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

Because fuck it—at this point, what else do

hurt?" she asks

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

on a royal

mission?

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up again. The tears start crawling out before I even

how much of a wreck I am. Mascara smudged, lips trembling,

1. it.

it's not an insult, just a

she pats the side of her bed like it's a goddamn invitation to cry in

And you know what?

Fuck it.

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

she can hear me when I speak, if I decide to

bed dips slightly as it down. I don't get to clos

much it makes you feel like an idiot?" I mutter, keeping my eyes on the floor. "Like you knew they were going to

softly, the kind of sound only old people can get

city, got a new job, new apartment, even fucking flirted with someone else. I told myself he

yet here you

bitterly. "Stupid, huh? I had one glimpse of him and it's like my heart

"He disappeared like he never existed. No goodbye. No explanation. Just-poof." I wipe my nose on my

Different. Cold. And sure I did something bad

old woman doesn't gasp or say anything cliché like "you poor thing." She just lets me sit there and let the pain leak out of me one shattered piece at a

thing. But I think I just

but

a stranger.

ever belonged to me," she says, her voice low. "He carried the weight of a kingdom on his back." she murmured, eyes on the

really not looking at me. Her eyes

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Chapter 92

what we both need right now. To just be...

He inherited that same burden. Responsibility is

I go quiet.

her husband needed to carry for him

her here?

speaks again, softer now. "Sometimes love doesn't

deep, you forget

Something inside me clenches.

hurt like that. Maybe because they sound too close

afraid of. What

ever come back?" I ask, barely above a

looks at me, and her smile is

never left," she says. "But he was never really

I swallow. Hard.

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

of us, holding a silence that

Maybe love isn't enough.

the cruelest

how long. I don't even know this woman

should be my therapist for goodness'

She's really warm.

smells like lavender, mothballs, and expensive

split open down

duct tape and spite

wrong," I whisper, voice so thin I

and he still threw

of my head, slow, gentle, though she's

Maybe she's just

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

her hand over my

is steady, grounding, a goddamn metronome in this

awkward to do with

don't know.

not dumb," she says eventually, "You're just in

but it's the kind that tastes like salt and

after that is peaceful, but not comforting. My

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

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Chapter 92

then-her breath stutters. I immediately

Once,

Twice.

And stops.

My whole body jerks.

so violently it knocks the air out of

"Hey-hey, are you okay?"

hand goes slack. Her lips part, and

something tight and sharp.

Oh fuck.

Oh freaking fuck.

She clutches her chest.

11

echo of

med hut back in Riverstone. She taught me this, I should know

this.

palms are already on her shoulders, easing her back

move. Shit-Granny, can you

Sweat dots her upper lip. Her

this is. I've seen it before in Dr. Lisa's clinic. Heart attack. "Fuck, okay. Okay. Deep breaths, come on-shit, I'm gonna

down to the rug, heart hammering

Breathing-shallow.

are

call someone," I mutter, snatching my phone out of

pocket.

her hand clamps around my

she croaks, voice barely more

mouth open. "Granny, no offense, but