Traded To The Lycan King by MG Wattsons novel Chapter 126

“There is a life form in there,” Ezrah reminds me as if I give a shit. Right now, the only life I care about is the one with a pointy stick near his throat.

“I don’t fucking care.” I grit out, a gentle breeze tickling through my hair as the fog swirls about, moving across the barren wasteland like tendrils of smoke.

Ezrah’s lips twitch, pulling into a grim line before he nods and lets go of Merikh. He takes a step back and puts his hands up in surrender. Then he throws the stick he must have brought with him to the side. My chest heaves, my face wet with tears. The small rock like egg in my hand hums lightly, vibrating through my weary muscles as I lower it to my chest.

“What now?” Ezrah asks.

“You fucking leave.” Merikh growls, rising to his feet, ready for another round with Ezrah.

“You can not beat me, Alpha. Not in the current state you are in and I will not hesitate to kill you,” Ezrah says. His words are calm and factual. Merikh is exhausted and still not in the best health after the last forty-eight hours. Hell, the last two weeks even.

“Take it and leave.” I whisper.

“What?” Merikh asks, shocked, as he whips his head in my direction. Maybe he sees something in my face, or perhaps he feels the emptiness in me. But he stops his protesting and his eyes soften. “You have exactly ten seconds to get it and get the fuck away from here.”

Ezrah rushes forward as I gently drop the egg on to the wet ashy ground. He swoops it up, and pauses, looking at us like he wants to say something more but can’t find the words.

“I am sorry for my part–”

“We will hunt you down, and we will find you Ezrah. Your expertise is delivering messages. Ours is hunting.” Merikh says, his voice a dark threat as Ezrah frowns and nods in understanding.

“We shall see,” he murmurs before he runs away.

Merikh moves toward me, his hands taking hold of my shoulders as he lowers himself to look in my sullen eyes. A sorrowful frown tugs at the corner of his lips at what he sees, then his fingers sweep a hair from my forehead.

The sparks are the only thing that makes me feel like I am alive, fluttering through me and reminding me I have lost a lot, but not everything. Not everyone.

“We need to find and collect Giselle’s ashes,” He murmurs, leaning in to press his lips to my forehead.

“I’ll wait here.” I whisper, my voice hoarse as the tears flow again. “They are over there somewhere…I can’t…I don’t want to…”

“Shh, it’s okay. You stay and wait here for me, okay?” He braces both sides of my face, forcing me to meet his worried gaze. “I will be right back,”

I nod, unsure of how else to respond when I know if I open my mouth, the only thing that will come out will be a sob. Everything feels like it is too much. Simply waiting for him makes my heart pound and my body ache, but the mere thought of moving is agonizing. If my pain were purely physical, it would be one thing. But how do I live with a pain no one can see or understand?

I am hollow. Like a pumpkin gutted and cut up to be put on display. Am I expected to placate everyone when it feels like my heart has been ripped from me? Must I wear a smile when just the thought of it makes me feel sick?

“LUNA! ALPHA!” Percy’s voice rings through the air, the dense fog rolling out as he rushes through it, his face relaxing when he sees me standing here, blinking at him. He has a bag in his hand that he hurries to open as he makes his way over to me, pulling out a black shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

“Here you are Luna,” he gives me a gentle, encouraging smile as he offers it to me, but my arms won’t move as I look down at it and then back up at him. My poor gamma takes pity on me as he quickly slams the shirt over my head. I push my arms through in a trance, taking the pants and slipping into them.

“Does it still hurt?” I croak. And he pulls his brows together.