Babysitting The Amnesiac Lycan King novel Chapter 19

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Chapter 19 

Chapter 19 

I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone more in my life than I hate Seraphina right now. 

She’s standing there, all doe–eyed and dripping faux sympathy, handing me the list of materials for the Mating Ball like it’s some sort of sacred scroll. 

There’s only some stuff I haven’t been able to buy, I think I got a lot even after being stalked, and stayed in the cave back then. Does she need more stuff? 

Her voice is sweet enough to rot teeth, her tone just concerned enough to make everyone in the room think she’s some goddess of kindness. 

“I really wish you didn’t have to go back to the unclaimed lands,” she says, her big eyes wide with faux worry. “It’s so dangerous out there. But you’re just… so brave, Taryn.” 

I bite down hard enough on my tongue to keep from spitting out every profanity under the sun. Brave, my ass. She might as well call me expendable. 

“Right,” I mutter, snatching the list from her perfectly manicured hands. My fingers twitch to crumple it into a ball, but I resist the urge. Barely. 

“Oh, and don’t forget,” she adds, her saccharine voice grating on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. “That carriage you’ll be taking? It’s the one gifted by the late Alpha King. A true honor for our pack.” 

Her smile is so sweet, it’s almost disgusting. “Try not to mess it up,” she chirps, her words sugar–coated poison. 

I glare at her, my lips twitching into a tight smile that screams I want to murder you in your sleep. “Thanks for the reminder,” I say flatly. “I’ll make sure to put it on my to–do list. Right under ‘survive your bullshit.”” 

She blinks, her smile faltering for just a second before she recovers, spinning on her heel and sauntering away, leaving me seething in her wake. 

*** 

The carriage is waiting by the gates, its black lacquered surface gleaming in the sunlight. The damn thing looks like it belongs in a royal procession, not some errand to the unclaimed lands. 

“You better not scratch this,” the head maid warned earlier, her voice sharp enough to flay skin. Like I’d go out of my way to ruin something that could probably fund my entire miserable existence ten times over. 

The coachman, a middle–aged man with a permanent scowl etched into his face, doesn’t bother helping me with the supplies. I hoist the bags up myself, gritting my teeth against the lingering sting on my cheek. It’s fine, I tell myself. Just another day as the pack’s favorite punching bag. 

The moment I settle into the plush leather seat, I feel out of place. The carriage smells like polished wood and faint lavender, a stark contrast to my scuffed boots and mud–streaked skirt. 

Shit, I should have insisted I’ll shift instead. 

‘Give me a break, I’m exhausted.’ I hear my wolf whine, and I roll my eyes. 

The carriage coach whipped the horse and we were about to leave when I hear it. Heavy, frantic footsteps pounding against the dirt, closing the distance like a freight train barreling toward me. 

The door wrenches open with a force that nearly rips it off its hinges, and I’m face–to–face with Enoch. 

His emerald eyes–usually calm and full of that odd childlike adoration—are wide with panic. His chest is heaving, the strain of running or maybe sheer panic taking its toll. 

1/3 

Chapter 19 

What is he doing right now? 

“Taryn,” he breathes, like I’ve just announced I’m abandoning him in the middle of a war zone, 

“For fuck’s sake, Enoch!” I snap, pressing a hand to my forehead. My patience has officially left the building, “What are you doing?” 

“Go?” he asks, his voice low, shaky, like a damn kicked puppy. 

“Yes, go,” I say, exasperated. “Me, not we. You’re staying here, okay? You don’t have to be glued to my side every second? 

His brows knit together like I’ve just declared the sky is green. He doesn’t move. 

I step out of the carriage, trying to level with him. “Look, I’ll be back soon. I’m just picking up supplies. No danger, no drama. Just sit tight, eat something, maybe don’t murder anyone-” 

He still doesn’t budge. His hands grip the doorframe like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. “Taryn stay,” he mumbles, his tone bordering on pleading now. 

I let out a frustrated sigh, my resolve cracking under his gaze. Damn it, why does he have to look at me like that? Like I’m the only thing keeping his world from crumbling to ash. 

“You’re fine,” I say, softer this time. “I’m coming back. Promise.” 

It takes a minute, but he finally lets go, his hands falling to his sides. His shoulders slump like he’s lost a battle, and he takes a hesitant step back. 

“Good,” I say, climbing back into the carriage. “See? Not so hard.” 

But just as I think he’s going to leave, Enoch’s posture stiffens. His head jerks toward the carriage, his eyes narrowing as though he’s seeing it for the first time. 

“Enoch?” I ask, my stomach twisting. 

He doesn’t answer. His hand comes up to his temple, his fingers digging into his skin as if he’s trying to claw something out 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” I slide out of the carriage again, panic setting in. 

His breathing gets heavier, his eyes squeezing shut as though the sunlight is too much for him. And then, just when I think it couldn’t get worse, his eyes snap open.