Vanished Sisters The Lycan King's Slave Island novel Chapter 88

Chapter 88

Natasha’s POV

B

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I approached more cautiously now, moving slower, trying to stay quiet. The path opened up into a clearing, and I could see the compound

clearly in the moonlight.

The main building was substantial-not a simple cottage but a proper manor house. Two stories, built of stone with a slate roof. Windows

glowed with warm light from within. Smoke rose from a chimney.

Behind it were several smaller structures. Stables. Storage buildings. What looked like servants’ quarters.

This wasn’t some remote hideaway. This was an estate. A proper Lycan lord’s country residence.

Who is he? What kind of Lycan lives out here away from the main fortress?

I stood at the edge of the clearing, hidden in the shadows of the trees, trying to decide what to do.

A figure moved near the front of the manor. I tensed, ready to run..

But it wasn’t a Lycan. It was a human. A male slave, standing near the entrance.

He was positioned like a guard or doorman. Standing at attention. Alert but not aggressive.

And he looked… healthy.

That was the first thing that struck me. He wasn’t gaunt or beaten or cowering. His clothes were clean and well-fitted-not expensive, but

not rags either. A simple tunic and trousers in dark colors.

His face, visible in the light from the windows, showed no signs of recent abuse. No bruises. No cuts. His posture was straight and

confident.

That’s strange. Most of the slaves here look half-starved and terrified. But he looks almost… content?

I studied him for a moment longer. He was young-maybe mid-twenties. Dark hair. Average build. Nothing particularly distinctive about

him except that he looked so much healthier than any other slave I’d seen on this island.

Is this some kind of trick? A trap?

But I’d come this far. And I needed answers.

I took a deep breath and stepped out of the tree line.

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14:49 Fri, Feb 27.

Chapter 88

The slave spotted me immediately. His head turned in my direction and he straightened even more.

I walked across the open ground toward the manor, my heart hammering so hard I could hear it in my ears.

When I was about twenty feet away, the slave spoke.

You’re here to see Lord Caelan?” His voice was calm. Not hostile but not particularly friendly either. Just professional.

Lord Caclan. So that’s his name.

“Yes,” I said. My voice came out steadier than I expected. “He told me to come.”

The slave nodded. “He’s been expecting you. This way, please.”

He turned and opened the front door, gesturing for me to enter.

I hesitated on the threshold. Every instinct screamed at me not to go inside. Not to put myself in an enclosed space with no escape route.

But I’ve come this far. And if I turn back now, he’ll expose me and we’ll all die anyway.

The slave was waiting patiently, holding the door open. His expression was neutral. Not threatening.

Davelina’s words echoed in my mind: “If it feels wrong, run.”

Does this feel wrong?

I honestly wasn’t sure. Everything about this situation was strange and dangerous. But I couldn’t sense immediate threat from this slave

or from the manor itself.

I took another deep breath and stepped across the threshold into the warm, lamp-lit interior.

The door closed behind me with a soft click.

The entrance hall was surprisingly tasteful. Polished wooden floors. Tapestries on the walls depicting forest scenes and hunting parties. A

chandelier hung from the ceiling-simple but elegant, with candles providing soft light.

It looked more like a nobleman’s country house than a Lycan’s lair.

‘Lord Caelan is in his study, the slave said. “Follow me, please.”

He led me down a corridor, past several closed doors. I tried to memorize the layout-exits, windows, anything that might be

needed to escape quickly.

We stopped in front of a heavy oak door. The slave knocked twice.

14:49 Fri, Feb 27 …

Chapter 88

“Enter, a voice called from inside. The same smooth, cultured voice from the arena.

The slave opened the door and gestured for me to go in. I stepped through.

And there he was.

Lord Caelan sat behind a large desk covered in papers and books. He was dressed more formally than he had been at the arena-dark

trousers, a white shirt, a vest. His dark hair was neatly combed. His amber-green eyes focused on me with sharp intelligence.

The room was clearly a study. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound volumes. A fireplace crackled cheerfully in one

corner. Comfortable chairs were arranged near it.

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