TRADING MY CHEATING HUSBAND FOR THE LYCAN KING novel Chapter 186

CHAPTER 128: TEA OR COFFEE, ELDER

EMBER’S POV

Knox freezes.

Stares down at the yellow mess dripping down his perfect abs with an expression of such profound betrayal that I burst out laughing, the kind of laughter that hurts my ribs and makes my eyes water. “You,” he says slowly, each word dripping with disbelief, “did not just waste my award–winning eggs.” “You deserved it.” I’m still laughing, can’t stop laughing. “That’s what you get for being so insufferably cocky all the time.”

“Cocky.” He’s advancing on me now, something predatory lighting up his eyes. “I’ll show you cocky.”

I shriek as he grabs me off the counter and spins me around, his egg–covered chest pressing against my back and thoroughly ruining the shirt of his that I’m wearing.

I’m squirming and laughing and he’s growling mock threats against my ear about revenge and payback and making me regret ever wasting his perfect eggs, and for one golden moment nothing is trying to kill us and no one is bleeding in the basement and we’re just two people being ridiculous in a kitchen that smells like breakfast and sounds like jazz.

The knock on the door ends all of it.

We both go completely still, the laughter dying in my throat.

No one knows we’re here. No one is supposed to know.

This safehouse exists off every grid imaginable, buried under layers of false ownership and dead–end paper trails.

Knox sets me down carefully, and I watch the transformation happen in real time. The playfulness drains from his face like water from a sink, replaced by something cold and ready.

His wolf rises behind his eyes, pupils dilating, muscles bunching with the particular readiness of a predator who’s just scented danger.

“Stay here,” he says quietly.

“Knox-”

“Stay.”

He moves toward the door with the silent grace of something that hunts in the dark, every line of his body screaming danger despite the eggs still drying on his abs.

I grab a knife from the counter, pathetic as a weapon but better than nothing, and press myself against the wall where I can see the door but won’t be immediately visible to whoever’s on the other side.

< CHAPTER 128 TENOR COFFEE, ELDER

Knox opens the door.

Nathaniel stands on the threshold, which should be fine, should be normal, except his expression is all wrong.

Tight and controlled in a way that means something has gone very badly. And then he steps aside, and I see what’s behind him, and my blood turns to ice in my veins.

Elder James stands flanked by six council guards in crisp uniforms, the same uniforms worn by the men who delivered Gale to Harrison’s dinner, the same cold efficiency, the same official menace that makes my skin crawl.

James himself looks immaculate despite the early hour, silver hair perfectly combed, expensive coat buttoned against the cold, and when his eyes find Knox his smile doesn’t reach them at all.

“Your Majesty.” James inclines his head with a respect so thin it’s almost transparent. “I do hope we’re not interrupting anything important.”

“What are you doing here, James?” Knox’s voice could freeze fire.

“The council received word of a rather troubling disturbance.” James’s gaze slides past Knox and into the safehouse, finding me standing there by the corner in my egg–stained shirt with my hair wild and my lips still swollen from kissing, and his lip curls with undisguised contempt.

He takes his time looking me over, tracking every detail of my disheveled appearance with the unrivalled disgust.

“The prisoner Gale Crawford has apparently been liberated from official custody. Given the rather suspicious circumstances surrounding his transfer from council authority to your personal guards, we have reason to believe you might have information regarding his current whereabouts.”

He doesn’t wait for an invitation. Simply walks past Knox into the safehouse like he has every right to be here, his guards flowing in behind him with practiced coordination.

They spread through the small space immediately, two of them positioning themselves near the exits, the others scanning the room with professional thoroughness.

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Nathaniel catches my eye from the doorway. His expression is carefully blank, unreadable, but something passes between us that I can’t quite interpret. A warning, maybe.

“Gale Crawford isn’t here,” Knox says flatly.

“No?” James makes a slow circuit of the kitchen, trailing his fingers along the counter, examining the remnants of our breakfast with theatrical interest. “Curious. Because our intelligence suggests otherwise.”

He picks up the spatula Knox was using, studies it like it might contain state secrets, then sets it back down with deliberate care.

“This is quite the cozy setup you have here. Hidden away from prying eyes. Perfect for keeping secrets.” His gaze lands on me again, sharp with accusation. “Or prisoners, perhaps.”

3 CHAPTER 12 TEA OR COFFEE, ELDER

told you. Crawford isn’t here.”

“Then you won’t mind if we verify that claim.” James nods to his guards, the gesture casual but

unmistakably an order. “Standard procèdure, you understand. We have a duty to ensure the prisoner hasn’t been… relocated inappropriately.”

The guards fan out through the safehouse without waiting for Knox’s permission, boots heavy on concrete, opening doors and checking rooms with mechanical efficiency.

Two of them head straight for the basement stairs, and my heart slams so hard against my ribs I’m sure everyone in the room can hear it.

Gale is down there. I know he’s down there, chained to that beam, face ruined by my claws, body broken from Knox’s fists and our audience participation revenge last night.

But Knox doesn’t look worried. That’s what scares me most.

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