The sound of my footsteps echoes through the dimly lit dungeon as I stride purposefully toward the center of the room. The air is thick with the coppery scent of blood and the weight of impending violence. I’ve just returned from saying goodbye to Amelia, who wasn’t thrilled about staying with Ava but understood the necessity better than my aunt did. My plan is to quickly finish my business here and retrieve her later.
As I approach the center of the room, I find Lord Easterlin and a guard standing a few feet away from a man suspended from the ceiling. His body is a canvas of bruises and blood, the crimson liquid dripping steadily onto the stone floor below. This is the reason Lord Easterlin sought me out earlier while Amelia and I were training. He’s doing everything in his power to convince me he’s not in league with his daughter and to atone for his mistake in allowing her to slip away and nearly kidnap Amelia again.
“Patrol Officer Henry,” I address the hanging man, moving closer until I’m standing directly in front of him. “You are quite the difficult man to find.” I grab his chin roughly, my nails digging into his skin and eliciting a hiss of pain from his cracked lips.
“Please, spare me! I beg of you!” he pleads, his voice ragged with desperation. I can’t help but laugh at his pathetic attempt to appeal to my mercy.
“To think I once believed you were a man of intelligence,” I scoff, releasing his chin with a forceful shove that sends him swinging like a macabre pendulum.
“I did everything you asked! Why are you doing this to me?” he cries, his eyes wide with fear and confusion.
“Did he really just ask me that idiotic question?” I turn to Lord Easterlin and the guard, my eyebrows raised in disbelief. They both shake their heads, tsking in disapproval.
“I don’t know where the king is, I swear! Please believe me!” Henry begs, his voice cracking with emotion.
“I would love to believe you, Henry, but unfortunately, we both know your word is worthless.” He helped us with the coup, but he withheld crucial information that has now come back to haunt us.
“What happened that day wasn’t my fault! I couldn’t have known some members of the royal family wouldn’t attend. You can’t blame me for not disclosing it to you earlier that night!” he argues, his tone bordering on indignant.
“You see, that’s where you’re wrong again.” I calmly unbutton my cuff and roll up my sleeves, exposing the corded muscles of my forearms. “You knew they weren’t going to attend, and you didn’t inform me, giving the werewolf king a chance to escape.” I reach into my pocket and pull out a silver ring, slipping it onto my finger. The metal gleams menacingly in the dim light.
I clench my fist and deliver a vicious punch to Henry’s chin, snapping his head back and sending him swinging wildly. He screams in agony, the sound echoing off the stone walls. “For that, you will pay.” Another punch to the stomach, my knuckles sinking into the soft flesh and forcing the air from his lungs.
“Please, forgive me for my mistake, Your Majesty! I beg you!” Henry pleads, his eyes fixated on the silver whip I retrieve from the guard.
“First, I am going to-” My threat is cut short by the shrill ringing of my phone. Dropping the whip, I quickly fish the device from my pocket and answer, my heart suddenly racing with worry.
“Amelia, is everything alright?” I ask my voice tight with concern.
“I’m fine, I just-” Her response is interrupted by Lord Easterlin’s startled voice.
“Your Majesty?” he questions, his eyes wide with shock. It’s not surprising, considering I never bring my phone to interrogations.
“You were saying, Amelia?” I turn away from Lord Easterlin, giving her my full attention.
“I wanted to ask if you could have someone bring some of my books over. I’m dying of boredom,” she explains, her tone slightly sheepish.
“I apologize for that. I’ll have someone bring them to you as soon as possible.” I snap my fingers at the guard, beckoning him closer.
“Thank you. Goodbye,” Amelia says, a hint of excitement coloring her words.
“Bye, Amelia.” A small smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, a warmth spreading through my chest at the thought of her happiness.
I end the call and slip the phone back into my pocket, turning to give instructions to the guard. “Have Beatrice gather Amelia’s books and send them to my uncle’s place immediately.”
With that taken care of, I return my focus to Henry, ignoring the curious gaze of Lord Easterlin boring into my back.
“Henry, guess what? Today might be your lucky day,” I announce, watching as his eyes widen with a glimmer of hope.
“Do you know Princess Amelia?” I ask, my tone deceptively casual. He nods, his expression wary.
“What do you think of her?”
“She’s a bitch. A whore and a curse to the werewolf race. She deserves to die wherever she is,” he spits, his body trembling with barely contained rage.
“Hmm, interesting.” It seems he’s eager for a quicker death.
“So, you believe she’s a curse on the werewolf race?” I press, my voice dangerously soft.
“Yes,” he confirms, his jaw set in defiance.
“That’s interesting.”
“How, Your Majesty,” Lord Easterlin interjects from beside me.
“You see, speaking with Amelia just now put me in a good mood. I was thinking, if you weren’t one of the assholes who made her feel like trash growing up, I might have given you three chances to come clean about Nathaniel’s whereabouts and spared you the gruesome torture.” Henry’s eyes widen in horrified realization, the gravity of his mistake sinking in.
I lean in close, my face mere inches from his. “That’s right, Henry. Now, I’m going to take my precious time inflicting unimaginable pain on your already fragile body. I’ll make you regret every single vile word you uttered about Amelia.” Moving to whisper directly into his ear, I deliver my final promise. “By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll wish the only words that ever passed your fucking lips were praises for her.”
In a swift motion, I grab a small blade from the nearby table and return to Henry’s side. Grasping his tongue, I slice through the muscle in one clean stroke. He thrashes violently, screaming in agony as blood pours from his mutilated mouth.
“I thought it best we start with that since you never knew how to use it properly,” I remark, flinging the severed tongue to the ground with a sickening splat.
Circling behind him, I tear the tattered remains of his shirt from his body, exposing the expanse of his back. With meticulous precision, I carve the words “Amelia is the best in the world” into his flesh, a twisted smile stretching across my face as his blood flows freely, painting the floor a vivid crimson.
“Magnificent,” I breathe, admiring my handiwork with a sense of dark satisfaction.
Returning to the table, I select a spiked whip, the metal barbs glinting in the dim light. I bring the weapon down on Henry’s skin again and again, reveling in the way his blood splatters across my body, his screams of anguish a twisted symphony to my ears. I continue the relentless assault until my muscles burn with exertion.
“Your Majesty.” Lord Easterlin’s hand on my arm halts my next strike. I turn to face him, my chest heaving with the effort of my brutality. “He’s gone,” he informs me, his voice tinged with something akin to worry.
I glance back at Henry’s lifeless form, only now noticing the stillness of his chest and the stark white of exposed bone peeking through the tattered remnants of his flesh. In my blind rage and bloodlust, I failed to realize the moment he slipped from this world.
Dropping the whip to the ground, I take a deep, shuddering breath. Never before have I felt such a profound sense of satisfaction from inflicting torture.
“We have a problem, Your Majesty,” Lord Easterlin says, his words cutting through the haze of my thoughts.
“What is it?” I ask, my voice sounding distant to my own ears.
“He didn’t reveal the werewolf king’s location before you killed him,” he points out, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. I was so consumed by the desire to make Henry pay for his words that I completely forgot our original purpose. I can’t believe I allowed myself to lose control like that.
“I knew he didn’t know where the king was. That’s why I killed him,” I lie, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.
“If you say so, Your Majesty.” Lord Easterlin’s tone makes it clear he doesn’t believe me, but he chooses not to press the issue.
“Tell the men to continue searching. This time, make sure the werewolf they find actually knows Nathaniel’s whereabouts,” I order, my voice regaining its usual authority.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” With a curt nod, Lord Easterlin follows me out of the dungeon.
I ascend the stairs to my room, my mind reeling with the events of the day. As soon as I cross the threshold, I strip off my blood-soaked shirt and close my eyes, taking a moment to collect myself. What the hell is happening to me? Amelia seems to be consuming my every thought and action. I don’t understand what’s come over me.
“Nickolas!” a scream pierces the air, causing my eyes to fly open in alarm. Spinning around, I find Amelia standing there, her eyes wide with terror.
Fuck. The one thing I never wanted her to discover about me has just been laid bare. I’m shirtless, my back exposed, and Amelia has seen the scars that mar my skin-scars that, as the lycan king, I shouldn’t possess.