Auctioned to the Cruel King - Chapter 52: Chapter 52

Kayla’s POV
“Sold,” he repeated.
Lance leaned back in his chair, the weight of that single word hanging heavy between us. His expression was unreadable, but the flicker in his eyes was enough to keep my spine stiff. Was he angry? Curious? Or simply… assessing?
He didn’t speak for a while. Just stared into the space, wine glass balanced lightly between his fingers.
I half-expected rage. Maybe even sympathy. But neither came.
He finally said, “Help me understand.”
I blinked.
He continued, voice slow, like he was calculating something far removed from empathy. “He’s an Alpha. His decree is law in his pack. There are a hundred ways he could’ve handled it—public demotion, exile, punishment, even just handling it himself. So, why go to the extreme? Why the auction? Unless he was unhinged or… dangerously furious in those moments.”
The one to be considered dangerous between the two was clearly him.
My brows pulled together. “What are you trying to say?”
Lance turned his head fully to me. “Why didn’t he kill you?”
I stared.
“You look mortified,” he added with a lazy sip, like he hadn’t just suggested the alternative should have been my death.
I swallowed the rise in my throat. “I just told you I lost my child,” I said, my voice brittle. “And you're wondering why he didn’t finish the job?”
“It’s a fair question,” he replied simply, like he was discussing a chess move. “I’m not saying it to make light of what happened. But for a man like Landon, known for being desperate and quick to act… letting you live, handing you off to slavers—feels unfinished. Messy. Out of character.”
I didn’t respond.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his gaze sharp. “Look at it from my perspective. He clearly hated you by then. Said you failed him. If it were only about rage, wouldn’t it have been easier for him to dispose of you entirely? But instead… he had you sold.”
“And I’m supposed to understand his reasoning?” I snapped.
“No,” he said, calm and slow. “But you should try to see the pattern. Alphas like Landon don’t leave things halfway unless they’re hiding something. A weakness. Or a fear.”
I stared down at my lap, the ache in my chest suddenly throbbing louder. “I don’t know,” I whispered. “I don’t know why he didn’t.”
Lance tilted his head, watching me. “I think you do. You're no fool.”
I closed my eyes briefly, trying to keep myself from hissing at him. “Stop it. Your words confuse me.”
“They shouldn't.” But the edge had softened. “What did he say during the meeting? When he had the chance to speak to you alone—what did he say?”
“Nothing,” I muttered. “Just threats.”
“Hm.”
I looked down again, pressing a hand to my thigh as if it could still all the mess spinning inside me. Why did he have Landon here that day? Was it… was it for…
Shit.
“You’re cruel.”
“No,” he said simply. “I’m a Lycan King. You’re a wolf. We both know kindness is a flicker at best in this world. Truth is what matters. Even when it tastes bitter.”
I blew out a shaky breath and pushed my fingers through my hair. “That’s it. That’s everything. I have no more secrets for you.”
He didn’t push.
Instead, he walked to the table and poured a second glass of wine, and then handed it to me.
I took it, not because I needed it, but because I needed to feel something other than my shame, since this was the man he was—direct, unflinching—there was no need for dramatics.
I’d tamed my wolf so that she wouldn't repeat that unwarranted actions around him and it was easier managing this way. After all, what I'm looking for is a way to survive, hopefully dominate my life.
I sipped. Slowly. Letting the warmth pool in my chest.
I could pretend too. And act like none of this hits me as much as they do.
“That feels good,” I muttered. “Getting all of that off my chest.”
He gave a slight nod. “It should. Secrets are weight. The longer you carry them, the more they distort you. Make you forget what you really are.”
I watched the fire again. “Is that what happened to you? You forgot?”
Those eyes raked me before he went on to say. “Something like that. I’ve carried more than my share. And there are things I still can’t say. What happened nights ago in the lower chambers… what you saw…”
My heart stuttered.
In all my life, I'd never heard of someone who couldn't control their wolf. But what I'd felt that night was more than any wolf or Lycan I'd ever encountered.
"What is it?" I asked softly. No—what I meant to ask was different.
I had been drawn to it. Like some call I didn’t understand. I was terrified and still I went.
He didn’t look surprised.
“For as long as I can remember,” he said, voice like gravel, “my Lycan side has never agreed with me. It wants control. Full reign. To consume. Not shift. Not share.”
A shiver ran through me. “That’s… horrifying.”
“It is.”
“How long?” I asked softly. “Since first shift?”
He gave a nod. “Since I turned sixteen. My parents did their best," he continued, seemingly unbothered. "I was taken to every top professional, master, healer—name them. But none could tame him. There was no telling when he would rampage. Parents were scared of me being around their cubs." A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "Except for one. She was a wild card. The only ray of laughter and hope I had then. Strong-willed, determined."
Something twisted inside me.
“Who was she?” I asked, my voice careful.
“Vivian,” he said.
The name dropped like ice water in my veins.
I stiffened, my expression curling before I could hide it.
He noticed. “You’re upset.”
“I’m not,” I lied.
“You are,” he said quietly. “You don’t need to be. I told you because you need to understand her. Vivian respects strength. Nothing else. Earn her respect, and she will not cross you again.”
I drank the last of my wine. “I saw her tonight,” I said before I could stop myself. “She was down by the garden path. She looked… shaken. And she wasn’t alone.”
His posture changed.
I pressed on. “He said his name was Cleo.”
Everything in Lance’s body stilled.
“When was this?” he asked, low.
“Just… maybe half an hour ago. By the fountain.”
His lips thinned.
I cursed myself for bringing it up, but… I wanted to know. I needed to know what storm brewed under the surface of this palace—and who exactly this Cleo was.