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,

you hurt?"

hard, because what the fuck else am I supposed to

I'm here on

mission?

(+68

out before I even know they're coming.

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

1. it.

gently, like it's not an insult, just a fact. "Come

she pats the side of her bed like it's

And you know what?

Fuck it.

palace. Might as well

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

down. I don't get to clos anything

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

sound only old people can get away with without

with someone else. I told myself

here you

fucking am," I mutter, laughing bitterly. "Stupid, huh? I had one glimpse of him and it's like my heart forgot the last

like he never existed. No goodbye. No explanation. Just-poof." I wipe my

And sure I did something bad but-but...

lets me sit

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

warm, lands gently over mine. I flinch but she doesn't let go.

a stranger.

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. She's reminiscing. "While I... I carried the weight of his absence."

at me. Her eyes are on some

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Chapter 92

both need right now. To just be...

son. He inherited that same burden. Responsibility is a

I go quiet.

did her husband needed to carry for him to have

her here?

"Sometimes

you forget where you

Something inside me clenches.

words hurt like that. Maybe because they sound too close

I'm afraid of.

come back?" I ask, barely above

at me, and her smile is

she says. "But he was never really

I swallow. Hard.

just sit there. Two women in a

holding a silence that says all the

Maybe love isn't enough.

the

Goddess knows how long. I don't even

my

She's really warm.

shawl smells like lavender, mothballs, and expensive soap.

like I've been split open down

with duct tape and spite just

whisper, voice so thin I

and he still

of my head, slow, gentle, though

Maybe she has. Maybe she's just used to broken things clinging

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

but keeps rubbing her

chest, and her heartbeat is steady, grounding, a goddamn metronome in this

awkward to do with

don't know.

says

the kind

peaceful, but

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

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Chapter 92

then-her breath stutters.

Once,

Twice.

And stops.

My whole body jerks.

say, sitting up, heart flipping so violently

"Hey-hey, are you okay?"

flutter. Her hand goes slack. Her lips part, and her face

something tight and sharp.

Oh fuck.

Oh freaking fuck.

She clutches her chest.

11

of Dr. Lisa's voice barking at

She taught me this, I

this.

already on her shoulders, easing her back

move. Shit-Granny, can you

weakly, then winces. Sweat dots her upper lip. Her skin's

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

rug, heart hammering in my

pulse -thready. Breathing-shallow. "You're

little decorative pillow and shove it under her knees. My hands are

mutter,

pocket.

hand clamps around my wrist. Shaky. Weak. But

barely more than a rasp. "Don't

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