Babysitting The Amnesiac Lycan King

CHAPTER 117

Silence.

Fucking silence.

The kind that doesn't ring in your ears, no-that'd be merciful. This is the kind that weighs, presses, crawls up your skin like mold and shame and exposure. The kind that tells you you've just made a god bleed in front of his kingdom.

And I didn't even touch him.

The projector flickers once and then it goes black. No final credits. No music. It's just that goddamn hum in the air and all those wolfish, hungry murmurs slithering up from the crowd.

"He's weak."

"She has control over him."

"Is this who we follow? Someone who dies with a woman?"

A tight breath lodges itself in my ribs and doesn't leave. I feel like I'm breathing

through a straw jammed down my throat. The murmurs grow teeth.

"He's a liability."

"The Lycan King is ruled by a woman's tears."

"Kill him now while he's soft."

I glance at Enoch before I try to step forward, maybe say something, scream, tackle the fucking screen, anything-

"That wasn't the video I-"

He doesn't even flinch.

Enoch stands on the dais as though he's carved out of glacier rock. No twitch, no eye shift, no indication that the walls are cracking behind his eyes. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment.

He's gone cold. My mate has gone cold.

His jaw ticks once. His hands are fisted at his sides, but the rest of him is still. Unreadable. Unreachable. Untouchable.

Then he turns.

I wish he hadn't.

Because when he turns to face me-those forest-green eyes, eyes that used to soften when they found mine, even in the dark, even when he forgot my name- are nothing now. It's just... empty. As if I was a dream he forced himself to wake up from.

He doesn't yell. That would've been easier to take.

No. He speaks. One word.

"Twice."

It slices through me and I immediately try to step forward.

"Enoch, I-" My voice cracks like glass. "I swear, that wasn't-"

"Twice now," he says, stepping forward, "you've fed them pieces of me."

The ballroom stretches and sways, too bright, too sharp. I feel it closing in. All the eyes, all the whispers. None of them matter. Just him. Just his voice-quiet, but heavier than any scream.

"It wasn't intentional-"

"Does it matter?" he says, and this time it's not a question. It's a sentence. A fucking death sentence. "The result is the

same."

I try to move. My legs are moving-I think. But he's already stepping off the dais,

the sound of his steps trailing behind him like a funeral shroud.

He's leaving.

He's leaving as if I'm nothing but smoke he's done breathing in. "Enoch, wait-"

Successfully unlocked!

I shove past a group of nobles, ignoring the way the people sinks as though they are already composing the article in her head: 'Lycan King Brought to His Knees by Omega Whore.'

I follow him. Into the side corridor off the ballroom. I don't even know where I'm going, I just chase the scent of him-warm pine and ash and destruction.

1/5

CHAPTER 117

"Enoch!"

door to a side chamber

Just fucking listen to me-" I try to

before he roughly yanks his arm free. And

not angry. It's

this revenge?" he asks, his voice flat but wild beneath. "Is this what I

opens but nothing comes out at first. Then-"No. No, it's not like that. I didn't

when he laughs. Hollow. The kind of sound that doesn't belong in his

gesturing toward the ballroom. "Again. In front of the very

was going to show them the truth- about how much I love you and-and everything we went through. The Maldives,

you, Taryn. I let you in," he says. "And now everyone sees what you

floor before I

the thin fabric of my dress, but I don't care. My palms press into it as

doing, or who's behind that video, but

stares. For a

eyes are rimmed in red. His lips are pressed into a line so tight it's white. He looks like he's two seconds from shattering or

"Not anymore."

sound that leaves me

rip from my chest,

And leaves.

no pause. No

a ballroom full of

I just

And this time?

not come

***

hitching, shaky, uneven. I press my fingers against

left. He

of it meant shit. The Maldives. The cave. Every whispered word when

Or maybe someone was.

what Brooke told me. It

body's cold, but my chest burns

a match. iSo this is

cut through the west wing-nobody uses it this late. It's quiet, abandoned, with nothing but long windows and statues too ancient to feel real. The silence presses down as a

need a fucking

I don't

a rustle. A shift

My whole body jerks.

"What the-?"

Then it happens.

CHAPTER 117

zing-steel against air-and the flash of silver

the shadows towards

even scream. I fucking move. Instinct, panic, training from

this goddamn kingdom. My arm comes up, but not

slices

"Ah!"

blood spills, warmth blooming beneath my ribs. It's not a nick-it's deep, raw,

back, one hand clutching the gash, the

don't care. They grunt, stagger, and then they're gone,

hit

meet my

my dress, and all I can hear is

own ragged breathing. And the faint, metallic scent of

into my nose.

The

now. They all

because of what that video said, they know I'm the

wound the King.

my hand to my side, clenching my teeth.

word tastes like iron and shame

anything-if he feels it like I do-he'll

He has to.

step worse than the last. The

My palm slips off the wall,

room-spins

face-first, dress sticking to my skin. The sheets are

on it as I stare up

A hollow, cracked sound.

bed held

His arms. His weight when he kissed me as if I was the only fucking thing keeping him

nothing

won't stop, no matter how tightly

blankets. I wait.

For his voice

help me

hours and hours and hours ticked and