King Novel novel Chapter 76

Chapter 76

“Get over it”

My voice barely scrapes past my lips, hoarse and bitter. It sounds weak, even to me,

81%

1 drag a hand down my face, my skin raw from wiping at the tears I refuse to acknowledge. My throat is thick, my stomach twisted into a knot so tight I feel like I might throw up.

I hate this.

I hate that I can still feel him–his touch lingering on my skin like a fucking, brand, I hate that my body still craves him, even After he walked away. Even after he proved, yet again, that I’m just a goddamn idiot when it comes to him.

Fuck him. Fuck his lips, his hands, his scent that’s still clinging to my clothes,

I shove the thought down, forcing myself to focus on what actually matters,

The documents.

They’re spread out in front of me on the floor, edges curling, ink faded in some spots from age. I scan over the words, trying to push through the haze in my head.

Names. Dates. Transactions. Reports.

I trace my fingers over the text, my mind sluggish as it tries to put the pieces together. But my focus is shit.

All I see is my own last name, scrawled across an ancient Lycan royal record like it belongs there.

But it doesn’t.

My family has never been tied to the royal house. At least, not that I’ve ever known.

A sharp, cold weight settles in my chest as my eyes move down the page.

Then I see his name.

My brother.

The inked letters feel like a slap to the face, knocking the air right out of my lungs. His name is buried in a document tracking border activity.

I skim further.

A date,

My stomach drops.

It’s the same fucking day I lost him.

My pulse hammers in my ears, drowning out the silence of the room. I clutch the paper tighter, my knuckles white.

What the hell does this mean?

My brain stumbles through the implications, but none of it makes sense. None of it fits.

And the worst part?

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Chapter 76

It feels familiar. Like I’ve seen this puzzle before but never had the right pieces.

A sick feeling coils in my gut.

I’m missing something.

I don’t know what.

Not yet.

But something tells me I’m running out of time.

\I inhale sharply through my nose, forcing the panic down. I need answers, and I need them now.

81%

My phone is on the bed, the screen cracked from one of the many times I’ve dropped it. I snatch it up and scroll through my contacts, my thumb hesitating over a name before I press call.

Liam picks up on the second ring.

“Sinclair,” he greets, his voice clipped, like he’s already annoyed and I haven’t even said anything yet.

Charming as always.

“Hey, Calloway,” I mutter, shifting on the floor. “I need a favor.”

There’s a brief pause, then a sigh. “Of course you do. What is it?”

I roll my eyes at his tone but ignore it. “I need you to dig into something for me. Family registries, royal records–anyone with ties to the Imperial Court from before the coup.”

Liam doesn’t respond right away, which means he’s already debating whether or not to waste his time on this.

“Please,” I add, though it tastes like vinegar in my mouth.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “I’ll see what I can find.”

Relief loosens my shoulders. “Thanks, Liam.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he says flatly. “I haven’t found shit.”

Then he hangs up.

I stare at my phone for a second before shaking my head. Asshole. But at least he’s a useful one.

Before I can set my phone down, another call flashes across the screen.

Kallias.

1 blink.

What the fuck?

I hesitate for half a second before answering. “Hello?”

There’s a beat of silence, then, “Hey.”

His voice is familiar, but there’s something off about it. Something hesitant.

I frown. “What’s up?”

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Chapter 76

“Nothing,” he says. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”

My stomach tightens.

I don’t know what I expected, but it sure as hell wasn’t that.

I pull my knees up, gripping the phone tighter. “Why?”

Kallias exhales, a rough, barely–there sound. “Don’t mind it,” he says. “I’m working on stopping it.”

A strange mix of emotions swirls in my chest–surprise, confusion, maybe even a little bit of pity.

don’t know what to say to that.

So I don’t say anything.

The silence stretches between us until he finally mutters, “Goodnight, Taryn.”

And then the call ends.

I lower the phone from my ear, staring at the screen like it might give me some kind of answer. But it doesn’t.

I let out a breath and lean back against the edge of the bed, pressing my head against the mattress.

The world feels heavier than usual.

And for the first time in a long time—

I feel completely, utterly lost.

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53

I stare up at the ceiling, my back pressed against the cold floor, the documents still sprawled around me. My chest is tight, my thoughts tangled. I should do something–keep digging, make another call, chase the truth until I bleed for it.

But instead, I just fucking lie here.

I close my eyes. Breathe. Try not to think about him. Try not to think about the weight of his hand on my skin, the way his voice curled around my name like it belonged to him. Like I belonged to him.

It doesn’t work.

The memory slithers in, uninvited.

I shove it down.

A loud bang makes me jolt up. My door flies open like it owes someone money, and then there’s Zoe–her arms stacked with dresses, a piece of bread jammed between her teeth, eyes wide and full of untamed chaos.

“The fuck-?” I scramble, sweeping the stolen documents off the floor in a panic, shoving them under my bed like I’m thirteen and hiding contraband from a strict parent.

Zoe stomps in, completely unbothered. “You,” she says through a mouthful of bread, pointing at me like I’ve personally offended her ancestors. “Are going out.”

I blink. “The hell I am.”

“Yes. The hell you are.” She marches over, slamming the dresses onto my bed. The hangers clatter against each other. “Because you need it. Desperately.”

I exhale sharply, rubbing my temples. “Zoe, I’m not in the mood for some-“I motion vaguely at the dresses, at her overly

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determined expression. “-whatever the fuck this is.”

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+53)

“Oh, I know,” she says, too sweetly. “That’s why I’m forcing you. Because if I don’t, you’ll sit in this room, going batshit crazy over documents like some feral conspiracy theorist, and I refuse to let that happen.”

I glare at her. “I like being a feral conspiracy theorist.”

“Taryn.” Zoe puts her hands on her hips, tilting her head like she’s about to start some Ted Talk on how to stop being at pathetic, emotionally–wrecked dumbass. “You need to clear your head. And what better way to do that than by doing something physical?”

I narrow my eyes. “…Define physical.”

She grins, all teeth.

Something tells me I won’t like this.

I fucking knew I wouldn’t like this.

The second we step inside, the air changes–charged, thick with sweat and adrenaline. It smells like leather, metal, and aggression. The overhead lights are dim, flashing erratically, casting jagged shadows across the concrete walls.

The entire place feels like a well–dressed crime scene.

Music blasts through the speakers, heavy bass shaking the floor, but it’s almost drowned out by the sounds of fists slamming into flesh, grunts of pain, the sharp whistles of referees calling timeouts.

It’s a goddamn underground fight club.

I slowly turn to Zoe.

She smiles innocently.

I glare. “You dragged me to an illegal fight ring?”

“Underground fight ring,” she corrects. “Not illegal. Just…very off–the–books.”

I stare at her. Then the ring. Then back at her.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Oh, relax,” she groans, waving a dismissive hand. “You need to let off some steam, and I figured what better way than-”

A deep voice cuts in.

“She’s going to kill you when she finds out.”

I whip around.

And there, standing next to the ring, arms crossed, expression as unreadable as ever–is Jacob Wyatt.

I blink. Hard.

Then I whip back to Zoe. “You planned this? With him?”

Zoe shrugs. “Guilty”

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I throw my hands up. “What the actual fuck-?”

“Someone’s fighting tonight,” Jacob says casually, like he didn’t just drop a bomb.

I pause. Slowly turn back to him. “Someone is what?”

Jacob smirks. “Fighting.”

“For what?”

He doesn’t answer. He just looks at me. And then past me.

And

And something about the way his gaze settles–steady, knowing–makes my stomach drop.

A horrible, sinking feeling crawls up my spine. “Jacob,” I say carefully. “Who the fuck is fighting anyone or anything?

He doesn’t reply.

Just smiles.

And then I hear it-

The announcer’s voice, cutting through the thick air like a knife.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the match you’ve all been waiting for!”

Music erupts. The crowd roars.

81%8

I whip around to the ring. Two fighters are already inside–one English, one Italian. They shake hands. And then, without warning, they brutalize each other.

It’s not a sport.

It’s war.

Blood spatters against the mat. The English guy lands a hook to the Italian’s ribs so hard I swear I feel it. The Italian retaliates, grabbing the Englishman by the throat and slamming him into the ropes.

My stomach churns.

This isn’t a normal fight. This is barely legal murder.

“Zoe,” I hiss. “I want to leave.”

“Not yet,” she urges, grabbing my arm. “Just… wait. Trust me.”

I don’t fucking trust her.

The fight ends with a knockout. The Italian guy doesn’t get up.

The crowd goes wild.

And then the announcer’s voice booms again-

“Up next… a challenger unlike any you’ve seen before.”

The lights cut out.

The music shifts–deeper, darker, something that vibrates through my bones.

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Chapter 76

Then, the opposite side of the ring opens.

And my entire body goes cold.

Because he steps out.

Tall. Commanding. Cloaked in black, hood shadowing his face.

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No one in this room knows who he is. Not really. His face has never been seen, not since he took the throne. The media isn’t allowed to publicize it. The law forbids it.

And that’s exactly why he can do whatever the fuck he wants.

Including this.

Fighting. In a goddamn underground ring.

My mouth is dry. My heart pounds so hard it hurts.

Jacob leans in, murmuring near my ear.

“That’s his trainer,” he says, nodding toward the man walking beside him.

I don’t fucking care about his trainer.

I care about him.

Fucking Enoch Blackwell.

His hooded figure reaches the ring, and the trainer pulls his cloak off, massaging his back,

The breath punches out of my lungs. He looks amazing, and illegally fucking ripped. “You have got to be kidding me.” Zoe mutters beside me. He’s muscled to the bones. Those pectorals could cut paper.

My eyes eat everything up before my breath hitches. My jaw drops.

Because I see it.

On his side.

A name.

Bold. Dark ink. Running from his ribs, curling toward his back.

Holy shit.

Taryn runs in cursive on his side.

Chapter 76

“Get over it”

My voice barely scrapes past my lips, hoarse and bitter. It sounds weak, even to me,

81%

1 drag a hand down my face, my skin raw from wiping at the tears I refuse to acknowledge. My throat is thick, my stomach twisted into a knot so tight I feel like I might throw up.

I hate this.

I hate that I can still feel him–his touch lingering on my skin like a fucking, brand, I hate that my body still craves him, even After he walked away. Even after he proved, yet again, that I’m just a goddamn idiot when it comes to him.

Fuck him. Fuck his lips, his hands, his scent that’s still clinging to my clothes,

I shove the thought down, forcing myself to focus on what actually matters,

The documents.

They’re spread out in front of me on the floor, edges curling, ink faded in some spots from age. I scan over the words, trying to push through the haze in my head.

Names. Dates. Transactions. Reports.

I trace my fingers over the text, my mind sluggish as it tries to put the pieces together. But my focus is shit.

All I see is my own last name, scrawled across an ancient Lycan royal record like it belongs there.

But it doesn’t.

My family has never been tied to the royal house. At least, not that I’ve ever known.

A sharp, cold weight settles in my chest as my eyes move down the page.

Then I see his name.

My brother.

The inked letters feel like a slap to the face, knocking the air right out of my lungs. His name is buried in a document tracking border activity.

I skim further.

A date,

My stomach drops.

It’s the same fucking day I lost him.

My pulse hammers in my ears, drowning out the silence of the room. I clutch the paper tighter, my knuckles white.

What the hell does this mean?

My brain stumbles through the implications, but none of it makes sense. None of it fits.

And the worst part?

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11:53 Tue, 25 Mar ti 6

Chapter 76

It feels familiar. Like I’ve seen this puzzle before but never had the right pieces.

A sick feeling coils in my gut.

I’m missing something.

I don’t know what.

Not yet.

But something tells me I’m running out of time.

\I inhale sharply through my nose, forcing the panic down. I need answers, and I need them now.

81%

My phone is on the bed, the screen cracked from one of the many times I’ve dropped it. I snatch it up and scroll through my contacts, my thumb hesitating over a name before I press call.

Liam picks up on the second ring.

“Sinclair,” he greets, his voice clipped, like he’s already annoyed and I haven’t even said anything yet.

Charming as always.

“Hey, Calloway,” I mutter, shifting on the floor. “I need a favor.”

There’s a brief pause, then a sigh. “Of course you do. What is it?”

I roll my eyes at his tone but ignore it. “I need you to dig into something for me. Family registries, royal records–anyone with ties to the Imperial Court from before the coup.”

Liam doesn’t respond right away, which means he’s already debating whether or not to waste his time on this.

“Please,” I add, though it tastes like vinegar in my mouth.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters. “I’ll see what I can find.”

Relief loosens my shoulders. “Thanks, Liam.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he says flatly. “I haven’t found shit.”

Then he hangs up.

I stare at my phone for a second before shaking my head. Asshole. But at least he’s a useful one.

Before I can set my phone down, another call flashes across the screen.

Kallias.

1 blink.

What the fuck?

I hesitate for half a second before answering. “Hello?”

There’s a beat of silence, then, “Hey.”

His voice is familiar, but there’s something off about it. Something hesitant.

I frown. “What’s up?”

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1:53 Tue, 25 Mar ti

Chapter 76

“Nothing,” he says. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”

My stomach tightens.

I don’t know what I expected, but it sure as hell wasn’t that.

I pull my knees up, gripping the phone tighter. “Why?”

Kallias exhales, a rough, barely–there sound. “Don’t mind it,” he says. “I’m working on stopping it.”

A strange mix of emotions swirls in my chest–surprise, confusion, maybe even a little bit of pity.

don’t know what to say to that.

So I don’t say anything.

The silence stretches between us until he finally mutters, “Goodnight, Taryn.”

And then the call ends.

I lower the phone from my ear, staring at the screen like it might give me some kind of answer. But it doesn’t.

I let out a breath and lean back against the edge of the bed, pressing my head against the mattress.

The world feels heavier than usual.

And for the first time in a long time—

I feel completely, utterly lost.

81%

53

I stare up at the ceiling, my back pressed against the cold floor, the documents still sprawled around me. My chest is tight, my thoughts tangled. I should do something–keep digging, make another call, chase the truth until I bleed for it.

But instead, I just fucking lie here.

I close my eyes. Breathe. Try not to think about him. Try not to think about the weight of his hand on my skin, the way his voice curled around my name like it belonged to him. Like I belonged to him.

It doesn’t work.

The memory slithers in, uninvited.

I shove it down.

A loud bang makes me jolt up. My door flies open like it owes someone money, and then there’s Zoe–her arms stacked with dresses, a piece of bread jammed between her teeth, eyes wide and full of untamed chaos.

“The fuck-?” I scramble, sweeping the stolen documents off the floor in a panic, shoving them under my bed like I’m thirteen and hiding contraband from a strict parent.

Zoe stomps in, completely unbothered. “You,” she says through a mouthful of bread, pointing at me like I’ve personally offended her ancestors. “Are going out.”

I blink. “The hell I am.”

“Yes. The hell you are.” She marches over, slamming the dresses onto my bed. The hangers clatter against each other. “Because you need it. Desperately.”

I exhale sharply, rubbing my temples. “Zoe, I’m not in the mood for some-“I motion vaguely at the dresses, at her overly

3/6

11:54 Tue, 25 M

Chapter 76

determined expression. “-whatever the fuck this is.”

81%%

+53)

“Oh, I know,” she says, too sweetly. “That’s why I’m forcing you. Because if I don’t, you’ll sit in this room, going batshit crazy over documents like some feral conspiracy theorist, and I refuse to let that happen.”

I glare at her. “I like being a feral conspiracy theorist.”

“Taryn.” Zoe puts her hands on her hips, tilting her head like she’s about to start some Ted Talk on how to stop being at pathetic, emotionally–wrecked dumbass. “You need to clear your head. And what better way to do that than by doing something physical?”

I narrow my eyes. “…Define physical.”

She grins, all teeth.