A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 121 - 120

Chapter 121: Chapter 120

My eyes were wide, locked—glued—to the scene unfolding in front of me. My breath was stuck somewhere between my ribs and my throat, as if even air itself was too afraid to move.

The Lycan King ran his fingers down the blade one more time, slowly, like he was caressing a lover. He wasn’t in any hurry. No—he was enjoying this. Dragging it out. Relishing the way I flinched every time his foot stepped closer to Thane.

He dragged it along the edge of the wooden table slowly, the screeching sound scraping against my nerves.

Thane sat tied to the chair, wrists bound tight behind his back, bruises blooming across his cheekbone, blood dried at the corner of his mouth. His tunic was torn at the shoulder, and I could see where the skin beneath was raw, scraped. But his eyes—goddess, his eyes never left mine.

It was like he didn’t care about the monster behind him. He was only focused on me. His mouth moved, trying to form something. Maybe he was trying to mouth "it’s okay." Maybe "I’m sorry." I couldn’t tell, because the tears started to cloud my vision again, even though I tried to obey the command.

Don’t you dare shed that tear.

I bit the inside of my cheek, hard. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth, and I swallowed it down like it could smother the scream sitting in my throat.

The Lycan King stepped around Thane now, coming to stand directly in front of him. He crouched down, resting his elbows on his knees like he had all the time in the world.

"So," he said casually, twirling the knife between his fingers. "You thought you could take her from me."

Thane’s jaw clenched but he didn’t say a word.

The Lycan king smiled. "You know," he said, tilting his head, "I almost admire your courage. Almost. But the whole sneaking-around part, not so much. Bit cowardly for a Male."

Thane spat blood near his boot.

I flinched again. "Please don’t do this," I whispered, but my voice came out more like a whimper.

The Lycan King looked over his shoulder at me and smiled. "It’s already happening, dear bride."

Then he turned back, lifted the blade, and in one smooth motion, sliced across Thane’s cheek.

"No," I sobbed. "Please, I’ll do anything, just don’t hurt him—"

"Oh, now you bargain?" the Lycan king said without turning to face me. "Where was that sense of loyalty when you were running from me in the dead of night?"

"I was scared!" I cried. "You locked me in, you manipulated me—"

"And still, I brought you back safe," he cut in sharply. He looked at me then, eyes hard. "I didn’t kill you, Layla. I never would. But him?"

He glanced at Thane again, raising the blade to his collarbone.

"Him! This stray! I do not care about."

"Don’t!" I yelled, struggling against the invisible force pinning me to the chair. "You said you wouldn’t lie. You said you’d let me see him. Not—not this!"

"I did let you see him," he said calmly, pressing the tip of the knife against Thane’s chest. "Every promise kept."

Thane finally spoke. His voice was hoarse, cracked. "Layla. Don’t look. Close your eyes—"

"No," the Lycan King growled, snapping his head toward me. "You will look. That’s your punishment. You watch what your defiance has cost."

He turned the knife and drove it deep into Thane’s flesh, making him cry out.

I screamed.

It ripped from me like a wounded animal, shaking the stone walls of the dungeon.

My throat burned.

My fists trembled.

But I was still paralyzed. Stuck. Made to watch like this was some twisted theater.

Blood dripped down Thane’s chest. It soaked into his shirt, a deep, spreading stain that seemed to match the growing pit in my stomach.

"STOP!" I screamed, tears falling freely now. I didn’t care anymore if I wasn’t supposed to cry. If I was punished later. I didn’t care if I was killed too.

"STOP IT, YOU MONSTER!"

The Lycan King stilled.

Slowly, he straightened up, turned to me, and stared.

His face was... blank.

And then he walked toward me.

Every step felt like thunder.

My chest rose and fell with panicked breaths, my back digging into the chair as if I could melt into it and disappear.

He knelt in front of me. Reached up. And wiped one of my tears with his thumb.

"You," he said softly, "chose the wrong side."

His breath was warm on my face, but it sent a shiver down my spine.

Then he stood, and walked away.

"Clean him up," he told someone—probably a guard in the shadows. "And prepare her for tomorrow. She’ll need rest."

"What are you going to do to him?!" I yelled as he started up the stairs.

He paused, glancing back.

"That depends," he said. "On you."

And then he was gone. Just like that.

Leaving behind the smell of blood, the sound of chains rattling as someone stepped out from the darkness to untie Thane... and the unbearable weight of what I had just let happen.

The guards’ hands wrapped around my arms, firm and cold, and I didn’t resist. My feet barely moved—just dragged along the ground like my body had forgotten how to carry itself.

The guards didn’t say anything. Just pulled me through the dark corridor like I was some prisoner of war. The stone walls felt even colder than before, like they were mocking me for believing I could ever leave this place.

My bare feet scraped the floor. I didn’t even remember losing my shoes.

I was quiet. Numb. I think one of the guards looked at me, probably expecting me to scream or cry or bite or fight, but when I didn’t, he just glanced away again like I disgusted him.

We reached the main staircase. Every step up was heavier than the last, like gravity itself wanted to pull me back into that dungeon. Into that nightmare. Like it wasn’t done with me yet.

When we reached the hallway leading to my chamber, one of the guards finally let go of my arm and opened the door. The other pushed me gently inside.

I stumbled forward a little and caught myself on the edge of the dresser. My hands were shaking.

The door shut behind me with a heavy, echoing thud. A final period to a sentence I never wanted to write.

I stood there in the middle of my room, staring at nothing.

It was too quiet.