Babysitting The Amnesiac Lycan King

Chapter 92

The second I hear her voice-soft, velvety, and full of fucking pity-I'm gone.

I don't wait for confirmation. I don't need to see more than the back of Brooke's head practically glued to his chest.

That bitch could've been breathing his air and I still would've turned around.

I don't wait. I don't need to. My body does the thinking for me.,

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I take a step back and shit-my heel knocks into a vase, the goddamn thing wobbles, and I watch it in slow motion like that will stop it from crashing.

It doesn't.

Clatter. Shatter. Echo.

Fuck.

I bolt.

God. My lungs burn.

My chest-fuck, my chest aches like someone cracked me open and dumped acid inside.

My eyes are leaking even before I've stopped moving, hot and heavy tears blurring my vision as the corridor splits into two and I pick one on instinct. Or maybe on pure delusional hope that I can outrun this.

My legs don't ask for directions. They just run. Left, then right, then through a hallway I swear I've never seen before.

My boots slap against marble. I catch glimpses of stunned maids, confused guards. Someone shouts my name, maybe, but it's muffled behind the roaring in my head.

I don't know where I'm going. Don't care.

All I know is I need to get out.

Away from him. Away from the sound of her whispering things I was supposed to hear.

"She made her choice."

No, fuck you. I might have write the article, but I didn't write it and whoever published it better count her last days.

But Enoch... you lied, you let me fall, you fucking left me for... for her? And now you're back with... that?

My vision's tunneling, and everything stings. My throat's tight. My chest's worse. Like something's inside, thrashing against my ribs, trying to claw its way out.

I don't stop until I do.

My foot slips on one of the polished steps. I grab the railing, barely catching myself. My breath's coming in short gasps now, stupid, humiliating hiccups choking the sobs that won't stop clawing up my throat.

Goddess... tears begin to blur my vision again.

Shit. I can't do this.

I can't-

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My shoulder hits a door,

I don't even check if it's locked-1 shove it open and stumble inside, slamming it shut behind me with a final, satisfying thud.

Silence.

My hand's shaking as I turn the old-fashioned lock. I don't even know where the hell I am, but it's quiet. Dim.

I wipe at my face, but it does nothing. My cheeks are wet again ten seconds later. My breathing sounds too loud in here. Like the walls are listening.

Great. Now I'm going insane.

I look up.

Dusty, but not forgotten. There's a thick maroon carpet under my feet and the air smells faintly of roses and linen, like someone's actually been taking care of this place.

It's not abandoned. It just feels like it's been... waiting.

I wipe my face with the back of my sleeve, blinking through the wetness. My chest still feels like a collapsing lung, but at least I can breathe in here.

Sort of.

There's a bed at the end of the room. A real one. With a carved wooden frame, lace canopy, and a bunch of decorative pillows. The kind of bed that makes you feel like you're intruding just by looking at it.

And then-

Holy shit.

There's someone on it.

My hand shoots to my mouth as I take a cautious step back, immediately regretting busting into random-ass rooms in a palace full of secrets. But the figure isn't moving aggressively. She's just lying there, her back propped up against the pillows like she belongs here.

An old woman.

Like... really old.

White hair pulled back into a braid. Wrinkled hands folded over a pale-blue knit blanket. Her eyes are open, but not alarmed.

She looks at me like I'm a squirrel that wandered into the wrong tree.

"Why are you crying, sweetheart?"

Her voice is smooth. Raspy, worn down by decades, but not unkind.

I freeze. My lips press together like maybe if I stay silent long enough, she'll just... disappear.

But she doesn't.

"Come here," she says. "Come sit. There's no shame in a girl's heartbreak."

I almost laugh. Or sob. I'm not sure which one's clawing its way out first.

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Chapter 92

I move. Because fuck it—at this point, what else

hurt?" she asks

at her, sniffling hard, because what the fuck else am I supposed to

here on a royal

mission?

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throat closes up again. The tears start crawling out before

no hiding how much of a wreck

1. it.

like it's not an insult, just

pats the side of her bed like it's a

And you know what?

Fuck it.

hit rock bottom in the royal palace. Might as well take a seat next to the friendly ghost of

can hear me when I speak,

it down. I don't get to clos anything at

you feel like an idiot?" I mutter, keeping my eyes on the

kind of sound only old people can get away with

apartment, even fucking flirted with someone

here you are," she says

"Stupid, huh? I had one glimpse of

suddenly left back then," I say, my voice cracking. "He disappeared like he

now he's back. Different. Cold. And sure I did

thing." She just lets me sit there and let the pain leak out of me one shattered piece at

lied to him," I whisper. "I thought I was doing the right thing. But I think I just made it easier for him to forget

flinch but she doesn't let go. And for once, I

a stranger.

"He carried the weight of a kingdom on his back." she murmured, eyes on the window yet her hand is

at me. Her eyes are on some invisible memory in the

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Chapter 92

need right now. To

that same burden. Responsibility is

I go quiet.

did her husband needed to carry for him to have

her here?

again, softer now. "Sometimes love doesn't

so deep, you forget

Something inside me clenches.

know why her words hurt like that. Maybe because they sound too

afraid of. What I

I ask, barely above

me, and

left," she says. "But he was never

I swallow. Hard.

moment, we just sit there. Two women in a room

that says all the things

Maybe love isn't enough.

that's the

long. I don't even know this

my therapist for goodness'

She's really warm.

smells like lavender,

been split open down the middle. As if everything

tape and spite just

I whisper, voice so thin I

it, and he still

hand pets the back of my head, slow, gentle, though she's done this

she has. Maybe she's

just... I miss him," I choke. "I fucking hate him, and I miss him. What kind of dumb bitch logic

but keeps rubbing her hand over my

heartbeat is steady, grounding,

awkward to do

don't know.

she says eventually, "You're just

laugh, but it's the kind that tastes like salt

after that is peaceful, but

the same dead ends. Brooke. Enoch's face. That fucking

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Chapter 92

then-her breath stutters.

Once,

Twice.

And stops.

My whole body jerks.

heart flipping so violently it knocks

"Hey-hey, are you okay?"

Her lips part, and her face twists

something tight and sharp.

Oh fuck.

Oh freaking fuck.

She clutches her chest.

11

memory, the echo of Dr.

in Riverstone. She taught me this,

this.

her shoulders, easing her back as she starts to

Shit-Granny, can you hear

Sweat dots her upper lip.

Dr. Lisa's clinic. Heart attack. "Fuck, okay. Okay. Deep breaths, come on-shit, I'm

her down to the rug, heart hammering

Elevate her legs. Check her pulse -thready. Breathing-shallow. "You're

the little decorative pillow and shove it under her knees. My hands are shaking but they know what to do, like they

to call someone," I mutter,

pocket.

I can even dial, her hand clamps around my wrist. Shaky. Weak. But

voice barely more than

her, mouth open. "Granny, no offense, but you're