Chapter 33 Pool of Death
Lorenzo’s POV
The ride home was quiet. Too quiet. Gideon didn’t speak. Evelyn didn’t either.
She sat in the back beside me, her fingers curled tightly together, eyes fixed on the window as if the night outside could swallow what had happened. The silence wasn’t peace, it was filled with tension.
I leaned back,clutching my stomach, my body aching like something had been ripped out and poorly stitched back together. Every breath I took still tasted like blood. Every pulse in my veins hummed with that strange energy—hers.
She had called me back.
I remembered the sound of her voice, trembling, broken, still strong enough to reach through the dark I had fallen into. I shouldn’t have remembered it, but I did. It wasn’t a memory. It was a wound that refused to close.
When the SUV stopped in front of my mansion, Gideon got out first and opened the door. The night air hit me cold and clean. I stepped out slowly, rolling my shoulders.
The front lights reflected against the marble walls, and for a brief second, I could see my own shadow stretching long and thin, a reminder that death had touched me but couldn’t claim me. Not yet.
Evelyn came out last. She hesitated, her eyes darting at me before turning away.
“Go inside,” I told her. My voice was rough, heavier than usual. “You look like you have seen a ghost.”
She didn’t respond. Just brushed past me and disappeared through the doorway.
I watched her go. Something about the way she moved fast, almost scared, made me want to laugh. She’d seen the worst of me tonight, and somehow she still stayed. Foolish woman.
Gideon’s voice broke through my thoughts.
“Sir, should I prepare the meds?"
I shook my head. “No. The pool will do.”
He paused briefly, then nodded, understanding. “I’ll keep everyone away from that floor.”
I made my way through the long hall. The house was dark except for the flicker of red from the fireplace. My shoes clicked against the marble, echoing in the silence. Each step reminded me I was stillalive again, and that wasn’t always a blessing.
When I reached the double doors of my study, I paused. My hand rested on the handle for a moment. Then I pushed it open.
The scent of something alive greeted me.
The room was massive, lined with shelves of books, old records, and memories I wished I could burn. And there, at the center of it all, was the thing I called life….the pool.
The Pool of Death.
I had built this swimming pool since I started hunting. The water never stayed still, it pulsed with me, my sins, my kills, my rage.
When I killed, the water grew higher, natural, and calmer. And when I stop taking lives the water reduces, it will start turning red with the blood of the people I have killed in the past. That signifies that I will start getting old and properly die if it completely dries up.
But today, I made a deal. I killed Richard Watson, so the pool is almost still, but faintly red, blinking slowly. Waiting.
I loosened the buttons of my shirt and let it drop to the floor. The fabric stuck to the blood on my skin. My hand brushed the bullet wound, it was gone, yet I could still feel the ghost of it.
I walk to the edge of the pool and stared down at my reflection. My eyes glowed faintly, veins visible beneath my skin. There was something monstrous about the man looking back at me. Something I had created.
“This is what you’ve become,” I murmured to myself. “A body stitched together by vengeance.”
I stepped in.
The water met me cold, biting, then warm. The deeper I went, the more it hummed. My body sank to my chest, my head tilted back, and for a moment the world faded. The pool began to glow faintly, swallowing the last traces of blood on my skin.
Each pulse in the water matched my heartbeat. Each blink of red faded slowly until only natural blue remained.
It was working. My body is becoming younger, I no longer feel old and weak.
My eyes closed. I could hear them, the voices. Whispers that sounded like distant echoes of the men I had killed. They didn’t haunt me. They served me. Every one of them a sacrifice to keep me breathing.
I exhaled, letting the weight of everything slip off my shoulders.
“Welcome back,” I whispered to my reflection. “You’re not done yet.”
I’m never stopping until I find Delilah. I said to myself.
The door creaked.
I opened my eyes sharply, head snapping toward the sound.
Evelyn stood by the doorway, her hair loose, her eyes still carrying that storm she always brought with her.
“What are you doing here?” My voice came out low, colder than intended.
She didn’t move closer. “I heard noise.”
“Noise,” I repeated. “Do I look like I’m throwing a party?”
Her gaze flicked from me to the pool, then back. “What is this place?”
I smirked faintly. “My sanctuary. My curse. Depends on the day.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, confusion and fear tangled together. “You’re bleeding again.”
I glanced down. A small line of blood had traced down my shoulder, dissolving into the water. “Let it bleed. The pool feeds on it.”
She flinched. “Feeds?”
“Yes,” I said, stepping closer to her edge. “It feeds on everything that I am. Blood, life, sin. That’s how I stay alive.”
Her mouth parted slightly. “That’s not living.”
I tilted my head. “Says the woman who dragged me back from death itself.”
She didn’t answer. Her eyes dropped to the water. More confused than I have ever seen her.
I leaned forward slightly. “Do you regret it?”
She frowned. “Regret what?”
“Saving me.”
Her breath caught. She didn’t speak for a long time. Then she said quietly, “You should have stayed dead.”
I laughed, the sound echoing through the room. “That’s the problem with you, Evelyn. You say one thing, but your heart screams another.”
“Don’t start.” She said.
“Oh, I already have.” I cut in.