Mated to the Mad Lord-Chapter 290: Girl in the dungeon

It didn’t take long before Garrick returned to him, moving to kneel right in front of him.

His back was straight, and although there was a subtle wariness in his eyes, none was evident in his posture.

"My lord!" he said to Javi, who instantly began speaking to him with a stony expression, his tone commanding.

"You better have a good explanation for why Cain is coming to my district...not to mention how he got here!" Javi snapped openly, even as all the other guards around him lowered their heads further, trying to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible.

"From the information I was able to gather in this short time, Cain visited Vazer’s house first before coming here!" Garrick said succinctly, which only made the frown already stamped on Javi’s face deepen.

"Vazer??" he asked, shock evident on his face as he tried to understand why, especially when they had absolutely no reason to meet.

"...And?" Javi continued, his tone clearly impatient and showing that his control was hanging by a thread. But Garrick was already shaking his head in response.

"We haven’t been able to gather any more information yet!" he said, lowering his head further toward the floor, terrified that this time it would be his head rolling instead of the guard’s.

He was relieved when Javi simply let out a loud hiss and snapped his fingers, gesturing for Garrick and the rest of the guards to leave.

They had barely been dismissed when they scrambled to their feet and disappeared as quickly as possible—all except the still-living guard assigned to Javi’s office, who only breathed a sigh of relief when Javi walked right past him toward the dungeon.

Javi still wore a deep frown as he pondered what Vazer could possibly have said to Cain. No matter how much he debated it, he quickly realized the only thing Vazer cared about at that moment was finding his sister—the sister Javi had kidnapped.

Instantly, Javi headed down to the dungeons, to its deepest part.

The deeper Javi walked, the more suffocating the darkness became. Down there, the air was stagnant, thick with suffering and desperation.

As he rounded the final corner, he found himself before the last cell—the one that housed his latest guest.

The thick iron bars were caked with rust, their jagged edges waiting to slice careless fingers.

The door groaned in protest as he shoved it open, its hinges screaming under the weight of centuries. Inside, the room was void of light, swallowed in utter blackness.

It made no difference to Javi—his crimson gaze pierced through the dark with ease.

His prisoner sat bound to a chair, her body slumped forward in exhaustion. Blood crusted over her skin, seeping from wounds that were neither fresh nor healed.

The delicate balance between life and death had become her existence. She was trapped in limbo—suffering, unable to fully heal, but not permitted to die.

Vazer’s precious little sister.

Javi stepped into the room, his boots clicking against the stone floor with deliberate slowness.

The noise was a warning, an omen of what was to come. Yet Tinari did not react.

Her breathing was ragged, her body unmoving save for the occasional involuntary twitch.

"Your brother is pissing me off," Javi said casually, watching for a reaction.

Nothing. Not even a flinch.

The lack of response irritated him. Javi was not accustomed to being ignored. He tilted his head, observing her closely.

Beneath the layer of dried blood, her skin was almost deathly pale, her lips cracked and dry. Every breath she took was slow and labored.

Yet, there was something there. A quiet defiance that refused to be snuffed out. Even in her broken state, she had not surrendered completely.

"This, of course, makes me want to kill you faster," Javi mused, stepping closer. The stale air barely stirred as he moved, his presence consuming the space around him. "You’ll die, eventually. But now..."

He crouched in front of her, lifting a single hand and tapping her wrist with a thoughtful expression. "Which hand would you rather lose first?"

This time, there was a reaction. A twitch of her fingers, the smallest clench of her fist. It was barely noticeable, but Javi caught it.

He smirked.

Finally, a reaction. Something h could work with.

Slowly, painfully, Tinari lifted her head. Her eyelids fluttered as though it took every ounce of strength she had left to look at him. Her dull eyes met his, and for the first time in days, she spoke.

"Go to hell," she rasped, her voice cracked and hoarse from disuse.

Javi chuckled. "Oh, darling," he murmured, leaning in close, his breath a whisper against her cheek. "I’ve been there. It’s not nearly as fun as this."

She turned her head away from him, her jaw tightening. Javi’s amusement only grew. He had seen this defiance before—it was the same look Vazer often wore, the same foolish pride. It was amusing how family traits carried over even in situations like these.

"Such a shame," he sighed, stepping back and flicking his fingers. "If your brother were smarter, he would’ve abandoned you by now."

Her silence was the only response he needed.

Javi turned slightly, glancing toward the cell door where a shadow shifted. One of his guards stepped forward, a gleaming silver dagger in hand. The blade glowed faintly under the dim torchlight, its edge wickedly sharp. The guard hesitated, waiting for a command.

Javi gestured lazily. "Start with her fingers."

The guard nodded, stepping forward, but before the blade could make contact, a sound stopped him.

A sharp scream tore from her throat as she spat into the guard’s face.

Javi’s gaze snapped back to Tinari just as her entire body shuddered in fury. Her breathing quickened, her pulse spiking beneath the bruised skin of her throat.

A sharp, almost deranged laugh bubbled up from Javi’s throat. "Oh?" he mused, delighted by the resistance. "You still have some fight left in you?"