Chapter 466

Vivian had to force herself not to appear too curious. She remained silent in the passenger seat.

The traffic thinned as they entered the suburban outskirts. Darkness swallowed the surroundings. Not a single streetlight illuminated the desolate road. The atmosphere grew more unsettling with each passing second.

This was exactly the kind of place where terrible things happened.

But Vivian wasn’t afraid. Even with her legs freshly healed, she could take on ten more Julians if necessary.

"Where the hell are you taking me?" Her patience was wearing thin. Irritation laced her voice.

"Patience. We’re almost there." Julian turned onto a narrow, pitch-black path. Towering cypress trees lined both sides, their silhouettes sharp against the night sky.

Vivian rolled down the window, scanning the area. Why did this place feel familiar?

Then it hit her.

This was the cemetery where she and Ethan had fallen and gotten injured.

Rumors claimed this was an elite burial ground—those interred here supposedly lived luxuriously in the afterlife. But for the living, lingering too long risked encountering something unholy. Most considered it taboo.

Why would Julian bring her to such a cursed place in the dead of night? Her cast had just come off. She wasn’t about to risk another fall.

"Turn the car around." Her voice was ice. "I don’t like it here. Do it now."

Julian smirked. "I’m the one driving. What if I refuse?"

"Then don’t blame me for what happens next." In one swift motion, she pressed a switchblade against his throat. "We’re in the middle of nowhere. More ghosts than people. If you push me, I’ll slit your throat and bury you right here."

Julian wasn’t scared. If anything, he looked exhilarated. His eyes gleamed as he stared at her. "Then do it. I’d gladly die by your hand."

"You think I won’t?"

"Of course you will. If it’s too hard, I’ll help." He grabbed her wrist and yanked the blade deeper into his neck. Blood welled instantly.

Vivian jerked back, furious. "Are you insane? If you want to die, do it on your own time. Don’t drag me into your madness!"

Her grandfather had gifted her this Swiss knife—razor-sharp, capable of slicing through steel. Compact but lethal. She’d carried it for years, rarely needing to use it.

There was an old saying: Once a blade like this was drawn, it had to taste blood, or it would dull.

Julian, the madman, had fulfilled that superstition. His blood wasn’t spilled in vain.

"Enough games. If this was a joke, it’s over. I’m not playing along." She sheathed the knife and reached for the door. Locked.

"We haven’t reached our destination. Why the rush? All this driving would be wasted." Julian chuckled, restarting the engine.

Blood still trickled down his neck, staining his collar. He didn’t even flinch.

"Aren’t you going to stop the bleeding?" Disgust dripped from her words as she glared at him.

A man grinning in the darkness, driving through a remote graveyard, his shirt soaked in red—it was nothing short of deranged.