Page 8 of His Lycan Luna Queen

“Afterward, you let them go,” I tell him, my voice filled with a mix of compassion and determination. “No more punishment, no more suffering. It ends there.”

Kyson growls and clenches his jaw, clearly struggling with this compromise.

“Only if you stand by your word and don’t interfere or try to stop it,” he finally concedes, his voice filled with a mixture of resignation and frustration.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself. “Just don’t kill them,” I remind him firmly before storming past him and out the door.

“Where are you going?” he calls after me, his voice laced with concern.

“To find Abbie!” I snap back, not bothering to turn around. I know he’s following me, but right now, I need to focus on findingher. Liam falls into step beside me, remaining silent as we search for her.

“Azalea!” Kyson’s voice calls out again, interrupting the tense silence.

“What?” I reply sharply, my patience wearing thin.

“You said you would stand by my decision. That means you come with me,” he says firmly, grabbing hold of my arm.

“You want me to watch as you whip someone?... No!” I protest, the thought of witnessing such brutality sending shivers down my spine.

“You said you would stand by it,” Kyson insists, his grip tightening.

I press my lips into a thin line, glaring at him. Is he punishing me for challenging him? The thought lingers in my mind, but I refuse to let it distract me.

“Fine then,” I relent, motioning for him to lead the way. “Lead the way, My King,” I say with a hint of sarcasm, my tone dripping with defiance.

He growls in response but grips my hand, tugging me along after him.

Chapter

Five

AZALEA

We step into a courtyard bathed in an eerie silence, its atmosphere heavy. My heart nearly stopped in my chest as my eyes landed on Ester, her slender figure bound and helpless, hands chained above her head to the cold stone wall. Her torn clothes revealed the aftermath of merciless lashes that had once marred her delicate flesh, but now only faint scars remained as she healed quickly, leaving her panting for breath.

Kyson growls, and anger courses through the bond. Peter, his face etched with guilt and regret, stands before us, his trembling hands releasing the whip he had wielded moments ago. He looks at Kyson with pleading eyes, silently begging for mercy. Clarice, standing off to the side, nervously nibbles on her fingernails, tears streaming down her face, leaving trails of despair in their wake.

But it is Trey’s expressionless face that shocked me the most. A sneer twists his lips as he looks at Peter, and his own sister, showing no trace of care or compassion. The callousness in his gaze is truly shocking.

“Again! You have twenty more lashes to deliver, Peter,” Trey snarls, his voice dripping with sadistic anger. He stalks towards Peter and snatches the whip from the ground, thrusting it at him. Peter flinches away, fear etched deep into his eyes. Bile rises in my throat as I tighten my grip on Kyson’s hand. He turns his head to meet my gaze.

“It’s only twenty lashes,” I whisper to him, hoping he would let her go and Ester glances over her shoulder at me. Her face is flushed red, and she panting before looking at Kyson.

“Hurry up, Peter. Finish it,” Kyson snaps, his tone laced with impatience and a cruel edge.

“Prick,” I hiss under my breath, my frustration and disgust seeping through. Kyson growls in response, leaning down to whisper in my ear.

“Watch your tone,” he warns, his voice a low rumble.

“Watch yours,” I retort, ripping my arm from his grip. I make my way over to Clarice, who explains that Ester is surprisingly enduring the punishment rather well. Kyson overhears our conversation, his displeasure evident in the sharpness of his growl.

He walks over to Liam, engaging in a conversation before Liam walks away, his expression etched with concern. I am taken aback by how quickly Ester’s wounds seemed to heal. As soon as the whip is removed, her skin closes, leaving behind angry red marks. Witnessing someone else being whipped sent shivers down my spine and made my skin crawl. The sound of the whip cracking through the air, tearing flesh apart, brought back painful memories that I desperately tried to suppress. All I want is to run away from this nightmare.

I can’t stand the sound of the crack through the air, the sound of ripping flesh. Flashbacks creep into my mind as I try and block them out.

Yet, as Peter finishes delivering the lashes, Ester’s back remains red and inflamed, but no longer bleeding. This seems to bother Kyson. He craves bloodshed and violence; the stains on the stone ground are not enough to satiate his hunger for revenge. Lost in my thoughts, I stared at the rose bushes, blocking out the horrifying scene unfolding before me until Ester’s piercing shriek pierced through the air. My attention snaps back to reality as Liam enters with a bucket, its pungent scent of Wolfsbane assaulting my senses. Clarice whimpers beside me, her fear palpable. I straighten up, my body tensing.

“Kyson!” I hiss urgently. He growls in response, his face contorted with anger. This is excessive, even for him. Horror washes over me as I watched him dip the whip into the bucket, my heart lodged in my throat. Tears well up in my eyes as he pulls it out, the cracking sound filling the air, splattering droplets everywhere. Ester’s agonized scream reverberates through my core.

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