Page 22 of His Loved Lycan Luna

“Nope, but I have the paperwork if theykick up a fuss.”

“To bring him in?” he asks, I snort and smile. He knows if I’m hunting, and he is with me, this isn’t a catch and release mission.

“Well, I suppose they wouldn’t have sent you if it was as simple as taking them in,” he says, rolling the pouch back up.

“So, what did he do to the king?” Liam asks.

“Not the king, to Abbie,” I explain, and he exhales, pushing his fringe from his eyes and turning in his chair to look at me.

“Ah, now I know why he sent us.”

Knowing all this just adds to the list of reasons why I need to get her back. And I will get her back even if I have to go behind Kyson’s back; I’m not losing her. For now, though, I will wait like he asks to see what he comes up with.

I know he will have to, for Ivy. I heard the call go out earlier in the night about her title change, but I am used to calling her Ivy. The king likes to pretend he is in control, but I know he would allow her anything she requested if she batted her eyelashes at him. She will learn he is putty in her hands. She just needs to recognize that, which is precisely why I let it slip about Abbie. Kyson can deny me, but he won’t deny her for long.

Going at Kyson headstrong won’t get her anywhere, but she has other ways to get what she wants. She just needs to come out of her shell and play on that, which I know Kyson is dreading when she figures that out.

He knows he is screwed when she does, especially with her bloodline. Landeenas were known to have certain gifts, so it will be interesting to see if she inherited any of those traits. She has her mother’s eyes, so hopefully, she will receive her mother’s abilities or will inherit her father’s. Or both? Only time will tell. But if she inherits either, she’ll be a force to reckon with. The Azures and Landeenas were the two original kingdoms, and they were not just king’s and queen’s, they were so much more. Queen is not a title fit for Ivy, and when she realizes that, Kyson is in trouble.

“So, what did this butcher do?” Liam asks. I growl and he nods, as Icast him a warning look.

“Enough said,” he says. We spend the rest of the drive in silence. The long, windy roads are boring, and I pull over and swap with Liam when I feel myself nodding off. By the time we arrive, it is the early morning hours, the sun is just creeping above the trees of the sleepy town. A town I am about to wake with a monster’s screams.

Chapter Sixteen

Liam’s forceful smack against my chest jolts me awake, instantly alert as I catch sight of the town limits unfolding before us. “Orphanage first,” I command, and he nods, deftly steering the car toward our destination. Leaning over into the back seat, I extract my jacket from the bag, as a chill lingers in the morning air. We pull up in front of the dilapidated building.

The orphanage, a crumbling structure on the brink of condemnation, had been modified to accommodate the old hag’s wheelchair-bound existence after our last visit. Today, however, she will no longer need to fret about her future, for hers will come to an end.

Liam pulls over to the curb, and I step out of the car, closing the door with a gentle click. The children remain asleep, their absence evident in the stillness that permeates the premises. They are all tucked away in their beds. I effortlessly hop over the small brick fence that encloses the front yard, while Liam opens the trunk.

“No need for those,” I caution him, considering the presence of innocent children within these walls.

“Then why are we here?” he queries.

“Grabbing the old bat, getting a name and leaving,” I tell him, and he sighs but shuts the trunk. “I’m still bringing my knives just in case,” he mutters.

As I approach the entrance, I rap on the door, waiting in vain for a response. It is early; perhaps Mrs. Daley is the sole adult present. However, sneaking around to the back of the building, I discover the door has been left unlocked—an oversight on their part. Stepping inside, it is colder within the orphanage than it is outside.

“Fuck, it’s like the arctic in here,” Liam snarls.

“I presume she no longer occupies an upper-level room,” I remark, eyeing the worn spiral staircase.

“Not unless the old bat sprouted wings and learned to fly,” Liam chuckles.

“Oh, she will fly alright,” I tell him, walking through the bottom level, looking for where she may have had her room moved to. It is the sounds of banging around that alert me to which one. It sounds like she has fallen out of bed. Her annoying screeching voice curses, making my upper lip pull back over my teeth as I push open the door. The room stinks of piss and shit.

“Fuck me, we haven’t even touched her, and she already shit herself,” Liam snorts, and her head snaps up to stare at us from where she is trapped beside her bed, her wheelchair overturned. Her eyes grow wide, and she cowers away.

“Haven’t you done enough?” she says, visibly shaking.

“Nope, but I will make it quick. All I need is a name, and address,” I tell her, gripping her shoulders while Liam turns the wheelchair upright. I lift her, dropping her into the seat, and she clutches the armrests so tightly her knuckles turn white.

“How about a nice cup of tea, love? You look rather parched. I make an outstanding brew,” Liam says, grabbing the handles and steering her out.

“There are children here,” she stammers, flinching as she passes me when I hold the door open for them.

“Well, what would an orphanage be without children?” I retort, trailing behind as Liam leads her into the kitchen. He glides around the space with practiced ease, his theatrics serving to alleviate her anxiety—a prelude to her impending demise.

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