Mated to the Mad Lord-Chapter 86: Pound of Flesh

"Cain! Where is he!" Ravon hissed under his breath at one of his personal guards, who instantly backed away as he began to speak.

"Last time I saw him, he was fighting at the gates!"

"Shifted?" Ravon urgently asked, seeing the opportunity he so desperately craved, only to get the response he wasn’t looking forward to.

"No, my lord. He hasn’t shifted once! He’s been fighting in his human form!" the guard responded, which warranted a hard frown from Ravon, who couldn’t even hide his annoyance. He wasn’t supposed to touch Cain, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t as long as it wasn’t traced back to him.

He was tired of being second fiddle to a lord that couldn’t even shift like a normal wolf should. ’He’s almost like a shifter! He should be killed,’ he thought, even though he knew better than to voice his thoughts as he turned around and began to run toward the gates.

The men around him were completely naked as they ran behind him, having already transformed various times. It would take a toll on their bodies, but they would heal.

Ravon had just gotten to the gate, stepping through it when he froze, palpable fear rising from the depths of his very soul as he looked at the scene in front of him.

Bullets were flying, bodies littered the ground, and the smell of blood hung in the air. Even as Cain, in all the chaos, continued to dash from one side to another almost with ease, killing Reds with every step he took and making it look easy.

He wasn’t the only one stunned, as the guards behind him muttered under their breath in visible admiration.

’No wonder he’s the lord!’

’How can he be so strong!’

’A Mad Lord indeed!’ another gasped, as the bodies on the floor were enough evidence to show that Cain had single-handedly defended the gates by himself.

"Retreat!" a voice suddenly thundered in the air, even as all the Reds in their similar dark coats disappeared, moving too fast for human eyes to follow—but not Cain, who considered chasing after them but reconsidered a second later.

They had probably retreated to set up a trap for him.

"How is Frank and his men?" Cain asked, having already sensed Ravon’s presence the second they arrived, looking down at his shirt where every part of his body was coated in blood that wasn’t his own.

"There had been no flares, so everything must be fine! You sent all the men, so the chances of there being surprises are slim!" Ravon responded with a bow, even as he gritted his teeth together in anger at his powerlessness. freewebnσvel.cøm

Even with all the men he had who were loyal to him and only him, he knew it would be nothing but suicide to still go against Cain.

’How does someone take down a man this strong without any weakness?’ Ravon couldn’t help but wonder, having seen him dodge bullets that he knew he would have been hit by twice over.

"Still! Send more men!" Cain ordered, his gaze fixed on the horizon instead of Ravon, who stood behind him.

"I can’t allow any mistakes to happen!" Cain sighed before turning around and immediately dropping to his knees, visible pain crossing his face.

"Lo-Lord Cain!" Ravon shouted, dashing to his side, only for Cain to wave him off. It was past midnight, and it was already a miracle he hadn’t shifted. He could keep his beast away for a while longer, but conscious of the many eyes on him—both from Eldric’s side and the enemy’s side—Cain knew it would be better to pretend to be barely holding on and shift.

"I took three potions at once!" he began to speak, lying flawlessly. "I figured it should be enough!" he continued with pain-filled eyes and his fists balled together as he struggled to get back on his feet, a performance he would have won awards for as Ravon vigorously nodded his head.

"You can’t hang on much longer! Lord Cain, you can leave everything to me, and I’ll—"

"No! Once I transform, it’d be better for all of you to disappear and reinforce Frank! If you treasure your life, you’ll RUN!" Cain said, meaning every word. His wolf had been calm considering he had been sleeping with Viole for many nights, yet somehow, he felt almost as restless as he usually did.

’I’ll check on her first!’ he decided in a split second, the thought that anything could have happened to her not once flashing across his mind. They were under attack. Only a fool would leave a well-protected area and step out.

’For your sake, Viole... I really hope you’re not a fool!’ he muttered under his breath, not knowing what he would do and the havoc his wolf would wreck if she were indeed dead.

Nathan’s face was pale as a sheet. The blood loss from his left side where his arm should be was enormous, even as he groaned loudly in pain while wrapping it, soaked in his own sweat.

On the floor was the Red he had killed, but at the cost of using one of the agility potions he had with him, leaving only one.

"Fuck!!!!!" he screamed, anger boiling within him as he stared at his lifeless arm, knowing better than to pick it up. He reeked of blood, and any Red within fifty feet would be able to sniff him out.

He needed to get out, but before then, he couldn’t have the death of the werewolf traced back to him. With his lost arm, he also could not continue as a servant and spy in the mission.

Gritting his teeth in anger as he thought about all the setbacks he had faced and whose fault it was. Bending down, he picked up his discarded and slightly bloodied coat, glancing at all the weapons he still had stashed inside as the thought of only one person settled in his mind.

"I’ll get my pound of flesh back..." he mumbled to himself as he headed toward the door after taking one last look at the arm he lost.

"...even if it’s the last thing I do for the rest of this miserable life!" His green eyes blazing with fierce determination as he carefully stepped out, knowing better than to bump into another Red.

He had just begun to descend the stairs when he caught a little drop of blood on the steps as he walked down, one that made a wild grin flicker across his face, as he realized that he wouldn’t have any trouble finding Viole, who should already have been dead on the floor right beside the werewolf.

"It’s fine!" he mumbled to himself. "...what’s the difference between carving a goat and bleeding it!" A cruel smile on his face. He was a professional! Just because her wound wasn’t seriously bleeding outwardly didn’t mean it wasn’t inwardly.

A light skip in his steps as he slowly walked down the stairs, recalling the words of the Red and tweaking them a little to suit his needs. "I’m a professional! No matter how long the food runs around... it will still die!" The only satisfaction he felt, considering the amount of pain he had to endure, especially since his arm hadn’t been sliced but cruelly torn off with brute strength.