Page 1 of His Lost Lycan Luna

ChapterOne

IVY

The orphanage headmistress, Mrs. Daley, is in an excellent mood this morning. The Lycan King is visiting the orphanage today, and the old hag is unusually excited. The Lycan King hasn’t been here once in the eight years that Abbie and I have lived here, so we don’t know what to expect. Mrs. Daley, however, does. She expects perfection and not a thing out of place.

She wasted no time in giving Abbie and me more tasks than we could possibly handle, so many chores we both knew would never be done in time for his arrival.

As I am rushing the dirty laundry downstairs, I can hear Mrs. Daley as she hums along to the radio in the kitchen. As quietly as possible, I sneak past her, not wanting her to add any more chores to the never-ending list Abbie and I already have.

Slipping out to the sunroom attached to the rear porch, I see Abbie with Tyson. She's raised him since he was a baby. Mrs. Daley wanted to kill him. She hated that he cried all the time, so Abbie took him, promising to keep him from bothering her, and she has raised him ever since. I know leaving him behind will be hard for her.

“What are you standing around for, Rogue? Get moving! I expect nothing out of place when the King arrives. You better pray to the Moon Goddess you’re finished in time, or I will teach you a lesson you’ll never forget!” Mrs. Daley screeches at me.

I jump, tossing the basket down, and turn to face her. “Yes, Mrs. Daley,” I tell her, bowing my head.

Her fingers wrap around her cane as she narrows her wrinkled eyes at me. "Where is the other rogue brat?" she asks.

I swallow down my dread, watching her fist the tip of her cane.

"I tasked her with the bathrooms and laundry while you finished the dining hall, didn't I?" she asks.

"I finished quicker, so I thought I would help her, Ma'am," I lie.

"Very well. Now get back to work," she snaps. Just as I turn back to the dirty laundry, her cane smacks the side of my arm, stopping me. "Oh, and tell your little rogue friend, the butcher said he will see her at the town square. He's hoping the Alpha chooses to auction you both instead of killing you. He has big plans for a harlot like her," she laughs cruelly.

Tears burn the backs of my eyes at her words. My hands shake, and bile rises up my throat. The butcher is a vile man, despicable. Instantly, my mind goes to how I found Abbie that day, an image I wish I could forget. And to think the headmistress would sell her like that. To a man like him. It just shows she doesn’t have an ounce of humanity left in her. When I say nothing, Mrs. Daley sneers and wanders off. I quickly place the dirty laundry in the washing machine and turn it on, having just finished the last bathroom.

Thankfully she hadn't noticed Abbie sneak out to see Tyson, or that would have ended with some lashes.

Picking up my peasant skirt, I rush back inside and upstairs to the bedrooms. As I reach the top step and spot the clock high on the wall near the ceiling, I sigh. There is no way we’ll be done in time. I glance down the hall; there are doors on each side—rooms still waiting to be cleaned—and I shake my head. Alpha Brock is going to kill us if we’re late.

Abbie and I have been dreading this day, not because the Lycan King is visiting, but because today is the day we find out if we get to live another or if it will be the day our lives end. Not that I'm expecting anything rosy. Until now, my life has been pretty miserable. I was born a rogue, which is far from the privileged lifestyle of the pack children living outside this orphanage. I’m housed by the very pack that killed my parents, and the Alpha who slaughtered them mercilessly in front of us, making both Abbie and me orphans.

Growing up, I longed to have what my parents told me about packs: unity and family, other kids to play with besides Abbie—whose family lived with us before her parents were killed along with mine. With nowhere left to go, both of us were brought here. Turns out that growing up in a pack is nothing but a disappointment when you're rogue; even more so when you’re an orphan.

Unfortunately, because of some law by which all packs strictly live, I was shown mercy, or a twisted version of it. It's against pack law to kill rogue children. They call it mercy, but in reality, it's anything but. My parents were rogues, meaning they had no pack. Some choose a life without a pack, but typically, most rogues have been shunned by their packs. My parents, however, chose that lifestyle. We lived a life on the run, but at least we were free. Despite the freedom, I could always tell my mother had missed being part of a pack by the way she would sometimes speak of the community side of it. That all ended when I was just shy of my tenth birthday. Now I live in the pack orphanage. Abbie and I are the only two rogues that reside here since Taylor was slaughtered years ago, so we know our future looks bleak. Because we were rogues rather than pack orphans, we were very clearly at the bottom of the food chain. Not a day goes by where we aren’t reminded of our place.

None of that changes the fact that today is an important day. Today, we will be set free, just not in a sense that most would perceive as freedom. But it is for us. So, we tend to our chores, watching the hours tick by.

I start stripping beds of their linens while Abbie rushes into the room, her fiery red locks swishing past me as she dumps the fresh bed linen on the bottom bunk. There are six bunks in every room, and there are twelve rooms. We have to have each room cleaned and made up before starting on lunch. I haven’t eaten lunch, or even breakfast, in years, the same as Abbie. There's just no time; time is something we're already running out of, in more ways than one.

"She almost caught me," Abbie gasps, rushing to dust the chandelier.

I glance at her to see her wipe a stray tear.

"He'll be fine, Abbie" I reassure her, though I have my doubts. Mrs. Daley is a cruel woman, and not even I hold much hope for little Tyson.

"Mrs. Daley…. she told me…" I pause, unsure how to tell her.

Abbie looks over at me. "What is it?" she murmurs.

Swallowing down my fear, I answer, knowing it will break her if Mrs. Daley's claim is true. "The butcher will be there. He's hoping we're auctioned and not killed."

Abbie's lips quiver and she swallows, her eyes darting to the ceiling as she fights back the urge to break down.

"More than my life, Abbie," I whisper.

"I can't promise that; not this time, Ivy. I'd rather death than allow him to get his hands on me again,” she tells me, and I blink back tears. “Don't make me break a promise," she whispers, tears in her own eyes.

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