Chapter 228 Old Promise I
Lilith pulled up at Ella’s mansion, the sleek black V8 hissing softly as it came to a halt on the driveway. The engine barely had time to wind down before the door lifted with a smooth mechanical hiss. Without even shutting it, Lilith stepped out in a flash, her heels clicking sharply against the marble pathway as she rushed toward the front door. She didn’t bother knocking.
The heavy oak doors slammed open under her push. Her eyes immediately landed on the figure lying still on the long leather couch in the middle of the wide, luxurious living room—and her heart skipped a beat.
"Liam..." she whispered, her voice caught between disbelief and fury.
There he was—shirtless, his pale skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat, a thick bandage wrapped tightly around his lower torso, just above his waist. The cloth was stained dark red at the center, and the blood had already soaked through. Around him, bowls of ice and cold compresses sat scattered, half-melted. Ann sat in a corner, her knees tucked to her chest, tears streaking her cheeks silently. Ella hovered nearby, pacing. Lana was crouched beside Liam, gently pressing another ice pack onto his burning chest.
Lilith stormed inside, her gaze locked on Lana as she demanded sharply, "What the hell happened to him?! What is going on here?!"
Lana, clearly rattled and exhausted, reached over to the table and picked up a long, cruel-looking dagger wrapped in cloth. She turned to face Lilith and held it up.
"This," she said quietly. "He was stabbed with this."
Lilith narrowed her eyes at the weapon. The blade itself glowed faintly, a low crimson hue pulsing along the edges as if it were alive.
"We don’t know much about it," Lana continued, her voice trembling with frustration and fear, "but Boris said it would give him a slow, torturous death. That it burns him from the inside out... that his soul will be tormented endlessly."
Lilith’s expression darkened. Her heart clenched painfully at the thought. Torture? Her Liam—her Liam—going through this kind of hell? She dropped to her knees beside the couch without hesitation, grabbing his hand.
The moment she touched him, she felt it. His skin was scalding. Not just hot—blistering, feverish, unnatural heat radiating from every pore. Her fingers recoiled slightly from the sensation, but she forced herself to hold on.