Babysitting The Amnesiac Lycan King

King Novel 45

Chapter 45

SERAPHINA

1 wake up choking on my own breath

The moment consciousness dams into me, it brings the weight of land with My cheese may de feels two sizes too small, and my stomach charne biz i willowed aid to exantly why.

I lied, I fucking lied

The words rot inside me, festering like an open wound. I don't know why 1 expected to feet Banter der derging offe guilt is something you can just sweat out overnight. No, it's here to say, curling up in my ribs, growing may destr parasite.

The worst part is that no one even questioned me. Not Kallias. Not the pack even took-theath, to be ter he looked half a second away from ripping my throat out. And maybe I deserved i

No. I do deserve it.

I should've told them. I should've told him.

But I didn't. And now, my silence tastes like blood in my mouth.

The morning light slices through the window, too sharp, too exposing. The moment my eyes open, I know-dery didn't erase a damn thing. Taryn is still gone. And I let them believe I don't know where she is. My body protests as I push myself up, every muscle aching from exhaustion and whatever bruises I picked up on the way back. My dress from yesterday is will stained, torn at the hem. I don't even remember kicking it off before collapsing onto the bed.

The thought makes me sick. I shove off the suffocating blankets, my movements jerky, and swing my legs off the bed. The moment my bare feet touch the cold floor, I'm up and moving. I don't know where I'm going, but I need to do something Anything but sit here and let my own mind tear me apart.

I make it halfway across the room before I catch my reflection in the mirror.

Jesus Christ.

My hair's a tangled disaster, my face pale, dark circles bruising the skin beneath my eyes. I look like someone who's been through hell and barely crawled back. And maybe I have. But I know, deep down, it's not from what was done to me. It's from what I did.

The packhouse is quiet when I step into the hallway, but my pulse isn't. It pounds, erratic, drowning out everything else. I don't know where I'm going until I'm already moving.

My legs carry me before my mind can stop them.

Straight to him.

***

Enoch and Taryn's room is at the end of the hall, tucked away into the Omega's hall quarters. The door is closed, but the energy behind it hums, vibrating with something sharp-edged and volatile.

I don't knock. I can't. My hand is already on the handle, and before I can think twice, I push the door open.

I stop.

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05:53 Mon, 24 Mar A

Chapter 45

The room is wrecked.

Shredded curtains hang in strips, fluttering weakly in the morning breeze. The bed —what's left of it-is overturned, one of the wooden posts snapped clean in half. My eyes land on deep claw marks gouging the walls, the floor, the furniture. Splinters, broken glass, torn fabric-destruction clutters every inch of the space. And in the middle of it all, standing like a statue carved from ruin, is Enoch.

His back is to me, muscles drawn so tight they might snap. His hands hang loose

at his sides, but his fingers twitch, like they want to curl into fists. His breathing is deep. Too deep.

As though he's trying to hold something back.

Like he's failing.

don't make a sound, but he knows

Slowly, he turns.

unfocused, not distant

No.

This is

omething else.

This is clarity.

"Where is she?"

low, even, but they don't need volume to hit like a fucking wrecking

My throat dries.

isn't the fragmented, lost sound of a

something sharper. Heavier. Somehow feeling a blade pressed against

voice betrays me, shaking,

His

eyes don't blink.

"Where. Is. She,"

body hits the doorframe. I

This isn't Enoch.

the pathetic, amnesiac stray that Taryn used to drag around as a

is something else.

since I came back,

to hold him

stare is

anger-anger is predictable. Manageable. No, this is something else

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Chapter 45

beneath the surface, ready to snap

knew he'd be furious. I knew

didn't expect

He doesn't move, doesn't even blink. Ife simply stands there. a living, breathing

again. It's instinct.

mouth betrays me before I can

hard, my throat

Silence.

every single life decision that brought me

impact knocks the breath straight out of me. His hand wraps around my throat, pressing just enough to warn, to terrify, but not quite enough

escape. His grip tightens, and my pulse pounds beneath his fingers, a frantic

first arrived-"

within his chest, something primal and

He drops me.

My hands shake as

so tightly his knuckles are white. His entire body radiates fury, the kind

wavers, cracking under his sheer restraint, "if she's hurt-if

sentence. He doesn't

already know exactly what

And I believe him.

of the room like a goddamn force of

set the

**

of Enoch's room, my heart on fire. But it burned even more when I saw whose eyes I didn;t expect to

I can't fucking breathe.

stare tells me everything I

everything.

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