Betrayed by Blood, Claimed by the Alpha-Chapter 121

Betrayed by Blood

"Alpha Matt of the Silver Moon Pack."

~~~~~

Cain’s gaze darkened at the man’s words. The scent of blood hung thick in the air. Cain’s grip on the assassin didn’t falter, his fingers digging into the man’s collar as he pressed the blade harder against his throat. A thin line of blood trickled down the attacker’s neck, his breath coming in shallow, panicked gasps.

"Say it again," Cain’s voice was dangerously low.

The assassin swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing against the sharp edge of the blade. "Alpha Matt," he choked out. "He—he paid me. Gave me something to weaken you. He wanted you dead."

Cain’s eyes darkened.

A slow, seething rage burned inside of him, cold and dangerous. His wolf snarled violently inside his head, demanding blood, demanding retribution. Matt’s name echoed in his head like a clockwork, taunting him and confirming his doubts. Matt was clearly behind everything, just like Xander had said.

Cain didn’t loosen his grip. Instead, he twisted the blade slightly, watching as the man flinched, a strangled sound escaping his lips.

"Everything," Cain ordered. "Tell me everything."

The assassin coughed stuffily, any wrong move and the knife would slice his throat. He couldn’t struggle against the iron hold Cain had on him. "Alpha Matt—he said you wouldn’t see it coming. That you’d be too distracted," he stammered fearfully. "He—he gave me wolfsbane, something stronger than usual. Told me to stab you with it and make a run for it."

Cain could barely believe his ears. Matt really gave a job like this to an amateur? One with no balls? Here he was trembling in his hold like a coward. Well, what did he expect? Rowan was just like this.

Cain straightened up. Then, without warning, he let go. The assassin collapsed to the ground, gasping, coughing violently as he clutched his throat. Cain stepped back, flexing his fingers, rolling his shoulders as though trying to shake off the lingering restraint he had forced upon himself.

The guards who had rushed in after hearing the commotion grabbed the attacker immediately, holding his arms up. "What should we do to him, Alpha?" One of them asked.

Cain exhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw clenched hard. Cain didn’t glance at her. His eyes remained fixed on the pathetic excuse for an assassin. "Lock him up." A pause. Then, colder— "Or kill him."

The attacker’s gaze widened at Cain’s words, his face pale. He opened his mouth to plead his case, but the guards dragged him out of the office, his fate already sealed.

Cain dragged his hand over his face, adrenaline still pumping in his bloodstream. Lydia, who had been standing silently to the side, finally spoke.

"Your hand. It’s still bleeding," she pointed out.

Cain’s gaze flickered to his cut palm, his eyebrows arched up as he glanced at his hand, still sluggishly oozing blood from the earlier wound. His body should have already healed itself and yet...

"Whatever that nitwit gave him must be working. Have the healer come in here," he ordered, and Lydia gave a curt nod before stepping out.

Lydia returned moments later, the pack’s healer following closely behind her. The old man carried a small leather satchel, his face impassive but his sharp eyes scanning Cain’s wound.

Cain barely spared him a glance as he sat down in his chair, his fingers drumming against the desk impatiently. The wound still throbbed, a dull numbness creeping up his fingers and wrist. He hated it—the weakness, the vulnerability. His jaw tightened.

The healer moved swiftly, kneeling before Cain and grasping his injured hand carefully. He inspected the wound, his fingers pressing around it, testing the depth of the cut. "This isn’t ordinary wolfsbane," the healer muttered, reaching into his satchel and pulling out a small vial filled with dark green liquid. "This is something more potent, meant to weaken the heart instantly if stabbed in the chest. You were lucky, Alpha. Since it only hit your hand, it’s taking longer to spread, but it is spreading."

Cain’s expression darkened. "So why am I still alive?"

The healer opened the vial, dipping his fingers into the thick substance before smearing it over the wound. Cain barely flinched at the sting. "Your body is strong enough to resist it for now, but the numbness will keep spreading if untreated. Given time, it would have reached your heart."

Lydia stiffened beside them. "How long?"

The healer didn’t look up as he began wrapping Cain’s hand with a clean bandage. "Another few hours, maybe less."

Cain exhaled sharply, his patience wearing thin. "Then fix it."

The healer didn’t need to be told twice. He reached for another vial, pulled the cork off with his teeth, and poured the contents over Cain’s wound. The pain flared instantly, sharp and burning.

Cain’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t make a sound. The veins around his hand darkened for a brief second before the color faded, and slowly, the numbness began to dissipate. His fingers twitched as feeling returned.

The healer sat back, satisfied. "That should neutralize the poison. You’ll still feel some stiffness, but it’ll fade by morning."

Cain flexed his fingers, testing the movement. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. "Leave," he ordered.

The healer gave a small bow before gathering his things and stepping out. The moment the door shut, Lydia took a step closer.

"What’s our next move?"

Cain didn’t answer immediately. He stared at his bandaged hand, his mind already five steps ahead. Matt had been getting bold—too bold. He didn’t listen when Xander had told him, but now...he was sure Matt was certainly behind it. He had no reason to send the pathetic excuse of an assassin to him if he wasn’t scared of something. He’s the only coward who would send an assassin after him yet again. He let out a slow exhale before finally lifting his gaze. His green eyes were sharp, unforgiving.

"It’s time Matt learns a bitter and grave lesson."