Page 25 of Lycan King's Claim
“Is this your doing?” He accuses me before turning me to face him. His icy gaze bores into mine. The accusation feels like a punch to the gut, stinging more than it should. Aren't we mates? He grips my face between his hands. “Answer me, did you send in the challenge to the Council?” he asks. Yet all I can think is, shouldn't he feel some semblance of relief that I'd dare to fight for him despite everything?
“You will call the Council right now. Tell them you changed your mind and that you were mistaken about us being mates. I will not have you risk your life,” he snaps, his venomous words punctuating the silent tension. He thrusts a piece of paper into my hands, the hastily scrawled Council number and Kingdom ID number staring back at me like a cruel joke.
“You really want to go through with this?” The question spills from my lips before I can stop it, the raw desperation painting my voice in stark shades of pain. Xandros merely stares back, his eyes void of any emotion. “I have no choice, and I won’t let her kill you. I’ll find a way to end the marriage eventually,” he replies. “But you’ll have to mark her. What becomes of me then?” I ask him. “I’m not marking her,” he states. I scoff. “You say you have no choice but to marry her. What makes you think you’ll have a choice in marking her?” I ask him and he clenches his teeth. “You don’t question me. I said I’ll fix it and I will, I just need more time,” he snaps before turning on his heels and disappearing back into the dining hall.
His chilling indifference to this entire situation sends shards of ice piercing through my heart. The reality of his words weighs heavily on my shoulders. So, I was to be his dirty little secret, hidden away while he lived his life with another woman? A tear trickles down my cheek, my vision blurring as I fight back a sob. This is a sick joke, a twisted game of fate, and I am the unwilling pawn. Looking down at the paper in my hand, I swallow the bile rising in my throat.
I drag myself to the kitchen. The room is bathed in an eerie silence without the clanging of pots, instead, there is only one chef remaining. And one servant that leaves to serve dessert. With trembling hands, I dial the number scribbled on the paper, propping the phone against my shoulder as I stare blankly out the window. The after-hours Council number rings relentlessly in my ears, a chilling echo of my fragmented soul. The sight of the castle's stable hand meandering out of the barn and into the moonlit night snaps me out of my daze.
“Hello?” The disembodied voice brings me back to reality. I swallow hard; my voice is lost somewhere in the churning, dark emotions within me. What was I supposed to do? Watch as Xandros weds another, bear witness to their happiness, while I was reduced to a mere spectator in his life?
What of the children he gives her? Am I expected to be their nanny, raise them, and pretend to be happy for them? The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, my heart aching with the raw intensity of it all. My mind goes blank, the pain too much to bear. Without a second thought, I hang up.
A numbness takes over me, I stumble out into the cold night, the grim barn standing ominously against the moonlit backdrop. The grandeur of the barn fades into insignificance as I step inside, its vast expanse swallowed by the depression that sweeps over me.
The scent of hay and musty wood fills my nostrils. Grounding me and the decision I've made. I can't keep lying like this. I don't want to suffer anymore, and nothing holds me here. Just more misery if I allow it. Reaching for the rope hanging on the wall, the loft beckons me from above, the hay stacked precariously along the railing. With shaky steps, I climb them, content with my decision, a coil of rope gripped tightly in my hand.
As I reach the top, my mind drifts into a mournful choir of broken hearts and shattered dreams. The worn-out rope slips through my fingers, its rough texture a stark contrast to the smooth surface of the beam it's slung over. My heart beats a somber rhythm in my chest, a mournful echo of my life. I drag a bale of hay beneath the hanging noose; each step toward it is a march to the freedom I long for.
A morbid dance of life and death ensues as I place the noose around my neck. My mind slowly unravels, just like every daydream I had for my life. Another disappointment, another person who couldn't love me. I tried, didn't I? I gave enough to him; I gave it all, and now, my parting gift, I let him take my life.
Because a life of misery, life in the shadows, the dirty little secret, the home-wrecking whore isn't a label I want to carry along with the one my parents already bestowed upon me. Before I can take the plunge, I feel a flicker of the bond, Xandros searching for me, curiously probing and trying to feel for me. I try to block him out when his voice is suddenly in my head. "Anna?" he calls a name I've not heard him use since the night of the bookstore, one I secretly loved. "Why do I feel your panic? What are you doing?" I don't know how I do it, but I find myself answering back.
"I'm on the phone to the Council, I'm calling off the challenge," I tell him, though my voice to me sounds automated, robotic. "Anna, I know something is wrong. My stomach is turning. Whatever you're doing, stop, I feel...." Broken, I think to myself. Broken beyond repair. The sharp tiny shards of my broken heart grate in my chest, tearing apart my soul, and destroying the remaining slivers of a bond I once loved and loathed.
"I'm sorry," Xandros whispers, and I can feel his rising panic. "So am I," I tell him before closing my eyes and taking a step forward.
Just as I gather the strength to take the fatal plunge, the screeching of the barn door fills the silent night. I jerk my head towards the noise, my heart pounding in my chest. Undoing the rope, I jump off the hay bale. Ducking low, I peer over the loft's edge. My breath catches in my throat as voices echo in the barn, their words a harsh intrusion on my solitary torment.
The barn door grates open, the wind whistling through the place, making me shiver. The sound as it closes, screeching shut, is like nails on a chalkboard. King Vin sweeps into the vast space, the horses growing unsettled, his hand tightly wrapped around her arm as he pulls his daughter along with an iron grip. The muscles in my stomach clench at the sight of their harsh silhouettes against the dim barns lights.
"You dare ask Adina to push the wedding back after we are finally here. This is the end game; the deal is almost closed!" he snarls.
“Please, Daddy, he’s my mate. I want to be with my mate,” Carina pleads, her voice barely above a whisper. It's the cry of a desperate woman, straining against the chains of a destiny not chosen by her. The vulnerability in her words pulls at the strings of my heart, adding to the sinking feeling as I watch from the shadows.
“He’s not your mate. Xandros will be your mate. I am not having my daughter marry a commoner, and a commoner will not pull my fucking kingdom out of the debt we have with the Council,” King Vin retorts, his voice brimming with a potent mix of arrogance and contempt. The ruthless statement reverberates around the old barn, seeming to bounce off its walls and rattling the tools, tinging the air with menace.
“I won’t do it, I’m sorry, but I am not marrying Xandros; the wedding is off,” Carina fires back, her words barely holding back her despair. The desperation in her voice is palpable; it bleeds into the air around her and prickles at the skin on my arms. It has me questioning one thing, who is her mate? I feel a pang of sympathy for her. She's just another puppet in this cruel game.
But before she can make her exit, King Vin's hand shoots out, gripping her by her hair. The rough movement sends her staggering backward, and a gasp escapes my lips. A helpless observer, I watch as King Vin backhands her. Carina tumbles to the ground in a heap, her body crashing against the earth.
“If the treaty is broken and Xandros doesn't marry you, you'll regret it. Need I remind you of what happened the last time you disobeyed me when you were caught with that bitch?" He snarls with a cruel glint in his eyes that sends a chill racing down my spine. The threat hangs heavy in the air, sinister and terrifying, and it's clear to me that whatever he holds over her is the only reason she goes along with her father's demands. She's in a vise, trapped between a brutal father and an unwanted fate.
Suddenly, the barn doors groan open once again, allowing four of King Vin's guards to slither in, their faces masked by malicious grins. Panic rises in Carina's eyes, her pleading gaze fixed on her father. She claws at his robe, a desperate attempt to pull him back, to stop what's coming. "Daddy, don't do this." she pleads with him.
But King Vin merely shakes her off, turning to address his guards. "Make it quick. We have preparations to organize for the wedding tomorrow," His command echoes around the barn, and I can feel the hair at the back of my neck stand on end.
He turns back to Carina, the malevolence in his voice making me shudder. "You'll marry him. If not, I'll let the entire guard have you, and make your pathetic mate watch," he spits out before turning on his heel and marching out of the barn. I watch him leave before turning my gaze back to Carina. The four vampire guards stalk her as she scrambles back on her hands and feet. One guard laughs, standing on her heavy dress, while my heart races in my chest.
The horrifying reality of the situation dawns upon me. Carina, just like me, is a pawn, forced to play by rules not designed to be in her favor. As the barn doors shut behind the king, leaving Carina alone with the guards, my heart clenches in my chest. This is not just a game anymore; it's a war, and we're the ones paying the price.
I can feel my heart slamming against my rib cage as Carina, caught in the grips of these brutes, struggles desperately against them. They slam her on her back when she tries to get up, and then she switches off, her gaze going unfocused, and her head rolls to the side. Her terrified eyes meet mine for a moment. My limbs go cold, and I feel sick to my stomach—I have to do something. My mind races as I search for a way to help Carina before it's too late.
The guards start unbuckling their belts, an insidious chorus filling the barn, and my stomach churns. I can taste the fear in the air, a bitter tang on my tongue.
One guard lurches forward, covering Carina's mouth with a thick hand to stifle her screams. His actions are horrifying theatrics, a dance of dominance and submission I can’t bear to watch.
A tremor ripples through me as I watch the violation unfold. Carina's dress rips, the sound a harsh jolt against the quiet hum of the barn. The threads of her dignity and honor start to unravel along with her clothes.
