! I’m very happy for you, my friend. Go in… go in.” He waved me forward with an almost reverent enthusiasm.

I drove through the gates.

The estate stretched endlessly around me—nearly thirty million square feet of sprawling opulence. Palatial structures, marble facades, manicured gardens that seemed to go on forever, fountains illuminated by hidden lights that made the water shimmer like liquid glass. The driveway twisted like a serpent through the grounds, past sculptures and manicured hedges, past reflecting pools that mirrored the faint glow of the moon. It had changed… dramatically. I hadn’t seen it in years, and the scale of wealth and precision left me momentarily breathless.

By the time I reached the front doorstep of the Count, the gravity of the place pressed down on me. Guards lined the steps, stoic and silent, each one a towering presence with an aura of vigilance that could rival David himself. The doors were massive, dark wood with intricate carvings, the kind of craftsmanship that only centuries of tradition could achieve.

I parked, took a deep breath, and stepped out. The gravel crunched under my shoes, and every step toward the door felt like a lifetime. As I approached, the guards shifted slightly, eyes narrowing as they assessed me, but David’s presence at the gate seemed to reassure them.

I reached the threshold. The doors loomed over me, imposing and proud, reflecting the legacy of the Count’s reign. I could hear the faint echo of footsteps from within—guards patrolling, ready for anything. I glanced back at the car, at the trunk containing the carefully concealed body, and swallowed the lump in my throat.

This was it. One wrong move, one flicker of doubt, and everything could unravel. Yet somehow, despite the fear, despite the risk, I felt a flicker of excitement—a dangerous thrill at having come this far, with the plan almost within my grasp.I straightened my shoulders and walked past the guards, each step echoing against the marble floor. Their eyes followed me, sharp and unyielding, but they made no move to stop me. David had made sure they knew who I was—or at least that I was someone to be respected.

The main hall stretched before me like a cathedral of power. Tall ceilings, glittering chandeliers, and polished marble floors reflected the faint glow of candelabras lining the walls. Portraits of ancestors in gold frames watched silently, eyes seeming to follow my every movement. The air smelled faintly of sandalwood and polished wood—a scent that spoke of age, wealth, and tradition.

At the far end of the hall, a massive staircase led to the upper chambers, flanked by statues of armored knights, their stone eyes cold and unflinching. I could hear the faint murmur of voices ahead.

As I approached, the large double doors opened, revealing a smaller, more intimate room, dominated by a long, dark-wood table and a few high-backed chairs. At the head of the table sat a man whose presence seemed to fill the room.

The Count.

He was older, with silver streaks running through his thick black hair, and eyes so sharp and calculating they could cut through steel. Yet there was a quiet strength about him, a sense that he had lived long enough to see everything the world could throw at him—and still remain unshaken. Beside him sat a woman, regal and elegant, with a commanding aura that made it clear she was no ordinary partner. She was the Countess, the matriarch who could hold her own against any threat, and yet there was warmth in her gaze as it fell on me.

“Ah…” the Count said, his voice deep, smooth, and carefully measured, “so you are the one returning to us.” He leaned back slightly, studying me with a predator’s patience, as if weighing the scale of my worth against the centuries of their rule.

I bowed my head slightly, careful to show respect but not submission. “Yes, my lord. I’ve returned as promised.”

The Countess smiled faintly. “Tunde, is it really you?” Her voice was soft, but laced with curiosity and authority. “After all these years, you’ve returned… and I see you’ve brought proof of your… success.”

I nodded toward the truck parked outside, my heart hammering with anticipation and fear. “Yes, my lady. Everything is as planned.”

The Count’s eyes glinted. “Good. Very good. You understand what is at stake.”

“Yes, my lord.” I could feel the weight of the room pressing down on me, the centuries of tradition and power, the expectations that came with returning to this place. Every step I had taken to arrive here had led to this moment.

The Countess rose gracefully, her robes flowing like liquid silk, and extended a hand toward me. “Welcome home, Tunde. You’ve done well to come this far.”

I bowed again and accepted her hand, the gesture a mixture of respect and relief. “Thank you, my lady. I’ve learned a lot since I left… and I hope to serve this house well.”

The Count’s gaze softened slightly, though his presence remained imposing. “Let us hope so. Come, sit. We have much to discuss, and I wish to hear everything from you—the journey, the challenges, and how you intend to secure the family’s legacy once more.”

I stepped toward the table, noticing the empty chair at the head—the seat that belonged to the Count himself. Every step felt like a confirmation of my return to this world I had left behind. The grandeur of the estate, the watchful eyes of guards and portraits alike, the palpable authority in the room—it all reminded me that I was not just here to report; I was here to reclaim a position that had always been mine.

As I sat, the Count and Countess exchanged a subtle glance, a silent understanding between two rulers who had seen everything and trusted little. I knew immediately that this was not just a family reunion—it was a test. And I had to pass.I stepped carefully into the grand hall of the estate, the guards parting to let me through. The Count and Countess were waiting in the main drawing room, their eyes sharp as they followed my every move. I motioned to the truck outside.

“It’s all here,” I said, my voice calm. “The proof.”

The Countess’ gaze hardened. “Bring it inside.”

With the guards’ help, we moved the body into the center of the room. The silence was heavy as the draped cloth was removed, revealing the lifeless form. Even though it wasn't the real Dhimpir the presence was intimidating, the body showing clear signs of a fierce struggle.

The Countess leaned closer, her voice measured but filled with suspicion. “Explain this.”

I took a deep breath, steadying my voice. “It was Juliet… she confronted him. She fought valiantly, and I was not able to witness the entire battle. When I arrived, it was clear the Dhampir had been bested, but not entirely. His wounds were severe. The fight had been long and brutal.”

The Count’s brow furrowed. “So you were not there?”

“No, my lord,” I replied. “I only came at the end. By the time I found him, he was still alive. I had to finish it myself—burn the body—so that the prophecy would be ended once and for all. Juliet… she vanished before I could turn to her. She ensured the fight was successful, but I had to make sure nothing remained.”

The Countess’ eyes narrowed, but there was a trace of approval in her expression. “And you say this… was not an easy fight?”

“Exactly, my lady,” I said firmly. “Every mark, every wound… the struggle left him weakened but formidable. The state of the body confirms it. Juliet executed the battle brilliantly, but I had to intervene to secure the outcome. There is no question. The prophecy is dead.”

A tense silence fell over the room. Then the Count exhaled slowly. “So the threat is neutralized?”

“Yes, my lord,” I said. “Completely.”

The Countess turned slightly toward me, her gaze sharp. “And Juliet… she is gone?”

“She vanished immediately after the fight, my lady. I never saw her again. But thanks to her actions and my intervention, the prophecy will trouble us no longer.”

The weight in the room lifted. Murmurs of relief spread among the gathered men, their approval evident. The Count nodded slowly, and the Countess allowed herself a small, approving smile.

“You’ve done well, Tunde,” the Count said, his voice firm but approving. “You returned when it mattered most, and ensured the safety of the house and the estate.”

The Countess approached me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Welcome back, Tunde. Your timing, your judgment… all have proven impeccable. The family is fortunate you returned.”

I inclined my head, keeping my composure. The relief and pride I felt was immense, but I held it in check. The prophesy was dead, the body destroyed, and everyone believed the story. I had successfully reclaimed my place in the family and solidified my clever ruse.

And for the first time in years, I felt… untouchable.