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

you hurt?" she

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

on a royal

mission?

(+68

up again. The tears start crawling out before I even

to my face. There's no hiding how much of a wreck I am. Mascara smudged, lips trembling, nose red. All

1. it.

gently, like it's not

hesitate, but she pats the side of her bed

And you know what?

Fuck it.

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

hear me when I

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

an idiot?" I mutter, keeping my eyes on the floor. "Like you knew they were going to wreck you. And you

old people can get away with

apartment, even fucking flirted with

yet here you are,"

am," I mutter, laughing bitterly. "Stupid, huh? I had one glimpse of him and it's

left back then," I say, my voice cracking. "He disappeared like he never existed. No goodbye. No explanation. Just-poof." I wipe my nose on

And sure I did

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

doing the right thing. But I think I just made

mine. I flinch but she doesn't let go. And for once, I bathed in the

a stranger.

loved a man who belonged to the world more than he ever belonged to me," she says, her voice low. "He carried the weight of a kingdom on his back." she murmured, eyes on the window yet her hand is on mine.

at her. She's really not looking at me. Her eyes are on some invisible memory in the

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Chapter 92

need right now.

He inherited that same burden. Responsibility is a curse, my dear. Especially when

I go quiet.

husband needed to carry for

her here?

again, softer now. "Sometimes love doesn't die. It gets

so deep, you forget where you

Something inside me clenches.

like that.

I'm afraid of. What I

he ever come back?" I

and her

never left," she says. "But he was

I swallow. Hard.

for a moment, we just sit there. Two

a silence that

Maybe love isn't enough.

that's the cruelest

Goddess knows how long. I

be my therapist for goodness'

She's really warm.

lavender, mothballs,

split open down the

tape and spite

what I did was wrong," I whisper, voice

and

back of my head, slow, gentle,

before. Maybe she has. Maybe she's just used to

hate him, and

her hand over my

her heartbeat is steady, grounding,

to do with

don't know.

she says eventually, "You're just

the kind that tastes like

is peaceful, but not comforting. My thoughts

around the same dead ends.

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Chapter 92

stutters.

Once,

Twice.

And stops.

My whole body jerks.

heart flipping so violently it knocks the

"Hey-hey, are you okay?"

goes slack. Her lips part, and

something tight and sharp.

Oh fuck.

Oh freaking fuck.

She clutches her chest.

11

move fast-instinct, muscle memory, the echo of Dr. Lisa's voice barking at me

in Riverstone. She taught me this, I should know how

this.

her shoulders, easing her back as she

Shit-Granny, can you

gasps, nods weakly, then winces. Sweat dots her

clinic. Heart attack. "Fuck, okay. Okay. Deep breaths, come on-shit,

ease her down to the rug, heart hammering in

Check her pulse -thready. Breathing-shallow. "You're gonna be okay. I've got you, I

pillow and shove it under her knees. My hands are shaking

someone," I mutter, snatching my phone out of

pocket.

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

more than a rasp. "Don't ...

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