Mated to the Mad Lord-Chapter 251: Trust or Pity

Violet’s fingers trembled as she placed them against the Beast’s thick fur, the coarse strands damp with sweat and something darker—something metallic. Blood.

The scent lingered in the air, heavy and pungent, clinging to her skin like a ghostly warning.

She swallowed, trying to ignore the sickening churn in her stomach as she stepped forward. Each movement was measured, precise, an attempt to convince herself that she still had control over the situation.

The Beast loomed beside her, a hulking shadow wrapped in muscle and restrained violence. Its breathing was uneven, a ragged sound that scraped against the walls of the dimly lit hallway. Its golden eyes, Cain’s eyes—though duller, wilder—watched her with an intensity that made her skin prickle.

There was something unnerving about the way it moved, slow and deliberate, as if testing the limits of its new existence. It was Cain, and yet, it was something else. Something that did not belong in this world.

Violet’s mind screamed at her to retreat, to chain it down like Henry suggested, to inject it with something that would force it into submission.

But she couldn’t. Not yet. Not when there was still a sliver of familiarity in those eyes, a desperate plea buried beneath the savagery. She clenched her fists and exhaled. "Come," she whispered.

The Beast hesitated, then obeyed.

The dim corridors stretched ahead, empty and suffocating. Every flickering shadow sent a ripple of unease down her spine.

The weight of silence pressed against her ears, amplifying every footstep, every shallow breath. The walls bore fresh claw marks, deep grooves carved into the stone, remnants of a past rampage. She tried not to look at them. If she did, she might lose what little resolve she had left.

The Beast followed closely, its hulking form nearly brushing against her side.

Each step it took was unnervingly controlled, as if it were consciously suppressing the raw power within.

Occasionally, it would pause, nostrils flaring, as though sniffing for a threat that only it could sense. Violet’s heart pounded. Could it still recognize her? Or was it merely tolerating her presence until its instincts decided otherwise?

She led it to Cain’s quarters, the only place that felt remotely safe, though the notion of safety was laughable in this moment. Her fingers fumbled as she pushed the door open, stepping aside to let the Beast enter first.

It hesitated again, eyes scanning the room as if searching for something familiar, something that tethered it to its human past. Then, with a low huff, it crossed the threshold.

Inside, the air was thick with memories.

The faint scent of books and faded cologne clung to the space, remnants of the man who once lived here.

Violet stood by the door, her pulse erratic, watching as the Beast moved. It sniffed at the desk, the chair, the scattered papers left behind in Cain’s absence.

Then, to her surprise, it turned to the bed.

A slow, almost reluctant movement.

It lowered itself, curling slightly, but there was no rest in its posture. Its muscles remained taut, coiled as if preparing for the next inevitable fight. Violet exhaled, taking cautious steps forward, her fingers curling against her palm. Should she stay? Should she leave? Every instinct urged her to run, but something deeper—something more dangerous—kept her rooted in place.

She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands gripping the sheets for support. The Beast turned its head slightly, watching her with those strange, knowing eyes.

The silence stretched between them, filled with questions she wasn’t sure either of them could answer.

And then, a sound—low, broken, almost human.

Her breath hitched.

"Cain?"

The Beast flinched, its body shuddering. A ripple ran through its form, a visible struggle beneath its monstrous exterior.

For a split second, its golden eyes flickered, a brief, desperate glint of familiarity before the wildness returned.

———

Cain’s POV

Darkness.

It suffocated him, drowning him in an abyss where time had no meaning, where existence was reduced to pure, unfiltered agony. He fought against it, clawing, screaming, but there was no sound. No escape. Only the weight of something far stronger pressing down, chaining him within his own body.

He could feel the Beast, feel it in every inch of him, a parasite burrowing deeper, carving away at his sanity with every breath. It moved his limbs, dictated his actions, turned him into something grotesque and uncontrollable. And yet, he was still there, buried beneath the horror, a whisper in a raging storm.

Violet.

Her presence sent a jolt through him, a beacon cutting through the consuming void. He could see her, just barely, through the Beast’s warped vision. Fear clung to her like a second skin, but she stayed. She was speaking—soft, hesitant.

His name.

A vicious war erupted inside him. He pushed, slammed himself against the invisible barriers trapping him, desperate to reach her, to warn her, to stop this before it was too late. His own body resisted, muscles coiling with something primal, something that demanded submission.

A growl rumbled deep in his chest. No. No, this wasn’t him. This wasn’t who he was. He had to break through. He had to—

Another flicker of light, another heartbeat of clarity.

Violet’s eyes, locked onto his, searching, waiting.

He tried. God, he tried. His throat burned with the effort, his voice strangled by the Beast’s hold. But he managed—just barely—to let out a fractured, mangled sound. A whisper of his name, lost within a snarl.

Violet’s expression changed. Hope.

For the first time in what felt like eternity, the darkness recoiled. ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com

———

The Beast trembled. Just for a second. Just enough for her to see the cracks forming in its monstrous shell.

Violet sucked in a breath, her chest tightening with something dangerously close to relief.

Cain was still in there.

Slowly, she reached out, fingers hovering just above the Beast’s forearm. If she touched it, would it snap? Would it tear her apart before Cain could stop it? Or would it remember? Would he remember?

She pressed her palm against the fur.

The Beast stilled.

A sharp exhale, then a shudder. Its claws twitched, digging into the sheets but not tearing them. Violet swallowed. This was madness. This was reckless. And yet, she refused to move away.

"We’ll figure this out," she murmured, unsure if she was speaking to herself or the Beast.

The room remained silent, save for the slow, uneven rhythm of Cain’s breathing.

It was not a victory. Not yet. But it was something. A thread to hold onto in the unraveling chaos.

She would not abandon him.

Not now. Not when she was needed the most...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The grand hall was steeped in an air of solemnity, thick with the heavy scent of burning incense and aged parchment.

The lords, draped in their regal finery, sat upon their respective chairs—each one as much a throne as a seat, carved with the symbols of their houses.

The torches lining the stone walls cast flickering shadows, elongating their silhouettes, turning them into ominous specters of power.

Lord Eldric sat at the head of the long obsidian table, his fingers steepled before him, his silver-ringed hand resting lightly against his lips as if in prayer. His dark hair, sleek and perfectly groomed, reflected the candlelight, and his sharp cerulean eyes gleamed with a mixture of authority and cunning. The air of grief he projected was nothing short of masterful.

"It is with the heaviest of hearts," Eldric began, his voice carrying the perfect weight of sorrow, "that I must bring forth tragic news. Lord William has perished at the hands of the Reds. A most unfortunate loss to our ranks, but one we must endure with dignity."

Gasps rippled through the gathering. Lord Grainger with wrinkles lining his face like the pages of an old tome, clenched his fists. Lady Harriet, tightened her fists together on her laps.

Lord Magnus leaned back in his chair with a loud tsk, a skeptical arch in his dark brow, his lips curled into something that was not quite a frown, nor a smirk.

Lady Bella silently sat on her chair with a sigh on her lips, glancing at the empty chair beside her but otherwise not opening her mouth to say a word.

Eldric, ever the master of deception, lowered his gaze briefly, just enough to let the illusion of grief settle in the minds of those before him. The truth, however, was far bloodier than his words suggested. Lord William had not fallen to the Reds. No, Eldric had ensured his demise with his own hands, having chewed him up before splitting him back out.

But before anyone could dwell on the matter, the heavy doors creaked open.

Fervor entered.

A gust of cold air followed him, making the flames in the torches waver and snap. He stepped forward, and every head turned to him, their gazes a mixture of curiosity and caution. He was dressed in his usual dark attire, his cloak slightly damp from the mist beyond the castle walls. The dim lighting did little to hide the sharpness of his angular features—his piercing amber eyes held the gleam of something unreadable, something that always put others on edge. A jagged scar trailed from his temple down to his jaw, a permanent reminder of a battle won but at a cost unknown.

Eldric’s frown was instantaneous.

It was not one of shock and open displeasure, nor one of welcome. It was subtle, controlled, a mere tightening at the corners of his mouth, a flicker of his eyelids.

But it was there. A visible ripple of irritation across his otherwise composed expression.

Fervor’s presence was unexpected.

Unwanted.

"My Lords," Fervor greeted, his voice a low murmur that somehow carried across the hall, rich and unwavering. He stepped further into the room, his steps measured, controlled. "I hope I’ve arrived at an interesting time."