A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 122 - 121

Chapter 122: Chapter 121

I stirred, the ache in my limbs making itself known before I even fully woke up. The floor was cold beneath me was hard, but the warmth of my cats curled around me had made it bearable. My fingers twitched, still tangled in Thalion’s fur, and for a moment, I almost allowed myself to drift back into unconsciousness.

But something was wrong.

A prickle ran down my spine, sharp and insistent, like ice-cold fingers trailing along my skin. My breathing hitched, and an eerie awareness settled over me.

I wasn’t alone.

My eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the dim glow of the candlelight.

And then I saw him.

The Lycan King.

He was standing at the foot of my bed, watching me.

A shiver raced down my back.

I pushed myself up, my movements slow and deliberate, my heartbeat thudding against my ribs like a war drum. My throat was dry, my pulse a frantic rhythm, but I didn’t look away from him.

"You monster," I spat, my voice thick with hatred.

His lips curled into a smirk. "That’s no way to greet your mate."

I clenched my fists. "Where is Thane?"

His smirk widened. "That’s the stray’s name?" he mused, as if he found it amusing.

I took a step forward, my nails digging into my palms. "Where is he?!"

The Lycan King tilted his head, his red eyes gleaming in the candlelight. "I was just about to take you to him," he said smoothly, extending his hand toward me.

I froze, staring at the outstretched hand, suspicion curling in my gut.

His smirk deepened, as if he could read my thoughts. "Darling, you know I don’t lie."

Liar.

Every word that left his mouth was tainted with manipulation, but—he wasn’t wrong, not entirely. He doesn’t lie but he twist the truth.

I glanced at my cats, their wide eyes fixed on me, ears twitching as if sensing my hesitation.

I exhaled sharply.

Then, with a scowl, I placed my hand in his.

His fingers curled around mine, his grip firm, possessive. A triumphant gleam flickered in his eyes, and then—

The scent hit me before my senses could even register where I was.

Damp. Decay.

Metallic.

My stomach twisted violently as my vision adjusted, and I realized exactly where he had taken me.

The dungeon.

The stone walls were rough, aged, stained with things I didn’t want to think about. The air was thick, heavy, suffocating, the scent of blood lingering like a ghost of past torments.

And then I saw him.

Thane.

Chained to a chair, his wrists bound in silver shackles, his head hanging forward.

He was alive.

A wave of relief crashed into me, nearly sending me to my knees. He looked... weary, but he was breathing. That was all that mattered.

I moved forward—or at least, I tried to.

But my body wouldn’t obey.

My muscles tensed, locked in place, as if invisible hands had clamped down on me. My breath caught in my throat, panic rising as I struggled against the unseen force keeping me glued to a chair.

I turned my head, my heart hammering.

And then Thane’s eyes met mine.

Shock flickered across his face, his gaze darting over me as if he was trying to convince himself that I was real.

"Layla?" His called out, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

No sound. No words.

My throat burned as I tried again, but it was useless—I couldn’t speak.

A sharp chuckle broke the silence.

I tore my gaze away from Thane and turned toward the Lycan King, who stood at the side, his eyes filled with amusement.

"You need to be punished for trying to run away from me, darling," he murmured, his tone deceptively gentle. Then, his gaze flickered to Thane. "And he needs to be punished for daring to steal you away from me."

I shook my head, my pulse spiking.

No.

No.

His smirk didn’t waver. If anything, it grew.

"You’ll watch," he murmured, stepping closer to Thane. "You’ll watch as I deliver the punishment, dear bride."

The Lycan King turned his head to face me slightly, "Do you have something to say before we begin?" he asked, his voice smooth as silk, yet dripping with something far more sinister.

My breath hitched.

And then—my voice. I could speak again.

"Don’t hurt him..." I whispered, my voice barely holding together.

The Lycan King paused, his smirk slow, taunting. "Hmm?" he hummed, as if savoring my words.

Then, with an almost lazy motion, he reached up and unclasped his cloak, letting it slide from his shoulders and pool onto the ground like liquid shadow.

A fresh wave of panic surged through me.

"Wait..." I rasped, struggling against the force keeping me bound to the chair. My limbs trembled with the effort, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t break free. I was helpless.

The Lycan King tilted his head at my attempt, his smirk deepening.

"Stay still, darling," he stated, his voice still deceptively gentle, but in his hands was a knife.

My heart stopped.

The blade was long and wickedly sharp, polished to perfection. He turned it slightly, letting the dull dungeon light glint off the surface before he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cloth, running it over the edge with a slow, practiced motion.

A cold chill crawled up my spine.

"Please... your majesty," I whispered, my voice shaking.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Just watch," he said smoothly, his smile widening. "Maybe next time, you can participate."

My breath hitched.

"NO!!! " I yelled, the word ripped from my throat.

"Quiet!"

The Lycan King’s roar crashed into me like a thunderclap, the force of it sending an icy wave through my veins.

I froze.

He had never once raised his voice at me.

The silence that followed was deafening, pressing against my skin like a vice. I could feel my heart pounding against my ribs.