Vanished Sisters: The Lycan King's Slave Island Chapter 104

Fergus's POV

Silence.

Absolute, suffocating silence filled the Great Hall in the wake of the King's departure.

I could smell the fear thick in the air. Mixed with confusion.

The King had stormed into a hall filled with potential prey—nobility, guards, slaves, all of us vulnerable.

And then had simply... taken a slave boy and left.

No killing. No rampage. No bloodbath.

Just claimed one specific slave and walked out.

*That's not how feral beasts behave. That's not how HE behaves.*

All at once, chaos erupted.

"What just happened?"

"Was that really the King?"

"How did he break out?"

"Are we safe? Is he coming back?"

Voices overlapped, rising in volume and panic. Some Lycans were already pushing toward the exits, desperate to flee before the beast returned.

"SILENCE!" I roared, my voice cutting through the chaos like a blade.

The hall fell quiet again, though I could see the panic still simmering beneath the surface.

I turned to some of the guards who'd managed to maintain their composure. "You four—go check the wings. Make sure the king hasn't gone there. If you encounter it, do NOT engage. Report back immediately."

The guards saluted and hurried off.

"You three," I pointed to another group. "Check the slave quarters and residential wings. Start a quiet evacuation. No panic. No running. Understood?"

More salutes. More guards dispersing.

Gregor moved to stand beside me. His expression was carefully controlled, but I could see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

"This is unprecedented," he said quietly. "In all the years of the King's madness, I've never seen the beast act with such... purpose."

"Agreed," I replied, equally quiet. "The beast is supposed to be mindless. Driven only by rage and hunger and lust. But what we just witnessed—"

"Was calculated," Gregor finished. "It came here for a specific reason. For a specific person."

We both looked toward where the slave boy—Nathan—had been standing before the King took him.

"The boy," I said slowly. "Why him?"

Before Gregor could respond, Sebastian approached us. He was pressing a cloth to his neck, trying to stem the bleeding from the puncture wounds the King's claws had left.

His face was flushed with humiliation and rage.

"That beast," he snarled. "That fucking BEAST dared to—"

"To assert his dominance over you," I finished flatly. "As is his right. He's the King, Sebastian. Alpha of Alphas. Did you really think challenging him—even silently—wouldn't have consequences?"

Sebastian's face darkened further. "I didn't challenge him! I submitted! And he still—"

"You hesitated," Gregor cut in. "Your pride made you hesitate. The beast saw that as a challenge. You're lucky he only wounded you."

"Lucky?" Sebastian's voice rose dangerously. "He humiliated me! In front of everyone! Made me look weak!"

"You made yourself look weak by nearly shifting in response to his provocation," I said coldly. "The beast goaded you. Tried to trigger your transformation. And you almost gave him what he wanted—an excuse to kill you."

"I would have fought him—"

"And you would have died," I interrupted. "Quickly and messily. And probably taken half this hall with you when the beast went on a killing spree afterward. Your death would have been the excuse he needed to slaughter everyone here."

That finally penetrated Sebastian's rage. His mouth snapped shut.

"The important question," Gregor said, steering the conversation back on track, "is why. Why did the beast break free? Why did it come here? And why did it take that specific slave?"

"It wanted the boy," Sebastian said. His voice was still angry but more controlled now. "That much was obvious. The beast came specifically for him. Claimed him. Took him away."

"But why?" I pressed. "The beast is feral. Mindless. It shouldn't be capable of that kind of targeted action. Unless—"

I stopped. Another thought occurring to me.

"Unless the King is still in there," I said slowly. "Somewhere beneath the beast. Still aware. Still capable of making decisions."

Gregor and Sebastian both stared at me.

"You think the King is controlling the beast?" Gregor asked incredulously.

"I don't know what I think," I admitted. "But consider the evidence. The beast broke free at the exact moment the boy was in danger. It came straight here—didn't attack the guards along the way, didn't go on a rampage. It had a specific goal. And once it achieved that goal—taking the boy—it left. No unnecessary violence. No killing. That's not mindless rage. That's purpose."

"A feral beast with purpose," Sebastian muttered. "That's somehow even more terrifying than a mindless one."

He wasn't wrong.

A servant approached us hesitantly. "My Lords. The guards have reported back. The beast has not gone to the arena or the residential wings. It appears to have returned to the King's Den."

"Returned?" I repeated. "Not trying to escape the fortress?"

"No, my Lord. It went straight back to its chambers."

The three of us exchanged looks.

"We focus on containment," I decided. "Make sure all our people are safe. Get the fortress secured. And then—once things have calmed down—we figure out what to do about this situation."

"And the boy?" Gregor asked.

"We leave him where he is," I said firmly. "For now. Until we understand what's happening. The last thing we need is to trigger another rampage."

---

I made my way through the dark corridors toward the forbidden chambers.

The fortress had finally calmed. The nobles had retreated to their rooms or left the island entirely. The slaves had been secured in their quarters. Guards were posted at key locations.

But I couldn't rest. Not until I'd seen the King's Den for myself. Confirmed that the beast was truly back in containment.

And if I was being honest... I was curious about the boy.

*What makes you so special?* I wondered. *What is it about you that triggered such a response from the King?*

I turned the corner toward the King's chambers.

And stopped.

Someone was already there. A female figure huddled on the floor outside the heavy doors. Crying.

As I approached, she looked up. Her face was streaked with tears. Her eyes red and swollen.

I recognized her immediately.

Davelina. The sister.

She saw me and immediately scrambled to her feet, nearly falling in her haste. Then she dropped to her knees in front of me.

"Please," she begged. Her voice was hoarse from crying. "Please, my Lord. Help me. They won't let me see my brother. The guards blocked the corridor. Won't let anyone near the King's Den. But I need to know he's alright. I need to see him. Please."

I looked down at her. At the genuine terror and desperation on her face.