Page 43 of Prey of the Lycan Queen (Unwanted #2)
Chapter Forty-Two
I awaken to the familiar smell of earth. At first, the chill sweeping over my skin reminds me of my cave home, but it doesn’t take long for reality to sink in.
The metal walls surrounding me glisten in the dim light, and the sound of distant footsteps sets me on edge. I’m alone in a cage, deep in the mountain’s belly.
Crawling to the bars, pain vibrates through my chest and limbs. I can precisely see and feel where Lyon was shot.
However, the fact I am alive means he is too, somewhere in this place. I look out, seeing nothing but flickering darkness from the overhead lights and tunnels.
Voices bounce off the tunnel walls, but I can’t pinpoint where they are coming from.
Leaning against the bars, I groan, assessing the deep bruising on my chest from when Lyon’s lung collapsed.
Just above my hip, my shoulder, ribs, and collarbone are all marred with bruising, and the more I look at them, the more it stirs my anxiety about Lyon’s condition.
Separated from my coven and mates, I am a lioness without her pride, but I’m not without hope.
Through the suffocating fear, I can feel it, growing stronger within me, pulsing in my veins and pressing beneath my skin.
The instinctive, primal part of me rouses in anticipation, a beacon of power in the darkness.
We just need to stall until then, but that is easier said than done considering I have no idea where anyone is.
A faint thud vibrates from one of the tunnels, and I tense, ears straining to identify it.
I take a deep breath, pushing away from the wall and bars to stand on my feet. Every single step sends pain through me that I try to pretend doesn’t exist as I shuffle toward the cell door.
Through the darkness, a shadow emerges from one of the tunnels. Being closer now, I can make out its silhouette. Tall body. Broad shoulders. Long legs. The thump of boots on the rocky floor sounds with each movement the figure makes as it grows closer.
“I truly wished you weren’t the oracle. I would rather not do this, but they will pay for taking her from me.” I’ve heard this man’s voice before, and I try to remember why it sounds familiar.
That’s when I realize who is staring back from beneath a hoodie.
“Elias?” I ask, and he steps out of the shadows.
“You should have listened to Shelley. You should have run when you had the chance.”
I grip the bars and snarl at him. “Shelley was a traitor!”
Elias nods. “You’re right, she was, but she was ensuring the curse would never break. But then you went ahead and marked Regan,” he spits.
“Is that why you’re doing this? Because you have some feud against the kings?”
“Feud?” He laughs sinisterly. “No, I want revenge! They took her from me! Just like they took them from all of us!” he shouts.
I stare at him, trying to figure out who he is talking about.
Is he another of Shelley’s lovers? “I had a mate once...” he trails off, walking closer.
“Her name was Myra, and she was pregnant. We were going to have a little girl,” he states.
“But what?—”
“Five pounds, six ounces when she was born. So perfect, so precious. Myra was so excited. We didn’t give much thought to Litha’s threats until the day Electra delivered our daughter.
I was on guard duty watching over Electra.
My mate had come to see me while on duty. Your mother warned me. Litha...”
I swallow, stepping back from the bars. “How did Electra deliver your daughter? She was locked away.”
“Exactly, I was responsible for watching her and Litha. I snuck Regan in to see her. I turned a blind eye because I liked your mother. She tried to help us by giving Myra a potion to ensure she wouldn’t be affected by the curse.
Myra was one of Electra’s handmaidens. She was bringing me lunch when King Theron sent the guards to retrieve Litha.
They were under order and she got in the way, they knocked her down the stairs.
Unable to do anything but what they were commanded.
They charged down the dungeon stairs, and trampled her.
She went into labor right there at the guards’ feet, but under the king’s orders, they didn’t even acknowledge her.
Litha begged them to let her help my wife, but they dragged her out, leaving me with Queen Electra to help deliver my daughter.
Litha was taken away kicking and screaming.
She said she would fix it, that she would make them pay, and boy did she!
The entire lycan race paid for their sins,” he chuckles darkly.
I gasp, feeling bile rise in my throat.
“This isn’t personal, not in the way you think. I liked your mother. We even helped Electra cover up you being alive,” he tells me. “My daughter would have been the same age as you.”
Would have been . As in his daughter didn’t survive.
That’s when it hits me.
The baby Electra held when she stormed into the ballroom and accused Regan of being a killer...The baby Zeke thought was me.
“We were going to call her Melody,” he whispers.
“That is why you tried to stop Zeke. That’s why you intervened.”
He nods. “I wanted you to run. I didn’t want the curse broken, but then you marked Regan.” He shakes his head. “Why?”
“To free the lycans of the curse, to free the witches, to break it!” I cry.
“They don’t deserve it to be broken!” he screams. I flinch at his anger.
“What happened to your daughter is a tragedy, but?—”
“My daughter I could forgive as an accident, but my wife? King Theron’s selfishness led to every woman alive mated or not being hunted down, raped, and pillaged.
His selfishness destroyed our race, made them beasts of man,” he murmurs, staring off vacantly.
“I tried to hide Myra in the castle, but she was not safe, King Theron only cared for Electra. So I made sure he felt the same pain I did when I lost my mate. When he ordered everyone out of the castle except for the essential guard, he left my mate defenseless when the men turned crazed!” he snarls. My brows furrow in confusion.
“I was on duty when I felt her fear. The kingdom was in lockdown, and she died. I could do nothing to get to her, nothing !” he screams. “So when Electra snuck out that night with Regan to hunt for the missing oracle, I returned the favor.”
My blood runs cold.
“You sold out Electra?” I gasp, and he laughs.
“They were supposed to kill that bastard with her, but instead, they made him watch. I guess that turned out to be a better option because I have watched his mind deteriorate ever since.” He laughs as he places a key in the lock.
“You sick son of a?—”
“And now I get to watch them die for their crimes.” He opens the cell door, and I take a step back. “As I said, I have nothing against you. I am sorry about this, but you’re a means to an end, one I have spent the past twenty years waiting for.”
The next second, he clamps something over my face. I struggle, trying to fight him off. When I inhale deeply, a sharp smell makes me instantly dizzy, and my eyes roll to the back of my head.
When I awake, a surreal view unveils before my weary eyes. Kelly is on her knees sobbing with King Slavic standing in front of her. He’s dressed in black clothes and has one hand wrapped around her neck.
I feel the cold, damp floor beneath my knees. As I try to rise, someone kicks me in the ribs, and the pain shoots a wave of nausea through my body. The Vampiric King’s hand on Kelly’s neck is firm and unrelenting, squeezing it, his fingers digging into her artery and jugular.
My mind struggles to make sense of the ghastly scene unfolding before me. Gathering my strength, I rise to my hands and knees on the cold floor, my gaze instinctively spotting Malachi.
The sight before me is a horrifying vision of pain and suffering.
There in the center, chained to the cold, unforgiving stone ceiling, is Malachi.
He hangs limply, a figure of torture and agony.
His once handsome face, now marred with burn marks and fresh bruises, is a symbol of the suffering he has borne since his capture. He looks upon me with a haunted gaze.
His once muscular body is now a grotesque map of lacerations and burns. A chill sweeps over me at the sight, filling me with dread about what’s to come. Seated around him in a circle are members of my coven, drained and pale, eyes wide with panic, rigidly held captive by the vampire guards.
“I know about the vile sorcery you worked on Zirah, bringing her back from beyond the gates of death!” Slavic’s words lash through the quiet like a knife.
Kelly rears back with unbridled rage, her voice a mix of fury and defiance. “Zirah was cursed, not dead! All we did was break free the shackles that bound and hid her. What you’re asking for is depravity and darkness beyond our abilities!”
But Slavic refuses to be swayed. He fires back venomously, “You are mistaken. Elias saw with his own eyes the abomination you created when you brought someone back from the dead!” His voice reverberates off the walls, and I force myself to look toward the ground.
Lying there is Slavic’s son—his face engraved into my memory from the night he and his friends tried to rape me.
My stomach lurches at the repulsive sight. Slavic’s desperation for his son’s resurrection is unsettling and pitiful all at once.
Instantly, my mind floods with memories of his son’s taunting voice and demanding, cold hands.
Sickness churns in my stomach as I try not to look at the decaying body.
Instead, I scan the harrowing scene, taking note of every face staring up at King Slavic from their knees, but we are missing someone. Where is Leila?
“King Slavic, there is no way we can perform this resurrection while still under this curse!” A coven sister pleads desperately, but her words fall on deaf ears as he stands motionless, his eyes burning with hatred.
Ignoring her plea, his serpent-like eyes find me. As he advances, the corners of his mouth twist into a grotesque smirk, an intimidating predator closing in on its prey.
Slavic’s venomous gaze drills into me, his sneer making my blood boil. “My son is dead. You will bring him back!” His command leaves no room for discussion.
“What makes you think we’d risk using dark magic for your son? Even the most potent covens don’t possess such power.”
“You’re the oracle, a high priestess, the first of your kind. You hold the power even if your coven doesn’t,” Slavic retorts, self-assured.
“A power I’d never harness for such a vile cause. Your son’s fate is deserved. Yours will be no different,” I snap back, not cowering under his malicious glare. His hand lashes out, connecting with my cheek, a prelude to the mayhem about to ensue.