Mated to the Mad Lord-Chapter 273: No mercy

The knife was thrown again embedding itself deep into his chest again.

The force of the impact sent a shudder through his body, his breath hitching violently as pain erupted through him. It was deep—deep enough that the sharp edge was no longer visible, swallowed by the layers of his flesh. His fingers twitched, instinct screaming at him to reach for it, to pull it out, but he knew better. Removing the blade carelessly would only worsen the injury, might even kill him if he wasn’t careful.

His face twisted in pain, lips parting as he struggled to draw in a steady breath. It hurt. A sharp, searing agony spread through his ribs, pressing into his lungs and making it difficult to breathe properly. But he forced himself upright, shoulders tensing as he fought against the overwhelming sensation.

He was still alive. That much he knew.

As long as the knife had missed his heart, he wouldn’t die. At least, not yet.

"Lo—Lord Cain, I—" Ravon began, voice hoarse, his words strained with pain.

He barely managed to get the words out before Cain silenced him with a single motion.

The cold, unfeeling gaze of his superior locked onto him, and Ravon felt his body tense involuntarily. He had seen that look before—the same calculating stare that preceded countless deaths, the same expression Cain wore when deciding if someone was worth sparing or if they were better off as nothing more than a lifeless corpse at his feet.

Cain’s gaze flickered to the knife protruding from Ravon’s chest, his expression unreadable. The blade was dangerously close to his lungs, its placement making it clear that every breath he took would be a struggle.

Then, without hesitation, Cain spoke.

"Pull it out and hand it to me."

The words cut through the silence like a blade of their own, and Ravon’s breath hitched.

His eyes widened, his mind struggling to process the order as a sharp wave of panic surged through him.

Cain wanted him to pull it out?

His heart pounded violently in his chest, his already labored breathing growing heavier. The pain of simply existing with the knife lodged in his body was overwhelming, but the thought of removing it himself was almost unbearable.

Even Uva, who had been silently watching the exchange from the side, visibly tensed at Cain’s command. Her hands clenched together at her sides, her knuckles whitening as she suppressed the urge to react. She understood all too well what was happening—what Cain was about to do.

Still, she remained silent.

There was no room for weakness in Cain’s presence.

Ravon hesitated for only a few seconds before forcing himself into motion.

Slowly, he wrapped his fingers around the handle of the knife, feeling the warm slickness of his own blood coating the hilt. A sharp tremor ran through his body as he exhaled shakily, bracing himself for the inevitable pain that would follow.

Then, with a sharp, forceful motion, he pulled.

A strangled noise escaped his throat as agony shot through him, his muscles tightening as though trying to resist the sheer force of the pain. The sensation of the blade sliding out of his flesh was sickening—a mixture of tearing muscle and the grotesque squelch of blood rushing to fill the empty wound.

For a moment, his vision blurred.

He made a conscious effort not to look at the bloodied knife now trembling in his grasp.

With both hands, he extended the weapon toward Cain, his breaths coming out in harsh, uneven gasps. His body swayed slightly, the effort of standing upright becoming increasingly difficult as the pain threatened to drag him down.

Cain took the knife without a word.

For the briefest second, Ravon thought the worst was over.

He was wrong.

The instant the knife left his hands, Cain flung it forward again.

Ravon barely had time to react before the blade struck him once more, embedding itself into the right side of his chest—this time, perfectly aligned with the still-bleeding wound from before.

A strangled cry escaped him.

This time, the pain was unbearable.

It was as if his entire body was being torn apart from the inside out. The sensation of the second wound overlapping the first sent a blinding wave of agony through him, his legs nearly giving out beneath him. Tears welled up in his eyes unbidden, blurring his vision as a choked sob tore from his throat.

His breathing came in short, shallow gasps. His entire chest felt like it was on fire, each inhalation sending fresh waves of pain through his ribs.

Cain’s voice cut through his suffering, cold and unwavering.

"Eldric ordered it, and you carried it out. That’s understandable," Cain said. His tone was almost casual, as though he were discussing a simple transaction rather than a betrayal worthy of execution. "What I’m trying to figure out is why I shouldn’t hang your skinned body at the entrance."

Ravon’s heart clenched.

A heavy weight of fear settled in his gut, even as his mind screamed at him to act—to survive.

Ignoring the excruciating pain that surged through his body, Ravon pushed himself forward.

With a desperate burst of movement, he stumbled out from behind the table, barely managing to remain upright as he moved to stand beside Cain. Then, without hesitation, he dropped to the ground in front of him, his body trembling with the effort.

His knees slammed into the floor.

He didn’t care.

There was only one thought in his mind—survive.

"Lord Cain!" he gasped, his voice heavy with desperation. His head lowered to the ground, his forehead pressing against the cold floor as tears spilled freely down his face. "I can be loyal to you! I can tell you everything Eldric has been planning! I can be a good double spy!"

His words were rushed, frantic, every syllable laced with terror.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Cain’s gaze remained locked onto him, his expression unreadable.

Ravon clenched his fists. He didn’t dare look up.

"I can do everything you want!" he continued desperately. His voice cracked, the pain in his chest making it harder to speak, but he forced the words out. "I only did it because he has my family hostage in his district!"

He was practically sobbing now.

"I’m actually loyal to you! I’ve always been!"

Cain moved.

Before Ravon could react, a cold hand gripped the handle of the knife still embedded in his chest.

Without a single flicker of emotion, Cain pulled it out.

But he didn’t just remove it—he dragged it downward, carving through Ravon’s flesh in a way that made the pain twice as unbearable.

Ravon let out a sharp, agonized groan, his entire body convulsing as fresh blood poured from the widened wound. His back arched, his arms trembling violently as the sheer pain forced him to collapse onto the ground.

His white shirt—already stained—was now completely soaked in red.

Tears streamed down his face. His vision swam, the edges of his sight darkening as the pain threatened to consume him entirely.

And yet—Cain simply stood over him, unmoved.

There was no pity in his gaze. No hesitation.

Only cold, unrelenting judgment.

And in that moment, Ravon understood.

There was no mercy to be found here.