Mated to the Mad Lord-Chapter 94: Liar!

Violet ate and soon fell asleep, and this pattern continued day after day. She would be stirred awake either by a servant entering to deliver her food or by yet another doctor. The presence of the latter filled her with dread, considering the doctors were killed the second they stepped out of her cell.

She tried blocking her ears every time, desperate to drown out the sound of their necks breaking. But it was futile; the sickening noise haunted her even in her nightmares, which were growing worse by the day.

For however long she had stayed in the cell, Violet hadn’t once seen Cain. She was thankful for this, convinced that the day he showed up would mark his decision to kill her.

Tears welled in her eyes as she turned to face the cold wall, wishing she could wake up and discover that this was all just a terrible dream. But the oppressive reality of her situation didn’t change, no matter how much she wished it would.

After several minutes of crying, she suddenly heard the door to her cell slide open. The interruption startled her—she had just eaten a few hours ago and wasn’t due for another plate anytime soon.

"Did another doctor come?" she wondered, her stomach sinking at the thought of two doctors losing their lives because of her. The weight of such a possibility was unbearable.

As she turned around, her gaze landed on an older man, clearly a doctor based on his attire. Her eyes then strayed past him to the figure entering behind him.

It was Cain.

He was dragging a chair behind him, the sound of its legs scraping against the floor sending shivers through her. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest as she stared at him, terrified.

He looked taller than she remembered, more imposing. His very presence exuded danger, just as it had the first time she saw him.

Cain’s face was still as strikingly handsome as before, but Violet couldn’t afford to dwell on it. Instead, she instinctively scooted back on the small bed, clutching her knees tightly as she stared at him like prey trapped in a predator’s lair.

Moving with a quiet, calculated grace, Cain placed the chair in the center of the room and sat down. His legs were spread wide, his arms folded casually across his waist. Yet, his entire demeanor radiated authority and cold detachment.

He didn’t speak, his gaze fixed solely on her. Violet averted her eyes, unable to meet the intensity of his stare. The silence between them was suffocating, the tension so thick it felt like it was squeezing the air out of her lungs.

Her mind raced as she struggled to find the words she wanted to say—the words she was too afraid to voice.

Finally, the weight of the silence became too much, and she opened her mouth to speak.

"I-I—" she stammered, her voice trembling. "I didn’t mean—"

Cain cut her off before she could finish. His voice was low but commanding.

"Did you have anything to do with the attack?"

Violet immediately shook her head, relief flooding her that she could truthfully deny the accusation. A faint flicker of hope sparked within her as she clung to the idea that maybe he believed her.

But then Cain’s next question extinguished that fragile hope.

"Did you kill the werewolf in my wing?" he asked, his voice quieter now but no less threatening.

Again, Violet shook her head, even more vigorously this time. Her mind flashed back to the guard who had called her a killer, and she realized that this was what he must have been referring to.

"Never! I couldn’t have!" Violet responded, her fists clenching as she tried to suppress the fear rising within her.

Cain’s questions puzzled her. They seemed irrelevant—things he already knew she hadn’t done. Yet, the fact that he was asking them gave her a sliver of hope. Perhaps she could be forgiven and simply chased out of the mansion. Yes, she had sneaked in but that was her only sin!

But then he spoke again, and his words crushed what little hope she had left.

"You say this, but there’s no way to actually know if you’re telling the truth. Your clothes had—"

"You can hear my heartbeat! You can definitely tell that I’m—" she interrupted, desperation bleeding into her voice.

Cain’s sharp tone cut through her words, silencing her.

"For every time you interrupt me, I’ll pull out a fingernail from each finger," he said, his voice cold and unyielding.

Visceral fear coursed through Violet, and she froze, her body trembling. The dark intensity in his eyes promised that he would carry out his threat without hesitation.

"As I was saying," Cain continued, his tone steady now, "there’s no way to be sure, considering the magic you’re capable of."

Violet blinked in confusion, wanting to explain that she couldn’t actually use magic. But she dared not interrupt him again.

"Take off the band," he ordered.

Her heart sank further. She hadn’t expected this command, but she knew better than to disobey as she immediately took it off her neck. Her eyes flicked to the doctor standing silently beside Cain, and in that moment, she realized why the doctors were being killed.

"is he the only one who knows?" she wondered, a faint ember of hope reigniting as she reluctantly removed the band.

"I can’t use magic!" she blurted out as soon as Cain finished speaking, her voice shaky but desperate to convey the truth.

"Yet you wear cursed items!" Cain said, his tone unreadable. "Take off your face."

The command made her freeze, her eyes widening in shock and confusion.

"M-my face?" she stammered, her voice barely audible. "This is my real face!"

"Viole...," Cain said, his voice colder now, "or whatever your name is, don’t make me take drastic measures. Show me your face!"

His words were like a growl, low and menacing, his presence suffocating. Violet felt cornered, trapped like prey about to be devoured.

"I swear this is—" she began, but Cain’s sharp movements silenced her.

He rose to his feet, rolling up his sleeves methodically. Turning, he grabbed a box she hadn’t noticed before, placing it on the small table in the cell.

He opened it, and Violet’s stomach churned violently. The contents were enough to make her feel faint, her entire body recoiling instinctively.

Her mind raced, even as her body screamed at her to run—though there was nowhere to go.