CHAPTER 142: DEMONS’ CONTRACTORS ARE ON THE MOVE!

The dungeon was colder than it should have been, as if the stones themselves held their breath for what was about to happen.

Lucien stood rooted to the ground, his hand clenched tightly around Rin’s wrist as if keeping him one step away from the abyss.

"I missed you so much, Rin. I’m so glad to have you back in my arms."

Rin smirked at the awful words that had split from his mouth.

"Back in your arms?" Rin tilted his head, his crimson eyes glinting behind the sheer veil. "You flatter yourself, Duke. I didn’t come here to crawl back to you."

And with that, Rin lifted his hand. Slowly, deliberately, he pulled the veil away from his face.

The dungeon air shifted. The guards who had been half-bored and half-tense suddenly gasped. Faces flushed crimson. Some of them actually stepped back as though the sight of him was too much, like staring at the sun.

Rin’s beauty was not gentle. It was sharp, weaponised. His pale skin glowed in the low torchlight, lips curling with faint mockery, eyes so red they looked carved from blood itself.

Evan’s gaze devoured him instantly.

"Beautiful as always..." the Duke breathed, as if he had been starved and Rin was a feast.

Rin’s disgust flickered across his face before he hid it beneath another sly smile. He took a step forward, toward the Duke.

Lucien instantly moved, sword half drawn, body tense like a spring.

"Don’t," he muttered, his voice a growl. "Don’t go near him."

Rin turned, placing a hand gently on Lucien’s cheek. His thumb brushed the tense line of his jaw, his smile faint but steady.

"It’s fine. It’s not like he’s going to hurt me,"

Lucien’s breath caught. He wanted to argue with Rin or drag him back, or tell him that it was madness to get close to his father. But that soft touch, unlike the harsh world around them broke through his resistance. Lucien let go of him.

Rin slipped past him, strolling towards the duke. The closer he came, the heavier Evan’s gaze pressed on him... like invisible hands trying to strip him bare. He hated them.

Finally, Rin stood before the Duke.

Evan’s lips curled. His hand reached out, broad and heavy, and landed on Rin’s shoulder as though claiming what was already his.

Rin’s eyes dropped to that hand.

And then...

SLAP.

The Duke’s hand was shoved away... not by Rin’s own, but by something far darker. A second hand, larger, inky black and clawed, had erupted from the shadows at Rin’s side. It brushed the Duke’s touch away like filth.

The dungeon froze.

Rin smirked, brushing imaginary dirt off his shoulder where the Duke had touched him. His crimson eyes glowed faintly.

"Don’t touch me, Duke," Rin said, his voice sharp as a blade. "The demon I’m contracted with hates it when insects lay their hands on me."

Evan’s jaw clenched. Embarrassment flickered across his features. He glanced at the shadow-hand that dissipated into smoke.

He knew that it was demonic power. The famous Draven family.

The cursed bloodline he had spent years trying to erase.

For years, the Second Duke and his kin had been thorns in his side. They were difficult to kill and elusive. Because of their ties to demons.

When news had reached him that the entire Draven household had perished in fire, Evan had celebrated. He hadn’t even needed to lift his own hand to kill them anymore; the world had done him a favour.

But now...

Now, Rin stood before him. Alive. Draven is blood through and through. An Omega he’d hungered for, now wrapped in shadows that bowed to him.

Evan clicked his tongue, forcing his smile back into place.

"I see," he murmured. "So the rumours were true. You are Draven’s whelp."

Rin tilted his head. "Whelp or not, I’m standing. Why are you so surprised? Are you perhaps enemies with my father? Does that make us enemies too?"

The Duke’s eyes flashed. But he didn’t lash out. He placed his hands behind his back, his voice smooth again, as if the embarrassment had never cut him.

"I won’t lay a hand on you," he said, smiling faintly. "Not today. But don’t mistake my restraint for surrender. I always get what I want, Rin. Always."

His gaze slid over to Julian, who stood stiff, and weak inside the dungeon, his hand gripping his dungeon so tightly his knuckles had turned white.

Evan’s smirk deepened.

"Son. You look helpless."

And with that parting jab, he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing against the stone, leaving the dungeon heavy with silence.

.

.

Rin sighed, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the Duke’s stench. Lucien was at his side in an instant.

"Are you hurt?" Lucien’s voice was tight, controlled, but his hand hovered near Rin’s arm as though afraid to touch without permission.

"I’m fine," Rin said simply.

"Fine?" Caspian’s voice rang from the far side of the corridor. The prince had arrived, his golden hair damp with sweat as if he’d run here. His worried eyes flicked to Rin, before narrowing at Lucien. "You let him get that close?"

Lucien’s jaw clenched. "I..."

"Don’t give me excuses." Caspian stepped forward, his presence heavy with authority. "If the Duke had done anything..."

"He wouldn’t do anything, I was watching him,"

"You were? It doesn’t seem so to me,"

"Enough!" Rin’s voice cut through their argument like a whip.

Both men froze.

Rin rubbed his temple, crimson eyes narrowing. "If you two start bickering like dogs, I’ll leave. I came here for one reason, and it wasn’t to listen to your pissing contest."

The silence that followed was grudging. Caspian muttered something under his breath and looked away. Lucien glared at the wall.

Rin sighed again and turned to the real problem. His eyes slid to Julian’s cell.

The man inside smiled faintly, eyes wide with mock innocence.

Lucien followed Rin’s gaze.

"Don’t worry. I won’t release him. I know he’s faking it. He always fakes it."

Rin shook his head slowly. "It’s not just an act."

Lucien frowned. "What do you mean?"

Rin stepped closer to the bars, his crimson eyes narrowing as he scanned Julian. His voice dropped.

"His dungeon is thick with demonic energy. Can’t you see it?"

Lucien blinked. "See what?"

"Exactly," Rin said. He turned, looking between Lucien and Caspian. "Neither of you can. But I can. Julian made a contract with a demon."

Gasps rang from the guards nearby. Caspian’s eyes widened.

"That’s impossible," the prince said quickly. "Only the Draven family can..."

"Summon them," Rin interrupted. "Yes. We can summon and control. But demons don’t always wait for summoning. Sometimes they crawl to humans themselves, offering contracts that look tempting."

Lucien’s throat tightened. "Will... will my brother survive it?"

As if on cue, Julian slammed his fists against the bars. "He’s lying! There’s no demon! I don’t see any demon! You’re all fools if you believe him..."

Rin ignored the outburst. His expression hardened. He turned to Lucien and Caspian.

"Move away from me," Rin said quietly.

Something in his tone made them obey without question.

Rin snapped his fingers.

A pulse went through him, as if shackles deep within his blood had broken. His body felt lighter, freer.

The seal that had suppressed his body’s heat, his scent, and his dangerous allure cracked apart.

And then...

The dungeon is filled with it. His intoxicating Omega scent spilt into the air, sweet and heavy, curling like smoke around every man present.

Guards doubled over, groaning, eyes wide as their bodies betrayed them... heat rising, pants tightening. Even Lucien staggered back, jaw clenched, his body trembling with restraint. Caspian cursed under his breath, face flushed, fighting for control.

And above it all, Rin stood calm. His crimson eyes glowed, his aura flaring.

The demonic energy that clung to Julian stirred, writhing. Drawn, compelled, seduced.

It tore free of Julian like black smoke, coiling toward Rin.

Julian screamed, thrashing.

"No! Don’t take it... don’t you dare kill it—"

Rin didn’t even lift a finger. The demon bent willingly, pressing against him like a loyal hound.

"Submit," Rin whispered.

And it did.

He drew a sword from his inventory, steel gleaming. With a single strike, he cut the demon in two.

It screamed once before evaporating into smoke.

Julian collapsed, panting, then looked up with hatred blazing in his eyes.

"You bastard! You ruined everything! Damn you, Rin! Damn you!"

Rin ignored him. He slid the sword away and turned, his crimson eyes softening just a little when they met Lucien’s and Caspian’s flushed, desperate faces.

The scent still curled around them, making their breaths rough. Their pupils were blown wide.

"Oh my....I forgot you guys,"

Rin sighed and snapped his fingers again. His scent vanished. The dungeon air cleared.

Lucien staggered upright, sweat dripping down his temple. Caspian exhaled shakily, adjusting his cloak to hide what the scent had done to him. The guards collapsed in relief.

"I’m sorry," Rin said softly.

Lucien shook his head.

"Don’t apologise." His eyes burned with something Rin refused to name. "But you shouldn’t do that again, what if someone had jumped on you to... do something dangerous?"

"It won’t happen,"

Caspian, however, stepped forward.

"If one demon could slip inside my prisoner, then others may have already infiltrated the city."

Rin nodded. "They could. And they will."

Lucien turned sharply to Rin. "Be careful, Rin."

Rin smiled faintly, mockery dancing at his lips. "I’m always careful. You should be careful too."

Lucien froze at that, his chest tightening.

Caspian waited. He wanted to hear Rin’s voice telling him to be careful, too, but it never came. Rin only bowed lightly to him and walked away. Lucien wore a mocking smile and followed too.

The prince’s smile faded.

"Ah! Seems I have to try harder,"

.

.

That night, Lucien returned home.

He stripped off his shirt, finding it drenched in Rin’s lingering scent and also his Pheromones that he had almost released like he was in rut. His pulse quickened at that moment and his body reacted before his mind could. He placed it by the bedside and forced himself into a cold shower, trying to burn the need away.

When he returned, the shirt was gone.

Lucien frowned.

"I kept it here... Did I take it with me to the bathroom ?"

He turned, searching the room. And then...

SHNK.

A dagger pierced his back.

He gasped, blood flooding his mouth, his body seizing as he staggered forward.

Behind him stood his father’s enforcer... Eye patch in one eye, tall, shadow-like.

"I apologise, Lord Lucien," the man whispered coldly. "I only needed your shirt. The one drenched in your scent. With it, I can finally reach the man who cost me my left eye."

Lucien tried to speak, but blood choked him. The dagger twisted deeper, and darkness swallowed his sight.

The enforcer smiled as a demonic voice hissed in his skull.

"Hurry. Put it on and let’s go meet our enemy."