Lycan Queen''s Prey Chapter 47


    ~Zirah~


    The inky ckness of unconsciousness ebbs away as I sluggishly w my way back into thend of


    the living. Strands of consciousness intertwine, weaving a confusing web of reality and dreams. It’s like


    trying to catch a gust of wind with bare hands—passing and elusive. My body feels heavy, as if


    submerged in an ocean with weights around my ankles.


    As my thoughts return and I cling to the remnants of earlier memory, my limbs respond with the speed


    and grace of driftwood in the undertow. I’m trapped within the confines of my body. Every attempt at


    movement is squashed by an unseen force. It’s like being a ghost in my own vessel.


    When my eyes first open, I am confused by the gray paneling. It takes me a few moments to recognize


    my surroundings. I’m in the back of a van, and a chilly breeze sweeps across my feet, but I don’t feel


    movement or hear an engine.


    My disoriented gaze peers around, capturing snapshots of the grim reality I have found myself in. Lyon


    is sprawled on the floor, unconscious. His chest heaves in a rhythmic pattern as he dances between life


    and death, walking on a de’s edge. My stomach sinks at the sight of him.


    Zeke is anything but himself at the moment. He leans heavily against the van wall, his eyes open but


    vacant. His limbs are pinned down by the cold shackle of chains that wrap around him and hold him


    against the wall of the van.


    His hands are bound to the cold steel wall, while another chain loops tightly around his neck. It gnaws


    into his flesh, revealing a haunting truth—one wrong move, and he’ll strangle himself.


    My head spins as I attempt to turn it. It feels as if an anvil rests upon it, transforming each small


    movement into a superhuman effort, while vertigo washes through me despite barely moving. However,


    the feeble attempt draws the attention of a guard, who heartlessly nudges me with his foot. The impact


    forces me onto my back, opening up a clear view of his demonic red eyes. A savage sense of


    satisfaction gleams in his crimson orbs, like a cat ying with a cornered mouse. His face stretches


    into a smug smirk as he deres.


    “She’s awake,” he calls out, his voice a sinister sound in the silence. Footsteps approach, vibrating


    through the van’s metallic floor and resonating in my bones. Another figure mbers into the back of


    the van, his silhouette blotting out the little light filtering in. A wave of dread crashes over me as the


    conversation ensues.


    Scattered pieces of conversation whirl around me. Their words dip and flow, leaving me to wade


    through the murky waters of my thoughts as my hearing rings and their words sound muffled. Yet, with


    each passing second, their voices grow clearer. The van’s open doors reveal a sight that propels my


    heart into my throat. My breath hitching, I recognize this ce—Regan’s kingdom. The torture


    dungeons, their bricks ckened by the mes of when Regan burned those inside, stand hauntingly


    close.


    “He can’t have gotten far?” the first guard muses. I strain to make sense of their disjointed talk while my


    mind races to unravel what the hell is going on. As if on cue, a new person steps into the back of the


    van. He towers over me, his eyes glinting ominously under the dim light. A cruel smile ys on his lips


    as he kicks Lyon in the ribs. “He still hasn’t woken?” the man asks, ncing at the two guards. They


    shake their heads, and the man sighs.


    “He’s barely alive; leave him; he probably won’tst long,” he dismisses, his wordsced with icy


    indifference.


    The harsh reality of his words grips me—if Lyon sumbs, the others will follow suit, and so will I. The


    grim revtion is driven home by the new man.


    “Not my issue; I don’t understand why he doesn’t just kill them and be done with it. Not that it will matter


    if we can’t figure out where Regan dropped.” His statement leaves a dreadful echo hanging in the


    silence.


    Soon another man steps into the back of the van, the ce feeling crowded. The mere shadow of this


    man, who drips authority and dominance, sends an icy shiver down my spine. King vic. The


    Vampire King.


    “My King,” The guards say simultaneously, dipping their heads to him.


    “Some of the city people said he left, that he tore out of the citytest night. How are our prisoners?”


    he jests his words in a twisted mockery. He crouches over me, his hands gripping my face, his fingers


    digging into my flesh. His chillingly familiar words ring in my ears. “Gosh, you look like your mother,” he


    states, turning my head from side to side, assessing me.


    “Not as strong, though; your mother was a force to be reckoned with, but you just had to get yourself


    tied to the Lycan Kings,” he mocks.


    “So we have no idea where he went, my king?” the vampire guard asks, and my eyes go to him; I can


    smell his fear; it perfumes the van, and my eyes go back to King vic, who was just addressed as the


    vampire king, confirming who I thought he was.


    “They’re linked. Mchi said she marked them all, so wherever he is, as long as we keep these two


    down, we’ll have time to perform the ritual. He won’t being for anyone if these two are in this


    state.” The king says, and I can’t help butugh, the noise sounding odd as it escapes my throat.


    The king’s blood-red eyes peer down at me, a devious sparkle in them, like he finds me amusing. “My


    Queen, do share what you find so funny, you’re helpless, useless while your mates are paralyzed, and


    your coven?” myughter cuts out abruptly. Then King vicughs.


    “Oh, you didn’t know? I’m guessing by the look on your face, this is news to you?” heughs,


    squeezing my face harder, his nails digging into my skin. “I have your coven, and soon I’ll have the four


    kingdoms. I will drag your mates with so much mandrake root and amphetamine, I will watch as they


    hallucinate and tear their mate apart….” I re at him.


    “But first, I need something else. I need them to bring my son back,” he snarls. “I just need to find


    Regan first,” he chuckles.


    “So, if you could point me in the right direction, it would be much appreciated; I’m a little bored of this


    game of hide and seek,” he chuckles.


    Something within me sparks. A sense of defiance bubbles up, kindled by his derisive words. “You


    foolish man,” I sneer. He smirks at my response, clearly underestimating the storm brewing within me.


    He dares to ridicule me, belittle my ties with my mates, andy im over my coven. His audacious


    ims ignite smoldering anger within me.


    “You forget, my king,” I spit thest word, my dislike for him evident in my voice.


    “I am not my mother; you are right. I am something else; I am the curse she created.” He raises an


    eyebrow, the first flicker of doubt crossing his features.


    “I know exactly who you are, Zirah,” he retorts, a note of challengecing his words. Iugh, the sound


    eerie and resounding in the confined space of the van. His guards nce nervously at me, their fear


    palpable in the air. The tremor in their eyes fuels my resolve and stokes the embers of my rebellious


    defiance.


    “And you,” I start, turning my attention to the guards. “Are all dead,” I chuckle.


    The guards nce at each other, and the King raises an eyebrow at me.


    “‘Hell hath no fury,’” I begin, a cryptic smile dancing on my lips. I let my voice trail off, the silence


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    stretching taut between us. My eyes flick from one guard to another, ensuring my words sink in. I am


    but a messenger delivering a prophecy of doom right now. The silence stretches, heavy and ominous,


    before Iplete the warning,


    “...like wrath.”


    “Regan is somewhere passed out in a ditch, turning cold and probably pissing his pants right about


    now,” King vic states. Iugh; this idiot has no idea the monster he is ying with.


    “Imagine, if you will,” I challenge the king, my voice dripping with icy scorn, “a wrath that’s been


    wronged, a wrath that’s been provoked. But now imagine... that same Wrath, ignited by the desire to


    save his virtue. To save me.”


    “She lies, ignore her ramblings, she is hallucinating from the mandrake root,” the king states, rising to


    his feet.


    “Do you really believe your castle walls, your armies, or even your power would be enough to halt


    him?” Iugh, the sound echoing in the chilling silence, starkly contrasting the grim situation they’re


    about to find themselves in. The king’s face turns ashen, his bravado faltering at the potency of my


    words.


    “Gather your guards, fortify your defenses, and you better start praying. For when Wrath arrives, not


    even the fates can save you.”


    “You think your words scare me?” heughs, leaning down. “They should, my king,” I spit at him. He


    falters for a second. “Wrath is not tied to me for I rejected him, but he’lle for me, he’lle for his


    brothers, and when he does,” I smile.


    “You’ll meet your son in the afterlife,” I whisper, and his hand raises before connecting with my face. My


    head whips to the side, but I don’t feel the sting. However, I do taste my blood as it fills my mouth. My


    tongue runs over my bit lip. I smirk, knowing I got under his skin.


    The king hastily exits the van. His men follow suit, leaving me alone in the belly of the beast. The


    deafening m of the door reverberates through the van, plunging me into darkness. I find myself


    alone with my thoughts, their loud racket drowning out the eerie silence of my physical world.


    King vic wants to run, for if Regan doesn’t kill him, I will the moment I feel my magic.