Babysitting The Amnesiac Lycan King novel Chapter 87

Chapter 87

Chapter 87

I should hand over the file.

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Liam is watching me. Waiting. His fingers tap an impatient rhythm against his desk, but he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t push. He’s giving me a chance to do the right thing, or the wrong thing–depends on which side of the moral fence you’re

1. on.

It’s just a file. It’s just information. It’s just words on a goddamn page.

Except it isn’t.

I feel it in my gut, twisting, gnawing at the edges of my resolve like a starving animal.

If I hand this over, I get access to the Imperial Archives. A golden fucking ticket to everything I’ve been searching for. Every answer. Every secret buried under years of corruption and power struggles. My parents. My pack. The truth about what happened to them.

But when my fingers tighten around the file, I don’t see words or pages. I see Enoch’s hands. The way they held my face like I was something breakable. The way they pinned me down, firm, steady, unshakable. I hear his laugh–low, unguarded, meant only for me.

Maldives. The way he looked at me under the moonlight, his gaze soft, almost fragile, like he was terrified of losing me.

That same fucker left me.

I swallow hard and rip myself from the memory. Not the time, Taryn.

I need to decide. Now.

Liam exhales sharply, the sound pulling me back into his office. His brows lift, but he still doesn’t say anything. He’s waiting for me to crack first. Smart man.

I force my shoulders to straighten and meet his gaze. “I’ll think about it.”

Liam’s expression doesn’t change. His fingers stop drumming against the desk. Just for a second. Barely noticeable. But I see it. A flicker of something–suspicion, calculation, patience wearing thin.

Then, just as quickly, his mouth twitches into something that resembles a smirk but doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Think fast,” he says. “Opportunities don’t wait forever.”

No shit.‘

I nod, gripping the file tighter before turning toward the door. But before I can step out, Liam’s voice cuts through the space between us.

“Taryn.”

I pause. Don’t turn around.

“You remember what you came here for, right?” His voice is smooth. Controlled. Deadly.

My throat tightens.

Yeah. I remember.

I just don’t know if I can do it.

12:43 Thu, 3 Apr

Chapter 87

Not yet

Not like this.

Zoe’s already throwing her stuff into her bag when I make it back to our desks. Her long, manicured nails clack against her phone screen as she types furiously, probably making last–minute plans with her latest Italian conquest.

“Let me guess,” I say, dropping into my chair. “You’re either abandoning me for another Italian, or you’re about to announce that you’re finally swearing off them”

Zoe snorts. “Swearing off? Please. I met him in the Maldives, remember? Luau night? Hot as fuck, barely speaks English but knows how to say bellissima like a goddamn poet?” She fans herself dramatically, eyes gleaming with pure, unrepentant thirst. “Tonight’s the night, T. He’s getting it. I’m getting it.”

I swear to fucking God, if Zoe talks about one more Italian man, I’m reporting her to the embawy.

I shake my head, laughing. “You need therapy*

“And you need a sex life,” she shoots back without missing a beat. “What, still caught up on the mystery Lycan? Or maybe- she leans in, waggling her brows-“our broody, emotionally unavailable boss?”

I choke on my water. “Liam? Fuck no.

She twirls a pen between her fingers, practically vibrating in her chair as she leans closer. “So… did he scold you again?”

She means Liam. The grumpy, soul–sucking boss from hell. The one who acts like my very existence is a personal inconvenience to him. If I had a dollar for every time he sighed in my direction, I’d be rich enough to quit this damn job.

I shrug. “Nope.”

Zoe squints. “No way. Liam Calloway didn’t get on your ass for once? That’s gotta be a sign of the apocalypse.”

“I think he’s saving his energy to murder me in my sleep,” I say dryly, turning back to my screen.

She grins. “Lucky bitch. Anyway, I have a huge favor to ask.”

Here we go.

She pulls her chair closer, eyes gleaming with excitement. “So, I kinda–okay, no, I totally–need you to cover my shift tonight.”

I wave a hand. “Fine, I’ll cover for you.”

She blinks. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah.”

She squints again. “You never volunteer for overtime. What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Go have fun.”

Zoe grins like a little shit. “Uh–huh. That’s why you’re so eager to take my shift, right?”

“Right,” I deadpan. “I’m staying late because I get off on stress and unpaid overtime.”

“Well, whatever helps you sleep at night.” She slings her bag over her shoulder, clearly unconvinced but too busy thinking about her bellissimo one–night stand to press further. “You’re a saint for covering me, T. Love you forever. Hope I don’t die

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Chapter 87

via sex–induced cardiac arrest.”

“If you do, put me in your will.”

She laughs, blowing me a kiss before disappearing out the door.

And then I’m alone.

One by one, people clock out, until the last coworker waves goodbye. “Don’t overwork yourself, Taryn.”

I smile. “I won’t.”

Liar.

I wait. The hum of computers fades, replaced by the occasional creak of the old building settling. A few more final goodbyes echo in the hallway, followed by the sound of the elevator doors shutting.

Then silence.

I push away from my desk and stand.

This is it.

I slip out of my heels and move quietly, my sock–covered feet soundless against the floor as I make my way to the secretary’s desk. My pulse ticks faster. My hands already know what to do–search the drawers, flip through papers, check the usual hiding spots.

Liam’s office keys.

Hands flying over drawers, flipping through files, searching for the one thing that could make or break me.

Liam keeps everything under lock and key, which is fucking annoying. But I’ve done this before–with Enoch’s office. This? This is child’s play.

My fingers brush against a keyring.

Bingo.

I grab them, take a breath, and head to his door. The lock clicks open, smooth and easy. Almost too easy.

I take a deep breath, steady my nerves, and slowly push Liam’s door open.

The office is dark, the air thick with the scent of ink, coffee, and something uniquely Liam–probably frustration and superiority complex.

The room smells like him. Sharp, clean, something expensive and dark. His desk is neat, but I know better–Liam’s not the kind of man who leaves things out in the open.

Which means I need to dig.

I move fast, flipping through folders, pulling open drawers, scanning for anything that looks even remotely close to the file he was about to hand me earlier. My fingers move over documents, skimming names, dates, trying to find something- anything.

The one Liam was about to hand over earlier. The one that could hold something–anything–about my parents.

Then-

Found it.

12:43 Thu, 3 Apr s