Vanished Sisters: The Lycan King's Slave Island Chapter 145

Natasha's POV

For a long moment, I could only stare at her in stunned silence, my mind reeling.

And then, despite everything—despite the grief and the fear and the impossible situation we found ourselves in—I started laughing.

It was a slightly hysterical sound, edged with tears and exhaustion, but genuine nonetheless. I laughed until my sides hurt, until fresh tears streamed down my face, until Davelina was looking at me with serious concern.

"Natasha? Are you alright? I know it's strange, but—"

"I'm lactating too," I blurted out, the words tumbling over each other in my haste to get them out. "I started producing milk recently, and I... I fed Mordred today. He was hungry and desperate and I could smell the milk on myself and he could smell it too and I just... I let him drink from me."

Now it was Davelina's turn to stare in shock, her mouth falling open. "You what?"

"I fed the Beast," I said, and suddenly we were both talking at once, our voices overlapping in a chaotic jumble of questions and exclamations and disbelief.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why didn't YOU tell ME?"

Then we stopped abruptly, staring at each other, and then despite everything—despite the fear and the grief and the sheer impossibility of it all—we both started laughing again.

It was absurd. Completely, utterly absurd. Two sisters, both inexplicably lactating despite not being pregnant, both secretly feeding powerful Lycan lords. If it weren't so terrifying and strange and overwhelming, it would almost be funny.

"We're the most depraved sisters in the entire world," Davelina said, giggles escaping between words. "Absolutely shameless. What would Mother and Father think?"

"They'd probably die of shock," I agreed, wiping tears of laughter from my eyes—tears that quickly transformed back into tears of something else as reality reasserted itself. "Or disown us. Or both."

The laughter faded gradually, leaving us sitting in silence, the weight of what we'd shared settling over us.

"How did you know your milk would work?" I asked, my voice growing serious again, the brief moment of levity already fading. "How did you know it would have the same properties as a wet nurse's milk?"

Davelina's expression grew thoughtful. "I didn't know for certain. We both remembered things we'd heard, right? Wet nurses are highly valued among the Lycans, not just for sustenance but for their milk's healing properties. It can extend their lifespan. Now we now the milk accelerates healing of wounds, purges poisons and toxins from their systems, even enhances their strength and vitality."

My heart began to race, hope flickering to life in my chest like a candle in the darkness. "If it can heal wounds and purge poisons... Davelina, could it restore Mordred's sanity? Could it heal whatever's wrong with his mind?"

The hope must have shown clearly on my face because Davelina's expression immediately filled with sympathy and regret. "Natasha—"

"Think about it," I interrupted, the words tumbling out in a rush as the idea took hold. "If wet nurse milk has such powerful healing properties, if it can affect a Lycan's body in such profound ways, why couldn't it heal mental damage? Why couldn't it restore his consciousness, bring him back from whatever darkness has consumed him?"

"I—I don't know. Even if it could... there's no time. They're executing him tomorrow. You'd need days, maybe weeks of consistent feeding to see any results." Davelina said gently, reaching out to take my hand.

The hope that had flared so brightly just moments ago guttered and died, leaving only ashes and despair in its wake.

"I've fed him all my milk this morning," I said, my voice breaking completely. "now I don't have enough milk to feed him one more time. We don't have the time."

The grief came crashing back with redoubled force, overwhelming and absolute.

"At least you did feed him once."

I felt Davelina's arms wrap around me, heard her voice murmuring comfort, but it all seemed distant and meaningless, like sounds heard from underwater.

Mordred was going to die. Tomorrow. And I would have to live with the knowledge that I might have been able to save him if only I'd had more time.

"I can't bear it," I sobbed into her shoulder. "I can't lose him. Davelina. I know it sounds insane but the thought of him dying, of being in this world without him, it feels like dying myself."

"I know," she whispered, holding me tighter. "I know, Natasha. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

"It's not fair," I said, the words muffled against her shoulder. "None of this is fair. He didn't ask to become this way. He didn't choose to lose his mind. And now they're going to kill him for it, execute him like a rabid animal, and I have to watch. Have to stand by and do nothing while they destroy the man I love."

We sat like that for a long time, Davelina holding me while I cried, while I poured out all the grief and fear and helplessness that had been building inside me.

"I'm here," she kept saying, over and over like a mantra. "I'm here, Natasha. You're not alone. I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay with you through this. I promise."

Eventually, my sobs began to quiet, exhaustion finally claiming me. My eyes felt swollen and gritty, my throat raw, my entire body heavy with grief and fatigue.

"Try to sleep," Davelina urged softly, helping me lie down and pulling the blankets over me. "You need rest. Tomorrow will be... tomorrow will be difficult. You need your strength."

"I don't want tomorrow to come," I whispered, my eyes already closing despite my best efforts to keep them open. "I want to stay in today forever. I want time to stop."

"I know," she said, her hand stroking my hair gently. "But it will come anyway. And when it does, I'll be right here beside you. You won't have to face it alone."

"Promise?" My voice was barely audible, already fading into sleep.

"I promise. I'm here. I'll always be here."

Those words followed me down into darkness.

When I woke, I would be one day closer to losing Modred.