Vanished Sisters The Lycan King's Slave Island novel Chapter 80

Vanished Sisters: The Lycan King’s Slave Island

Chapter 80

Natasha’s POV

Darkness.

Pain.

And then… light.

I opened my eyes and found myself somewhere impossible.

Where am I?

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I was standing in the middle of an endless meadow. Tall grass swayed in a gentle breeze that smelled of wildflowers and earth. The sky above was impossibly blue, dotted with white clouds that drifted lazily.

This isn’t real. I’m dreaming. I must be dreaming.

The last thing I remembered was lying on the floor of our room, unable to move, watching the guards drag Davelina away. The pain in my stomach. The helplessness.

This is a dream. It has to be.

But it felt so real. The grass beneath my bare feet. The warmth of the sun on my skin. The breeze playing with my hair.

I looked around, trying to understand where I was or why.

And then I saw him.

A massive wolf running across the meadow toward me. His fur was dark-almost black-with silver highlights that caught the sunlight eyes glowed amber even in the bright daylight.

The King. The Wolf King.

I should have been terrified. Should have run. But I couldn’t move. Could only stand there and watch as he approached.

When he was maybe twenty feet away, his form began to shift. Fur receded. Limbs lengthened. His muzzle shortened into a human face.

Within seconds, a man stood before me.

He was tall-well over six feet-with broad shoulders and a powerful build. His hair was dark and fell to his shoulders. His face was handsome in a harsh, angular way, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw. His amber eyes seemed to glow from within.

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Chapter 80

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He was completely naked, and I couldn’t help but notice his body-muscular and scarred, every inch of him radiating raw power

But most noticeably, he seemed… calm. Rational. Not the feral beast I’d encountered in that dark chamber.

“We meet again,” he said. His voice was deep and smooth, nothing like the growls and snarls from before.

“Yes,” I managed to say. My voice sounded small in the vast emptiness of the meadow.

He walked closer, his movements fluid and graceful. Stopped a few feet away from me.

“You seem troubled, he observed. “Something has happened.”

I looked away, unable to meet his eyes.

Why should I tell him anything? Why should I trust him at all?

“Why do you care? The words came out harsh. Bitter.

He was silent for a moment. Then: “Perhaps I can help.”

That made me laugh-a sharp, humorless sound.

“Help?” I turned to face him, anger suddenly flooding through me. “You want to help? After what you did to me? Are you serious?”

His expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes. Regret, maybe. Or shame.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For what happened in the chamber. I was… not myself. I had no awareness. No control. It was pure beast

instinct.”

“That’s a convenient excuse,” I spat.

“It’s the truth.” His jaw clenched. “I don’t remember most of it. Just… fragments. Sensations. But I know I hurt you. And I’m sorry.”

I wanted to stay angry. Wanted to scream at him. Tell him that sorry wasn’t enough. That nothing could make up for what he’d done.

But standing here in this impossible dream meadow, with him looking at me like that-like he actually cared-the anger drained away,

leaving only exhaustion and despair.

“I’m so tired,” I whispered. “I’m so fucking tired of all of this.”

And then, before I could stop myself, the words came flooding out.

I told him everything. About the games. About watching men slaughter each other for entertainment. About the sexual violence on the

platform-the women forced to perform, to fuck each other, to be used by dozens of Lycans.

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I told him about Davelina. How she’d saved me by offering herself. How a beam forced to whip her. How she’d been raped and degraded

while I stood helpless.

I told him about living in constant fear. About hiding my true identity every sound of every day. About knowing that one slip, one

mistake, would mean death.

By the time I finished, I was crying. The words turned into sobs, and I couldn’t stop them

“I’m so scared,” I choked out. I’m so fucking scared all the time. I want to save my natten. I want to escape this island. I want-want-

1 couldn’t finish. Just stood there shaking, tears streaming down my face.

The King didn’t say anything. Didn’t offer empty platitudes or false comfort.

He just stepped forward and stood beside me. Close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. His presence was solid.

Steady. Somehow reassuring despite everything.

We stood like that for a long time. Me crying. Him silent.

Eventually, my tears slowed. Stopped. I wiped my face with shaking hands.

“Thank you,” I said quietly. “For listening. I… I needed that.”

He nodded but still didn’t speak.

The meadow around us began to fade. The colors bleeding away like watercolors in rain.

I’m waking up.

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