Auctioned to the Cruel King - Chapter 54: Chapter 54

Kayla’s POV
The silence around us was a living, breathing thing. It pulsed around me, pressing in from every side.
Lance stood at the far end of the long corridor. Not a word had left his mouth since Alaric left to do his command. He hadn't moved either, save for the occasional flex of his jaw—grinding, clenching. A man carved in stone. Except stones didn’t bleed pain through the cracks.
I stayed near the door, watching him from across the room, my arms folded around myself. I wasn’t cold. But I wanted something to hold me.
Vivian’s screams came like a blade.
Her voice cut through the still halls, fractured and agonized. My breath caught. I jolted slightly in my stand, my wolf rising in alarm. Lance didn’t move but his shoulders stiffened. I watched him from the corner of my eye, the fury building in his chest like a slow quake. He didn’t lash out. He didn’t curse. He simply stared harder.
And then… nothing.
Vivian’s scream was gone again.
My throat tightened. It has been this way for a while now. Her screaming, I flinching and Lance just there.
Minutes bled into nearly an hour. The air was stale. My thoughts were loud.
Was this how it would be from now on? Me, standing here like some forgotten relic while his concern, his fire, his loyalty—all burned elsewhere?
I tried not to let it sting. I tried not to care.
But gods, I cared.
The door creaked open.
Falco walks out, the soft tap of his boots on marble drawing Lance’s head up. The King immediately came rushing.
“My King,” Falco said, bowing briefly.
“Thank you,” Lance said, and it shocked me.
Not the words. But the softness.
He thanked him.
Something about it struck me. The ever-cold, cruel Lycan King saying thank you? Politeness didn’t suit his mouth. Yet somehow, right now, it made me feel small.
“How is she?” he asked, voice tight.
Falco gave a slow exhale. “She’ll live. I’ve administered sedatives to dull the pain and induce rest.”
“And?”
“Since all of her fingers were broken,” Falco said, glancing between us. “Her right hand, I mean. It will take some time to heal. Whoever did this… they took their time. Methodical. She was likely gagged. There's a bruise on her jaw—probably struck when she tried to escape. And one around her neck, faint but distinct. We'll know more when she wakes.”
“What about the other gash?”
Falco nodded. “That one is no problem, my King. It started healing already, but her fingers will take more time since they are bones, not flesh.”
Falco cleared his throat. “Once she wakes up, she’ll be able to tell you who did those things.”
I looked down at my lap, unable to meet either of their eyes. That won't matter, he already knew who did it. I’d seen it in the fire of his expression when I said the name. And Vivian had stated so.
“Thank you,” Lance said again, his voice a rasp.
They clasped hands briefly. Falco gave a nod and then left without another word.
The moment he was out of sight, I whispered, “Lance…”
He didn’t look at me. “Not now.” My chest clenched. “I want to be alone,” he murmured, the words barely above a growl.
My wolf stirred, agitated, snarling at the insult. She wanted to lash out. To remind him we were mate. That I deserved more than being tossed aside like dust beneath his boots.
But I pushed her down.
No.
Not tonight.
I wouldn't let this damn bond turn me into someone pathetic, like it once did. I’d decided to do things my way and I meant every damn word. I wouldn’t let one emotionally unavailable Lycan crack them.
So, I turned.
“Good night,” I said, and left him in that cold, silent hallway with his ghosts.
I had only turned towards the hallway leading to my own bedroom when someone brushed past me. The jolt knocked my shoulder. I gasped, turning to apologize since I barely watched my steps too—but whoever it was didn’t stop and didn’t look back. Just hurried down the dim corridor.
I barely saw more than broad shoulders and the blur of dark clothing.
Odd.
Still, I sighed and kept walking, murmuring under my breath, “What a night.”
When I got to my chamber, I collapsed backward onto the bed, arms outstretched like I was offering myself to the gods of exhaustion. My back sank into the soft mattress and I stared at the ceiling.
“I stink,” I muttered, sniffing.
And with a groan, I sat up, planning to strip and bathe. Maybe I should take off this sheet too. I’d probably stained it with my dirt. I leaned forward, brushing my hand across the spread—until my fingers caught on something lodged beneath the pillow. A small envelope.
My heartbeat slowed as I picked it up.
A knock made me jump. I shoved the letter behind me instinctively.
“Come in,” I called, a bit too loudly.
The door creaked open and a maid I didn’t recognize entered. She gave a polite bow.
“Luna, I just came to confirm where you’d like to have supper.”
“Here’s fine,” I said, distracted.
She nodded, already turning to go, but I called, “Wait—have any of the staff been in my room recently?”
The maid blinked. “Not that I know of. Perhaps the ones who cleaned. Moira did say she was sending someone in to change the sheets and clean the room.”
I glanced again at the bed.
Right. That explains the fresh sheets.
The maid lingered.
“And Moira?” I asked. “Where is she?”
Her lips twitched, like she was trying not to laugh. “She’s, um… indisposed. Said she caught a flu and decided it was safer to stay away from you for now. She’ll be back by morning,” the maid added quickly.
“Oh,” I said. “Thanks. You may go.”
She gave a polite nod and left.
When I was alone again, I reached for the envelope, tearing it open with trembling fingers. Inside: a folded slip of paper.
Find me in the garden at 10pm tomorrow night. Come alone.
There was no name or signature.
I stared. What the hell? Why would someone leave this? Who was it from?
Cartier?
That was my first thought. He was the only one who spoke to me aside from Lance and Alaric and even Moira. But why would he need to see me? For all I know, he could’ve been the one who revealed my secret to those old men. I would’ve suspected Vivian if I hadn't known where she’d been. My next thought was Cleo.
But no.
No—gods, no.
I tamped that fear down so hard it made my stomach turn. I’d seen the wreckage he left behind.
It couldn’t be him. Right?
Still… I wasn’t sure what frightened me more—the possibility that it wasn’t him, or that it was. I clenched the letter. But even then, I couldn’t stop myself from wondering: Should I go?
Was it stupid to even consider it?
Yes.
Was I still going to?
...Probably.
My hand brushed over my bare neck, a chill racing down my spine. I had no idea who I was becoming here. But I was starting to understand one thing: Nothing happened without a reason.
I didn’t want to be a pawn.
And maybe that meant going to whoever this person was.
Even if it killed me.
Another knock came.
The same maid returned, pushing a tray inside. “Supper,” she said.
I nodded. “Leave it there.”
She did, but lingered again, her gaze skimming my face.
“You alright, Luna?”
I forced a smile. “I’m fine.”
She gave a small curtsy. “If you say so. I’ll go.”
She turned to leave, but her eyes darted to the bed, to the sheet I’d half-pulled away while searching earlier. “Shall I fix the bed?” she asked. “You seem to have disturbed it.”
“No—no,” I said too quickly. “I was just… looking for an earring. Found it.”
She paused, clearly not convinced, but nodded anyway. “Very well, Luna.”
And then she left. I exhaled, clutching the envelope in my hands again.