Page 45 of Lycan King’s Claim (Lycan King’s Reign Duet #2)

M y heart races, each beat echoing the urgency of the situation.

The entrance to the underground fortress looms ahead, a testament to King Vin's paranoia and cunning.

The air feels heavier here, the weight of the earth pressing down.

Every instinct screams that Sienna is near, and every moment we delay could be fatal.

“Xandros!” Javier's voice pulls me from my thoughts. He's indicating to a massive metal door ahead, nearly concealed behind a deceptive facade of two false walls. “That's our way in.”

I approached the door, studying its construction. Thick and reinforced with multiple layers, this isn't an ordinary barrier. It's designed to withstand sieges, to keep out whatever King Vin fears most.

A tactical unit, clad in black and heavily armed, joins us. Their movements are swift and deliberate, their presence signaling the grave danger ahead. They immediately set to work, positioning a hydraulic cutter to breach the door.

“We need to hurry,” Carina whispers, her voice thick with tension.

The machine whirs to life, its blades biting into the metal. Sparks fly, illuminating the faces of the team working tirelessly, every second a battle against time. But even after minutes that feel like hours, the door barely shows a dent.

“We don’t have time for this,” Javier mutters, frustration evident in his voice.

Switching tactics, the team sets up explosive charges. We all took cover, waiting for the signal.

“Now!” comes the shout.

A deafening blast rocks the underground chamber, the door blowing inward. Thick smoke billows out, but as it clears, we see the path ahead is open.

It's not unguarded, though. Vin's guards, more than I expected, emerge from the shadows, weapons at the ready, faces set in grim determination. The fight for Sienna is now.

Tense, tactical coordination surrounds us as we prepare to infiltrate Vin's underground fortress. The air vibrates with tension, every guard and officer's motion calculated, every weapon checked and ready.

“Did you seriously assume we are not ready for you?” One of Vin's guards, armored but clearly overconfident, stands defiantly, mockery evident in his tone.

I narrow my eyes, feeling every muscle coil in readiness.

“The same could be said for you,” I respond coldly, before lunging with a precision that surprises even the guard.

Our bodies slam together with a force that reverberates through the chamber.

As we grapple, the room becomes a blaring of gunshots, shouts, and the unmistakable sounds of close-quarters combat.

Elsewhere, the Council members, each one trained as intensively as any SWAT member, unleash their might on Vin's forces. Bullets zip through the air, ricocheting off walls, tactical flash bangs momentarily blinding and disorienting the enemy as we move closer, following Carina's directions.

“Ah, Xandros, your efforts are in vain.”

I shout back, letting my fury dictate my words, “If you've harmed Sienna, Vin, your death will be slow.”

His laughter grates on my nerves. “Where was this fire when you were pushing her away? When you broke her?”

Rage blurs my vision, yet my movements remain precise and sharp.

I sidestep a lunging guard, only to disarm another, all while making my way toward Vin.

When I reach him, our blows are brutal. Every punch is meant to incapacitate.

But it is clear, by the number of warriors he has on his side, he was waiting for this exact moment.

However, as his guard is taken down, the more Vin starts to falter under the onslaught.

As the Council members methodically neutralize threats, their training evident in every precise move, Vin and I are locked in a deadly dance.

Our strikes are lethal, intent clear: end the other.

He manages to nick me with a blade hidden up his sleeve.

The sting, the hot rivulet of blood coursing down my arm, only fuels my rage.

Our blows send shockwaves through the bunker.

His fist connects with my jaw, mine with his ribs.

Blood splatters on the cold floor with each hit.

We are monsters of our making, each unwilling to relent to show weakness.

But the rage boiling in me, the pent-up anger and concern for Sienna, gives me an edge.

With a roar, I drive my fist into Vin's chest before reaching up as he stumbles, driving it upward.

He gasps, choking on his blood, and I rip my hand out, his blood spilling onto the floor, and I hear Anita roar her anguish as his body crumples to the floor.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Carina pause at the sound of her mother's heartbreak, the sound making Carina stop as she went through to the next room.

“Don't look back, Carina,” I manage to hear Javier call to her.

She doesn't and continues to help search rooms while we take down the rest.

As the last guard falls. It's only then that Carina's voice pierces the aftermath. “Sienna!” She shrieks, and my heart jolts in my chest as Carina urges us deeper into the foreboding bunker.

As I reach a heavy door, Carina hesitates, and I nearly run into her, her anguish palpable. When she stumbles in, the sight that greets us robs the breath from my lungs—Sienna, bound, her beautiful form a canvas of death. Bruises and cuts mar her delicate face, and dried blood mats her hair.

Rushing to her, I grip her legs, lifting her, so her cuffed hands are released by the hook in the ceiling. I cradle her limp body, my fingers trembling as I search for a pulse. It's there, faint and inconsistent.

Carina’s voice is a broken whisper, “Is she…?”

“She's alive but fading fast,” I say, panic making my voice shake. “The bond… I can't sense it.” A cold dread settles in my gut, threatening to consume me.

Desperate, I press my lips to her neck, letting my canines and fangs slip out; my teeth sink into her, marking her once more, trying to draw from our mate bond and lend her strength. But it’s like reaching into an abyss.

“We need a medic! NOW!” I shout, voice desperate, tears threatening.

Javier steps in, his usual calm demeanor cracking. “She's in here!” Javier yells out.

Every second feels like an eternity as the room is suddenly flooded with medical personnel, and she is ripped from my arms. I growl, my bond turning savage as they prod and pull on her.

Javier's hands hit my chest as he shoves me back.

“Let them work,” Javier tells me, and I stare on helplessly, clutching my hair.

I try to calm down as they jam needles into her and force tubes down her throat.

* * *

The hospital room feels like a vacuum, cold and sterile, in stark contrast to the vibrant world outside.

I sit by Sienna’s bedside, the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor the only sound accompanying the soft, steady breaths she takes.

Days blend into nights. She remains silent, unresponsive.

The weight of this silence is immense, and the plush chair I've taken to sleeping in offers little comfort.

She looks so fragile in the dim room light.

Her usually rosy cheeks were now pale, her vibrant eyes hidden behind closed lids.

My fingers trace her hand, her skin surprisingly warm, contrasting with the cold touch of the various tubes running through her.

I've lost track of the number of tests they've run on her.

MRIs, CT scans, endless blood tests — they blur together in a never-ending cycle of hope and disappointment.

Awaking from a restless sleep, I stretch my limbs and begin my usual pacing. It's then the door opens, revealing a male nurse carrying a tray with clean linens and other medical supplies. My eyes narrow as he moves closer to Sienna, starting to unbutton her hospital gown.

“Stop!” I command, my voice sharp. “Who are you?”

“Just here to help, sir.” The nurse replies, but halts in his movements.

“I don't want you touching her,” the words come out cold and sharp.

The nurse raises an eyebrow, but before he can protest, another nurse, this one female, intervenes, “It's alright, Daniel. I'll handle it.”

But as she approaches Sienna, I block her path. “I'll do it,” I say, my tone leaving no room for argument.

She hesitates, looking from me to Sienna and back. “It’s standard procedure, sir.”

“Then show me,” I demand. “Teach me. I don't want anyone touching her like that, I'll do it.”

For a moment, there's a silent standoff. But then, she relents, guiding me through the steps of cleaning Sienna while ensuring her dignity. As we work, she explains the functions of each tube and how to ensure they remain clean and functional.

As the hours pass, I become Sienna's most devoted caretaker. The nurses respect my wishes, keeping their distance and only intervening when absolutely necessary.

Another creak of the door pulls me from my thoughts. It's the doctor. Clipboard in hand, he looks at Sienna, then at me. “Any change?”

“None,” I reply, my voice filled with despair. “Did the recent tests reveal anything?” I ask hopeful.

The doctor scans his notes. “Her body seems to be rejecting your mark. I don't have an explanation.”

“Then find one,” I snap, feeling frustration boil within.

“We're doing everything we can,” he says calmly.

“Miraculously, your child remains unharmed,” he glances at the clipboard, eyes serious, “But Sienna's body… it's almost like you marking her again is poisoning her.”

My heart feels as though it's being squeezed. “Why? When will she come back to me?”

His eyes hold genuine concern. “I can't say. It's some sort of coma. Brain scans are still pending. And her mate bond with you… it's critically damaged. It's why you have no connection to her,”

The room seems to spin. “Isn't there something you can do?”

“Consulting the witch might help. She could have answers we lack,” he suggests, sounding apologetic. “I'm truly sorry, Xandros.”

As the door shuts behind him, I slump into the chair, guilt anchoring me down. I smooth Sienna's hair back, staring at my mark on her neck, which is like a huge bruise, her skin black as the veins snake out and up her neck.

And as the nights drag on, the weight of this situation bears down on me. The cold room, the relentless tests, the stark reality of Sienna's condition — it all becomes a blur.

Staring at her peaceful face reminds me of the turbulence that brought us here. Memories flood back.

I'm lost in memories of our first meeting, her defiance and spirit, when footsteps bring me back. My mother steps into the room, making me sit up from my slumped position, wearing an expression of pure exhaustion. “Xandros, you must rest.”

I shake my head fiercely. “I can't leave. What if she awakens, and I'm not here?”

“You have to care for yourself too,” she insists, her touch comforting.

“Where's the witch?” I snap, ignoring her comment.

“Javier and your father are bringing her,” my mother answers, her eyes clouded with worry. “But she might not have our solution.”

“We'll keep searching,” I affirm, touching Sienna's face gently. “She'll come back.”

My mother's voice wavers, “I ache for both of you.

But you have responsibilities. The kingdom requires your strength.

I know you would rather not hear this, but I've been speaking with the doctor, and he's been looking into the history of broken bonds; if yours is broken, you need to prepare yourself.

None have ever come back. They've just remained in this sort of state,” she tells me, but I glare at her.

“Without her, life is meaningless,” my voice is a mere whisper, holding back a tide of emotions. “I'd dismantle the world to get her back.”

My mother's gaze hardens with determination. “Then do so. But rest first. I'll stay with her.”

“Please, Xandros. You haven't slept in days, she is safe with me, I will not let anyone touch her without your consent.

The entire hospital is aware that only you and Dr. Rami care for her.

I promise I will look after her, she tells me.

“Fine, but only a couple of hours, then I'll be back,” With one last, painful look at my mate, I exit, the weight of my worries and hopes dragging behind.