The novel Babysitting The Amnesiac Lycan King has been updated King Novel 72 with many unexpected details, removing many love knots for the male and female lead. In addition, the author Internet is very talented in making the situation extremely different. Let's follow the King Novel 72 of the Babysitting The Amnesiac Lycan King HERE.
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Novel Babysitting The Amnesiac Lycan King by Internet
Chapter 72
Chapter 72
The car is too damn quiet.
It’s been two weeks since the masquerade ball and I’m fucking impressed Liam has gotten us a way to not only enter the palace, but to move in there in that short amount of time.
The palace. It all seems like a dream.
I sit in the backseat, my folder clenched between my fingers so tightly that the edges bend under my grip. It has all the information I might need about the Alpha King, about Enoch.
Find me…”
I rub my face as I remember the words I told him that night. I asked him to find me and yet here I am, walking exactly where he is.
The city disappears behind us, swallowed by the stretch of forest leading to the Imperial Palace. The road is too smooth, the ride too effortless, like even the goddamn ground bows beneath the feet of the Lycan King.
Enoch.
I force my gaze out the window, but the palace looms in the distance, a shadowy beast carved out of stone and gold, waiting to swallow me whole.
“This is your last chance to change your mind,” Liam drawls from the driver’s seat, eyes flicking to me through the rearview mirror. “I can still turn the car around.”
I shoot him a glare. This, what I’m doing right here isn’t for Enoch, it’s not even for me but for my parents and for my brother, Jesse. This is to know who exactly took them away from me, and I’ve seen how the Imperial Pack is connected with their deaths and I’ll stop at nothing to know everything.
“I’m not backing out.” I hiss.
“Didn’t think so,” he mutters, gripping the wheel a little too tightly. “Just figured I’d remind you that you’re walking into a lion’s den wearing a steak necklace.”
Zoe hums from the passenger seat, twisting to look at me with a little too much enthusiasm for my liking. “More like walking into your ex’s house uninvited. The royal, powerful, might–murder–you–in–your–sleep kind of ex.” She taps her chin. “Have you considered bringing a weapon? Something small, discreet. A dagger, maybe?”
“Sure,” I deadpan. “I’ll just tape it to my thigh and hope no one notices when I go through security.”
She shrugs. “Or, hear me out–flash them some leg and maybe they’ll let it slide.”
“Fucking hell,” Liam mutters.
“Have you heard?”
The tension is broken as we both turn to Zoe who’s deep on her phone.
“What?” Liam and I both say in unison. Zoe lifts her phone to show us a picture and my heart drops. It’s in a balcony. The same one Enoch and I kissed. It was that fucking paparazzi. I knew they’re not going to let it slide.
In the picture is Enoch, although his face isn’t visible as well, yet it’s clear he’s the Lycan King. I’d know that even with the picture a mile away from me.
But,
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Chapter 72
Do they know who the woman is?
That I was the woman?
How much do they know?
Is my face seen?
“I think it’s Lady Celeste though.” My thoughts were stopped as I turn to Zoe, “What?” I mutter. She shrugs. “It’s just the dress, she’s wearing a red one, remember?” Liam nods at her.
Right. The dress.
It’s red because of the wine that woman poured on me. i guess it was a blessing in disguise, that way, they wouldn’t know it’s
“But I’m not too enthusiastic about her.” Liam turns to her in the rearview mirror. “Why?”
“I don’t know, I just prefer the midnight gown, cinderella girl.” She sighs, going back to her phone. Blush creeps into my fac and I look out the window, my heart pounding. That cinderella girl was me,
My thoughts are cut as we turn to a sharp left.
I lean my head back against the seat, inhaling through my nose. The palace is getting closer, the details sharpening. Massive iron gates rise like a ribcage protecting a beast, the metal intricately carved with depictions of battles older than any living werewolf. The towering walls of black stone seem to swallow the light, swallowing me with it.
I can feel the weight of it pressing down. The history. The blood. The sheer goddamn power embedded into every inch of this place.
“You good?” Zoe asks.
No. I’m not good.
But I say, “Peachy.”
We roll to a stop before the front gates, and immediately, guards descend upon the car. Their uniforms are pristine, their weapons polished, their expressions unreadable. One steps forward, his sharp gaze flicking between me, Zoe, and Liam before settling on the folder in my lap.
“Taryn Sinclair,” he says, voice clipped. “Identification.”
I pass him the papers. He scans them, then his eyes lock onto mine like he’s trying to see past my skin, into my fucking soul.
I stare back. Unflinching.
Seconds stretch. Then, finally, he nods to the others. The gates groan open, and the car lurches forward, taking me deeper into the lion’s den.
I exhale slowly.
Welcome to the palace.
Inside, the palace is just as suffocating as it looks from the outside.
The grand hall is a cathedral of shadows and gold, with towering pillars stretching toward the vaulted ceiling. Chandeliers drip with obsidian and onyx, catching the dim candlelight in eerie flashes. Guards line the corridors like statues, their presence a silent warning.
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Chapter 72
Zoe leans in close, whispering, “So, uh, have you ever even saw the Alpha King?”
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“Months ago,” I lie. I saw him just a few night ago, Z oe. But you don’t have to know that. “Before he left.” Before he abandoned me.
Before he became the Lycan King.
Zoe makes a low whistle. “Damn. So this is going to be awkward.”
I don’t reply. I don’t have to. The air is thick enough with unspoken words and unfinished business that we continue walking.
We reach the central wing, where an official is waiting for us. She’s tall, regal, and terrifying in that “I could destroy you with a single command” kind of way.
“Taryn Sinclair,” she says. “You’ll be staying in the west wing. According to the file your company has sent me, your role is as a royal historian and media consultant. You are here to document the reign of the Lycan King, not to interfere in palace affairs. Is this right?”
I nod.
Damn Liam is good at making excuses. We’re just here to dig up secrets, lady.
She doesn’t move. Her stare sharpens. “You do not seek out the King. You do not ask personal questions. You do not—”
“I get it,” I interrupt. “Stay in my lane. Do my job. Keep my mouth shut.”
For the first time, something resembling amusement flickers in her expression. “Precisely.”
“Let me get you to your own room for the time–being.”
She gestures for me to follow, leading us deeper into the palace. As we walk, I swear I feel something slithering beneath my skin. A tension. A presence.
As if I’m being watched.
The guards barely acknowledge me, but it’s there, thick in the air–the awareness of an unseen force pressing against me.
I square my shoulders. Let them watch. Let them wonder.
I’m here now.
And I’m not leaving without answers to what happened to my parents.
The problem with settling into luxury is that it makes you realize how fucking poor you’ve been living.
I drop my bag onto the massive bed–scratch that, this isn’t a bed, it’s a fucking cloud. A silk–draped, goddess–tier mattress that makes my old cot at the pack house look like a dog bed. The entire suite is bigger than my entire floor back home, decked out in dark wood, velvet curtains, and chandeliers that look like they belong in a historical drama. The Imperial Pack isn’t just rich; they’re centuries–old royalty kind of rich.
Not that I’m impressed.
I throw myself onto the mattress, bouncing once. The soft, expensive sheets smell faintly of something dark and woody- like old books and rain–drenched forests. It’s irritatingly familiar.
Enoch.
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Chapter 72
I groan into a pillow.
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Why the fuck does everything in this place feel like him? The walls, the air, the way every damn person looks at me like I don’t belong. Like I’m an imposter in a world I was never meant to touch.
Too bad. I’m here now.
A knock at the door snaps me out of my thoughts. Before I can answer, it swings open, and Lady Celeste Vaelor strides in like she owns the place.
Oh come on. You have got to be kidding me.
She lives here too?
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