CHAPTER 108: BEFORE THE GAME! 2

Lucien did not take a carriage when he left the palace. Instead, he rode a black stallion, its hooves pounding against the earth with a steady, relentless rhythm that matched the storm in his chest.

He had been dismissed from the crown prince’s service... no, he had dismissed himself... and the chains bound to Caspian were finally broken. The wind whipped through his dark hair as he rode, the open road stretching before him, but freedom felt hollow. Each thud of hooves brought him closer to his true cage: the Vortellion estate, his father’s bloody domain.

He groaned in frustration as he lowered his head. His grip on the reins tightened as the weight of old chains tightened around his heart. For the whole two years he served as a knight in the palace, he had been an escape from his father’s shadow. Maybe because of the anger he felt when he returned home to hear the news about Rin’s escape. He wanted to go back to the woods and search for Rin but his father had been searching for him, even till now. Even if he finds Rin, he won’t bring him back to the Vortellion estate where his father was.

Staying away for too long won’t stop his father from searching for ’missing Rin. Now, he was returning... to the estate, his father, and the fucking brother who’d betrayed Rin. He almost sliced Julian’s neck after he returned, but... He couldn’t bring himself to do it.

The month after his graduation from the academy was hectic. The Vortellion had to deal with a missing omega, trouble with the temple for killing a powerful priest and so on... The only way Lucien could handle it was by running away from it. That’s why he served as a knight in the palace. He didn’t do it for loyalty or anything, it was just a way to get a lot out of his mind.

Dusk brushed gold over the estate’s endless walls as Lucien arrived, the sky bleeding orange and red. The household was waiting, as if they’d known he was coming. Rows of armoured guards stood at attention, their faces blank. Maids lined up in neat rows, their heads bowed. At the centre stood Lioran, his father’s butler and right hand, his expression calm and unreadable.

Lucien dismounted, his boots striking the stone courtyard with a sharp echo. He ignored the bowing servants, his grey eyes locking on Lioran.

"Where is he?" he asked, his voice low and tight.

"Your father?" Lioran’s tone was calm, ever formal, as he gestured forward. "Follow me, Young Master."

Lucien fell into step beside him, his jaw clenched. He’d expected to find Evan in his chambers, or buried in his office behind a pile of documents, scheming as always. But as they crossed the wide grounds, the air filled with the sounds of hammering, shouting, and heavy lifting. Lucien’s eyes narrowed. The far side of the estate came into view—a small stadium, half seats, half forest. It was a cruel theatre for a cruel sport: his father’s infamous Game.

Workers bustled, hauling beams and polishing seats. Among them, Evan Vortellion stood like a king in his domain, his sharp eyes surveying every detail, ensuring no mistake was made. His black coat was immaculate, his posture commanding, his presence... a weight that silenced the air. Lucien had always wanted to be like his father, but not in all aspects.

"Father," Lucien called, his voice cutting through the noise.

Evan turned, his stern features softening into a smile Lucien didn’t believe for a second. He moved forward, arms opening as if to embrace him. "Lucien. My son..."

Lucien stepped back before those arms could touch him, his grey eyes cold. His voice cut, low but sharp.

"Why the hell would you spread those arms? Why pretend now? You’ve been a terrible father all my life. Why start acting the part today?"

Evan’s smile didn’t falter—it only grew more sly, like a predator toying with prey. He turned back to the stadium, where workers polished red seats and hung gilded banners.

"Who knows? Perhaps age has made me sentimental. Perhaps I’m just glad to see my son return after two years."

Lucien followed his gaze, frowning. The arrangements gleamed with excess—red velvet seats, gilded railings, tables lined with refreshments for more than just nobles. Middle-class citizens had their own stands, a rare inclusion. Beyond the seats stretched a thick forest, its shadows dark and foreboding. A hunting ground. "This looks... different from usual," Lucien muttered. "It’s more extravagant than usual. Who are you expecting?"

Evan’s eyes glinted, sharp and secretive. "They are important guests."

"Who are they?" Lucien pressed, his brows furrowing.

"If you want to know who, then be present tomorrow," Evan said, his voice smooth but final.

Lucien exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes.

"Keep your secrets then." He turned to leave, then stopped, glancing back at his father, his voice growing firm, colder than before. "Well, I’m back. That means it’s time. Step down, father. I will be the next head of Vortellion."

For a moment, silence hung heavy, broken only by the distant clatter of workers. Then, laughter—deep, mocking laughter erupted from Evan’s throat. The workers froze, their eyes darting to the Duke, fear etched on their faces. His laughter was more terrifying than his stern commands, a sound that promised consequences.

The laugh died down, and Evan said nothing more, only watched Lucien’s retreating back with amused contempt, his lips curled into a thin, dangerous smile.

Lioran approached, bowing slightly. "The refreshments and entertainment for the VIP guests are prepared, my lord."

"Excellent!" Evan nodded, his gaze sharpening. "And Julian?"

"He’s still locked in his chamber with Dorian guarding him night and day," Lioran replied.

"Good." Evan’s lips curved into a thin grin. "Bring him out tomorrow. His absence must have caused a lot of scandals already."

"As you wish." Lioran bowed again and left, his steps silent.

Evan remained there, his eyes sweeping the grounds, every detail noted, nothing left unchecked. The Game was the same cruel spectacle as always, but tomorrow was different.

The crown prince himself would be there, and the brothel master... rumoured to be untouchable... would attend.

The name Vortellion would thunder tomorrow, shaking the capital. Evan’s grin widened, his anticipation a living thing.

’Oh! I can hardly wait for tomorrow already,’