Babysitting The Amnesiac Lycan King

Chapter 77

Chapter 77

I can't fucking breathe.

The ink is bold, deep, and permanent-carved into his skin as a fucking brand.

Taryn.

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It runs across his ribs, curling toward his back, though it belongs there. Like it's always belonged there. No, I belong there.

No. No, that's not-That's not how this is supposed to go.

I turn to Jacob, my voice barely making it past the dryness in my throat. "When-" My lips part, then press together, because what the hell do I even say? Why the fuck is my name on his body? Did he lose a bet? A dare? A goddamn brain cell? Jacob just smirks, tilting his head toward the ring. "Watch the fight."

I want to grab him by the collar and shake the answer out of him, but my hands are frozen at my sides, my mind a screaming whirlwind of no no no no. Because I do want to know. I want to demand it. But I also don't want to hear whatever the hell is about to come out of his mouth.

Because what if it's something I can't handle?

The roar of the underground crowd swells like a heartbeat around me. Enoch steps into the ring, and the air shifts. It's not just because he's massive, or because he carries himself like the goddamn king he is-it's because he's dangerous. And everyone in this building can feel it.

I watch as he rolls his shoulders, stretching out the sheer size of him, muscles shifting under skin as a coiled predator ready to spring. He barely acknowledges the guy he's about to fight-some thick-necked bastard already bouncing on the balls of his feet, cracking his knuckles thinking he has a fucking chance.

The ref barely gets a word in before the guy lunges.

Big mistake.

Enoch doesn't just dodge–he moves quick, shifting his weight so fluidly it's almost lazy. Almost like he's bored. Then he strikes. A punch so fast it barely registers before the guy's head snaps back, blood spraying from his nose as he stumbles. The crowd loses their minds.

But Enoch doesn't stop.

He closes in, planting his feet, throwing another hit, and another. His opponent tries to swing back, but it's a goddamn joke -Enoch catches his fist mid-air, twisting it in a way that makes something crack. The guy screams.

I flinch.

Holy fuck.

Enoch doesn't.

He releases him just to grab him again-fist in his shoulder, dragging him forward, knee slamming up into his ribs hard enough that he folds like a paper doll. The ref is yelling something, but Enoch isn't listening. He's gone, lost in that wild, violent part of him, and his opponent is just trying to fucking survive.

And then-then he really loses it.

A savage punch to the face. Another. Another. His opponent is no longer a fighter; he's a fucking punching bag. The crowd is screaming, but I can't hear shit over the sickening sound of knuckles on flesh. The ref lunges in-grabbing Enoch's

arm,

10:16 Wed, 26 Mar

Chapter 77

shouting at him to stop. For a second, I think he won't.

But then he does.

Barely.

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He jerks back, chest heaving, looking down at the crumpled, bloodied body at his feet. And then he just turns, walking, wwwz like he didn't just beat a man to near unconsciousness in under two minutes.

The ref stumbles forward, throwing his arm up toward Enoch.

"Winner by knockout-"

The rest is drowned out by the explosion of voices, cheers, groans, curses as people either celebrate their winnings or mourn their lost bets. The energy in the room is electric, but I'm still frozen in place, staring at the Enoch I'm seeing him for the first time. Thid version.

His back is to me. Broad, powerful, damp with sweat. My name still inked across his side, his skin will vibrating from the fight, from whatever darkness he let consume him in that ring.

I don't realize I'm shaking until Jacob nudges me.

wanted to know

form, forcing myself to look at Jacob instead.

too closely. "After he got back to

mean anything to

It shouldn't.

in, winding tight around my ribs, cutting off my air

fades, his usual sharp-edged humor softening. "He looked like shit, Sinclair. He murmurs. "Like a man who left his breath behind and

My stomach twists.

lots of things to you had he not taken care

walked away, no explanation, no fight, no choice. Because if he hadn't, I'd be dead. His uncle would've

now, years later, with everything that's happened-he's here. And my name is

even think about stopping it. I swallow hard, blinking rapidly, forcing the tears back

is starting. The ring is being

I feel fucking sick.

I mutter, already

still rambling about

talk about that Italian

and I would

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Chapter 77

make it into the bathroom

rant cuts off.

of the counter,

around wildly, as if the answer

I just learned. She

straightening up, forcing my expression back into something neutral. "I need to

blinks. "Like-go

I nod.

a pout before she sighs

not walking out of here

argue, remind her that I'm a werewolf and no human would ever be a threat to me. But I

not, I don't really want to be

his name still

with my name still burned

get out through the back door and the night air is thick with sweat, beer,

roaring from the fight, but out here, in the dimly lit

tapping fast. A second later, her

is still erratic, my thoughts spinning in circles. I need to get home. I need to breathe.

my nape

presence. Familiar.

curl into fists before I even look. But I

there he

Enoch Blackwell.

black shirt clinging to every sculpted muscle, looking effortlessly powerful and

to see me in

my throat, punching its way

He didn't abandon me.

He's right here.

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Chapter 77

Now what?

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swallow hard, shaking my head, forcing oxygen into my lungs.

A goddamn career. A purpose. Enoch is engaged. He has

us as if she's watching her favorite soap opera. Jacob's car screeches into the parking lot, and he practically flies out of the driver's seat. His gaze flicks to me, then to Enoch, then back to

go." His

Zoe frowns. "But-"

grabs her

"I was just-"

mouth mid-babble,

to give

protests are nothing but squeaks as she kicks at his shin, eyes

shock. It'd be hilarious if I

Then it's just us.