Mated to the Mad Lord-Chapter 170: Too soft!

Cain had arrived at the bar where the massacre had taken place and was shocked to find that everyone—both human and werewolf—who might have been a possible witness had been wiped out. Tracking down the bar had been a challenging task on its own, only to discover that all potential leads had been completely erased. Eldric’s constant threats to deny him the red potion lingered in his mind—a threat that might have concerned him more if he hadn’t already met his mate. However, even that solace was marred by the fact that his mate seemed completely repulsed by him regardless of what he did.

"Have you double-checked every room?" Cain asked, his tone sharp as his piercing gaze landed on the highest-ranked guard he’d brought with him. The man immediately bowed, his submission far deeper than Frank’s usual gesture, almost as though he were apologizing for failing Cain. His voice trembled slightly as he responded, betraying his fear.

"I personally triple-checked every smell, my lord!" the guard stuttered, his tone so meek it was as if Cain held a blade to his throat. Cain acknowledged his words with a noncommittal nod, his face betraying no emotion as he turned and left the bar. The place had been cleaned, and the bodies removed, yet the metallic tang of blood still lingered heavily in the air.

"Is there any other intel? Did anyone on the street see anything? What about the cameras?" Cain’s questions came in rapid succession, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. He couldn’t fathom how such a thorough operation had been carried out, leaving no traces. The thought gnawed at him, forcing him to wonder just how long Fiona had been under someone’s watch.

’Maybe this is a ploy to turn Eldric completely against me,’ Cain mused, his thoughts racing through the possibilities. The more he considered it, the more the pieces pointed toward one of two groups: the other Lords or members of the werewolf council. Both stood to gain the most from destabilizing his already tenuous position.

"Keep searching for clues," Cain finally ordered the guards before stepping into his car. After losing most of his servants, maintaining his position as the district’s Lord had become an uphill battle. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed Eldric’s support to ensure he wasn’t cast out—or worse, attacked—by the remaining six Lords.

Refusing to dwell on the precariousness of his situation any longer, Cain directed the driver to take him back to the mansion. There was no point staying at the bar when it had become clear that nothing useful could be uncovered.

The car had barely rolled through the mansion gates when Cain stepped out, his sharp eyes immediately catching Frank approaching to greet him.

"He didn’t leave?" Cain asked, a glimmer of hope flickering in his voice. If his mate had truly left, Frank should still have been following her. But Frank’s somber expression snuffed out that hope as quickly as it had arisen.

"She left," Frank confirmed, his voice steady but deliberate. Dropping to one knee, he bowed deeply, his head lowered in complete submission. "I ordered Narriv to follow while I reported back to you. She returned to her family, but she was taken by a lone Fisher." Frank emphasized the key points, as though ensuring Cain understood every detail.

Cain stood silent, nodding slightly as he processed the news. Several seconds passed before he spoke, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. "Watch her," he ordered, making it clear he wanted Frank to do nothing more.

His honey-colored eyes darkened, and his expression turned icy as a new thought crept into his mind. ’Maybe if she suffers more... she’ll regret her actions.’

As Cain walked past Frank, the latter remained kneeling, unmoving. Then Cain froze, turning his head slightly to glance back at him.

"You know better than to speak about this," he said, his tone deadly. Frank immediately lowered his head further, his body practically pressed to the ground to convey his obedience. Satisfied, Cain turned away and strode into the mansion.

He ignored the servants he passed, brushing off their greetings as he ascended to the third floor, heading straight to his room. His strides were purposeful, and he didn’t stop until he had reached the door, slamming it shut behind him.

The medical equipment still littered the space, a stark reminder of recent events. The bed bore evidence of someone having slept in it recently, and Cain’s honey-colored eyes roamed the room, absorbing every detail. It was as though he were trying to cling to the remnants of her presence.

’I didn’t hurt her... I didn’t even chain her down, yet she chose to leave!’ The thought churned in his mind as he fought to bury the sting of betrayal deep within himself.

He had gone to lengths he had never gone to for anyone else—buying books, even reading them, all to please her. He had been prepared to give her everything she desired, so long as she stayed. That was all he wanted. And yet, just like everyone else in his life, she had abandoned him without hesitation.

Anger surged within him as he moved toward the bed, his fingers brushing over the sheets. His gaze shifted abruptly to the study table and the cupboards, their disorder immediately catching his attention.

His steps quickened as he approached the topmost cupboards, opening them to confirm his suspicions. His gold rings and wristwatches were gone. He didn’t need to search the shelves further; the theft was evident.

Instead, he turned to the study table, his heart pounding harder as he neared. He didn’t care if the entire room vanished, as long as his father’s Winston-Bak watch remained safe in the bottom drawer where he had carefully stored it.

Cain’s hand trembled slightly as he opened the drawer, already bracing himself for disappointment. The drawer was empty. The watch—his dead father’s most treasured possession—was gone.

He didn’t roar or smash anything in a fit of rage. Instead, Cain methodically rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt. Running a hand through his blonde hair, he opened the top drawer of the table and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

It was a habit he had worked hard to abandon, especially since he no longer lived alone. But now, with the room stripped of its essence, his resolve crumbled.

Lighting a cigarette, Cain took a long drag, exhaling smoke into the still air. He focused intently on the tendrils of smoke curling in front of him, using it as a momentary distraction from the rage threatening to consume him.

For the first time since his curse, his beast stirred within him, its voice a guttural whisper hammering into his mind. ’You can’t hurt her! You can’t kill our mate!’

Cain’s lips twisted into a cruel smile, his honey-colored eyes tinged with red as he took another drag from his cigarette. Speaking softly, almost as though answering the beast, he murmured, "I guess I’ve been too soft."

Leaning back against the table, he cast a cold gaze toward the door. The cigarette burned steadily between his fingers, each passing second marking the countdown to when he would no longer hold back.