120 Chapter 120
Betrayed by Blood-
Cain stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind him gently, not wanting to wake her up.
His jaw was tight, his mind a storm he couldn’t silence. He ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply as he made his way down the dimly lit hallway. The air was thick, suffocating.
Avery.
His wolf stirred restlessly, still lingering in the warmth of her presence. Still craving. Cain gritted his teeth and forced himself to focus, to push forward, to pretend his hands didn’t still burn from where he had touched her.
By the time he reached his office, he was composed–at least, that’s what he told
himself.
Lydia was there, flipping through a stack of reports on his desk. She didn’t look up at first, too focused on her work, but the moment she sensed him, her head snapped up. Her eyes widened slightly.
“You’re here?” she asked, surprised. Then, after a pause, she added, “I heard what happened today in the courtyard.”
Cain’s gaze flicked to her, sharp and unreadable. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said flatly, moving past her.
Lydia arched a brow. “Didn’t think you would.”
He ignored her. Crossing the room, he opened a cabinet, pulling out a bottle of whiskey. Without hesitation, he poured himself a drink. The glass clinked against the desk as he set it down, his movements stiff. His fingers itched for something else- something to distract him. After a brief hesitation, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette.
Lydia stilled.
Cain didn’t smoke often. Not unless he was really out of sorts.
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She watched as he lit the cigarette. His expression was unreadable, his eyes dark and
distant.
That bad, huh?” she said finally, leaning against the desk.
Cain exhaled a slow stream of smoke. “Drop it, Lydia.”
She tilted her head, studying him. He was always controlled, always precise, but tonight… something was different.
“You don’t smoke unless something’s really bothering you,” she mused.
Cain tensed but said nothing.
Lydia smirked. “Did she finally get to you?” And although she meant Kendra, he thought of Avery.
His entire body went rigid.
Slowly, he turned his head, his green eyes burning into her. Lydia, unbothered as always, just shrugged.
“I mean, I’m just saying,” she continued, voice deceptively light. “You’re standing here, drinking and smoking. I assumed whatever went down must’ve been tough.”
Cain’s jaw clenched.
“I told you to drop it.”
Lydia hummed, crossing her arms. “Right, right.” She replied, closing down the reports she’d been working on. She walked towards him and stopped by his side.
The two of them stared out the window, watching the pack’s landscane.
“Avery..” Cain began, drawing Lydia’s attention. The beta glanced at him, waiting.
Cain cleared his throat, whatever it was he wanted to say must be difficult to see him
hesitate.
“Avery wants to break the bond.” He finally let out.
Lydia snapped her eyes at him. Her mind was a confused mess. First, Avery wants to
break their bond and Cain was here talking to her about it? What the hell happened in the courtyard?
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I don’t want her to.”
If Lydia’s eyes were wide before, it was nothing compared to this. Her eyes were almost plucked out of her sockets. She looked borderline horrifying, just there with the widest her eyes have ever been and a slacked jaw. “Are you? Is this you being in tune with your emotions? Is this possible?”
“Lydia…” he drawled out thickly.
“I’m sorry..I’m- it’s just–you-” she was short of words. Lydia shook her head, shaking her head. “You know, you really are something, Cain. You push her away, reject her, torment her–and now, you don’t know what the hell to do with yourself.”
Cain’s gaze darkened. His wolf bristled.
“Be careful, Lydia.”
She didn’t flinch. “Or what? You’ll kill me?” She tilted her head. “Wouldn’t be the first
time you tried.”
Cain exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. His patience was running thin, but Lydia was right. He didn’t know what the hell to do with himself.
After a long silence, he grabbed the glass of whiskey and downed it in one go.
Lydia watched him for a moment longer before shaking her head
“Look, I get it,” she began. “You don’t want to talk about it because talking means admitting you care. And admitting you care means admitting…”
“Drop it.” Cain cut her off, not willing to listen to her any longer. Lydia paused, her gaze intense on him. Now, she was even more curious to know what happened in the courtyard to have Cain this disturbed. Lydia sighed, “I don’t know what’s going on with you but let me just say. Don’t hurt Avery any further. You’ve done a lot of that already:”
With that said, she turned to the table, going through the reports she’d been working on only to realize she dropped one in her r room.
“Excuse me, I’ll just go and grab the last part of the report and then you can review it now that you’re here.”
Cain doesn’t reply, barely
ing the sound of the door clicking shut. The office
was silent once Lydia left. Cain remained still, his gaze fixed on the window. His grip
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tightened around the glass of whiskey. He swirled the amber liquid absently, his thoughts a tangled mess. Lydia’s words echoed in his head, even without speaking she was able to deduce that this was some issue with Avery.. He paused in his thoughts, her name already making rounds in his mind.
Avery.
His thoughts always rounded back to her. She was there, haunting him. The warmth of her skin, the way she had looked at him, the quiver in her lips, her breathless voice
when she-
Cain exhaled sharply and threw back the drink, relishing the burn in his throat. But it did nothing to drown out the chaos in his head.
His wolf stirred, restless, demanding.
The soft click of the door broke the silence.
Cain didn’t turn. He kept his gaze on the window, assuming Lydia had returned.
“Alright,” he muttered, not wanting to continue drowning himself in more thinking. He set the empty glass down with a dull thud. “What do you have for me?”
He started to push himself up-
He stilled as his nose flared.
That wasn’t Lydia.
It wasn’t anyone he knew.
It was… nothing.
A scent that should have existed but didn’t. It was neutral, void, but nis instincts screamed wrong. Like something should be there–but wasn’t. Cain’s muscles coiled.
Then, a glint of silver. The hiss of air splitting apart. Cain twisted just in time.
The knife sliced through the air where his throat had been a second ago, embedding itself into the wooden desk instead.
Cain dodged the second strike by inches, the blade slicing through the air beside his face. He didn’t have a weapon. The moment the attacker lunged again, Cain moved. fast. He caught the man’s wrist, twisting it with force. The intruder grunted in pain but
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he didn’t drop it. Cain’s grip lightened.
Too slow.
The knife came down in a desperate are, and before Cain could fully evade it, the blade sliced across his palm. A sharp sting, the scent of his blood filled the air.
Cain didn’t react, didn’t flinch. It wasn’t a new thing to him.
With a growl, he yanked the attacker forward and slammed his forearm against the man’s throat, forcing him backward.
The desk shook violently as the intruder’s back crashed against it. The papers Lydia had been working on scattered.
Cain didn’t give him a chance to recover.
He pinned the man down, one hand crushing his wrist against the desk, the other pressing his forearm harder against his throat. The attacker choked, struggling beneath him, but Cain was stronger.
A low, dangerous snarl rumbled in Cain’s chest. His gaze burned into the intruder’s
covered face.
“Who the hell are you?”
His bloodied fingers ripped off the mask.
The face beneath was young–too young. Early twenties, maybe. A strong jaw, sharp cheekbones, but his skin was too pale. Just then, the door flew open, A
panicked–looking Lydia rushed in, the papers in her hand fell to the ground as she took in the scene. “Alpha.”
Cain doesn’t spare her a glance, not at a time like this. He grabbed the knife from the attacker’s grip and pressed it against his throat.
The sharp edge dug into the skin, a thin line of red liquid appearing. The man’s blood.
The attacker’s eyes widened with panic, his body already trembling. Just one move and the knife would slice his throat.
“I’ll ask just once. Who sent you. Cain’s voice was a low, lethal growl.
The attacker’s face paled, “P–p–please don’t kill me. He stammered and Cain pressed
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the knife more, drawing more blood out. Just one more press and that was all.
Cain arched his eyebrow, his green eyes had turned pitch black. “Answer me.”
“Alpha Matt of the Silver Moon pack.”
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