Page 32 of Mated To The King's Gamma
Azalea and Kyson’s quarters.
I curse under my breath. Abbie never would have left Tyson unless she was truly broken. The realization makes something sharp lodge itself deep in my chest, a pain I don’t know how to fight.
I barely make it to the entrance before I see Azalea.
She freezes when she sees me, and the shock that hits her through the bond with Kyson is almost tangible.
Her eyes flick to Tyson, who is still whimpering in my arms, then to my blood-soaked shirt. I watch as her breathing hitches, as fury and fear flicker across her face quickly.
Her voice is sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. “What did you do?”
My throat tightens. “I didn’t mean to, but she tried to leave…”
I couldn’t even finish the sentence.
Tyson let out another wail, his little arms tightening around my neck like I’m the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. The sound shatters me.
Azalea rushes forward, rips him from my arms, and I growl before I can stop myself.
She snaps her head up, eyes blazing as she holds Tyson closer, his tiny fingers gripping her gown. “Stand down!”
I freeze, my instincts battling the part of me that wants nothing more than to grab Tyson back and fix everything.
But I can’t.
Because I have caused this.
Damian appears a second later, rushing down the hall with Clarice and Liam in tow. I barely register them, barely hear anything except the pounding of my own heart and Tyson’s choked sobs.
Clarice’s sharp gasp cuts through the thick tension. “Dear Goddess...”
Azalea doesn’t even hesitate. “Where is she?”
I can’t answer.
I can’t fucking speak.
I just stare at the bedroom door.
Azalea follows my gaze, and the moment her eyes land on it, her entire body goes rigid.
She gasps, realization washing over her like a tidal wave. “What did you do?” she whispers, her voice shaking with rage.
I can’t answer.
I’m choking on my own guilt, my own helplessness.
“I didn’t mean it,” I rasped. “I would never hurt her. She tried to leave me.”
Azalea’s breathing is ragged as she takes slow, measured steps toward the door. She adjusts Tyson in her arms, then passes him to Kyson without breaking her stride.
The moment her hands left him, I feel the shift in the air.
The queen isn’t just angry.
She is furious.
She reaches for the door handle, only to freeze when her fingers come away slick with blood.
