Claimed by the Prince of Darkness novel Chapter 101

Chapter 101: Clipped Wings

Mr. Belmont hunched his back, his good hand clutching the broken wrist that had been forced backward. The joint screamed with white-hot pain and his vision swam with dark spots. He had been struck before by debt collectors but never like this! His wrist throbbed violently and was beginning to swell.

"W–what is wrong with you?!" Mr. Belmont wheezed through clenched teeth. "You broke my... my hand!"

He staggered, nearly losing his footing and only then remembered his cane lying beside the chair. He was going to reach for it—

"Do it."

There was a sinister calmness in Lucian’s voice that made Mr. Belmont freeze.

"I w—will report you!" Mr. Belmont snapped. Tears appeared in his eyes from the pain. "You broke my wrist! You think you can get away with this? I will have you thrown into a cell—I will—" 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

"What will you report me for?" Lucian asked as he glanced down at the deeds in his hand. "For attacking me first when I was only defending myself?"

Mr. Belmont opened his mouth but nothing came out. He suddenly became aware of how the men in the room wore stiff expressions, and no one looked eager to side with him.

Used to feeding his ego rather than his sense, Mr. Belmont grabbed the cane out of habit. He raised the cane to hit Lucian, but at the same time he noticed the man’s eyes shift from black to red.

Lucian’s fingers wrapped around Harold’s good hand and he murmured, "You seem fond of learning things the hard way."

Harold Belmont realised the danger, his mouth opening to shout, when Lucian’s fingers squeezed his hand harshly. The bones didn’t just break, but powdered in some parts from the pressure.

If people didn’t hear it before, they heard it loud and clear now.

Mr. Belmont screamed as his second hand gave way, pain detonating through his arms so violently that his knees buckled and he collapsed to the floor.

"W–why? Who are y–you?!" Mr. Belmont demanded hoarsely.

Lucian tilted his head and asked, "Does it matter?"

The pureblooded vampire stared at the human on the ground like an insect that he wanted to dissect, and the other men in the room quietly inched towards the exit before bolting out of there.

Mr. Belmont tried to get up but only slipped with his hands that he couldn’t use anymore. Before the vampire could kill him, he scrambled to his feet and fled out of there without looking back.

"Why did you not kill him?" The dirty blond-haired man who had played at the table earlier asked, his tone curious.

"Death is quick. Merciful, even. If one truly wishes to watch an insect suffer, one does not crush it but clip its wings." Lucian’s gaze followed the echo of hurried footsteps fleeing into the night.

Besides, Lucian thought, she would blame herself if something extreme happened.

"How conniving, cousin. I thought you were being generous," the blond man remarked with a faint chuckle. Lucian turned to look at Sawyer, who had pretended to be the local man named Jay at the table. Sawyer jerked his chin toward the deeds. "Are you going to give those to Ruelle?"

"No," Lucian replied without hesitation.

Sawyer’s eyebrows rose. He asked, "Do you think she’ll be upset with what you did?"

Lucian was silent for a moment. Then he said, "She will eventually find out. But she does not need to know about it today."

Not far away in the village, a man’s hoarse voice tore through the quiet street.

"M–Megan! Megan!" Mr. Belmont staggered toward the house, his breath coming in panicked bursts.

His face was red and slick with sweat, the pain in his hands pulsing relentlessly as he held them close to his chest, afraid to let them drop. Every step sent a fresh jolt through his arms.

The front door opened and Mrs. Belmont stepped into the foyer, irritation already sharpening her features. She snapped at her husband,

"Where did you go, Harold? Caroline waited for you and left an hour ago—"

Her words faltered when she noticed him cradle his hands, which were twisted unnaturally inward. She questioned alarmed, "What happened to your hands?!"

"What is wrong with you?" Mrs. Belmont turned furious, her voice trembling with disbelief. She stared at him as though seeing a stranger wearing her husband’s face. "Where did you think we were going to live, Harold? You put the house on the table—our house!" Her teeth clenched.

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