Vanished Sisters: The Lycan King's Slave Island Chapter 194

Natasha's POV

Pain bloomed at the back of my skull, dragging me up from unconsciousness like a fishhook pulling me through murky water. My head throbbed with each heartbeat, a dull, insistent ache that made my stomach churn.

I tried to move, but my body felt heavy, uncooperative. My eyelids fluttered, and I became aware of sounds—voices, rough and male, speaking in low tones. The creak of wood. The jingle of harnesses. The steady clip-clop of horse hooves on packed earth.

And then I felt it.

Hands on my body.

Rough, calloused fingers tugging at my shirt, pulling at the fabric with increasing urgency.

My eyes snapped open, and panic flooded through me in a cold rush.

I was lying on my back on rough wooden planks. Above me, iron bars formed a cage—a prisoner's cart, I realized with growing horror. And there were men around me, three of them, their faces leering down at me through the bars.

"Well, look who's finally awake," one of them said with a cruel grin. He was missing several teeth, and his breath reeked of ale and rot.

"No," I gasped, trying to scramble backward. But there was nowhere to go in the confined space. My back hit the far side of the cage almost immediately. "Get away from me!"

"Feisty little thing, isn't she?" another one laughed. This one was younger, with a patchy beard and eager, hungry eyes.

The third man—older, with a scar running from his temple to his jaw—reached through the bars and grabbed the front of my shirt. "Let's see what we've got here."

"Stop it!" I screamed, batting at his hands. "Help! Someone help me!"

But my cries went unanswered. I could see we were on a road, trees lining both sides, and there were other people nearby—I could hear voices, see movement—but no one was coming to help.

"Scream all you want, boy," the scarred man said, yanking hard on my shirt. The fabric strained, threads popping. "No one's going to save you."

"Please," I begged, trying to pull away from his grip. "Please, I haven't done anything—"

He yanked again, harder this time, and I heard the unmistakable sound of tearing cloth. My shirt split down the front, exposing the binding wrapped tightly around my chest.

The men went silent, staring.

"What the fuck?" the toothless one breathed.

The scarred man's eyes narrowed. He reached through the bars again, and this time his fingers found the edge of the binding. "Well, well. What do we have here?"

"No!" I tried to twist away, but there was nowhere to go. "Don't—"

He grabbed the binding and pulled, unwinding it with rough, impatient movements. The fabric loosened, unwound, fell away.

My breasts spilled free, pale and full in the afternoon light.

For a moment, there was absolute silence. The men stared, their eyes wide, their mouths hanging open.

Then the younger one let out a low whistle. "Holy shit. Nathan's a girl."

"I fucking knew it," the toothless one crowed. "I told you there was something off about that pretty little face!"

I tried desperately to cover myself with my hands, crossing my arms over my chest, but it was useless. They'd already seen everything.

"Look at those tits," the scarred man said, his voice thick with lust. He reached through the bars, and before I could stop him, his hand closed over my breast, squeezing roughly.

I screamed and jerked away, but his grip was iron-strong. His thumb found my nipple, rubbing over it with deliberate cruelty.

"Soft," he murmured. "So fucking soft. And look how pink those nipples are."

"Let go of me!" I sobbed, trying to pry his fingers off. "Please!"

He squeezed harder, making me cry out in pain, then finally released me. I scrambled to the far corner of the cage, trying to make myself as small as possible.

"So it's true," the younger one said, his eyes roaming over my exposed body with undisguised hunger. "Nathan really is a girl. And not just any girl—"

"An Endurer," the scarred man finished, his smile widening. "Has to be. Remember what happened at the fortress? The King raped this little bitch twice, and she survived. No normal human could do that."

"Which means she can take a lot of punishment," the toothless one added, licking his lips. "A lot of cock."

I felt bile rise in my throat. "I didn't do anything wrong," I said, hating how my voice shook. "I didn't—"

"Shut up, whore," the scarred man snarled. "We know what you are. We know what you did."

The cart lurched into motion, and I grabbed the bars to steady myself. We were moving through what looked like a small settlement—not quite a village, but a cluster of buildings along the road. People were gathering, drawn by the commotion.

"What's all this?" an old woman called out.

"We caught a witch!" the toothless man shouted back, his voice carrying over the crowd. "The one who's been corrupting the King!"

Murmurs rippled through the gathering crowd. I saw faces—some curious, some disgusted, some excited by the spectacle.

"That's not true!" I shouted, trying to be heard over the noise. "I haven't done anything! Please, someone help me!"

But the crowd just stared. Some pointed. Some laughed.

"She disguised herself as a boy!" the younger captor announced, clearly enjoying the attention. "Snuck into the King's presence and seduced him with her evil magic!"

"Lying bitch," the scarred man spat. He reached through the bars again, this time grabbing my hair and yanking my head back. "Look at her. Look at this face. Pretty enough to drive a man mad, isn't it? And those tits—" He grabbed my breast again, squeezing hard enough to make me whimper. "Built for sin."

The crowd pressed closer, their eyes hungry and judgmental. I tried to cover myself with my torn shirt, but the fabric was barely holding together.

"Where are you taking her?" someone called out.

"To Lord Sebastian's territory," the scarred man replied. "He'll put her on trial for her crimes. For bewitching the King. For being a filthy Endurer whore."

We continued moving, leaving the settlement behind. The road stretched ahead, winding through dense forest. I could still hear my captors talking amongst themselves, their voices low but audible.

"How far to Sebastian's lands?" the younger one asked.

"We're close," the scarred man replied. "Maybe an hour's ride."

"Should we send word ahead?"

"Good idea. Ned!" He called out to one of the men riding alongside the cart. "Ride ahead. Tell Lord Sebastian we have the girl. The Endurer. The one who's been fucking the King."

Ned nodded and spurred his horse into a gallop, disappearing down the road.

I watched him go, my heart sinking.

Sebastian would almost certainly kill me. Probably publicly, to humiliate Mordred.

Unless I could escape. Unless someone rescued me.

I closed my eyes, and without really thinking about it, I reached out. Not with my hands, but with something deeper.

I thought of him. Pictured his face, his eyes, the way he'd said my name.

*Mordred,* I thought desperately. *My love. Please help me. I need you.*