Mated to the Mad Lord-Chapter 83: Running

’I’ll be careful!’ Violet mumbled under her breath as she slowly grabbed onto the door handle and pulled it. Her heart thumped desperately in fear as she poked her head out first, scanning the corridor before fully stepping out.

Her palms were sweaty, and she rubbed them against each other, trying to steady herself. ’I’ll open the side door and immediately run back!’ she promised herself, her voice a barely audible whisper in the tense silence. Gingerly, she walked down the stairs, her footsteps quiet but her nerves frayed, ready to flee back at the first sign of danger.

The silence was unnerving, thick and oppressive. Her surroundings seemed unnaturally quiet, the absence of even the smallest sounds unsettling. Each step she took felt magnified, her breathing loud in her ears.

At first, Violet was hesitant, her body tense with apprehension. But as she moved farther and farther without encountering anyone or anything, her pace quickened. The stillness became emboldening, even if only slightly. She clung to the single thought that drove her forward.

’Open the side door, then get back! I just need to open it!’ she repeated in her mind like a mantra, her lips moving silently with the words as she hurried through the hallways.

But as she crossed into a corridor near her goal, the world exploded into chaos. A loud booming sound reverberated through the mansion, shaking the walls and causing Violet to freeze in her tracks. Her heart jumped to her throat as a chorus of growls followed the noise, their guttural intensity loud enough to make the glass windows tremble.

She instinctively placed her hands over her ears, her entire body trembling as her gaze snapped toward the source of the sound.

In front of her, two massive werewolves stood, their white fur bristling, their jaws parted in menacing snarls. But they weren’t the only ones there. Facing them was a man cloaked in darkness, his crimson eyes glowing like embers in the dim light of the corridor.

The air was thick with tension as they faced off. The werewolves shifted restlessly, their claws scraping against the floor, while the man remained utterly still. His presence was overwhelming, a force that made Violet feel insignificant, like a bug caught in the crossfire of titans.

The standoff broke as one of the werewolves lunged, its powerful body a blur of motion.

The man moved even faster.

From within his cloak, he pulled out a long silver blade that gleamed ominously in the dim corridor. With a single, fluid motion, he slashed at the oncoming beast. The werewolf howled in agony as blood sprayed across the floor, its severed limb hitting the ground with a sickening thud.

Violet’s breath hitched, her hands flying to her mouth to muffle the gasp that escaped her lips. She stumbled back, her legs unsteady beneath her as the second werewolf growled and launched itself at the man.

Fear gripped her like a vice. She had seen enough.

Turning sharply, Violet bolted in the opposite direction, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she ran as fast as her legs would carry her. Her surroundings blurred as panic took over, her body moving on pure instinct.

She didn’t stop running until she reached the entrance of the servant’s hall, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. But even here, something felt wrong.

The smell hit her first—a metallic tang that made her stomach churn.

Violet froze, her hand hovering over the door to the hall. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to turn around and run, but curiosity—or maybe a morbid need to confirm her fears—kept her rooted in place. Slowly, she pushed the door open.

Her heart plummeted at the sight before her.

Bodies littered the ground, their lifeless forms twisted and broken. Blood was everywhere, painting the floor in grotesque streaks and puddles. Some of the victims looked like they had been torn apart, their limbs mangled, while others were pale and shriveled, as if their very life force had been drained.

Violet’s knees buckled, and she clamped her hands over her mouth to stifle the scream threatening to escape. Her vision blurred with tears as she staggered back, her breaths shallow and uneven.

The urge to vomit clawed at her throat, but she swallowed it down. She couldn’t afford to lose control. Turning on her heel, she ran again, the images of the mutilated bodies burned into her mind. Her heart hammered against her ribs, each beat a frantic reminder of her vulnerability.

’I need to get back,’ she thought desperately, her focus narrowing to a single objective.

Her legs burned, her lungs ached, but she pushed forward, retracing her steps toward the staircase leading back to Cain’s room. Relief washed over her as she reached the bottom of the stairs, her gaze fixed on the sanctuary of the third floor.

She had just begun climbing when a voice broke through the silence.

"Viole!"

Her blood turned to ice.

She didn’t stop. She didn’t even glance back. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to keep moving.

"Viole, wait! It’s me!"

She ignored it, her pace quickening as her fear fueled her steps.

"Wait! It’s me, Nathan!"

The mention of his name made her falter for a split second, her head instinctively turning toward the source. But what she saw made her gasp.

A massive beast—a werewolf—appeared out of nowhere, grabbing someone and slamming them against the ground with a sickening crunch. Bones cracked loudly enough to echo, and Violet froze, horrified, as the person’s eyes snapped open, glowing a vivid, blood-red.

She didn’t wait to see more. Whether it was Nathan or someone else didn’t matter anymore. Terror seized her completely, and she bolted up the stairs, her legs moving faster than she thought possible.

She dashed into the first room she found, slamming the door shut behind her and locking it. Her chest heaved as she collapsed to the floor, tears streaming down her face.

The floodgates broke, and Violet wept, her sobs echoing in the silent room. The image of the dead bodies in the servant’s hall refused to leave her mind, haunting her every thought. She curled up against the door, trembling as the horror of everything she had seen. Her body trembling in horror, the only thing she wanted was to run away and never come back.

***********************

Outside, the battle raged on.

A werewolf leaped onto the body of a Red, its claws raking through flesh as it tore the creature apart. Once its enemy was lifeless, the beast shifted back into human form—a man, naked and covered in blood, his light brown eyes gleaming with triumph.

"Hey! Servant! I know you’re there!" he called out, his voice sharp and commanding. He turned to look at a young man crouched near the stairs, his expression smug.

"You’re safe, but it’s best you come with me!" the man added, his tone laced with arrogance as he turned back toward the Red. Reaching into a bag he had carried in his wolf form, he retrieved a vial of liquid and a box of matches. He doused the Red’s body with the liquid before striking a match and tossing it onto the corpse.

The flames roared to life, consuming the body as the man smirked, clearly satisfied. "Now that it’s done, I’ll get the girl, and we’ll go."

But as he turned back toward the young man, his smug expression faltered.

The boy lunged forward, his movements unnaturally swift, and drove a silver knife into the man’s chest with ruthless precision.

"I can take care of myself," the boy said coldly, twisting the blade as the werewolf gasped in shock, his strength draining rapidly.

Nathan stepped back, his grip tightening around the knife. The effects of the temporary agility potion he had taken were wearing off, but it had served its purpose. He wiped his hands, his thoughts shifting to Violet.

"Now, I just need to get rid of him," he muttered under his breath, his gaze flickering toward the third floor.