Vanished Sisters The Lycan King's Slave Island novel Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Natasha’s POV

16%

I couldn’t breathe. The walls of the storage room were closing in, the air too thick, too hot.

“Davelina’s probably dead,” Lucy said, and there was something almost gentle in her voice now. “And I know that’s horrible. But death is mercy here. Living–especially living as what you are–that’s the real punishment

I didn’t respond. Couldn’t.

Lucy stood up, brushing off her skirt. “You understand now? Why you have to hide? Why the smallest mistake could destroy us both?”

I nodded slowly.

From somewhere outside, footsteps echoed in the corridor. Heavy boots on stone, getting closer.

Lucy’s face went white. “Someone’s coming.”

She grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet with surprising strength.

“Listen carefully,” she hissed. “Don’t wash. Don’t change clothes. The dirtier you are, the better. Let yourself stink like rot and coal and horse shit. Layer it on until nobody can smell what’s underneath.”

“I will. I-

“And don’t look the Lords in the eye,” Lucy continued urgently. “Especially hot Sebastian. He’s the worst of them. Likes to toy with his prey, see how much fear he can wring out before he breaks them completely.”

‘I won’t-

“And don’t go to the guards again.” Her grip on my arm tightened until I felt the bones grind together. “Next time, I won’t be able to save you. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “I understand.”

The door burst open.

A wolfman guard filled the doorway, his shoulders so broad they scraped the frame on both sides. He was covered in coal dust from head to toe, and he carried a leather whip that still glistened with fresh blood.

He took one look at us–two slaves cowering in a storage closet–and his lip curled back in disgust.

“Hiding in here like rats, you lazy shits?” His voice boomed off the walls, making my ears ring. “You-‘ He pointed the whip handle at me. “The new one. Just because Lord Fergus brought you back from the boats does mean you get to eat our food for free!”

Lucy shrank back against the wall, making herself as small as possible. She didn’t make a sound, didn’t even look up.

“The mine furnaces need coal!” the guard roared. “You’ll shovel ten carts before dark, or I’ll throw you in the fire myself and use your bones for kindling! Understand, boy?”

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20:38 Thu, Feb 12 GO

Chapter 15

以命16%售

I swallowed hard, tasting copper and fear. My thighs throbbed. The scratches on my arms burned under the coal dust. But I forced my voice to

stay steady–low and rough, like a boy’s.

“Yes, sir. I’ll work. I’ll fill the carts.”

The guard studied me for a long moment, his yellow eyes narrowed to slits His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air.

Then he wrinkled his nose and spat on the floor between us. The glob landed inches from my feet.

“You smell like ass and death. Good. Means you’ve been working. He jerked his thumb toward the corridor. “The furnaces. Ground level, east wing. If you’re not there in five minutes, I’ll come find you. And you won’t like what happens when I do.”

He turned and stomped away, leaving the door hanging open. I could hear his boots echoing down the corridor, fading into the general cacophony of the fortress.

I looked at Lucy. She was still pressed against the wall, her face buried against her knees, trembling like a leaf in a storm.

“Lucy-

“Just go,” she whispered without looking up. “Please. Before he comes back and decides to check why we were hiding together.”

I wanted to say something else. To thank her again, or apologize for dragging her into this nightmare, or promise that I’d find a way to repay

her.

But there were no words that could make this better. No promises that weren’t lies.

So I did the only thing I could.

I walked out of the storage room and into the torch–lit corridor, my footsteps joining the shuffle and scrape of a hundred other slaves going

about their forced labor.

The path to the the furnaces led me deeper into the fortress, past cells full of hollow–eyed prisoners. The air grew hotter with every step, thick with coal smoke and the ringing of hammers on metal.

My body ached. My bound chest made it hard to breathe. The horse liniment was making my skin itch and burn.

The corridor opened into a vast chamber filled with roaring furnaces. The eat hit me like a wall, instantly soaking my clothes with sweat. Dozens of male slaves shoveled coal into the flames, their bodies reduced to stick–thin shadows by months or years of this work.

A different guard–this one with a scarred muzzle and one missing ear–pointed at me with his whip.

“You. New blood. Grab a shovel. Cart’s over there. You don’t stop until it’s full, understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

I picked up the shovel. The wooden handle was worn smooth by countless hands before mine, and the metal blade was chipped and dull.

This is my life now. This is what I am.

Not a girl from a fishing village. Not a daughter or a sister.

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