Vanished Sisters: The Lycan King's Slave Island Chapter 143

Natasha's POV

"Sebastian sent assassins after me in the forest," I'd told Davelina just minutes ago, my voice still shaking. "Five of them. They tried to kill me. Fergus saved my life, but he was poisoned with wolfsbane."

My sister's face had gone pale. "Is he—"

"The guards said he needs wet nurse milk to purge the poison, but Matilda's in labor and can't help."

Davelina had stood abruptly, her expression determined. "I need to see him. I'll be back soon."

And then she was gone, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts.

Now I walked through the darkened corridors toward the King's den, my heart pounding with each step. The terror of the assassination attempt still clung to me—the arrows whistling past my head, the certainty that I was about to die. But beneath that fear was something deeper, more profound.

*Soon they will kill Modred.*

I had to see him. Had to be with him, even if just for a little while. Had to feel his arms around me, had to know he was still alive, still breathing, still mine.

The walk to the King's den felt both endless and far too short. My heart pounded with each step, my mind racing with everything I wanted to say to him, everything I needed him to know.

When I finally reached the den, I found the entrance still damaged from when Mordred had torn through it earlier that day. The heavy iron bars that had once confined him lay scattered across the stone floor like broken toys, twisted and bent by his incredible strength. The doorway gaped open, dark and forbidding.

A low rumble came from the darkness within, and then I saw them—those glowing red eyes, fixed on me with an intensity that made my breath catch and my heart skip a beat.

"Mordred," I whispered, and then I was moving, running into the darkness without thought or hesitation, throwing myself toward that massive shape in the shadows.

He caught me easily, his enormous hands gentle despite their size and strength, pulling me against his chest and cradling me as though I were made of spun glass. I buried my face in his thick fur, breathing in his scent—musk and earth and something wild and untamed that was uniquely him.

"Oh," I choked out, my voice breaking as emotion overwhelmed me, as everything I'd been holding back all day came flooding out in a rush. "Oh, my king..."

The Beast's massive head lowered, his chin coming to rest on top of my head in a gesture of such tenderness that it made tears spring to my eyes.

His arms tightened around me, holding me closer, and I could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my cheek. Strong. Alive. Real.

"I almost died today," I said, the words tumbling out between sobs that I could no longer contain. "In the forest, after the harvest. I was walking back alone and they were waiting for me. Sebastian's men. Assassins. They had crossbows and poisoned blades and they chased me through the trees and I ran and ran but they were everywhere and I thought—I thought I was going to die without ever seeing you again—"

Mordred's entire body went rigid, every muscle tensing beneath his fur. A snarl built in his throat, low and dangerous, growing in volume until it filled the entire den with its fury. The sound made the very stones tremble, made the air itself seem to vibrate with barely contained violence.

His arms tightened around me almost painfully.

"It's okay," I said quickly, pressing myself closer to him, trying to soothe the rage I could feel building in him. "It's okay now. I'm safe. I'm here. Fergus saved me—Lord Fergus appeared and he killed them all. Every single one of them. He protected me."

The snarl faded gradually, replaced by a different sound—a whimper, high and distressed.

"I'm not hurt," I assured him, my voice thick with emotion. "I'm fine. I promise. Not a scratch on me. Fergus made sure of that."

But even as I said it, even as I tried to reassure him, a new wave of grief crashed over me. Because Fergus had been hurt. Had been poisoned. Had nearly died protecting me.

And soon, Mordred himself would face death.

"I don't want you to die," I whispered, my voice breaking completely as I looked up into those glowing red eyes. "Please, please don't die. They're planning to kill you tomorrow—Sebastian and the others, they're going to execute you and I... I can't bear it. I can't lose you..."

I pulled back slightly, just enough to see his face, to search those alien eyes for any sign of recognition, any hint of the consciousness I knew had to be trapped somewhere inside.

"I wish I could save you," I continued, the words pouring out in a desperate rush. "I wish I knew how. I wish there was something I could do, some way to reach you, to bring you back. But I don't know how. I don't know what to do and it's killing me."

Mordred stared down at me, his gaze intense and focused in a way that seemed far too intelligent, far too aware to be truly mindless. There was something in those eyes—pain, frustration, desperate longing—that made my breath catch.

He rumbled again, his massive body trembling with effort, his eyes never leaving mine. I could feel it—the struggle, the desperate attempt to break through whatever barriers kept him locked inside his own mind.

"I know you're in there," I said, my voice barely above a whisper, my hands coming up to cup his massive face. "Somewhere deep inside, you're still you. Still Mordred. Still my king. I just... I don't know how to reach you anymore."

"Why can't you talk to me like before?" I asked, tears streaming down my face. "Why don't you appear in my dreams anymore?"

Mordred's expression—if a beast could be said to have expressions—seemed to fill with such profound pain and frustration that it made my chest ache. He lowered his massive head, pressing his forehead against mine with exquisite gentleness, and I could feel him trying, straining with every fiber of his being to reach me.

But nothing came. No words in my mind. No images. No sudden rush of understanding or connection.

Just silence. Terrible, absolute silence.

I stood there wrapped in his arms, our foreheads pressed together, tears streaming down my face as the hopelessness of the situation crashed over me like a wave.

"I should go," I finally said, though every fiber of my being rebelled against the idea of leaving him, of walking away when I might never see him alive again. "I can't disturb your rest anymore. You need your strength for... for tomorrow."