Vanished Sisters: The Lycan King's Slave Island Chapter 189

Davelina's POV

The trip was uneventful, and I spent most of it worrying. Worrying about Natasha. Worrying about Lucy. Worrying about Fergus and the political situation that even I, a mere servant, could sense was deteriorating.

But most of all, I worried about the bond between me and Fergus.

Most of the time, it was just a warm presence in the back of my mind, a constant awareness of him. But sometimes, when his emotions were particularly strong, I could feel them.

And right now, I approached Castle Ashclaw, I felt... something.

Not quite pain. Not quite fear. But something wrong. Something deeply, fundamentally wrong.

I started walking toward the castle, then running.

By the time I reached the main gates, I could hear it. Screaming. Shouting. The sounds of destruction.

The guards at the gate were gone—fled or dead, I couldn't tell. I pushed through the open doors and into the entrance hall.

What I saw made my blood freeze.

Two massive wolves were fighting in the center of the hall. One was slightly larger, with midnight-black fur and eyes that glowed red. The other was dark gray, his fur matted with blood.

Mordred and Fergus.

They were tearing each other apart.

The hall was a disaster. Furniture lay in splinters. Tapestries had been ripped from the walls. Blood—so much blood—pooled on the floor and splattered the walls.

Servants huddled in corners, too terrified to move. I saw Gregor standing near the far wall, watching with cold, analytical eyes.

And I saw Lucy, pressed against a pillar, her face white with terror, tears streaming down her cheeks.

But all of that faded into background noise as I focused on Fergus.

He was... wrong. The way he moved, the sounds he made, the complete absence of intelligence in his eyes. This wasn't my Fergus. This was something else. Something broken.

Mordred was trying to restrain him, I realized. The King was fighting defensively, trying to subdue without killing. But Fergus wasn't giving him that option. He attacked with suicidal fury, forcing Mordred to respond with lethal force.

I saw Mordred's claws rake across Fergus's flank, saw blood spray across the floor. Saw Fergus stumble, then surge forward again, his jaws snapping.

No.

The word echoed in my mind, in my heart, through the mate bond.

No. No. No.

I was moving before I consciously decided to, walking toward the two battling wolves. Toward my mate. Toward the man I loved, even if he was currently a mindless beast.

"Are you insane?" Gregor's voice cut through the chaos. "Get back! Get away from them!"

I ignored him. Ignored the screaming servants. Ignored everything except the pull of the bond.

"Fergus," I called out, my voice shaking but clear. "Fergus, it's me. It's Davelina."

For a split second, he froze. His head turned toward me, and I saw something flicker in those mad eyes. Recognition? Hope?

Then he shook his head violently, as if trying to dislodge the thought, and lunged at Mordred again.

"Hey, run!" Mordred roared, his voice distorted by his shifted form. "Get out of here!"

But I couldn't. The bond wouldn't let me. It pulled me forward, step by terrifying step, even as my legs shook and my heart hammered in my chest.

"Fergus," I called again, louder this time. "Please. Please, my love. Come back to me."

They crashed into a pillar, and I heard stone crack. Fergus's claws found Mordred's shoulder, and the King howled in pain and rage.

I was close now. So close I could smell the blood, could feel the heat radiating from their bodies, could see every detail of the carnage.

"Fergus!" I screamed. "Stop it! Please!"

He turned toward me again, and this time he held still for a full second. Two seconds. His eyes met mine, and I saw him in there, buried beneath the madness. Saw him fighting, struggling, trying to break through.

"That's it," I whispered, taking another step closer. "That's it, my love. Come back. Come back to me."

His body was trembling, muscles twitching with the effort of resisting whatever poison coursed through his veins. His jaws opened, and for a moment I thought he was going to speak, to say my name.

Then his eyes went blank again, and he snarled.

I was right in front of him now, close enough to touch. Close enough to see my reflection in his eyes.

"I'm here," I said softly, reaching out my hand. "I'm right here. I'm not leaving you."

Behind me, I heard Gregor shouting something. Heard Lucy sobbing. Heard Mordred's warning growl.

But all I could see was Fergus. All I could feel was the bond, singing with desperate hope.

His massive paw rose, claws extended. For a heartbeat, I thought he was reaching for me, that he was going to take my hand.

Then I saw the trajectory. Saw where those claws were aimed.

My throat.

I closed my eyes. Tears slipped down my cheeks, but I didn't move. Didn't flinch away.

If I was going to die, I would die here. With him. For him.

The bond pulsed one last time, a wave of love and grief and desperate apology.

I love you too, I thought. I love you too.

I waited for the pain. For the darkness.

For the end.