Unwanted Mate Of The Lycan Kings (by jessica hall) novel Chapter 104

~Zirah~

The drive is mostly silent; both Zeke and I are plagued with thoughts we don't feel the need to share. Yet as we reach a large stretch, I can see the huge looming walls forming a perimeter around his kingdom, tall as skyscrapers. I crane my neck to peer up at the guard standing atop with watchful eyes. The gates of Regan’s kingdom open before us like the jaws of a mechanical beast, revealing a cityscape that looks more like a meticulously designed movie set than an actual city.

As we drive through, a futuristic fortress emerges from the depths of a thick shroud of silence. The buildings, all towering, angular structures of steel and glass, glint in the afternoon sun, their austere silhouettes painting a grim backdrop against the cloudless sky. Not a soul is visible on the pristine streets, not a whisper of life resonates in the air as we drive through the first half of the city. It's an eerie stillness, the kind that makes your skin crawl and mind churn.

People, seemingly sucked out of their mundane routines, scurry into the safety of their homes and shops as the limo glides along. Their faces betray their fear, like deer caught in the headlights, each movement painstaking and cautious.

I notice litter is absent, no graffiti, no decoration of any sort, instead replaced by vigilant armed guards stationed at nearly every corner, their stern gazes scanning the city. Even the children here are quiet, their innocent laughter swallowed by the city's overwhelming tension.

As I absorb the unsettling surroundings, a soft humming draws my attention to the sky. Drones, a dozen of them, zipping around in coordinated formations. The first thing that hits me about the city isn't the eerie silence, or the palpable fear that seems to hang over the place like a shroud.

It's the eyes, the haunted, lifeless eyes of the city's residents. "This place…it's a damn prison," I mutter, scanning the fearful faces peering out from the modern buildings.

"Yeah, a futuristic one at that," Zeke answers from beside me. I sense a note of guilt in his voice, and a hint of resignation.

"Why all the security?" I question, gesturing at the drones hovering ominously above us. "What are those things for?" I ask Zeke, my eyes tracking the drones.

"Cameras, they monitor the city," he says, his voice tinged with unease, his usual vibrancy replaced by an unnerving quietness as I take in the kingdom. I blink, taken aback by the dystopian extent of security. "They…they keep the peace." Zeke adds.

"Peace?" I scoff, letting out a bitter laugh. "This isn't peace, Zeke, it's terror."

Approaching the city center, I lower the window, a part of me hoping that the soft rustle of the breeze or the distant chatter of the city will replace the oppressive silence. Instead, the quiet intensifies, as if the city itself holds its breath. It's too quiet, too sterile, too controlled. Yet as we drive deeper, we notice people running away from the city center. Zeke sits up and in the distance; I can hear the sounds of shouting, crying, and begging. I glance at Zeke, who moves closer to peer out the window.

A sudden commotion breaks out, drawing my attention to a frightened woman pleading with a market stallholder. A child, presumably her son, clings to her skirt, tears streaming down his face.

The stallholder, a red-faced and fuming man, motioned wildly toward the woman and a young boy. The woman pleads with the stallholder, her words drowned by her son's terrified wails. Her flustered attempts to calm the situation are met with armed guards storming toward her.