CHAPTER 120: IMPRESSIVE

The room pulsed with the raw sounds of passion—moans, sighs, the rustle of bodies shifting urgently against each other.

Lucian moved over Serena like a man possessed, his every thrust hungry and unrestrained, a wildness in him that could not be tamed. It was as though some primal force had been unshackled inside him. Every motion was frenzied, rough, unrelenting, as though he had just been released after years of captivity. His body surged forward, again and again, seeking deeper connection, more sensation.

But while his body acted with single-minded intensity, his mind was not at peace.

There was a voice, that same persistent voice, growing louder with each passing second, echoing in the back of his head like a war drum. It warned him, again and again, of the danger. He had no protection. He could not afford to release his seed inside of Serena. He knew this. The consequences could be dire.

Still, the glove gripped him with invisible force, urging him toward that forbidden climax. Every muscle in his body was taut, every nerve alive with chaotic pleasure. He tried to resist, to pull back, but the force around his mind was too strong.

The pleasure clouded his judgement, made it harder to reason. Still, he fought it. Inside his head, a desperate battle waged—his will against the unnatural compulsion of the glove. It was an invisible war, one that burned behind his eyes, pressing against his temples, stealing his breath.

And in that same moment, the pain began to ripple across Salvador’s head.

Salvador couldn’t get enough. Serena’s moans of pleasure, the slapping of bodies, the live porn show he was opportuned to be watching right there rid him of all senses.

But the mental strain from Lucian’s resistance began to affect him as well. Deep inside his skull, a throb began to build, an ache that refused to be ignored. Still, he was too caught up in the pleasure he was getting from watching and stroking himself to make sense of what was happening.

Lucian’s breath came out in short, heated bursts. His hands tightened on Serena’s hips, his mind in chaos, the battle inside reaching a fevered pitch. And just as he felt himself approaching the edge, teetering on the precipice, something broke.

With one final surge of willpower, Lucian tore himself free from the hold of the glove.

At the last possible moment, he pulled out, groaning with effort and releasing his seed not within her, but across her trembling thighs and the sheets beneath them. He collapsed forward, catching himself on the mattress, chest heaving from the sheer physical and mental effort it had taken to defy the compulsion.

The result of that resistance was catastrophic.

Salvador’s mind exploded with agony.

He didn’t know when he abandoned the action of stroking his hardened cock. His hands flew to the sides of his head as an inhuman scream burst from his throat. The pain struck like lightning, tearing through every thought, every nerve. He crumpled in the corner of the room, groaning and clutching his head as if trying to hold his brain together. The scream echoed through the hall outside the room, reaching Modi’s ears.

Modi, who had stationed himself at the door, heard the scream and immediately understood. Something had gone wrong. Terribly wrong.

But he remained still, spine stiffened, and his hand crept toward the gun concealed beneath his jacket. His eyes narrowed. Either Serena or Lucian had broken free from the influence of the glove, and if that was the case, he knew this next steps to take to remedy the situation.

Inside, Lucian climbed off the bed with urgency, his chest still heaving from exertion. His eyes darted to Salvador, but only for a second. The man was writhing on the floor, his body curled in pain, mumbling incoherently. Lucian had no time for him. His attention snapped back to Serena.

The moment he broke out of the hold of the glove, she also broke free as the connection had been broken.

She was sitting up slowly, her body bare, her skin marked with evidence of what had just occurred. Her thighs were sticky, her hair disheveled, and her eyes, which were wide, confused, and frightened, darted around the room. She blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of her surroundings. Her breathing was uneven, her lips slightly parted. The chaos of her mind was visible in the way her eyes moved from Lucian to Salvador and then to the bed.

Why was she naked? Why was there semen on her thighs and the bed? Why was Lucian also unclothed? Why was the strange man crying in the corner?

Nothing made sense.

Lucian stepped forward cautiously. His voice, rough from exertion, was still gentle when he asked, "Are you okay?"

Serena didn’t answer. Her lips quivered, and her brows furrowed. She looked at him like he was a stranger, like she couldn’t quite place him or herself in this nightmare of a situation. Her silence worried him. She seemed to be fighting her way through a haze, putting together the broken pieces of the situation she found herself in.

When she didn’t speak, Lucian moved quickly. He grabbed his shirt and began cleaning the mess from between her thighs with swift, efficient motions. He didn’t speak further. There was no time to process, no time to comfort her properly. When he was done, he helped her into her clothes, his hands steady and his eyes growing more annoyed.

He dressed himself next, his fingers fumbling with the buttons as Salvador’s agonized cries slowly faded into silence.

Lucian glanced back.

Salvador was no longer screaming.

He was laughing now, a low, deranged laughter that echoed off the walls. He still sat in the same crouched position, his head pressed between his hands, but his mouth twisted with madness. The laugh chilled Serena to her bones, but she ignored it. The man seemed to be broken.

Then, at last, Serena finally pieced together the last fragments of her memories and a lot of things instantly made sense.

A gasp tore from her lips. She whipped her head toward Lucian, horror dawning in her eyes. Her voice trembled as she began to speak. "Did you...?" The rest of the question never came. She couldn’t say the words. Couldn’t bring herself to finish the thought.

But Lucian knew exactly what she was asking.

"I pulled out," he said quickly, his voice low and firm. "I did not finish inside of you."

She stared at him, searching his face. Doubt flickered in her eyes.

"Are you sure?" she asked, panic already thick in her voice.

Lucian wasn’t sure. Not entirely. He had acted quickly—desperately—but whether he had acted in time was another matter entirely. Still, he would not tell her that. Not now. Not when she was already on the verge of a breakdown.

"Leave it, Serena. Let’s get out of here first," he said. His tone was decisive, brooking no argument.

He turned toward Salvador, who had fallen silent again. The mad smile still stretched across his face. Without a second thought, Lucian delivered a vicious kick to Salvador’s head. The man’s body jerked once from the impact before falling limp, unconscious. Lucian didn’t bother to check for a pulse. He didn’t care whether the bastard was dead or alive.

He grabbed Serena’s hand, gently but firmly, and pulled his phone from his pocket with the other. He immediately dialed Adrian’s number. The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. No answer. He tried again, frowning deeper with each passing second.

Still no response.

By now, he was already leading Serena toward the door. When they reached it, the screen of his phone went dark—the call had stopped connecting altogether. He cursed under his breath, slipped the phone back into his pocket, and grasped the door handle.

He pushed it open, and they stepped into the hallway.

But just as they turned to leave, they froze.

A gun, gleaming and loaded, was aimed directly at Lucian’s head. The hand that held it was steady, strong, and familiar.

It was Modi.

His expression was unreadable, but his eyes betrayed no surprise. He had been expecting this. Preparing for it.

"That was impressive, I must say, Lucian," Modi said coolly. He tilted the gun slightly, cocking it with deliberate emphasis. "But it’s not time to leave yet. Both of you, go back inside."

Lucian stood still, breathing heavily. His jaw clenched, his fingers tightening around Serena’s. She remained frozen beside him, her body rigid with tension. The last remnants of confusion had been swept away by the sight of the weapon.

Modi didn’t waver. He was calm, confident. He knew exactly what had happened behind that door. Knew that one—or both—had broken free from the hold of the glove. And now, he intended to regain control.

Lucian looked into Modi’s eyes. "What is the meaning of this, Modi?" He asked, still not making any move to return to the prison they just walked out from.

"Inside," Modi repeated.