Babysitting The Amnesiac Lycan King

Chapter 90

Chapter 90

The palace gates slam shut behind me.

0

Not metaphorically. Not in a poetic, symbolic way. No, they literally fucking slam. Cold iron. Loud clang. And me, standing outside as some kicked-out groupie who dared to dream too high.

Fuck.

My ears are ringing too loud from how hard I was sobbing just seconds ago. My knees are shaking, gravel biting into my skin. as I finally stand. I don't even brush myself off. What's the fucking point?

Sobbing on the palace steps though a goddamn idiot while two oversized wolves watched with blank expressions. One of them finally tells me, "Your things will be sent to your company. You should leave before you draw more attention."

Right. Because getting thrown out as a piece of trash wasn't humiliating enough-I should also worry about how I look.

I wipe my nose on the back of my hand. I taste blood in my mouth-I must've bitten my lip when I hit the ground. My throat's raw, as if I swallowed glass, and there's still that lump in there that won't go away no matter how many times I swallow.

I push myself up. My palms are dirty. Dress wrinkled. I'm trembling, but I smile like I'm not dying inside. Because that's what we do, right? We perform. We survive. We fake it.

Inside my head, something shifts.

I hear her.

Eris.

My wolf, the only one who's ever stood by me, the one who let me cling to her when I had no one else. She's quiet for a beat, and I stupidly think maybe she's gonna comfort me or say something vaguely helpful.

She doesn't.

"I can't believe you did that to him."

Her voice is laced with disappointment so sharp I flinch.

"Eris-"

"He was right,” she says bitterly. "Mates don't do that shit to each other."

And just like that, she's gone. Her presence flickers and disappears as someone

shut off a switch. Nothing. Not even static. She's blocked me out.

I'm alone.

Again.

More alone than I've ever been.

I swallow the lump in my throat so hard it burns.

I take a taxi back. Not even sure how I remembered to call one or where I found

the goddamn strength to climb in. I must look like shit because the driver doesn't talk. Good. I'm not in the mood to pretend I'm holding it together.

"WolfNet Media HQ," I whisper.

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God, I should run. Hide. Dig a hole and rot in it. But I don't. Because I'm a journalist. And journalists show up-even when their world is burning.

The moment the automatic doors to the company building slide open, I get hit with-

Confetti.

Fucking confetti.

“YOU GUYS! SHE'S HERE!” someone yells from the other side of the lobby. I blink, confused, as a bunch of my coworkers flood toward me as though I'm some war hero returning from battle.

There's champagne being poured, cupcakes on desks, and a big-ass sign that says CONGRATS ON GOING VIRAL, QUEEN!

My blood runs cold.

No. No fucking way.

Liam appears in the middle of it all, his tie loose around his neck, blazer half-on like he got dragged into the celebration five minutes before I arrived. He spots me

and smiles, the first genuine grin I've ever seen on that man's face.

"Well, well," he says, raising a glass in my direction. "The star of the show arrives."

I don't move.

I can't.

Liam's voice cuts through the chaos. "The genius behind the most talked-about exposé of the year." His smile is smug, arms wide like he's about to hand me an Oscar. "Taryn fucking Sinclair. Holy shit, you've made us a fortune."

I'm frozen there on the welcome mat while coworkers I barely know start crowding around, clapping me on the back, handing me drinks, spewing praise as though I didn't just burn down my whole life.

I barely catch the glass of champagne someone pushes into my hand. I don't drink it.

My fingers are numb.

"That article," one guy gushes-Josh, I think? From finance? "It's fucking everywhere! Front page on three national werewolf outlets. Hell, even some

lined up, brand deals sniffing around, ad revenue tripled overnight.

I can't breathe.

media blackout? The meltdown

is dry.

I nod.

what else am I

actually, the King you're all dragging is the man I love, and I

of the article, and I would give anything-anything-to

Yeah. Didn't think so.

the room and spot

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Chapter 90

chest, lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. Her

does sanile.

her

it guts t

Because she knows

Maldives. When Enoch danced around me like a damn puppy. When he pressed kisses to my jaw

now she thinks 1 betrayed him. Maybe she's

Maybe I did

with the article on the screen. I glance

The Lycan King's Media Terror and Dark

By Taryn Sinclair.

is burned into the front like a fucking signature

deleted this

should've never written it in the first

the sign down. Tell them all to shove their viral metrics and champagne up

get that info?" another coworker asks, awe in her voice. "It's like you knew him better than

I don't answer.

I can't

him of the explosion that wiped out his family. I knew he

And I used it.

to-even if the version I sent was different-they

words to destroy him.

stare down at the tablet. The words blur. My

to throw

the champagne down,

need air. I

Fuck.

I need to throw

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ter 90

the city

apartment.

just standing in front of the damn

front of Liam fucking Calloway, who

My boxes. My sad, thrown-out-of-the- palace belongings. The final nail in the "Taryn, go fuck yourself" coffin. "Here," Liam says, not even winded, as he drops the last duffel bag on the welcome mat of my tiny apartment unit. His sleeves are rolled up, his hair messy from the wind, and his shirt clings to his chest from the three shots he definitely should not have taken before offering to drive me home. But hey-this is the Free

trauma.

me like I might disintegrate right

through my

like you're about

Not the worst idea

and get inside before someone

daddy."

I push the door open. Same peeling paint

the kitchen counter. My welcome mat still says Bite

was still stupid. Still hopeful. Still

bed hair and his warm hands on my waist,

like it was the

except how

how my throat closes up when I catch

sweater of his at the top-black, oversized,

a

God, I'm pathetic.

sting, and I blink up fast, refusing

tonight. Not after everyone spent the day smiling at me

day. Probably scared I'd snap if she said

want to talk either. Just sat there

the promotion of a lifetime like it

it,” Liam had said, voice

hurt more

freezing," he mutters now, stepping in behind me

you didn't pay your bill while you were off playing Queen of

emotionally manipulated and borderline

walks past me, flicking on the lights with one hand while

someone I once thought was an absolute dick when we first

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Chapter 90

he's carrying my bags and staying late and not saying I told you

is why I'm

do nice. He does sarcasm and

version of him- quiet, helpful, concerned-it's

off.

toss my coat on the couch and stumble to the fridge, opening

Empty. Of course. Just like

"Wine?" Liam asks.

I look like I need wine

bottle. "Too bad. Wine it