Babysitting The Amnesiac Lycan King

So I don't say anything.

The silence stretches between us until he finally mutters, "Goodnight, Taryn." And then the call ends.

I lower the phone from my ear, staring at the screen like it might giveskind of answer. But it doesn't.

I let out a breath and lean back against the edge of the bed, pressing my head against the mattress.

The world feels heavier than usual.

And for the first tin a long time- I feel completely, utterly lost.

81% 53 I stare up at the ceiling, my back pressed against the cold floor, the documents still sprawled around me. My chest is tight, my thoughts tangled. I should do something-keep digging, make another call, chase the truth until I bleed for it. But instead, I just fucking lie here.

I close my eyes. Breathe. Try not to think about him. Try not to think about the weight of his hand on my skin, the way his voice curled around my nlike it belonged to him. Like I belonged to him.

It doesn't work.

The memory slithers in, uninvited.

I shove it down.

A loud bang makesjolt up. My door flies open like it owes someone money, and then there's Zoe-her arms stacked with dresses, a piece of bread jammed between her teeth, eyes wide and full of untamed chaos. "The fuck-?" I scramble, sweeping the stolen documents off the floor in a panic, shoving them under my bed like I'm thirteen and hiding contraband from a strict parent.

Zoe stomps in, completely unbothered. "You," she says through a mouthful of bread, pointing atlike I've personally offended her ancestors. "Are going out." I blink. "The hell I am." "Yes. The hell you are." She marches over, slamming the dresses onto my bed.

The hangers clatter against each other. "Because you need it. Desperately." I exhale sharply, rubbing my temples. "Zoe, I'm not in the mood for some-"I motion vaguely at the dresses, at her overly 3/6 11:54 Tue, 25 M Chapter 76 determined expression. "-whatever the fuck this is." 81%% +53) "Oh, I know," she says, too sweetly. "That's why I'm forcing you. Because if I don't, you'll sit in this room, going batshit crazy over documents like sferal conspiracy theorist, and I refuse to let that happen." I glare at her. "I like being a feral conspiracy theorist." "Taryn." Zoe puts her hands on her hips, tilting her head like she's about to start sTed Talk on how to stop being at pathetic, emotionally-wrecked dumbass. "You need to clear your head. And what better way to do that than by doing something physical?" I narrow my eyes. "...Define physical." She grins, all teeth.

Something tellsI won't like this.

I fucking knew I wouldn't like this.

The second we step inside, the air changes-charged, thick with sweat and adrenaline. It smells like leather, metal, and aggression. The overhead lights are dim, flashing erratically, casting jagged shadows across the concrete walls.

The entire place feels like a well-dressed crscene. Music blasts through the speakers, heavy bass shaking the floor, but it's almost drowned out by the sounds of fists slamming into flesh, grunts of pain, the sharp whistles of referees calling timeouts.

It's a goddamn underground fight club.

I slowly turn to Zoe.

She smiles innocently.

I glare. "You draggedto an illegal fight ring?" "Underground fight ring," she corrects. "Not illegal. Just...very off-the-books." I stare at her. Then the ring. Then back at her.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" "Oh, relax," she groans, waving a dismissive hand. "You need to let off ssteam, and I figured what better way than-" A deep voice cuts in.

"She's going to kill you when she finds out." I whip around.

And there, standing next to the ring, arms crossed, expression as unreadable as ever-is Jacob Wyatt.

I blink. Hard.

Then I whip back to Zoe. "You planned this? With him?" Zoe shrugs. "Guilty" 4/6 11:54 Tue, 25 Mar ti Chapter 76 I throw my hands up. "What the actual fuck-?" "Someone's fighting tonight," Jacob says casually, like he didn't just drop a bomb.

I pause. Slowly turn back to him. "Someone is what?" Jacob smirks. "Fighting." "For what?" He doesn't answer. He just looks at me. And then past me.

And And something about the way his gaze settles-steady, knowing-makes my stomach drop.

A horrible, sinking feeling crawls up my spine. "Jacob," I say carefully. "Who the fuck is fighting anyone or anything? He doesn't reply.

Just smiles.

And then I hear it- The announcer's voice, cutting through the thick air like a knife.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the match you've all been waiting for!" Music erupts. The crowd roars.

81%8 I whip around to the ring. Two fighters are already inside-one English, one Italian.

They shake hands. And then, without warning, they brutalize each other.

It's not a sport.

It's war.

Blood spatters against the mat. The English guy lands a hook to the Italian's ribs so hard I swear I feel it. The Italian retaliates, grabbing the Englishman by the throat and slamming him into the ropes.

My stomach churns.

This isn't a normal fight. This is barely legal murder.

"Zoe," I hiss. "I want to leave." "Not yet," she urges, grabbing my arm. "Just... wait. Trust me." I don't fucking trust her.

The fight ends with a knockout. The Italian guy doesn't get up.

The crowd goes wild.

And then the announcer's voice booms again- "Up next... a challenger unlike any you've seen before." The lights cut out.

The music shifts-deeper, darker, something that vibrates through my bones.

5/6 11:54 Tue, 25 Mar i we Chapter 76 Then, the opposite side of the ring opens.

And my entire body goes cold.

Because he steps out.

Tall. Commanding. Cloaked in black, hood shadowing his face.

81% +53

No one in this room knows who he is. Not really. His face- His face has never Been seen, not since he took the throne. The media isn't allowed to publicize it. The law forbids it.

And that's exactly why he can do whatever the fuck he wants.

Including this.

Fighting. In a goddamn underground ring.

My mouth is dry. My heart pounds so hard it hurts.

Jacob leans in, murmuring near my ear.

"That's his trainer," he says, nodding toward the man walking beside him.

I don't fucking care about his trainer.

I care about him.

Fucking Enoch Blackwell.

His hooded figure reaches the ring, and the trainer pulls his cloak off, e massaging his back, The breath punches out of my lungs. He looks amazing, and illegally fucking

ripped. "You have got to be kidding me." Zoe mutters beside me. He's e muscle to the bones. Those pectorals could cut paper.

My eyes eat everything up before my breath hitches. My jaw drops.

Because I see it.

On his side.

A name.

Bold. Dark ink. Running from his ribs, curling toward his back.

Holy shit.

Taryn runs in cursive on his side.

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