Auctioned to the Cruel King - Chapter 17: Chapter 17

Lance’s POV
What a drag.
The moment the tires kissed the stone-paved entrance of my home, I opened the door myself. I didn’t wait for the driver. The scent of this place always hit differently after blood had been spilled. I stepped out. Two of my guards were already racing toward me with their heads bowed.
“Welcome back, my King,” they murmured in unison.
One reached for my coat, which I shrugged off without breaking stride. The evening air was cold but not uncomfortable to my kind. The second guard fell into step beside me as I entered through the palace doors.
“Has the report arrived?” I asked, not bothering to look at him.
"No, Alpha. Not yet," he responded promptly.
I stopped walking as I came to the center of the hall and held out the black briefcase to Alaric who had just walked down the stairs.
“Forgive me for being late.”
“Handle this," I instructed. "I'll be elsewhere for the next hour.”
Alaric bowed and took a different corridor. I turned toward the eastern wing of the palace—toward her quarters.
The guard I'd posted outside her door straightened as I approached, bowing deeply.
"Alpha."
I passed him with just a nod, pausing only briefly to knock on the door before pushing it open and stepping inside, suddenly questioning the reason I was even here. I had just returned from a bloody meeting, yet my first action was to see her. This... distraction.
Kayla was facing the door when I entered, as if she'd sensed my approach.
There was something off about seeing her like this. Dressed in plain pants and a sweater, hair half-pulled back, the rest falling in waves down her shoulders. She wasn’t dressed for attention, but— Damn she got the curves.
My jaw tightened. I could feel it already—her scent creeping in like a toxin. It curled in my lungs, sent a pulse straight down my spine. My beast stirred. That sick excitement.
Her lips parted slightly as she looked at me, and then she moved. Quickly. Tied her hair up tighter. Pulled her sleeves down. Ran her tongue across her lips. She hissed.
“Well, this is great,” she muttered, folding her arms. “Guess I will never have the privilege of privacy to invite you in before you show yourself. You just walk in whenever you like.”
I didn’t respond.
“What do you want this time?” she asked. “You seem to do whatever you wish with me.”
The attitude again. It was starting to grow teeth.
I should’ve shut her down. Clipped her tone in half with a few words. But the second the thought came, my beast growled in warning. A hot slap of rejection rolled through me.
Damn him.
I exhaled through my nose and stepped farther in.
“I heard your trip to the doctor went smoothly,” I said, watching her.
“That why you’re here? You care all of a sudden?” she scoffed. “You hate me, remember? You treat me like a thing—an object. But now I’m important enough for you to come visit? Are you that bored?”
I stared. She kept going.
“You make appointments for me like I’m your prisoner—without a word, without asking me—and then show up acting like it’s some courtesy. What is this? Some twisted game you play with yourself to feel in control?”
This woman.
My hands came out of my pockets, clenched slightly. I should end this.
“I just wanted to ask about your meeting with the doctor and if she treated you well regardless of what was said to me,” I said, voice hard but low. “That’s all.”
She snorted. “Yeah? Like my own words ever made a difference.”
I must be tired. I probably needed a warm soak, not this.
“Think whatever you wish.” I turned. Walked back to the door. Didn’t look back. Pathetic. I was becoming as weak-minded as the fools I governed.
Alaric appeared from the far end, walking briskly toward me. He must’ve been coming to find me which can only mean… He bowed slightly before speaking.
“He’s here, my King. Ready for you.”
“Good.”
“I put him in the hedge path. For discretion.”
A curt nod was all he got. That was why Alaric remained beside me—he anticipated what others feared to guess.
We walked together. The path twisted through the far edge of the gardens—stone, hedged. It ended at a small raised space, visible to anyone, but far, and the wind here was a great distraction for anyone listening in. Perfect for conversations that needed to remain private.
Inside, the man was already seated. One of mine. A reporter. Young. Sharp. The kind who knew how to dig deep and come up alive.
He stood quickly when I entered and bowed. ”Alpha.”
I sat. Alaric stood behind me, arms crossed.
The man slid a large envelope across the table.
“Everything you asked for. Took longer than expected, but it’s all here.”
I opened it.
"It's all there—the girl's history, her pack of origin, photographs, known associates."
It was as he said. A few photos of Kayla were included, even so, she looked strangely different in them. “She’s from the Howling Crest Pack,” he began. “Borderline pack. Not that small of a werewolf pack but not very known. She was married to the Alpha.”
My eyes lifted.
“Mated to him, actually,” he clarified.
Mated?
“She’s an orphan. Her mother was a known whore in the pack. Died early. No known relatives. No alliances, no friends that could cause issue.”
“And the auction?” I asked. How did she get involved? That was what I meantd but even without laying the words bare, Gabriel understood.
He hesitated, then slid a different paper forward. “She didn’t volunteer. Her mate—Alpha Landon—he submitted her. No trace left in the pack records. But our sources confirm he did it himself. Bought the approval of a few council members to silence the fallout.”
Of course.
“Why?” I asked.
“We don’t know everything. But from what we’ve gathered, she was never loved by the Alpha. Even as Luna, she never stood beside him during important gatherings. A servant claimed he beat her—locked her away. To the pack, she was a burden. Just a weak Omega.”
Omega, maybe. But the Kayla right in my pack? There was nothing weak about her. The opposite of what they claimed.
“And now?” I asked.
“Landon remains Alpha. He’s engaged, and there’s been no sign he’s tried to retrieve her or in cohort with her. Some Alphas may use the auction to reclaim or spy—but there’s nothing suggesting he’s involved in any way. More like it was a way to dispose her quietly while gaining from it.”
I leaned back in my chair. She had been thrown away it was then.
My eyes drifted back to her photo. I studied it in silence. An Alpha had sold his mate through an auction. And now, that mate lived under my roof and happened to be my mate too. Fuck the goddess for always finding a way to irritate me!
But—
In a case of two mates, it meant one had rejected her…which I never did, nor did I accept the bond yet. She had a mate—had looked at me like I was a ghoul when she’d realized. Was that why she’d begged me to reject the bond? No, that can’t be it. Unless she was a fool.
“What’s the plan?” the man asked carefully.
I didn’t answer immediately. Just kept staring.
Then finally, “Nothing yet.”
Because I needed to think.
I spent hours afterward poring over the information in my chambers. The bath I'd taken did nothing to clear my thoughts. Steam still clouded the bathroom as I spread the documents across my desk for the fourth time.
I dressed in a simple robe and walked to the window. Her room was still lit.
Dinner was served in my quarters tonight. But only sat there, untouched. I wasn’t hungry. I hadn’t been much of it since this whole mess started unraveling.
I should wait. Question her in the morning, after breakfast. Give myself time to process.
But I was already at her door before I knew it. How dare I share a mate with a weak Alpha. My pride hurt just from the thought alone.
Another guard stood watch. The previous one was probably off duty by now. He bowed, confused to see me. “Alpha.”
I ignored him, raising my hand to knock on her door, then paused, listening. No movement inside. No sound of breathing. I knocked anyway, waiting for a response that didn't come.
"Has she left the room tonight?" I asked the guard.
"No, Alpha. The door hasn't opened since dinner was delivered."
I pushed the door open without further hesitation. The room was dimly lit by a single lamp. Her bed was empty, the covers pulled back but undisturbed, as if she'd never lain in them. My eyes swept across the room, noting the untouched dinner tray on the small table by the window.
The window.
I walked over slowly.
Then I saw it.
A rope. No. Bedsheets—twisted, knotted.
My hands clenched the sill. Cold wind whipped into the room, and my eyes followed the makeshift rope down the side of the palace wall.
“Oh fuck it”