Page 7 of Mated To The King’s Gamma (Lycan Luna: Abbie & Gannon #3)

W e have found a few things in the documents from the Alpha Dean’s pack, such as Mr. Crux’s name linking to multiple brothels in the state.

It looks like he was helping traffic rogues because sizable sums of money had been sent to Alpha Dean’s accounts when they suddenly stopped abruptly a few years ago and enormous debts started accumulating. Debts from Crux’s casino.

As we sift through the boxes, we find other strange things that don’t add up, which has me going down to the underground storage. Gannon and Dustin are pulling everything we have on Crux from the archives, and we set them on the huge wooden table in the storage room.

“While we’re down here, gather all the staff records for me,” I instruct them, their footsteps echoing as they return to the towering stacks of boxes before depositing them at my feet.

I delve into the piles of documents, searching for any trace of council records or vital information. “You two can begin with the staff files,” I direct, my gaze focused on the task at hand. “Go as far back as fourteen years ago when the Landeenas were taken from us.”

“So before Azalea’s fourth birthday?” Dustin asks, and I nod.

“Yes. There must be a reason why someone is targeting her, and it’s highly likely that the culprit resides within the castle grounds.

Scrutinize every guard, whether under oath or not.

Examine the records of all the cleaners, gardeners—every individual who has been on our payroll,” I state, their hands eagerly sifting through the extensive collection of files.

After just a few hours of sorting, Gannon pulls out Trey’s file once more, accompanied by another containing his medical records—proof that corroborated every detail he had shared with us.

It becomes increasingly apparent that we need to establish an efficient electronic filing system; the sheer volume of paperwork is becoming absurd.

A couple of hours later, I feel Azalea stir from sleep. She informs me of her intention to play with the children and I urge her to take Trey along. As I finish talking with her, my attention is abruptly seized by Gannon’s interruption.

“Did you know that Ester had spent time in the Landeena Kingdom?” he questions. I glance up, momentarily breaking the connection with Azalea.

“What?” I reply, my curiosity piqued as Gannon extends a file toward me.

“For an entire year. Her parents reported her as a runaway, and she was eventually located in the Landeena Kingdom. Garret granted her permission to stay,” Gannon reveals, his eyes fixed on mine.

“What year was this?” I inquire, my mind racing to make sense of this new revelation.

“The year preceding Azalea’s abduction. According to the records, she left a month prior to the attack, following a falling out with Queen Tatiana,” Gannon discloses, prompting me to read the contents of the file. I find it peculiar that Ester would venture there only to return a year later.

Despite our thorough investigation, no additional information surfaces, leaving me confused.

It occurs to me that Ester’s parents had once served my father, but I hadn’t seen them in years.

However, her grandfather contacted me seeking employment for Ester, and since they were former employees, I gave her a job.

While I was aware of her strained relationship with her parents—whom she had been primarily raised by—my involvement in their affairs remained minimal.

I try to pick my brain about why she has an odd relationship with her parents, trying to remember what their falling out was for, but I don’t really involve myself with her.

I feel the mindlink open moments later, Azalea calling me only to end the call abruptly. Almost immediately, Trey opens it up.

‘My King, have you looked into Peter?’ Trey inquires urgently, prompting me to establish a connection with him as well in an attempt to regain contact with Azalea.

‘No. Why? And Azalea, bloody answer me!’ I growl impatiently, my attention divided between Trey’s words and Ester’s files.

As I comb through the documents, Trey’s mention of Peter sparks a memory—I vaguely recall Ester having a brother.

In fact, her parents had adopted him! The realization strikes me with the force of a lightning bolt.

I knew she had an estranged relationship with her parents since they had adopted Peter! Peter! My eyes widen in realization.

“It’s Peter!” I growl when Azalea screams through the link, and I race to get to her. My heart is hammering in my chest.

Dustin and Gannon are chasing after me, and I skid across the floors as I smash out of the cellar, my shoulder smashing against the doors, and into the kitchen’s pantry before I race out of the kitchen. I lose my footing as I twist to head for the stairs at the same time. I hear someone scream.

My heart feels like it stops when I see a figure fall off the staircase, and I register the figure is Azalea a second later.

Her arms flail about just as the entire banister railing comes down after her.

My feet try to get friction on the floor just as Gannon and Dustin burst out of the kitchen doors.

I sprint toward Azalea, but Liam is quicker, leaping after her. My heart constricts as her body collides with the stairs with a resounding thud, just out of my reach.

Time stands still as I watch in shock. Trey forcefully thrust Peter against the wall, his form crumpling unconscious on the steps.

Paralyzed by disbelief, I can only stare at Liam, who screams for assistance, his hands pressing down on the knife embedded in Azalea’s side.

Blood gushes from her mouth and dribbles down her chin, jolting me back into action when I see Gannon and Dustin trying to move but are both unable.

I rush to Liam’s side as Azalea’s eyes roll back, her body growing limp. I clutch her face desperately.

“Azalea!” I choke out, my voice laden with anguish. “Stay with me.” But she succumbs to unconsciousness, her body slackening in my grip.

“Get a doctor!” I bellow, my command echoing through the air as Gannon and Dustin rush off.

“Stay with me, love,” I beg, my voice trembling as I cradle her fragile form. Panic courses through me as I feel warmth seeping onto my knees. My gaze darts downward, witnessing the crimson stain spreading across her dress, pooling between her legs and trickling down the steps.

“No. No, no, no! NO!” I cry out frantically, my mind racing to comprehend the severity of the situation.

With every fiber of my being, I know time is of the essence.

Without hesitation, I slide my arms beneath her lifeless body, scooping her into my arms before sprinting toward the doors.

Liam races ahead, forcefully shoving them open while urgently summoning the guards to unlock the gates.

Blood coats my arms—her blood—flowing from her head and also trickling between her legs.

My clothes become saturated with her life blood as I bolt down the bitumen road, shifting while in motion.

The sound of her weakening heartbeat, of our baby’s, reverberates in my ears while I pray for its next beat.

But she is still too early for any hope of a viable life to emerge.

My legs falter as the heartbeat ceases. Her pulse weakens, and I glance at her in my arms, I wait for that flutter, needing to hear it and tears blur my vision as I force myself to run harder when I don’t.

The doctor’s surgery comes into view ahead of me, its brick facade a flicker of desperate hope.

People stare in shock as the doctor bursts through his surgery doors, his medical gear clutched tightly in his hands.

His eyes widen as he spots us, and he wastes no time rushing back inside, barking orders at his nurses to prepare a gurney.

Navigating through the corridors of the aging brick building, we reach a room where the nurses anxiously await our arrival.

Carefully, I lay Azalea down on the gurney, her body appearing fragile and vulnerable.

The doctor swiftly places his bag beside her, his sense of urgency palpable as he whisks her away.

I move to follow, but Liam’s firm grip on my shoulder halts me in my tracks.

“You’ll just get in the way,” Liam says, but I can heal her. I am about to say that when Liam speaks, seeming to know what I am going to say.

“Some things can’t be healed, My King. Let Doc work,” Liam says, and moments later, Damian bursts through the surgery doors. He looks at me, his eyes then moving to Liam’s hand holding my shoulder.

“Come on, let’s wait outside. There is nothing you can do right now,” Damian says, and I shake my head.

“Come on. Come have a smoke,” Liam says, pushing me toward the doors, and am forced to take my eyes away from where Doc took her through the double doors to the day surgery area.

Liam pushes me out the doors, nudging me and I reluctantly step outside.

He shoves his smoke packet in my hand, but I don’t light one when he pulls two from the packet and lights them, keeping one for himself and passing me the other.

“Azalea will be okay,” Liam says, blowing smoke into the air. “She is tougher than she looks,” he says.

“The baby?” I ask. Neither of them says anything. Even though I know if she is alright, the baby isn’t going to be. Which makes me wonder if Azalea will be alright, after all.

The doctor confirms that when he steps out the doors twenty minutes later. He tugs his gloves off.

“Azalea?” I ask.

“Alive. She is still unconscious. I stitched her up. The bleeding stopped, but you could probably help that healing process,” Doc says, and I nod.

“Our baby?” I ask, grasping on to any form of hope.

“I’m sorry, My King. The fetus didn’t make it,” he tells me. Fetus. I hated the way he said it, but she was just in her second trimester. My legs buckle under me, and I hit the ground hard at his words. My heart sinks, and my stomach drops at the information.