Vanished Sisters The Lycan King's Slave Island novel Chapter 59

Chapter 59

Natasha’s POV

“Maybe he’s getting better,” the dark-haired woman said hopefully. “Maybe whatever was making him go feral is wearing off. Maybe he’s regaining control.”

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“Or maybe” The older woman’s voice dropped even lower. “-maybe he’s finally dying. Maybe whatever curse turned him into that beast

is killing him slowly.”

The King hasn’t touched anyone since that night. Since he raped me.

What does that mean? What changed?

I thought back to that night. To his massive body pinning me down. His cock tearing me apart. The feeling of his seed flooding my insides until I thought I’d burst.

And then-

That moment when he’d shifted back. When he’d looked at me with those tortured red eyes. When he’d whispered something I couldn’t

quite hear before fleeing.

Did something happen? Did what he did to me-or what I am-affect him somehow?

I had no way of knowing. But the thought wouldn’t leave me alone.

If he’s not attacking the women sent to him anymore, does that mean I’m safe? Does that mean he won’t come looking for me again?

Part of me wanted to believe it. Wanted to think that whatever had driven him to violate me had burned itself out.

But another part-a deeper, more instinctive part-knew better.

I’m not safe. I’ll never be safe here. Not as long as I’m on this island.

Lord Fergus and the other wolf lords hadn’t asked about me. Hadn’t come looking for “the boy who survived the King’s attack.”

Maybe they’d forgotten about me in the chaos that followed that night. Or maybe they just didn’t care-one male slave among hundre

wasn’t worth their attention.

As long as they keep thinking I’m just another expendable boy, I’m safe. As long as no one looks too closely-

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I touched my chest, feeling the tight binding beneath my shirt.

I just need to keep my secret. Find Davelina. And figure out a way off this cursed island.

Simple. Right?

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On the seventh day, everything changed.

It was late afternoon. I was in Lucy’s room, helping her apply salve to the rope burns on her wrists-fresh marks from her latest encounter

with Roderic-when someone knocked on the door.

We both froze.

Knocks were never good. They meant someone wanted something. Someone with power.

“Who is it?” Lucy called out, her voice carefully neutral.

“Madam Victoria.”

Lucy and I exchanged a quick glance.

Lucy stood and opened the door.

Victoria stood in the hallway, looking as stern and proper as ever. Her gray hair was pulled back in its usual severe bun. Her black dress

was immaculate, not a wrinkle or stain in sight.

“Lucy, Victoria said formally. Then her eyes found me. “And Nathan. Good. I need to speak with both of you.”

“Of course, Madam, Lucy said. “Please, come in.”

Victoria stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Her expression was businesslike, professional.

“There’s going to be an event tomorrow,” she said without preamble. “The wolf lords are hosting gladiatorial games in the Blood Fang Arena. All three lords will be in attendance, along with important guests from the other islands.”

Lucy’s face went pale. ‘Gladiatorial games?”

“Yes. The male slaves-most of them-will fight in the arena for the lords entertainment.” Victoria’s tone was matter-of-fact, like she discussing the weather. “They’ll battle each other. Sometimes to the death, sometimes just until one submits. It depends on what the lo

wish to see.”

My stomach dropped.

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“However- Victoria’s eyes moved between us. -not all slaves will fight. The female slaves will serve the lords and their guests in the viewing boxes. Pour wine, bring food, provide… other services as requested.”

Her meaning was clear.

“And certain male slaves- Her gaze settled on me. -those who are young, or possess more… delicate features, will also serve rather

than fight.”

Oh God. She means me.

“You’ll both report to the preparation area tomorrow at noon, Victoria continued. “The female slaves will be given appropriate attire. Nathan- She looked at me directly. -you’ll be provided with serving clothes as well. You’ll attend to the lords in the private viewing

areas.”

“I see,” I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

“The lords and their guests will be drinking heavily,” Victoria said. “When men drink and watch violence, their… appetites are aroused.

You should be prepared for demands beyond simple serving duties.”

Lucy’s hands clenched into fists at her sides, but she kept her voice steady. “Yes, Madam. We understand.”

Victoria’s expression remained neutral, but something flickered in her eyes. Not quite sympathy-more like acknowledgment of an

unpleasant reality.

“Wear your cleanest clothes when you report,” she said. “The stewards will provide whatever additional attire is required. Be prompt.

Lateness will be punished.”

“Yes, Madam,” we both said.

Victoria nodded and turned to leave.

Silence filled the room.

Lucy moved slowly back to the cot and sat down heavily. Her face had gone from pale to ashen.

“Gladiatorial games,” she whispered. “God help us all.”

I sat down beside her, my mind reeling. “Have you been to one before?”

“Once. When I first arrived.” Her voice was distant, hollow. “They made the male slaves fight with swords and spears. Some died in the arena. The others-the ones who survived-were rewarded by being allowed to live another day.”

She turned to look at me.

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“And the slaves who served the lords…” She swallowed hard. “By the end of the night, most of them had been raped. Some publicly, right there in the viewing boxes while everyone watched. Some were dragged to private rooms. A few never came back at all.”

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