Babysitting The Amnesiac Lycan King

Chapter 73

The moment Enoch steps into the room, the air shifts.

Silence clamps down so hard it's suffocating. Even Celeste, ever the performer, straightens as if instinct tells her to shrink under his presence. But Enoch doesn't spare her a glance. His dark eyes sweep the room, landing on me.

There's no recognition. No warmth. No hesitation.

Just cold, imperial authority.

"Clean it up," he says flatly, not even directing it at anyone specific.

Celeste twitches like she just got slapped. "Enoch—"

His head tilts, the slow movement an unspoken warning. "Now."

Damn. It's as if the man getting beaten by Kallias back in the Riverstone pack has disappeared. This guy is on another level. He's a king.

The Lycan King.

She swallows. Her face remains poised, but the tension in her jaw betrays her. Slowly, she turns and signals one of her women to fix the mess.

A sick sort of satisfaction curls in my stomach. For months, I imagined this moment-seeing Enoch again, throwing all my anger, pain, and questions at him. But now that he's here, so close I could reach out and touch him, all I can do is stare at the stranger in front of me.

Because he is a stranger.

This isn't the man who once pulled me against his chest in the dead of night, whispering secrets he didn't even understand yet. This isn't the broken boy I cradled in the forest, patching up his wounds and feeding him soup like some stray.

This is the Lycan King.

And I'm nothing to him.

I lift my chin, refusing to cower. "Always so charming," I say, forcing my voice to stay even. "I missed that about you."

A muscle in his jaw ticks, but his expression remains unreadable. Then, without another word, he turns and walks away.

I don't know what I expect-maybe for him to say something, acknowledge that I'm here-but the dismissal stings sharper than I care to admit. He's already heading down the hallway when he speaks over his shoulder.

"Come with me."

I blink. For a moment, I think I imagined it, but no-his voice is firm, commanding.

He doesn't wait to see if I follow. He just expects me to.

Prick.

I glance at Celeste, who is staring after him with barely concealed rage. Her hands are curled into fists at her sides. I smile sweetly at her as I pass. "Guess I do belong here after all."

Then I follow him.

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The walk is silent. The palace corridors stretch endlessly, dark and grand. I reallyy think this place is aklive. There's only so much the modern renovations have rwached, and they kept its ancient look at some of the most restricted areas.

Like where we're going right now. Each hallway is flickering with torches and casting long, eerie shadows. His strides are toc long for me to keep up as I stumble around, hitting drawers. He doesn't look back.

Asshole.

Finally, he stops at a large wooden door and pushes it open, stepping inside. I hesitate. The room beyond is dimly lit, the glow of a fireplace casting golden light across towering bookshelves and dark leather chairs. His study.

exhale and step inside.

The door clicks shut behind me.

For a long moment, neither of us speak. He stands by the desk, arms crossed, head tilted just slightly as though he's waiting for me to break first.

Not fucking happening.

"You know," I start, forcing a casual tone, "if you wanted a private moment with me, you could've just asked nicely. No need for the silent treatment."

His lips press together. "You shouldn't be here."

I arch a brow. "Funny. The guards let me right in."

"Because they didn't know better."

"Well, they do now." I lean against the desk, matching his crossed arms. "You gonna throw me out yourself?"

Fucking eat my attitude Enoch. You abandoned me like a whore and I'm not gonna cry about it like a bitch.

A flicker of something-amusement? Frustration?-crosses his face. Then, he exhales sharply and runs a hand down his face. "Taryn."

And just like that, my bravado cracks.

the first time he's said my

inside of my cheek, locking my knees

go by Miss Sinclair now. More

"You don't

journalist. Reporting on the illustrious

being here.

His lips curl. "You're

now you

in his expression-something dangerous. He steps closer, and I hate how my body reacts. late the way my pulse stutters, the way my fingers twitch

His

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Chapter 73

my chin. "Make

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flare. He takes another step, caging me

of him-smoke, leather, something deeper and more

I were smart, I'd back

never

I smirk. "What's wrong, Your Majesty? Afraid I'll find

secrets?"

jaw clenches. He lifts a hand, and for a split

me.

He doesn't.

fingers curl into a fist, and he

A win.

Or maybe not.

speaks again, his voice

way, Sinclair, I

chill rakes down my spine, but I don't let it show. I

big bad Lycan King might not be gentle

doesn't take the

just bore into mine, unreadable and

The part where I let it go and walk away before I dig a

But I can't.

when there's something else behind that mask he's wearing. Something that

curls in

don't want me to

something flickers-hesitation. Regret. But

smirk is slow, empty. "It's not something you should

A challenge.

in, my breath brushing his

His eyes darken.

My pulse skitters.

And then-

sharp knock rattles

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Chapter 73

mask slipping

door swings open, and Jacob stands there, his

twitches, but he

comment.

he says, "There's been a

Enoch's face hardens. "Where?"

tightens. "North

once, then turns to me. His expression is unreadable. "Stay

brow. “You really think I'm just

He's already gone.

behind him, leaving me alone in

anger, the pain, the distance-one thought hammers

wasn't just a

That was my mate.

I just stepped into something much bigger than

shadows along the polished floors. Everything about this place is meant to intimidate, to make anyone who doesn't belong feel that much smaller. And guess what? I don't belong. Not even

Celeste is right.

should be locked in my ridiculously oversized

settle, and the second I realized how many locked doors I passed on the way to my

a parasite.

don't overthink it. I just

1

creep through the corridor, following nothing but instinct and the occasional whisper of wind that slips through

me through the east wing, a

staff -just dead silence and doors older than

Then I see it.

stone wall at the end of the hall. It's thick and velvet, depicting some grand battle with wolves

move closer, pulse

brush the fabric aside, I see the outline