Page 21 of His Lost Lycan Luna

"Don't. I am fine," I tell him. I gulp down the last of my glass before trading my glass for the entire bottle. I haven't seen or heard a word of the rebels in years, yet I know they’re out there. Why now? They are primarily werewolves, unhappy that Lycans still have control. There have been rumors that they've received help from human hunters over the years. This is one source of fear for Lycans, as they know the rebels have been gathering strength and resources, preparing to strike again. Plus, with the added support of humans and their technology, they have become a much bigger threat than before.

"Fourteen years since the fall of the Landeena Kingdom, and they have come back. So close to the anniversary too," I tell him angrily, swigging from the bottle.

“Yes, and it’s been five years since the…” Damian doesn’t finish.

I don’t need the reminder that it’s the fifth anniversary of my sister’s death–of when they came for my Kingdom, the same day as the Landeenas fell, but five years after the fall of their kingdom. They took everything from me… they took her from me. We had already lost my parents, leaving only the two of us, but they robbed me of her too.

The Landeena kingdom was the closest to ours. King Garret and Queen Tatiana were aware of the threats and watched the other bloodlines get taken down. The other three Royal families were eradicated years before, leaving only the Landeenas and ours.

We were sure both our kingdoms would be attacked next. We believed it was an inside job, too. The King and Queen hadn't left their castle or been seen for four years before their murders. They thought keeping a low profile might stop them from being targeted. The only correspondence with them was by mail or phone until we got a call saying their kingdom had fallen.

The rebels constantly attacked on significant days, and it was the anniversary of the Landeenas’ murder when they struck again. They had died almost exactly five years earlier. However, my sister insisted I leave, that we no longer had to worry because nothing had happened in the five years since their deaths.

That morning, I had a bad feeling, I knew something was amiss. But I ignored that stirring worry in my stomach and left to visit Dark Creek Pack about the rogue sightings. They'd been losing their supply trucks, so the meeting was over. That day has haunted me ever since. Just as it does now. The memory invades my mind vivid and as real as the day it happened.

"Why haven't you left?" Claire, my sister, had demanded when she came down to the kitchen wearing her floral robe. It was much too long for her. We were constantly scolding her for wearing it while pregnant, worried that she would trip over. It was my mother's and she favored that over everything else, but my mother was a good two feet taller than her.

"I will reschedule it," I told her, returning to my coffee and opening my newspaper.

"You've been putting it off the last three weeks, Kye," she scolded me. When I didn’t answer, she walked over, snatching my newspaper. I growled at her, but she tossed it in the bin and walked back to fix her coffee. I often caught her down here in the early morning sneaking a mug.

"Have you forgotten what today is?" I asked her.

"No, I haven’t, and I'll be fine. You worry too much," Claire told me. "Besides it's been five years, if they were planning to return they would have by now." She shrugged.

"We don't know that for sure," I told her.

"Well, no. But we can't keep putting our lives on hold, chasing ghosts, Kye. You are King, you have responsibilities, and they don’t involve babysitting me. Now get up!" she snapped. I remained silent until she snatched the newspaper from the bin and hit me with it.

"Up now!" she commanded.

"Don't make me get your mate," I smirked at her, causing her to pout, a hint of my sister coming through.

"Does he know you're down here sneaking coffee?" I ask, and she glares at me when the maids wander into the kitchen to get ready for the day. She watches them move to the pantry, drumming her fingers on her mug, pursing her lips. Clarice wanders into the kitchen and pecks her cheek.

"Morning dear," Clarice told her. Claire smiled at her before wandering off to give the servants orders.

"Come with me then," I asked her. Claire shook her head.

"No, I have some things to take care of today. But go!" She gave me a pointed look as she walked toward where I sat. Sighing, I stood up. "Fine," I told her, pressing my lips to her forehead.

"Behave!" I mocked and she smiled.

"I will. I'm having my sneaky coffee, probably finish the last of yours off too," she laughed, eyeing my half-drunk mug.

"Then back to bed for a few hours."

"How can you drink coffee and be tired?" I shook my head at her.

"I was born tired," she mocked. I smiled before walking out the door and meeting my driver.

I shake the memory away before it sucks me in too deep. When the rebels made their move, she couldn't even fight back or shift to protect herself and her unborn child. Her husband was dead beside her.

I will never forgive myself for leaving that day.

One of our servants, a spy, waited for me to leave before plunging the silver dagger into my sister and her mate’s chests while they slept. I found them the following day when I returned.

The servant, Marissa, turned rogue and vanished, never having to pay for what she had done. She had worked her way into the castle two years prior until she was conveniently placed in my sister's quarters. Then she murdered her in cold blood, nearly destroying me in the process.

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