Page 24 of Prey of the Lycan Queen (Unwanted #2)
Chapter Twenty-Four
“I’ll do whatever you want, take my kingdom, take everything, don’t give up on me,” he pleads. My lips quiver as I peer down at him, but I can’t risk the curse. He has not redeemed himself, and I won’t risk Lyon.
He’s not the only one hurt by my decision. I love him, but sometimes love is not enough. We all have a part, and mine is to choose, even if it kills me doing it. Regan presses his face into my stomach. I can feel his hot tears soaking my top, just as the ones sliding down my face soak my cheeks.
“I, Zirah, Queen of the High Seat of the High Kingdom of Silvercrest Arcana, reining heir of the four founding kingdoms, reject you, King Regan of Darkheart Kingdom,” I say with conviction.
“No...No...No!” Regan bellows, and his claws slip out, slashing my legs as the true monster he was cursed to be shines through, but I am expecting it.
As my hand falls to his neck, my magic flares, stunning him.
His claws sink into my thighs like hooks, but I ignore the pain.
It’s nothing compared to the pain burning through my chest. Peering down at him, Regan’s eyes are dull and filled with agony.
He shakes his head violently as the tears spill over, sliding down his cheeks in streaking rivulets of grief.
“Under the moon’s ethereal glow,
King no more, I strip you so.
My mark, once your saving grace,
Now fades from its sacred place.
My mark, his virtue, erased from his skin,
Leaving only the trace of his echoing sin.
My wrath upon Wrath, a poetic slate,
His kingdom falls; his death I dictate.
By the power of the moon, I hereby decree,
Your death is near, so mote it be.”
Regan’s agonized scream is enough to make my stomach twist as he writhes, scratching at his throat with his claws while my mark burns and fades.
Alone and abandoned, he screams until his voice cracks and his throat is raw.
Finding myself unable to listen to his wails, I turn away.
His agony is fiercer as he drops to the ground, my mark searing from his skin.
Gnash whimpers, and I pray that I didn’t just seal his fate along with his owner. Unable to listen to his agony, I move toward the door to find Zeke waiting. “You didn’t leave?”
“You really rejected him?” he murmurs.
“You didn’t think I would?”
“I had a feeling you would, but I hoped you wouldn’t,” he tells me, opening the back door of his car.
“I can’t leave with you. I have to sort out the mess here,” I tell him.
James clears his throat from behind me. He’s standing in the open door of Regan’s car. “I’ll handle it,” he says. “Malachi has buses on the way.”
“And what of the men hanging in the dungeon?” I ask, looking at Zeke before peering at the dungeon.
“I’ll also handle it, go. You still have one kingdom left, and I have a brother and nephew to bury,” James states.
“You knew?” I ask him.
“I did, and so did Regan. It’s why he brought me with him.”
My brows furrow in confusion. He knew I’d reject him, but he came anyway. “And the prisoners?” I ask Zeke. He glances away as I take him in. He’s hiding something.
“They’re already gone.” He sighs.
“Excuse me?”
“One of the drones reported back to Regan about you being here. Not long after I left, his drones escorted them out. They’re on their way to mine shafts already. Regan tried to clean up. He’d hoped you hadn’t visited there yet.”
I stagger back. “There were children in there,” I gasp.
I’m too filled with emotions and guilt to speak, so instead I just nod.
Zeke steps forward, his dark hair looking black in the moonlight that pierces through the windows.
It falls across his face with a sinister air, making him appear more menacing than ever before.
He is Lyon’s opposite, yet his menace doesn’t quite match Regan’s.
He wears an ebony suit fitted against every muscle on his body.
He has always been attractive, though now he takes my breath away, and even with such dark surroundings, there is something strangely handsome about him.
He holds out both hands toward me without saying anything else.
His intense eyes scan me like I’m prey, but underneath it all lies a glimmer of compassion and a spark of determination that speaks louder than any words could.
“If we are leaving, we need to go now. To get to my kingdom, we must pass the Bloodtaric Kingdom’s borders to approach the highway.” Zeke is calm amid the chaos. Nobility, even in darkness, is a trait few can muster, but he masters it effortlessly.
Taking his hand, I silently consent to whatever needs to come of this night’s events, knowing some things were inevitable regardless of how hard we tried to avoid them. So I let Zeke drag me to the waiting limo.
Regan, however, storms out of the castle and attempts to come after me, but James steps in his way. “Regan, no. What are you doing?” James pleads with him.
“She’s not leaving me!” Regan moves toward the car, overcome with the very sins that plague him. Zeke opens the rear door and motions for my wolves to hop in. They obey immediately, but I can’t tear my gaze from Regan, who is trying to get past his uncle.
Regan looks defeated, but there’s something dark still raging within him. “He won’t hurt my uncle. James can take care of himself, I promise, Zirah.”
I chew my lip for a second, debating on leaving James with his raging nephew. Sighing, I slide across the seat, trusting James can handle him.
“How far is your kingdom?” I ask Zeke in a monotone voice.
“A few hours maybe.”
“And what will I find once there? Is it worse than here?”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” he states. I turn my gaze to the window and gasp as I see Regan storm toward the dungeon with a bottle in his hand. The guards run the moment they spot him. James chases him, and my hand instinctively moves toward the door handle, but Zeke grabs me.
“There was no way he was letting them live,” Zeke whispers just as I see Regan open the door and set fire to the fabric protruding from the bottle. My stomach drops. There are more humane ways to die, but before I can say that, Zeke’s hand goes across my eyes, blocking me from watching.
“How long have they been down there?” I murmur just as I hear their screams.
“Seventeen years,” Zeke whispers. “They were the men responsible for our mother’s death.”