Chapter 77

Penrose seized my hand and pulled me sharply to the side of the room. Several nobles scurried out, eager to avoid being caught in the crossfire of a duel between two of the most formidable vampires in existence.

"If the Lord Protector challenges me, I will accept," Vikram declared with a sinister grin, his voice dripping with malice. "And after I win, I’ll take your marked one, break her utterly, and drain every last drop of her blood." He licked his lips slowly, savoring the words as if already tasting his victory.

Hadrian’s teeth clenched, the fury in his expression turning molten. His deadly claws emerged, and the infernal fire blazing in his eyes promised nothing short of annihilation for his enemy.

"What is the meaning of this?!" The Princess's voice, sharp and furious, sliced through the tension.

All eyes turned toward her as she entered, her gaze darting from the wounded and bleeding Lord Protector Ashcroft sprawled on the floor to the shattered wall, and finally to Hadrian and Vikram, both poised for a deadly clash. Panic flickered in her eyes as she rushed toward Hadrian.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?!" she shouted, her voice trembling with equal parts anger and alarm. "This is a royal mansion! You are not the king yet! What gives you the right to turn this place into a battleground? Some whore?!"

Hadrian's fiery gaze shifted to her, and his voice turned icy. "Don’t provoke me, Selene. Don’t cross lines you aren’t prepared to face," he hissed.

Penrose’s lips curled into a frosty smirk as she turned to her brother. "If Princess Selene is so concerned about the royal mansion, perhaps we should take this duel outside?"

Vikram chuckled darkly. "Oh, perhaps Lady Kessler fears I’ll break the walls with her precious brother's body?" His tone dripped with mocking arrogance.

Penrose's glare was as sharp as a blade. "You’ll be lucky if you can touch him," she snapped. "You'll be the one crashing into those walls—"

"No one is crashing into anything!" Selene’s outburst silenced them momentarily.

Vikram threw his head back and laughed, a deep, mirthless sound. "Very well. I’ll fight the Lord Protector wherever he chooses." His gaze shifted to Hadrian, brimming with overconfidence.

Hadrian regarded him with cool disdain, the corner of his lips curling into a lopsided smile as he glanced at Selene. "Looks like your precious residence will be spared," he said, gesturing dismissively toward Ashcroft, who was still writhing on the floor. "All you need now is someone to clean up that mess."

"You have no right! I hold the same title as you!" Ashcroft snarled weakly, cradling his bleeding, mutilated arm.

Hadrian chuckled coldly, leaning down until his face was inches from Ashcroft’s. "That’s the only reason you’re still breathing," he said, his voice low and venomous.

Ashcroft shrank back from the murderous glare, staggering to his feet and clutching his arm against his chest. Hadrian straightened, clicked his tongue in disgust, and turned his attention back to Vikram.

"Let’s settle this," he said curtly, striding toward the corridor that led outside.

The tension in the room followed him like a storm cloud. Everyone, including Selene, trailed behind. I tried to catch a glimpse of Hadrian’s face, but his expression remained unreadable, his focus razor-sharp. By contrast, Vikram wore a twisted grin, clearly reveling in the impending chaos.

A sick knot formed in my stomach. I knew how powerful Hadrian was, but Vikram had drunk my blood. If it truly amplified a vampire’s strength, it might tip the scales in his favor.

Word of the duel spread like wildfire, drawing a large, anxious crowd to the mansion's front yard. Penrose and I took our place at the forefront. Selene joined us reluctantly, standing stiffly beside Penrose.

"I didn’t know you enjoyed this kind of spectacle, Your Highness," Penrose remarked with a sharp-edged chuckle.

"I have a vested interest in whether my fiancé survives," Selene shot back, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

Penrose scoffed. "I wasn’t aware my brother had a fiancé."

Selene’s lips curled into a sly smile. "Perhaps that’s because Lady Kessler isn’t privy to royal marriage plans," she said, her tone dripping with condescension.

Penrose’s smile turned wry, though her eyes burned with restrained fury. "Princess Selene seems to have forgotten we’re no longer in the eighteenth century," she said coldly. "Bloodlines don’t matter anymore. Only strength does."

Selene's smirk widened. "Care to challenge me for my title, Lady Kessler?" she asked through gritted teeth.

Penrose snorted in disdain. "Why would I? The Princess holds no real power."

Selene laughed softly. "Oh, you’re quite mistaken."

Penrose ignored her, turning her attention back to the duel as the two combatants prepared to face off in the spacious front yard. The gathered crowd buzzed with a mix of fear and excitement, keeping a safe distance from the combatants. Hadrian and Vikram stood twenty feet apart, their stances tense and poised.

My heart raced wildly, each beat echoing in my ears. I knew Hadrian was capable, but the thought of him being even slightly injured made my chest tighten with unbearable dread.

The battle was about to begin.

Gareth stepped into the center of the arena, gave the signal to begin, and quickly moved aside. Vikram launched forward, a blur of motion as he charged at full speed. Hadrian sidestepped with precise ease, his movements fluid and unyielding. With a swift shove, he sent Vikram hurtling backward. The impact forced Vikram to land on all fours, snarling like a feral beast.

Undeterred, Vikram lunged again, only to meet the same fate—repelled by Hadrian’s flawless defenses.

The air thrummed with tension. The crowd stood frozen, mouths agape, captivated by the raw power of their strikes. I strained to follow their lightning-fast movements, though I wasn’t alone in my struggle.

Vikram’s assaults grew fiercer, each strike more unrelenting than the last. Slowly, he began to force Hadrian back. My heart seized every time Vikram’s claws came dangerously close to grazing Hadrian’s flesh. Yet each time, Hadrian slipped away, untouched. I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms. My entire body felt taut, as though the tension in the air had wrapped itself around me. I was sure the thunderous rhythm of my heart could be heard even amidst the murmuring crowd.

Beside me, Penrose reached for my hand and squeezed it firmly.

"Relax, Thalassa," she murmured, her voice a calm contrast to the chaos. "My brother knows what he’s doing. Just enjoy the show."

I tried to force a smile, but her reassurance did little to ease the storm inside me. My gaze flickered to Gareth, standing off to the side with a twisted grin etched across his face, his eyes gleaming with sinister delight as he watched his master battle.

As I focused on Hadrian, realization dawned. At first, I had been too consumed by anxiety to understand his strategy. But now, with a few steady breaths, I saw it clearly. He was waiting. Biding his time until Vikram’s relentless attacks would drive him to exhaustion.

Soon, Vikram’s strikes began to falter. His once-precise movements grew sluggish, his balance wavered, and he stumbled after each failed blow. Frustration marred his face as he fell again and again.

And then Hadrian looked my way. His eyes locked onto mine, and he smirked—a sharp, confident curve of his lips that sent a thrill through me.

It was his turn.

With terrifying speed, Hadrian surged forward, claws extended, and drove them deep into Vikram’s chest. A guttural roar tore from Vikram’s throat, but his exhaustion left him powerless to fight back. He struggled, but his attempts to free himself were weak, almost pitiful.

Hadrian wasted no time. With his free hand, he slashed Vikram’s throat, sending blood cascading like a crimson river. The ground beneath them turned slick and red as Vikram choked on his own lifeblood. His body convulsed violently, but Hadrian showed no mercy. He withdrew his claws, eliciting a fresh torrent of blood, and watched as Vikram swayed unsteadily.

While a human would have succumbed long ago, Vikram’s vampiric nature made his smaller wounds begin to heal. But the sheer volume of blood loss slowed his recovery, and Hadrian wasn’t about to give him the chance to regain strength.

Without hesitation, Hadrian struck again, slashing Vikram’s throat from the opposite side. Vikram gasped and wheezed, his body betraying his desperate attempts to draw breath. But Hadrian didn’t relent. Strike after brutal strike, he tore through Vikram’s flesh until his spine was severed.

The crowd held their collective breath, paralyzed by the savagery unfolding before them.

Finally, Vikram’s head detached from his body and tumbled to the blood-soaked ground, followed by the lifeless collapse of his corpse.

A wave of gasps and murmurs rippled through the onlookers. The nobles and their entourages seemed too stunned to decide whether to cheer for Hadrian’s victory or remain silent in fear.

One thing was certain: no one would dare challenge the future king again.

Hadrian stood over Vikram’s mutilated remains, his body drenched in blood, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He glanced down at his handiwork before turning and striding toward us. As he moved, the crowd instinctively parted, retreating as if from a feral predator.

I didn’t share their fear. My heart swelled with relief and something deeper as I saw him walking toward me. My trembling body betrayed the overwhelming emotions surging within me, and tears blurred my vision.

Penrose’s grin was sharp and triumphant. "Good job, brother," she said with a wicked smile.

"Thanks, sis," he replied, his tone nonchalant as his eyes found mine. "Were you worried about me, love?"

His words sent a rush through me, and for a moment, the rest of the world faded. Only he mattered—alive, whole, and standing before me. I threw myself into his arms, wrapping mine tightly around his neck. Tears spilled freely down my cheeks as I buried my face in his shoulder, clinging to him.

Hadrian embraced me just as tightly, pulling me close against his bloodied chest. His voice dropped to a tender whisper, sending shivers through me.

"You are mine, Thalassa. And I will never let anyone touch you… ever."

He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead, and in that moment, nothing else mattered.