Page 6 of His Fierce Lycan Luna

AZALEA

The mindlink crackles open as Liam desperately calls for the guards, his voice filled with urgency, increasing my heart rate and panic. But there is only silence in response. A disconcerting silence hangs heavy in the air, causing a knot of unease to form in the pit of their stomachs.

Yet, despite the lack of any answer from the guards outside, Kyson opens the mindlink, and his voice flits through our heads.

‘What is it?’Kyson asks, his voice laced with concern and a touch of apprehension.

‘The council is here. Get home. Now,’Liam’s voice comes through the link, tinged with a mix of frustration and desperation as his head turns, taking in all the council members and guns trained on us.

‘Don’t let them in. I am on my way,’Kyson responds.

‘Too late.’

‘Azalea?’

‘Get here, Kyson. I am all that is left,’Liam growls, his words laced with fierce protectiveness as he slams shut the mindlink, cutting off any further communication.

As Liam takes a deep breath to steady himself, he walks down with purposeful strides to confront the unwelcome visitors, standing in front of me still, he pushes me further behind him.

“How may I help you, gentlemen?” Liam asks, walking down to greet them.

“We have had a complaint,” the tallest member of the council states coldly, his voice dripping with authority and superiority.

“So you thought you would break into the Kingdom? The King isn’t here, so I am sure we can reschedule,” Liam retorts, a bit of his humor slipping back into his tone. The tall council member matches Kyson’s height effortlessly; his obsidian eyes fixated on Liam with an unsettling gaze. He then peers behind Liam, his gaze finding me, and he stares at me curiously, giving the air a sniff.

“Clarice, take the new girl upstairs,” Liam commands, but the tall council member steps forward, causing Liam’s hand to instinctively fall on his chest, a silent warning.

The energy in the air shifts, crackling with tension as Clarice grabs my arm, pushing me up the stairs. The man’s presence is foreboding, commanding attention and respect. He steps forward, disregarding Liam’s attempt to redirect him.

“She remains. We aren’t to see the King but to find two women, an Abbie and the Queen.”

“As I said, the King isn’t here, and neither is Abbie, and neither is the Queen,” Liam growls, looking at the man whose gaze has not left me. His eyes then dart back and forth between the council member and the men surrounding him, their guns glinting ominously in the dim light when one presses against his chest.

The man watching me tilts his head to the side. “Now that would be a lie because she reeks of the King’s scent,” he growls.

“And as I said, the King is not here, so I will escort you off the premises, gentlemen. No need to frighten everyone here,” Liam retorts.

Clarice’s grip on my arm tightens, pulling me further away from the unfolding confrontation. Fear courses through my veins like venomous poison, constricting my thoughts and actions making me sluggish, and I follow her when another voice fills the room.

Just as Liam is about to make his next move, another voice cuts through the chaos, commanding attention and freezing everyone in their tracks. The sheer force behind it sends shivers down my spines.

“She goes up those stairs, shoot him, and the woman,” the voice echoes through the room, its authority leaving no room for argument. Clarice gasps, her eyes wide with terror as they meet mine, silently conveying the gravity of the situation to not move right now.

“Clarice, take her upstairs,” Liam orders, his voice filled with a dangerous edge. I swallow, turning my attention back to these men surrounding Liam.

“What is this about?” I demand, and the man smirks as my command rolls over him but has no effect. He looks amused at my attempt.

“If you would come with me, my Queen,” he says with a mocking tone, his words dripping with falseness.

“She is not going anywhere with you,” Liam snarls, stepping into the council member’s path and placing a firm hand on his chest. The tension in the room intensifies as the other men surrounding Liam move closer, their guns pressing against him. A palpable sense of danger hangs in the air, threatening to explode at any moment. The men holding guns step aside to allow the other three men into my line of vision, all of them dressed impeccably in tailored suits.

“You must be Azalea. I see you have met Mr. Crux. I am a council elder. My name is Denali,” he says.

This man, Denali, oozes authority, and is clearly the one in charge. He smirks, his cold blue eyes looking up at me as he sweeps thick blonde hair from his face. He also speaks with a thick accent I can’t quite place.

“And this is my brother, Larkin,” Denali says, motioning towards the man beside him in a tailored blue suit, his blonde hair tied neatly at the nape of his neck. Larkin possesses the same cruel, sharp features as Denali, a mirror image of him.

“And this is Kendrick,” he says, motioning to the last man who is missing an eye. A long, jagged scar stretches from his hairline to his chin, his lips twisted into a permanent snarl. He moves forward with an unsettling grace, his one-eyed gaze fixated on me with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine.

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