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

sniffing around, ad revenue tripled overnight.

I can't breathe.

Lycan King's camera trauma? His media blackout? The meltdown at the Maldives hotel? All of it. You gave

mouth is dry.

I nod.

else am I supposed

actually, the King you're all dragging is the

I would give anything-anything-to take

Yeah. Didn't think so.

across the

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Chapter 90

pressed into a thin, disapproving line. Her eyes seet mine, and at feels as though someone just shoved me

sanile.

her bead-slow, disappointed-and

it guts t

Because she knows

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

now she thinks 1 betrayed him. Maybe she's

Maybe I did

tablet with the article on

Crown: The Lycan King's Media Terror

By Taryn Sinclair.

name is burned into the front like

deleted

should've never written it in the

metrics and champagne up their asses. But my voice is trapped under guilt so

even get that info?" another coworker asks, awe in her voice.

I don't answer.

I can't

wiped out his family. I knew he

And I used it.

mean to-even if the

words to destroy him.

the tablet. The words blur. My

to

the

air. I

Fuck.

need to

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ter 90

quiet the city can be

apartment.

it yet. I'm just standing in front

cry in front of Liam fucking Calloway, who is currently juggling my suitcase like a

is mine. My luggage. 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

trauma.

good?" he asks, watching me like I

lie through my

about to crawl into that

worst idea

"Shut up and get inside before someone mistakes you for my

daddy."

lock clicks under my palm, and I push the door open. Same

mat still says Bite Me, which is both ironic and tragically

still stupid. Still

stupid bed hair and his

like it was the

remembers everything except

bags inside, ignoring how my throat closes up when I catch

sweater of his at the top-black, oversized, the one he used

like a goddamn

God, I'm pathetic.

up fast, refusing

tonight. Not after everyone spent the day smiling at me like I didn't just get emotionally bodyslammed out of

day. Probably scared I'd snap if she said the wrong word.

sat there like a

offered me the promotion of a lifetime like it was a

voice too soft, too understanding, too not

hurt more

mutters now, stepping in behind me

pay your bill

was busy being emotionally

flicking on the lights with one hand

He looks too casual for someone I once thought was an absolute dick

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Chapter 90

staying late and not saying I told you

is why

nice. He does sarcasm and critique

This version of

off.

the couch and stumble

Empty. Of course.

"Wine?" Liam asks.

like I need wine

bottle. "Too