King Novel novel Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Fear is going to eat me alive.

The door creaks open with the metal grinding against stone. The sound scrapes down my spine as a serrated blade, but I keep my expression slack and empty. I sure am not going to give them anything.

It’s my turn.

I knew it was coming the moment Seraphina was dumped back into the cell hours ago, beaten and bruised to shit, her dress torn and blood staining her lip. She didn’t sob, didn’t wail like the attention–hungry brat she’s always been. She just lifted her head, met my eyes, and let out a shaky breath. A silent message wrapped in dread.

You’re next

I swallow down the dryness in my throat as two rogues step inside and walks over to me. Their scent instantly churns al that is left in my stomach–they smell of rotting meat, filth, and something sickly sweet, like decay left too long in the sun.

The taller one, a broad–shouldered bastard with a thick scar slashing across his cheek, unchains me from the wall. The moment his fingers clamp around my arm, I let my knees buckle just enough to make him think I can barely stand.

“Damn, she can barely walk,” he sneers, hauling me upright.

“You beat the fight out of her, idiot,” the other one laughs, his grip tightening around my waist as he hauls me forward.

Good. Let them think that. Let them think I’m just another weak omega, too broken to fight back.

I force my breathing to go shallow, let my head loll slightly. I stagger again, making them shift their hold.

“Maybe I should carry her,” Scarface mutters, adjusting his grip like he’s actually considering it.

Perfect.

I tilt my head just enough to see Seraphina through my lashes. She’s curled in the corner, barely moving, but I know better. Her fingers twitch against the stone, a subtle, sharp movement. We planned this. The rogues had started getting careless, believing we were too battered to be a threat. That was their first mistake.

The second was touching me.

The moment Scarface tries to shift my weight, I act.

I slam my heel down on his foot with every ounce of force I have, pivoting as I rip my arm free and swing the heavy iron shackles still hanging from my wrists straight into his temple. The dull, wet crack of impact is satisfying as hell. He crumples like a sack of shit before he even has a chance to react.

Seraphina moves in tandem. Despite the bruises and sluggish movements, she snatches a fallen dagger from Scarface’s belt and drives it into the other rogue’s thigh, yanking it free as he howls in agony.

Adrenaline surges through me. My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out everything but the sharp, singular focus of

escape.

We bolt.

The underground tunnels are a labyrinth of damp stone and flickering lanterns, but I don’t hesitate. I’ve turns, the dead ends, the way the air shifts where an opening might be.

orized the

“Move, Sinclair!” Seraphina snaps, shoving past me as another rogue lunges from the shadows.

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Chapter 42

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I don’t hesitate 1 turn on my heet and drive my then we go, koorking the breath from his kings before damning the shackles in bus akull–te dundee, but not before a card hand rare nerves its fait don’t stop.

Footsteps chin behind us. More of them Fuck. We’re naming of time

my wing pred the

Then tore it the narrow passage leading upward, jagurd rocks forming a crude and for setace

“There!” I yell, pushing Seraphina toward it

She hesitates, just for a second, and I don’t know if it’s fear or some twisted form of loyalty. Rot we don’t have time for

either

“Seraphina, RUN!” I drove her hard, forring her forward

She scrambles up the rocks, her silhouette swallowed by the faint diver of definha Maring through the opening

I tum to follow-

A clawed hand snatches my throat.

my

Pain explodes through my skull as I’m yanked backward, feet leaving the ground. 1 gaz, Kicking wilday, bax the grip tightens, crushing my airway. My vision spots at the edges, darkness creeping in.

Above, Seraphina makes it to the surface. Sunlight spills around her, a stark contrast to the cold shadows swallowing me whole.

With the last breath I have left, I force out a desperate command-

“Tell them! Tell them I was taken!”

She doesn’t answer. But I see the flicker of something in her face–a promise.

Then the entrance collapses between us.

And I’m dragged into the darkness once more.

Pain is a familiar friend.

It welcomes me back the second I hit the ground, bones rattling as I skid across the filthy floor. My head smacks against something hard, sending a fresh wave of dizziness through me, but there’s no time to recover.

The first kick lands sharp in my ribs, knocking the breath clean out of my lungs.

Then another. And another.

The world narrows to fists, claws, and the wet, ugly sound of flesh meeting flesh. Blood floods my mouth, metallic and warm, coating my tongue as another hit snaps my head back. I think my lip splits–again.

“You really thought you could escape?” Someone sneers, their breath hot and rancid in my ear.

V

A hand grips my hair and yanks me up, forcing my eyes to meet theirs. I don’t even know who the fuck the another rogue in the sea of faceless assholes.

“You’re nothing, Omega,” he spits, shaking me like I’m a damn ragdoll.

Just

I smile, slow and taunting, before letting the blood pool in my mouth dribble down my chin. And then I spit–right in his

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10:35 Fri, 21 Mar

Chapter 42

fucking face

His grip tightens painfully

“Yeah? My voice is hoarse, but the words are sharp. “Then why are you to afraid of me?

His snarl is the only warning I get before his fist collides with my cheek, hard enough to black out my vision.

Then everything fades.

I wake up to the slow, rhythmic drip of water. My arms ache, bound tight above my head, and every inhale makes my ribs scream in protest. My lip is swollen, my jaw throbbing My wrists are raw from the rope.

I taste blood. Smell sweat. Hear the quiet shuffle of boots on concrete.

I’m not alone.

A rough hand grips my chin, tilting my head up. I meet cold, calculating eyes.

Tell us about the Lycan King

I blink through the haze of pain, my mind sluggish but sharp enough to cling to one truth–I don’t say shit.

I let the silence stretch, heavy and defiant.

The blade comes next.

A slow, deliberate slice down my arm, just deep enough to sting. Blood beads, warm against my chilled skin.

“We know he’s not the same, the rogue continues, his voice smooth, patient, like he has all the time in the world to carve me up. “His new power–it’s not normal.”

I swallow the groan that tries to crawl out of my throat and force my lips into a smirk. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I rasp.

Another cut. Another slow trickle of blood.

“You think you can protect him?” The rogue crouches, leveling his gaze with mine. “You’re nothing, Omega. He’s a King. What makes you think you matter?”

I don’t.

Not in the way they think.

But that doesn’t mean I’m going to hand them anything.

So I smile, all teeth, and say nothing. And they hate it.

I see it in the way his jaw ticks, in the slight tremor in his grip. They want me to break. They want me to beg.

But I won’t.

Because I know something they don’t.

Enoch is coming.

All of a sudden I hear steps clacking down the floors. The air shifts.

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