Babysitting The Amnesiac Lycan King

I should've known peace was too fucking quiet.

The air in my apartment smells like old lemon floor cleaner and the rain that crept in through the cracked balcony door I forgot to lock. I'm still in the same clothes from the palace-my jacket reeking of stiff perfume, anxiety, and whatever the hell heartbreak is supposed to smell like.

Liam said the job was still up.

Sol came back, packed the one suitcase I kept under my bed for emergencies, tossed in every file I had printed about my parents' deaths, the article draft I never submitted, and the only photo I have left of my brother. Everything else? Well, I can burn it. I don't care. I'm done pretending this place was ever a home.

I snap the suitcase shut and drag it to the door when I hear it. Not a knock. Not even a creak. It's just silence-so fucking sharp it pricks the hairs on the back of my neck.

And then, the sound of the wind shifts.

My head snaps toward the balcony.

Something-or someone is standing there.

Fuck.

'You're so dead.' Eris murmurs before she shuts me out. Stupid wolf.

I don't think. I drop the bag and reach for the knife I tucked between my boots. The figure steps through the sheer curtain, slow, like it has all the time in the world. And when I see its eyes, glowing faint gold, slit like a goddamn snake, I know it's not human. Not even close.

"You're her," the voice rasps. A delighted grin on his rough face.

I don't answer.

He already knows who I am. Someone must have sent him.

The King's weakness.

Before I knew it, he lunges.

I duck, instinct kicking in before fear can freeze me. My shoulder smashes into the

coffee table and it fucking hurts, but I've had worse. He's on me in seconds, claws out, slicing through air as though he wants to shred my face off. I roll beneath him, boot kicking into his knee hard/enough to make bone crack.

"Little bitch," he snarls.

I grin. "Takes one to know one."

He

goes for my throat. I jab the knife forward-he catches my wrist. Shit. His strength

is unreal, and his grip burning, bones grinding. My fingers go numb.

And then-

"Get the fuck off her!" A loud voice shouts and I turn as the front door explodes. Literally explodes.

Liam barrels in like a pissed-off bull with a gun in hand, looking like he's ready to kill a god.

"Don't-he's not-" I try to scream, but the bastard shoves me into.the wall. My spine bounces off the plaster and I drop to my knees, gasping.

Liam shoots.

Human bullet-dumbass. The guy doesn't even flinch.

"He's not-ugh!!" I yell, voice raw. I wanna scream he absolutely would not be hurt

by whatever bullets you have. "Don't waste your ammo, you idiot!"

The assassin growls, eyes flicking to Liam. "Another one. Perfect."

Shit.

He's going to kill him.

I shove myself up and launch at the guy's back, jamming the knife into the base of his skull-not deep enough to kill, but enough to make him scream. He throws me off like I weigh nothing. I crash onto the floor, but the distraction works. Liam moves in to tackle him, yelling something I can't hear because the blood's roaring in my ears.

"LIAM, GET OUT!"

I hurl the coffee table at them both. It's enough to separate them-barely. The assassin snarls, lips pulled back over teeth that are way too long, way too animal. He looks at me again.

"Next time, I'll present you rhead to the King and maybe get the crown myself." he hisses, then launches himself out the balcony window?

Gone.

Just like that.

Broken glass rains down. Rain pours in. My chest is heaving like I've run a fucking marathon, and I probably look like I've just been chewed up and spat out of hell. Liam groans, staggering up from the ground.

He looks at me. At the blood on my lip. The busted wall. The missing window.

"The fuck just happened?" he breathes.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

"He knows I'm the King's weakness," I say. "And now everyone else probably does too."

He blinks. "The King's weakness? What? Just because he's inlove with you?"

"N-no... not like-ugh, let's just forget everything happened, alright?" I raise my hands

1. up. "Then are you... are you okay?"

"No," I snap, deadpan. "But thanks for the dramatic entrance. Very action hero. Ten out of ten door explosion."

He scowls. "You're welcome. Remind me to fire your landlord."

I snort. "You think I pay rent here?"

He opens his mouth like he's about to argue, then closes it.

Smart man.

I pick up the knife from the floor. My hand's still shaking. I shove it back in my boot anyway. Liam's still staring at me like I'm some unhinged lunatic. Which, to be fair,

I probably am.

But I'm alive.

Barely.

And for now-that's enough.

***

I don't look back.

The second I step out of the cab, my boots slap the cold pavement like they belong Here. Like I belong here. Italy smells like espresso and rain and exhaustion and overpriced perfume that's too good to be real. The air feels sharp enough to slice skin, but after everything-I welcome the sting. Maybe it'll scrape off what's left of my

pathetic hope.

Liam didn't ask twice. Just threw my suitcase in the trunk, handed me a burner phone like he's done this before, and told me to run like hell.

So I did.

Now I'm standing in the middle of the arrivals terminal, shoulders tense, pulse still fucked from the last twelve hours of sheer whiplash. A man tried to kill me. The palace is in flames-figuratively, hopefully. And Kallias is blowing up my phone like a drunk ex at 3AM,

Kallias: They're looking for you. Everyone's on edge. The King hasn't said a word.

He left the palace. No one knows where he is.

Kallias: Taryn. Where the fuck are you?

My thumb hovers over the screen. I type back:

Me: Gone.

And hit send before I can stop myself.

Then I block his number.

Because whatever this is turning into, it's not about Kallias. It's not even about

Enoch

anymore. It's about me-finally ripping myself out from the wreckage before I become a casualty in someone else's war.

A gust of wind from the automatic doors blows my hood back. My hair's a tangled mess from the flight and whatever the hell I went through earlier, but I don't care. No one here knows me. No one's going to whisper "Omega" like it's a disease or look at me like I'm a liability with tits.

I'drag my suitcase forward. Every bone in my body aches. I just want a shower. A room. A bed that doesn't carry the weight of a man who made me fall in love with him and then left me bleeding in the aftermath.noveldrama

I spot the car service guy holding a sign. My fake name's scribbled on it-"R.

Bellamy"— and I'm halfway to him when I feel it.

That thing. That gut-punch heat down my spine.

No.

No no no.

I don't look. I don't fucking look because that would make it real.

But then I hear a familiar voice.

"Taryn."