Vanished Sisters: The Lycan King's Slave Island Chapter 162

Davelina's POV

"Well, well," one of them slurred, his eyes focusing on me with disturbing intensity. "What do we have here? A pretty little human, all alone in the woods."

"We're not alone, sir." Xavier said, stepping in front of me protectively. "And we're heading back to the feast. Please, let us pass."

The Lycans laughed, a harsh, ugly sound.

"Let you pass?" another one said, moving closer. "But we just got here. And we're feeling... friendly."

"Please," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "We don't want any trouble. Just let us go back."

"Oh, we'll let the boy go," the first one said, his grin widening. "But you, sweetheart... you're going to stay and entertain us for a while."

Xavier moved to block them, but he didn't stand a chance. One of the Lycans backhanded him casually, and he crumpled to the ground, unconscious before he even hit the dirt.

"Xavier!" I screamed, dropping to my knees beside him.

Rough hands grabbed me, hauling me to my feet. I struggled, kicking and clawing, but they were so much stronger than me. One of them laughed as I scratched his face, blood welling from the marks my nails left.

"Feisty," he said approvingly. "I like that."

"Let me go!" I screamed, hoping someone would hear, would come to help.

But we were too far from the feast. No one would hear me out here.

They dragged me deeper into the trees, away from Xavier's unconscious form. I fought every step of the way, but it was useless. They were too strong, too many.

One of them shoved me against a tree, the rough bark scraping against my back through my thin dress. His hands were on me, groping, violating, his breath hot and reeking of alcohol against my face.

"No!" I sobbed, trying to push him away. "Please, no!"

"Hold her still," he growled to his companions.

More hands grabbed me, pinning my arms, my legs. I couldn't move, couldn't fight. Could only scream and pray that someone, anyone, would hear.

One of them tore at my dress, the fabric ripping with a sickening sound. I felt the cold night air against my skin and knew what was coming next.

This was it. This was how it would end. Violated and discarded in the woods like trash.

I closed my eyes, tears streaming down my face, and waited for the inevitable.

But then—

"Wait," one of them hissed, his hands suddenly going still. "Who's that?"

I opened my eyes, following their gaze into the shadows.

A figure stood there, partially obscured by darkness but unmistakably present. Tall and lean, wrapped in a dark cloak that seemed to blend with the night itself. But even in shadow, there was something about the way he stood, the regal bearing, the long hair catching the moonlight...

My heart stopped.

Even cloaked in darkness, that posture, that presence, those flowing robes and long hair were unmistakable.

Lord Fergus.

Relief flooded through me so intensely I nearly collapsed against the tree.

But something was wrong.

He wasn't moving. Wasn't speaking. Just standing there in the darkness, utterly still, and even from this distance I could feel the rage radiating off him in waves—thick and suffocating, making the air itself feel dangerous.

The three Lycans holding me had frozen, their drunken confidence wavering as they tried to make out who had interrupted them.

"Who the fuck are you?" one of them slurred, squinting into the shadows. "Get lost. This doesn't concern you."

Fergus still didn't speak. Didn't move.

"I said fuck off!" the Lycan snarled, emboldened by alcohol and stupidity. "Unless you want to wait your turn with the bitch."

The other two laughed, their hands tightening on me again, resuming their violation as though the interruption was nothing.

One of them grabbed my breast roughly through my torn dress, his fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to make me cry out. "Don't worry, sweetheart," he breathed against my neck, his breath reeking of wine. "We'll make sure you're nice and wet and ready for—"

The scream that cut through the night was inhuman—a shriek of pure agony that made my blood freeze.

The hand on my breast was suddenly gone, and I looked down in horror to see it lying on the ground several feet away, fingers still twitching, blood pumping from the severed wrist in rhythmic spurts that painted the frost-covered ground crimson.

The Lycan stared at the stump where his hand had been, his face going white with shock, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly before the pain hit and he started screaming—high-pitched, agonized shrieks that echoed through the forest.

I didn't see Fergus move. One moment he was in the shadows, the next he was among us, and he wasn't human anymore.

The transformation had happened so fast, so completely, that I barely registered it. Where Lord Fergus had stood, there was now a massive beast—easily eight feet tall, covered in dark fur that seemed to absorb the moonlight, with claws like daggers and eyes that burned with inhuman fury.

The Lycan who'd lost his hand didn't have time to scream again. Fergus's jaws closed around his throat with terrible precision, and there was a sickening crunch of bone and cartilage being crushed. Blood sprayed across the clearing in a hot arc, spattering my face and chest as the body dropped, still twitching.

The other two Lycans released me immediately, stumbling backward, their faces masks of terror, their earlier bravado completely evaporated.

"Please—" one of them started, his hands raised in surrender.

Fergus turned on him with terrifying speed, moving faster than anything that size should be able to move. His claws raked across the Lycan's chest, opening him from shoulder to hip in one smooth motion. The man's intestines spilled out in a wet, glistening mass, and he fell to his knees, his hands desperately trying to push them back inside even as more kept sliding out.

The third Lycan tried to run.

He made it three steps before Fergus caught him, one massive hand closing around his leg. The sound of the bone breaking was like a gunshot, sharp and final. The Lycan screamed, and Fergus dragged him back across the ground, flipping him over with casual strength.

What happened next was worse than anything I'd ever witnessed.