CHAPTER 123: FOR YOUR SAKES!

The moment Cain stepped out of the car, he couldn’t help but feel that something was terribly wrong.

Everything seemed fine with the mansion. The guards were at their respective posts, and there were no signs of an attack. Yet, he couldn’t shake the subtle feeling that something was amiss, gnawing at the edges of his awareness like a persistent whisper.

Ignoring Frank’s questioning glance, Cain strode through the main doors, his movements deliberate and unyielding. His sharp eyes scanned the interior, quickly landing on Fiona, who was already walking toward him with a warm smile. Beside her stood Ravon, his posture stiff as he hovered protectively at her side, his gaze darting between her and Cain, as though unable to decide where his loyalty lay even though the way his eyes lingered on her body already made it quite obvious which he had chosen.

"Welcome back!" Fiona greeted softly, her voice dripping with practiced sweetness. "I had hoped we could have breakfast together, but perhaps lunch—"

Cain didn’t let her finish. Without sparing her a second glance, he turned and headed for the staircase, his steps purposeful and swift. The servants milling about froze in place, exchanging confused and wary glances as they watched his hurried pace. Whispers began to ripple through the halls, but Cain paid them no mind, his sole focus on reaching his destination.

By the time he reached his room, his heart was pounding, though not from exertion. He pushed the door open, scanning the space with a critical eye. Everything appeared to be in order. Nothing was out of place. And yet, the absence of the person he had expected to see sent a sharp pang of unease through him.

At first, he didn’t panic. Stepping further into the room, he allowed himself a moment to breathe, his hand resting lightly on the doorframe. He was about to turn and leave, intent on searching elsewhere, when something stopped him. His hand froze on the door handle, his breath hitching as realization dawned.

The room was too clean. Too sterile. There was no lingering scent—no trace of her presence. Not even a faint whiff. It was unnatural. Even if the servants had cleaned, it was never to this extent.

Cain’s jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together as his fingers curled into a fist. Warning signs blared in his mind, each one louder than the last. Forcing himself to remain composed, he stepped out of the room, his sharp gaze immediately catching sight of Fiona, Ravon, and Frank lingering at the end of the hall. All three wore varying expressions of concern and confusion, though only Frank’s appeared genuine.

"Viole. Where is he?" Cain’s voice cut through the air like a blade, low and dangerous. The weight of his tone was enough to make the servants down the hall flinch, though neither Fiona nor Ravon showed any outward signs of fear.

"Where is he?" Cain repeated, his voice rising slightly. This time, the underlying threat was unmistakable. Blood would be spilled if he had to ask a third time.

Ravon was the first to respond, though his words came out halting and uncertain. "M-Maybe he decided to visit another part of the mansion," he stammered, cursing himself inwardly for how weak he sounded. Swallowing hard, he quickly added, "I can send someone to find him."

"Lock down the mansion," Cain ordered abruptly, cutting off Ravon’s attempt to appease him. Without waiting for a response, he brushed past them, his strides long and purposeful. "No one is allowed to leave."

Frank’s eyes widened at the sudden command. Though he trusted Cain’s instincts, the order seemed extreme. Wasn’t it possible Viole had simply wandered off or lost track of time? Still, Frank knew better than to question Cain, especially now. He fell into step behind him, his mind racing with concern and uncertainty.

Fiona and Ravon exchanged a quick glance before following as well. Ravon’s hands trembled slightly at his sides, a thin sheen of sweat forming on his brow. He tried to mask his fear, but every step he took seemed to weigh heavier than the last. Fiona, on the other hand, exuded an air of calm, her composed demeanor betraying none of the turmoil raging inside her.

’Fuck. Fuck,’ Fiona swore silently, her heart pounding despite her outward composure. She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to think rationally. There was no evidence tying her to Viole’s disappearance—not yet, anyway. Even if her body was found, she could deny everything. The real danger lay in the possibility that Viole was still alive.

Her hand twitched toward the phone concealed in her purse. She needed to check in with the servants she had entrusted with the task. Had they carried out her orders? Her fingers itched to dial the number, but she held back, unwilling to draw attention to herself.

"Cain, don’t you think you’re overreacting?" Fiona called out, her voice smooth and unbothered. "Viole stays in your room. There’s no way he could have been attacked there."

Cain didn’t even glance back, his focus solely on the path ahead. He descended the stairs quickly, heading straight for the mansion’s main gates. By the time they reached the entrance, the atmosphere outside had shifted dramatically. Guards had tripled in number, and even those who usually remained hidden had come into plain sight. The gates were chained shut, and every possible exit had been secured.

A high-ranking guard knelt before Cain, extending a ring of keys. Cain took them without a word, his expression dark and unreadable.

"Did any of you see Viole leave through the gates?" he asked, his tone deceptively calm. But the intensity in his gaze made it clear that a wrong answer could mean death.

The guards exchanged nervous glances before shaking their heads in unison. Cain’s jaw clenched tighter, but he asked again, this time louder, his voice carrying the weight of his fury.

"Did any of you see Viole leave through the gates?"

The silence that followed was suffocating. Finally, one guard stepped forward, dropping to one knee. "Bari reporting, my lord," he said steadily, though his head remained bowed. "I haven’t seen him. The last time was a few days ago, when his family came to visit."

Cain stared at Bari for several long moments, his piercing gaze enough to make even the bravest werewolf shudder. Then his eyes swept over the other guards, memorizing each face as though silently promising retribution should they fail him.

"Search every crook of the mansion," Cain finally ordered, his voice cold and venomous. "For your sakes, I hope you’re right."