Unwanted Mate Of The Lycan Kings
Prey Of The Lycan Queen Chapter 9

~Zirah~

The sight that greets me is one I never expected. The billiard room, usually filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses, now looks like a battlefield. Tables and chairs are upturned, the remnants of shattered glassware litter the floor, and the room is filled with sharp tangs of blood and sweat. In the midst of the destruction, the men I've unfortunately come to know, now look more like warring barbarians than the kings they are supposed to be.

"Did a tornado hit this place?" I ask, my voice echoing in the silence that follows my entrance. "Something like that," Zeke grumbles, slouched in a chair, a bottle in his hand.

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Looks more like you have been fighting."

My gaze drifts to Malachi, who is leaning against the wall, his chest heaving and a bloody cut on his lip.

As I step further into the billiard room, cautiously, my heart pounds against my rib cage. The air is thick with tension and the smell of sweat. I take in the scene before me - King Theron and Malachi stand in the center, their clothes disheveled and torn. They both move away from each other, slowly, the force of their encounter still lingering in the air.

The two of them seem to sway in the aftermath of their battle, as if they can still feel the fury of the fight. Around them, Zeke and Lyon stand, their faces pale and their eyes wide as they watch me. The entire room falls silent as I walk in, my feet silent against the hardwood floor. I flick my wrist, and magic spills out of me, a wave of energy washing over the room and clearing a path to the door at the end of the billiard room. That door leads to the kitchens.

I begin to walk forward, but my path is blocked by King Theron. He stands at the edge of the billiard table, his presence looming and powerful. His gaze pierces me, my mother's face floating through my mind as if she were standing before me. I lock eyes with him, my gaze deadly.

“Zirah..." His voice is low but thick with emotion.

I stand there, my heart pounding as I stare into his eyes. I want to lash out, cast a spell, and make him pay for what he did to my mother. Watch him burn the way she did. "You're in my way," I tell him.

He tilts his head to the side, his eyes flashing dangerously. "This is my--"

"Wasl... It was your kingdom; it's not anymore. So again, Theron, you're in my way,"

"You would dismiss me so easily, Zirah," I ignore him and step past him, moving toward the kitchens. "Fine, but at least give my sons a chance,” Theron states

I turn my head slightly, almost chuckling and his statement. He must truly be a mad man to think I would even still consider his sons as viable suitors.

"They had their chance,” I say, my voice cold and distant. "And they chose their path. They chose to stand by you, Sloth.”

His eyes flicker with pain, a hint of regret perhaps, but I don't have the luxury of sympathy, not for him. I continue my walk toward the kitchen, my heart pounding in my chest. I feel Theron's gaze on my back, heavy and intense, but I refuse to turn around.

Instead, I move into the kitchen. The kitchens are in chaos when I finally reach them, a flurry of activity that pauses only when the kitchen staff notice my presence. I don't have time to deal with their questions, or their fear.

The kitchen staff exchange glances, but no one speaks. They're scared, I realize, scared of me and what I represent. They're loyal to Theron, their King, and they probably think that helping me is akin to treason.

"You're scared," I say, not as an accusation but as a statement of fact. "I understand. But I am not your enemy."

I pause, looking at each one of them, when I notice their attention go behind me.

"Where is my brother?” Zeke asks, and I exhale, not wanting to deal with him.

"Asleep," I answer, moving toward the coffee machine. I have hardly slept, tossing and turning and waking every hour. I need coffee and lots of it if I am to visit Kelly later today.

"So that's it, you just made your choice and fuck the rest of us?" Lyon snarls.

I keep my back to them as I prepare my coffee, the machine's low hum filling the tense silence. "It was never about “the rest of you'," I say, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. "It's always been about justice. For my mother. For everyone, your father has hurt."

"And what about us?" Zeke demands, his voice echoing in the kitchen. "What about what he's done to us? We're his sons, Zirah, but we're not him."

I turn then, cup in hand, to face them. Their expressions are filled with anger, hurt, confusion... emotions I can empathize with but cannot afford to be swayed by. Not now.

"You chose your side when you chose to stand by him," I tell them, my gaze steady. "If you're so different from your father, prove it. Show me you're not just his puppets.”

Lyon bristles at my words, but Zeke holds him back with a hand on his arm. Zeke's gaze meets mine, hard and unyielding. "And if we can't?"

"Then you're no better than him,” I say, my tone final. I take a sip of my coffee, the bitter taste grounding me. "And you will face the same fate.”

Their reactions are mixed. Lyon looks like he's about to explode, but Zeke just watches me, his eyes filled with something that looks like... understanding? I don't know, and I don't have the time to figure it out.

"If we die, it will kill Regan,” Zeke speaks as I pass him.

"You forgave him,” Lyon adds, just as a bewildered Regan rushes into the kitchen. The look of relief on his face when he spots me, is evident. Gnash rushes to his side instantly, bouncing on his feet with excitement.

"I woke up, and you were missing," he let out a breath, moving toward me.

"We would not hurt her," Lyon growls, but Regan growls back.

Regan ignores his brothers, instead leading me to the door and back to the ruined billiard room. However, it is now empty, except for James. James is a vampire with paler skin than that of a Lycan, sharp features, and piercing eyes. His long black hair is slicked back and tied at the nape of his neck, and his lips are drawn into a tight line. He stands tall and proud; his gaze fixed on me as if he could see straight through my soul. He is intimidating and powerful and exudes strength and authority.

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