Babysitting The Amnesiac Lycan King novel Chapter 91

Chapter 91

I pull back.

Fast

Like I just touched a damn stove. The heat of Liam’s breath is still lingering near my lips, but I shove him off so hard he actually stumbles back.

I don’t even process it–my hands just react before my brain extches up

“Fuck.” I breathe, stumbling a step back, like the distance will undo the last five seconds of whatever the hell that was “Shit.”

Liam’s brows draw together, confused, maybe hurt–but i don’t care. I don’t fucking care. My fingers shake as I wipe my mouth, even though nothing really happened, and 1 pace like I’m about to be sick.

“What the fuck was I thinking?” I mutter to myself, gripping my scalp. “What the actual fuck, Taryns

Because it was so close. My eyes were closed. My lips were parted. I was ready to move on.

Except–no.

Because his voice slams back into me like a freight train.

Mates don’t do that shit to each other.

My knees nearly buckle.

I stare at the floor, but all I see is Enoch’s face. The way he looked when he screamed at me.

When I left him in that hallway, bleeding with more than just his wounds.

And now I almost kissed someone else.

“Why would you–why would you even try that? You knew-”

“Because he’s not here,” Liam cuts in, his tone might be flat but eyes are sharp. “And he won’t be. Not after what you did.”

I flinch.

Like a slap across the face. Open–palmed. Brutal. Because it’s true, isn’t it? \\

That damn article. That stupid, twisted article with my name on it. I didn’t write it, but it has my fucking name. And maybe it doesn’t matter what the truth is anymore because he’s gone, and now I’m here–dripping in regrets and desperation.

“Don’t,” I manage. “Don’t use that against me.”

He steps forward. “I’m not. I’m just telling you the truth.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” I snap.

“Are you seriously still hung up on him?” Liam asks, voice lower now. Less heated, more… fucking patronizing. “He’s gone, Taryn. He left you. After everything. And you think he’d still want you after what you did?”

I blink up at him. “Get out.”

He takes a step forward instead. Wrong move.

1/7

100%

58

Chapter 91

“He’s the King now,” Liam says, like it’s a fact that should end the whole damn conversation. “And you’re now the girl who aired his secrets like dirty laundry. He’s not coming back for you.”

“I said get the fuck out, Liam.”

He doesn’t.

His hand shoots out, gripping my arm. Tight. Too tight.

“Just listen to me for once-”

“No!” I try yanking back, but he’s stronger. Bigger. Angrier. His voice rises as though he’s trying to knock sense into me with brute force, but I don’t hear it anymore. My skin’s crawling. My heart’s in my throat.

“Liam,” I warn, voice dropping. “Let me go.”

And still–still–I can’t shift.

“Eris,” I whisper inside my head. Begging. Pleading. Do something. Please. Snap his wrist. Bite his throat. Anything.

Nothing.

Dead silence.

My own fucking wolf has gone mute.

“Liam-” My voice cracks. I try to say more, but my throat burns. “You’re hurting me.”

That’s all it takes.

That small, broken sound. The kind that escapes before pride can choke it back.

Liam jerks his hand off me as though I’m made of acid. His eyes go wide, like maybe he just realized he was gripping too tight.

Or maybe he just saw me for what I am now–powerless.

I step back. He steps back further.

“Taryn, I-”

“Get. Out.” My voice is steadier now, but my eyes sting. “Before I start screaming.”

He looks at me for a second longer. His lips twitch like he’s gonna say something else. Apologize, maybe. Justify himself. But he doesn’t.

He just turns and walks out the door.

He doesn’t even close it properly.

I don’t move until I hear the elevator doors slam shut.

And then I sink.

Right to the goddamn floor.

The carpet feels rough against my knees, and my breathing comes out in these ugly, uneven bursts. I dig my palms into my thighs like the pain will ground me, but it doesn’t.

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58

Chapter 91

What the fuck am I doing?

I almost kissed someone else.

Someone who isn’t my mate.

My mate.

God.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I betrayed him once. That was enough. That was already too much. But now this?

Enoch’s face swims back into my brain, clear as day. His stupid soft eyes. The way he used to hold my ankle when I got hurt like I was made of porcelain. His voice when he said “I’d never leave you again.”

Liar.

But I still love him. God help me, I still fucking love him.

I pull myself onto the couch, legs folding under me like a ragdoll. The room’s dim, but the bottle of liquor from earlier sits on the coffee table, mocking me. The one we opened to celebrate my “promotion” earlier.

Yay, congrats on not being a total fuck–up for once.

It’s half–full.

Or half–empty, depending on how pathetic you are.

I grab it. Screw the cap. Chug.

死

I unscrew the cap and drink straight from the mouth like the fucking mess I am. It burns down my throat, hot and merciless, but it’s still not enough to drown me. Not yet.

I drop the bottle next to me and let my head fall back against the couch. The ceiling stares at me. Cold and blank.

My lips still tingle. But not from Liam. From shame.

I close my eyes.

And Maldives comes rushing in.

Him laughing with sea salt in his hair. My toes in the sand while he chased seagulls like a dumbass. His voice whispering “I feel safest with you.”

He lied.

I lied.

We all fucking lie, don’t we?

I take another swig. Wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

The way I still feel him–like a phantom limb I can’t cut off.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

I can’t do this.

3/7

(+58)

Chapter 91

I drink again.

And again.

My phone rings.

I ignore it.

It rings again.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

I groan, dig it out, ready to throw it across the room-

But my hand freezes.

Caller ID: Gamma Abel.

M

The only man who’s ever given a damn about me without asking for something in return.

I stare at the screen, chest heaving.

And then I swipe to answer.

“Gamma,” I reply. “I saw it.” His voice is low and I already knew what he meant by that.

The article. The article is still up.

The byline still says my name.

I choke on a laugh that dies as quickly as it comes. My throat is raw. My heart’s already roadkill. I open my laptop, still on the floor as I ransack how it twisted the one I wrote into something so vile.

I scroll down.

It’s all there. Paragraphs of poison. Speculation. Accusations. Twisting Enoch’s past like he wasn’t the one who almost got fucking murdered by his own uncle.

The details I scribbled in a moment of desperation–when I thought I could find closure by writing everything down–are all twisted into the worst. Polished into clickbait trash.

And the worst part?

I remember writing every goddamn word in a good light. It was all filled with fucking praises too.

But I didn’t publish it.

The words blur. My fingers tremble as I scroll further, pausing on a photo of an older woman with cold, sea–glass eyes and Enoch’s mouth.

His grandmother?

He still has his grandmother? Whoever revised and published the article knew him.

Shit.

How did they get their hands on my article?

W–who…

4/7

06:44 Mon, 7 Apr

Chapter 91

I slam the laptop shut, turning to my phone again

“I didn’t publish it,” I croak, nose running, voice shaking. “I swear, I didn’t fucking-”

“I know you didn’t, kid.” His voice is steady, a lifeline. “But does Enoch know that?”

+58)

1 let out a broken laugh that tastes like regret. “He won’t even look at me. He threw me out of the goddamn palace gates like I was–like… I was nothing.”

There’s a pause, and I can hear him sigh on the other end.

“When you two were still in the pack,” Gamma Abel says, quieter now, “I’ve seen that man. Seen how he looked at you when you weren’t looking. Hell, I’ve never seen a man more obsessed in my life. Like a starving wolf with a single fucking lamb in the woods.”

My lip trembles, and I press my palm to my chest to keep it from caving in.

“You’ve got to tell him, Taryn. Make him fucking see you.”

“And what if he doesn’t want to?” I whisper.

“Then make him remember why he did.”

I stare at the phone after the call ends, breathing like I just ran a goddamn marathon. My lungs burn. My stomach flips. Something inside me twists, then clicks.

It’s not courage.

It’s clarity.

My head lifts, and I hear her. Shit.

Eris.

My wolf, slinking back to the surface as though she’s been waiting for me to grow a fucking spine.

“Let’s get our mate back, bitch.” she mutters.

I grin, tears still fresh on my cheeks.

“Let’s fucking go.”

I don’t pack. I don’t think. I grab a hoodie and pants, stripping as I bolt for the door. The moment I hit the tree line behind. the building, I let go.

I shift mid–stride, bones cracking, limbs contorting, breath heaving–until I’m back in white fur and sharp claws.

The city lights fade behind me.

I run.

Branches whip past. Mud splashes under my paws.

My clothes hang from my mouth like a ridiculous little flag as I bolt through the old paths only wolves remember, ones that used to lead straight to the Imperial Palace.

I’m not thinking about what I’ll say.

I’m not even sure what I’ll do.