Page 92 of His Lost Lycan Luna

“Her parents, my King. I have some distressing news about little Ivy. I have no idea how I didn’t put the pieces together before,” Alpha Dean admits, looking ashamed. He hands me a picture of a dead woman, her throat torn out and her guts spilled open on the autopsy table. Her face is barely recognizable as female, if not for her long, mangled hair.

“What is this?” I demand, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Ivy’s mother. She went by the name Della Hunley, and this is her father, or so he claimed,” Alpha Dean explains, handing me another gruesome autopsy photograph of a man. Their faces are riddled with teeth and claw marks, unrecognizable even if I had known them.

“Okay?” I shake my head, irritated by the apparent waste of time. Alpha Dean then retrieves a clear bag from a box filled with dirty, blood-stained clothes. My eyes are immediately drawn to the hunter’s insignia patch as he tips the bag, letting it fall onto the table. I pick it up, my grip tightening around it.

“Where did you get this?” I demand my voice tight with anger.

“Both her mother and father had matching ones,” Alpha Dean reveals, his expression grave.

“Abbie’s parents?” I ask, still confused about who owned the insignia.

“No, Ivy’s. Abbie’s parents were indeed who they said they were and posed no threat. They fell in with bad people,” Alpha Dean clarifies.

“What do you mean?” I question, my eyes scanning the documents and photographs on the table. My stomach churns, and I struggle to suppress the urge to vomit.

Alpha Dean rummages through the paperwork before producing two photographs. As he hands them to me, my blood runs cold. I snarl, recognizing the woman instantly. I’ve been hunting her since she killed my sister and her family.

“I take it you recognize her,” Alpha Dean says grimly.

“Marissa Talbot wanted for murder in the highest degree,” I growl through clenched teeth.

“Yes, that is why I asked you here. You see, Della Hunley is Marissa Talbot. We have yet to identify her father; he has no records, but fingerprints for the mother match everything else. Ivy’s parents are part of the hunter’s organization. They are also responsible for not only your sister and her unborn child’s death but also King Garret and Queen Tatiana and their murdered baby. You have a traitor living in your castle, my King,” Alpha Dean warns me.

Fury and betrayal washes over me as I process the information. The air in the basement feels heavier, suffocating me as I try to wrap my head around the fact that Ivy, my mate, is the child of the very people who took so much from me.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Alpha Dean,” I say, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. “We will deal with this situation accordingly.”

ChapterFifty-Six

GANNON

I count every strike against the old hag’s back, watching as she hangs limp in the restraints. My eyes wander to the pack house from which the King has yet to emerge. My brows furrow, and I glance around at the guards. I am so preoccupied with dealing with Mrs. Daley that I don’t realize the King is still inside the pack house.

I wipe my hands on my jeans, which are drenched in blood from the back spray from off the whip. “Is he still in there?” I ask one of the men standing guard by the doors. He nods his head.

“Yes, Gamma, we tried to go in, but he told us not to disturb him,” the man speaks, and I raise an eyebrow at him as I climb the steps before shoving the rickety old door in. Alpha Dean and Alpha Brock are sitting on the steps in the hallway.

“Where is the King?” I ask before Alpha Dean lifts a shaking finger and points toward the basement door.

“He told us to get out and wait up here,” Alpha Dean says, and by how pale he is, something has scared the life out of the old man. As I open the door, I can hear the King muttering, and I curse at myself for leaving him on his own.

Walking down the steps, I can tell he isn’t in the right state of mind because of his aura, which makes my knees shake and goosebumps raise every hair on my body. That is proven more by the moment my feet touch the concrete floor, and I peer over at him where he stands by a table in the center of the dusty old room. The place is floor-to-ceiling high in boxes and files.

His entire body tenses as he senses the incoming intruder. Everyone is petrified of this side of the King. The monster that lurks beneath the skin of this man. In this form, he is a predator, the biggest predator, a lethal beast, and he shows it within seconds of me spotting him.

One minute, he is standing by the table under the hanging light. The next, his hands grip my shirt’s front, and I am airborne as he tosses me. The air fizzles in my lungs as I hit a stack of boxes.

“Kyson!” I choke as his fist connects with my head. I growl before it’s cut off by his hands around my throat. I grip his wrists, only for him to lift and slam me onto the table that he was standing over when I came down here.

Damian usually deals with him when he is in fits of rage, and usually, the King keeps this part of him locked up tight until it explodes as it has now.

“Kyson!” I choke out as his grip tightens; his eyes are black and plagued with the horrors of his past, where he couldn’t protect his sister, a past full of bloodshed and unimaginable horrors. A place he is currently trapped in, like the nightmares that plague him, and I have yet to figure out what has triggered him.

I tilt my head to the side just as his fist comes down on the table before punching him in the ribs. His grip never wavers as he hits me again, and I hear the wood crack as my head smashes back against the table. He will forgive me because I’m not taking a pounding from him, and he wants to burn off some anger.

From what I will figure out after, as he raises his clawed fist again, I shift under his grip, his tight grip making the transition painful as my neck elongates and the bones in my face break and move, my jaws lock around his fist catching it, and I jam my claws in his ribs.

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