Page 21 of Prey of the Lycan Queen (Unwanted #2)

Chapter Twenty-One

The gates of Regan’s kingdom open before us like the jaws of a mechanical beast, revealing a cityscape that looks more like a meticulously designed movie set than an actual city.

As we drive through, a futuristic fortress emerges ahead. The buildings, all towering, angular structures of steel and glass, glint in the afternoon sun, their austere silhouettes painting a grim backdrop against the cloudless sky.

Not a soul is visible on the pristine streets, not a whisper of life resonates in the air as we drive through the first half of the city. It’s an eerie stillness, the kind that makes your skin crawl and mind churn.

People, seemingly sucked out of their mundane routines, scurry into the safety of their homes and shops as the limo glides along. Their faces betray their fear, like deer caught in the headlights, each movement painstaking and cautious.

I notice litter is absent, no graffiti, no decoration of any sort.

Instead of lively merchets, the streets have vigilant armed guards stationed at nearly every corner, their stern gazes scanning the city.

Even the children here are quiet, their innocent laughter swallowed by the city’s overwhelming tension.

As I absorb the unsettling surroundings, a soft humming draws my attention to the sky.

Drones, a dozen of them, zipping around in coordinated formations.

The first thing that hits me about the city isn’t the eerie silence or the palpable fear that hangs over the place like a storm cloud, it’s the eyes.

The haunted, lifeless eyes of the city’s residents are unsettling.

“This place...It’s a damn prison,” I mutter, scanning the fearful faces peering out from the modern buildings.

“Yeah, a futuristic one at that,” Zeke answers from beside me. I sense a note of guilt in his voice.

“Why all the security?” I question, gesturing at the drones hovering ominously above us. “What are those things for?” I ask Zeke, my eyes tracking the drones. I’ve seen them before when hunting with grandma, I remember she manipulated the air to divert it away from the caves where we lived.

“Cameras to monitor the city,” he says, his voice tinged with unease, his usual vibrancy replaced by an unnerving quietness as I take in the kingdom. I blink, taken aback by the dystopian extent of security. “They...They keep the peace,” Zeke adds.

“Peace?” I scoff, letting out a bitter laugh. “This isn’t peace, Zeke, it’s terror.”

Approaching the city center, I lower the window, a part of me hoping that the soft rustle of the breeze or the distant chatter of the city will replace the oppressive silence. Instead, the quiet intensifies, as if the city itself holds its breath. It’s too quiet, too sterile, too controlled.

As we drive deeper, I notice people running away from the city center. Zeke sits up, and in the distance, I can hear shouting, crying, and begging. I glance at Zeke, who moves closer to peer out the window.

A sudden commotion breaks out, drawing my attention to a frightened woman pleading with a market stallholder. A child, presumably her son, clings to her skirt, tears streaming down his face.

The stallholder, a red-faced and fuming man, motions wildly toward the woman and young boy. The woman pleads with the stallholder, her words drowned by her son’s terrified wails. Her flustered attempts to calm the situation are met with armed guards storming toward her.

“Guard, she is refusing to pay for what her son broke!” the man yells, waving the armed guards forward. Catching sight of a shattered pot at her feet, I gasp. All this racket for a broken pot?

Without a word, Zeke opens the door and leaps out, his aura of authority evident even from this distance.

The entire place falls silent as he steps out of the car, straightening his suit before he leans back in and snatches his wallet from the seat.

“Stay in the car,” he tells me, shutting the door.

Zeke springs into action, snapping at the stall owner and arguing with the guards. He’s commanding, authoritative, but the fear in the air makes me uncomfortable.

“Selfish bastard!” he barks at the stallholder, tossing a wad of cash at him. The guards loosen their hold on the woman, but they don’t release her.

I step out of the car, and the city’s gaze fixates on me.

Drones zoom in, their lenses trained on me, their humming intensifying like a swarm of angry bees.

This is a city under surveillance, people living in the shadows of fear, every move monitored, every action accounted for.

It doesn’t sit right with me. My own magic flares in response, a primal instinct to protect and defend.

My hands tremble, and my skin tingles with stored energy.

“No more,” I demand. All eyes are on me, and the city’s quiet fear turns into shocked whispers.

“Zirah, get back in the car,” Zeke protests, glancing nervously toward the sky.

But I’m past caring about what others want from me.

As I draw closer, I take in the guards—sturdy men clad in ominous black, with hard lines etching their faces and cold gazes that seem to pierce through the soul.

They argue with Zeke, one of them pulling out a phone, presumably to consult their king. Over a broken pot?

My instincts kick in as I witness the woman clinging to Zeke, pleading for mercy.

I can’t stand here and watch this injustice unfold.

My fingers twitch, the magical energy within me flaring up.

“Causo Frango!” I mutter under my breath, directing my energy toward the guard’s phone.

It flies out of his hand, hits the ground, and melts into a molten mess.

The guard hisses and stares at his hand, while onlookers gasp in confusion.

The drones swarm around me, their electronic eyes flashing menacingly.

“Zirah, don’t fucking move!” Zeke’s voice reaches my ears just as a pronged wire flies toward me from a drone.

An electric shock jolts through me, making me crumble to my knees.

Every nerve in my body screams in protest. The sensation of a thousand needles pricking my skin overpowers me, and I’m left gasping for breath.

The electric current dies out as the drones continue to circle me, beeping and flashing in warning.

With a grunt, I rip the prong out of my shoulder. Anger replaces the pain, and electricity crackles between my fingers. My glare fixes on the machine that attacked me. As the drones spin to focus on Zeke, I channel my anger. “Zirah, don’t...!” Zeke yells.

The warning comes too late. I throw my hand into the air, sending a pulse of magic at the nearest drone.

Sparks fly as it crashes to the ground, smoke billowing from its wreckage.

I continue to target each drone, one after the other, until all seven lay damaged on the ground, but the moment I take those out, more replace them.

A feral growl tears through my throat, and I watch, mesmerized, as warning lights blink in unison.

The first beep breaks the spell, a jolt of power surging from within me, the force coiling around my fingers like an electric snake.

All at once, they launch, the barbed wires sailing rapidly toward me like a flock of metal birds.

The angry bellow that escapes me fades to a low whimper when Zeke steps forward and slams me against the shop’s glass, trapping me between his body and the window.

Zeke’s scent, sickeningly sweet with fury, fills my nostrils just before he groans.

His muscled frame takes on a life of its own as roaring electricity courses through him, causing his veins to bulge and his face to contort in agony.

I am unable to move as he absorbs every shock, standing like a shield between me and danger.

His teeth grit in pain, and even as his knees give out beneath him, he pushes back against the onslaught for my sake.

As I try to catch him, his weight is too much for me to bear, but his eyes lock with mine.

His pain is obvious, but his anger is palpable.

“Get in the car,” he breathes. My eyes move to the drones as they rip their wires free of Zeke’s skin and suck them back up.

They sliver back to their metal bodies like tentacles.

Sweat coats Zeke’s forehead as he struggles to catch his breath.

Slowly, I rise to my feet, but Zeke grabs my wrist. “Please, get in the car. I don’t want you to get hurt,” he whispers, also getting to his feet.

Little puncture holes are visible in his suit, and around the holes, fresh blood soaks through the fabric, leaving little red blossoms.

“You’re bleeding,” I say, reaching for him.

“I’m fine. Leave it,” he tells me, and I grit my teeth and nod. In the distance, the woman cries out, and my eyes move to the guards. Her son wails as the drones turn on them, lighting up the little boy’s back with green laser lights. Zeke gasps.

“No, wait!” Zeke tosses his hands out, but they take aim, their wires flying toward the woman and boy. My heart skips a beat at the thought of the volts traveling through that little boy’s tiny body.

The wind suddenly shifts with my rising temper, knocking the drone’s sensors off target. Their lights flash, and the humming grows louder as they battle the winds of my destruction.

“Zirah...more will come, stop,” Zeke warns, but I am furious that this is how Regan polices his people. The electric tentacles are forced to retreat but don’t give up, instead turning against the wind to face me.

I track them as they struggle against the winds I’ve created, taking in all the drones around me.

Everywhere I look, I see a new set of eyes fixated on me.

It’s like they’re trying to study and learn from my every move, but this time, it will be different.

Channeling an electrifying mixture of anger and power, sparks fly in vibrant colors, and threads of wind dance between them.

Anger floods me, and sparks fly from my fingertips, carried on the wind, taking down Regan’s robotic police with a massive jolt.

A silent pulse of energy radiates outward, and small black clouds of smoke rise above the downed drones, frying them until they finally stop moving. The energy ebbs away, and I look over the remains of Regan’s robotic police force—a pile of metal bones, wires, and lenses.

I help Zeke to his feet, hearing Gnash, Hunter, and Shadow whine as they try to squeeze out the open car window. A second later, it explodes as Gnash slams his body against it. A shower of glass rains down over the concrete as he leaps from the window and rushes to my side.

Yet my attention is elsewhere. Now it’s time for the guards.

They instantly back away from the woman when I set my sights on them.

“You won’t be touching her,” I warn them.

The stallholder sputters, but one growl from Gnash has him ducking to hide behind his stall.

“Now, someone better tell me what the fuck is going on here!” I scream, my heart pounding with adrenaline.

The guards back away with their hands up as the ground rumbles beneath their feet. My anger is enough to crack the earth wide open, but the guards seem torn between obeying their iron-fisted king or the woman who’ll destroy him when I get my hands on him.

“Thank you,” the woman gushes as she moves to her son, scoops him up in her arms, and rushes off. The guards attempt to close in around her, choosing to risk their lives rather than disobey their king. Interesting.

However, Hunter, Gnash, and Shadow thwart their attempts to chase her, stepping in and snarling. The crowd gasps, and a flurry of whispers erupts.

“That’s the king’s wolf,” someone murmurs.

“Why does she have him?” another person chimes in. Their terrified faces only fuel my anger. Regan has a lot of explaining to do.

When quiet falls, I glance around at the shocked and terrified faces around me. “Show me where you were going to take her,” I demand as Zeke approaches me from behind, his hand falling on my hip. He hesitates, exchanging glances with the guards. They’re afraid of me, but I don’t care right now.

“Do as she says,” Zeke tells them.

They lead me to a fenced compound, suffused with silence, Zeke brooding, me seething. The iron gates open with a hauntingly loud creak, piercing the stillness. I freeze as my eyes take in what lies beyond.

In the compound stands a multitude of souls, their faces blank with fear as they gaze upon us with hollow eyes that reflect their desperation. Men, women, and even children are confined to an area like cattle, all cowering in fear.