Chapter 186 I Want to Go Home

Chapter 186 I Want to Go Home

A bone-chilling cold shot from the soles of her feet straight to the top of her head. Stella froze in place, her pupils contracting violently, the blood in her entire body seemingly frozen solid in that instant.

The scene before her completely shattered every perception she'd had of Mason.

He had seemed so gentle—so why was he a cold-blooded killer?

Blood still dripped from his fingertips, falling onto the cobblestones and spreading into small, glaring crimson stains. The body lying motionless on the ground had no breath left—silent and terrifying.

Overwhelming terror swept through her in an instant. Stella's legs gave out, unable to support her fragile frame, and she collapsed onto the cold, hard ground.

Her palms scraped against the rough stone, sending sharp pain through them, but this pain was nothing compared to even a fraction of what her heart felt.

Her entire body trembled uncontrollably, her teeth chattering nonstop, her breathing broken and shallow. She stared at the man in the distance, terrified, not daring to move an inch.

The black-clad guards lurking in the shadows noticed the commotion and immediately rushed forward. Ignoring her weak, frightened state, they roughly grabbed her arms and hauled her up from the ground with brutal force, nearly crushing her delicate wrists as they dragged her before Mason.

The clear pain in her arms made Stella groan softly. Her face was paper-white, tears pooling in her eyes, filled with nothing but panic.

The next second, a fierce gust of force suddenly struck.

Mason's eyes turned ice-cold. The last trace of warmth vanished completely, murderous intent rolling off him in waves. Without hesitation, he lifted his leg and kicked the guard hard in the chest.

A dull thud echoed. The guard flew backward like a kite with its string cut, crashing heavily against the wall several meters away. Blood immediately spurted from his mouth, his chest burning with unbearable pain. He could barely stand.

But knowing the methods of the man before him, he didn't dare utter a word of complaint. Enduring the excruciating pain, he struggled to his feet, head bowed, voice trembling. "Sir, I was wrong."

Mason looked down at Stella's delicate wrist, now marked with red bruises, his eyes dark and menacing, his voice devoid of any warmth. "I told you to bring her here, not to hurt her."

"Apologize to Mrs. Howard."

Those simple words carried undeniable authority.

The guard's entire body shook. He immediately bent over, bowing respectfully to the pale, trembling Stella. "Mrs. Howard, I overstepped. Please forgive me."

Stella couldn't hear any of it. Her gaze was fixed on Mason's slender fingers, still stained with blood, her heart pounding wildly, terror filling her chest.

Mason lowered his eyes to her, taking in her trembling form and reddened eyes. His heart clenched sharply.

Instinctively, he raised his bloodstained hand, wanting to wipe away the tears at the corner of her eyes, wanting to comfort her.

But just as his fingertips lifted slightly, seeing the glaring blood on his hand and watching Stella instinctively shrink back with rejection in her eyes, he paused. In the end, he silently withdrew his hand.

He was afraid—afraid that these blood-soaked hands would completely terrify the fragile girl before him.

"Clean this up. Don't leave a single trace." Mason turned his head, giving a cold order to the other guards behind him, his tone indifferent, as if taking a life moments ago was no different from crushing an ant underfoot.

The guards didn't dare delay. They immediately stepped forward to swiftly clean the scene, their movements efficient and professional. Soon, all traces of blood in the courtyard were completely erased. But the faint smell of blood lingering in the air still remained, constantly reminding Stella of everything she'd just witnessed.

Seeing the girl still trembling uncontrollably, Mason could no longer care about the blood remaining on his hands. He stepped forward, bent down, and carefully yet firmly scooped the weak Stella into his arms.

His embrace was broad and warm, but Stella only felt unbearably cold. Her body stiffened, clutching tightly at her own clothes, not daring to lean against him even slightly, her heart filled with nothing but wariness and fear.

Mason carried her quickly back to the main bedroom of the villa, gently placing her on the soft bed. Seeing her disheveled clothes, he frowned slightly and reached out to help remove her dust-stained jacket, wanting to help her clean up properly.

But the moment his fingers drew near, Stella reacted as if receiving the ultimate fright. She curled up violently, desperately shrinking backward, her voice breaking with tears, trembling in refusal. "Don't touch me... don't touch me..."

He froze, slowly withdrew his hand, a flash of helplessness and frustration crossing his eyes. In the end, he didn't force her. He turned and pressed the call button in the room, summoning two attentive servants.

"Take good care of Mrs. Howard. Help her wash and change. Look after her well. Don't frighten her."

The servants quickly responded. After Mason left the bathroom, they quietly approached the bed and, seeing the still-shaken Stella, spoke gently to explain. "Mrs. Howard, please don't be afraid of Mr. Jones. Sir never takes lives normally—his temperament has always been gentle."

"Tonight was only because those people frightened you before, so Mr. Jones acted. I've never seen him care so much about any woman."

The servants kept praising Mason, but Stella couldn't say a word.

Escape... she had to escape.

If she stayed by this man's side any longer, sooner or later, she would end up like that person just now.

The servants didn't dare say more, carefully attending to Stella as she entered the bathroom to wash.

The warm water washed over her body, but it couldn't dispel even half the coldness in her heart. She leaned against the bathroom wall, slowly closing her eyes, filled with nothing but despair and panic.

When she emerged from the bathroom wearing clean, soft pajamas, the room's lighting was gentle and warm.

Mason had completely cleaned the blood from himself and changed into clean black loungewear. He sat on the sofa by the bed, quietly waiting for her.

Seeing her bloodless, haggard, pale face, worry immediately flooded his eyes. He rose and quickly walked to her, softening his entire tone, patiently and gently comforting her again and again. "I'm sorry. But trust me—I won't hurt you. I never will."

His tone was extremely gentle, completely different from the cold-blooded, ruthless man in the courtyard moments ago.

But looking at his gentle eyes, Stella only felt her blood run cold.

She lifted her misty eyes, her long lashes still trembling.

After a long silence, she finally gathered all her courage. Looking at the unpredictable man before her, her voice hoarse and fragile, carrying humble pleading, she spoke word by word. "Mason, please... will you let me go home?"