Vanished Sisters: The Lycan King's Slave Island Chapter 86

Natasha's POV

*Is that even possible?*

But after everything I'd witnessed on this island—the transformations, the inhuman strength, the wolf-men themselves—who was I to say what was or wasn't possible?

Lucy spoke up, her voice thoughtful despite her injuries.

"I knew it," she said quietly. "I had my suspicions, but now I'm certain."

Both Davelina and I turned to look at her.

"What do you mean?" Davelina asked.

Lucy met her gaze steadily with her one good eye. "You're both Endurers. You have to be."

"The legends say," Lucy continued, "that some Endurers have special abilities. Gifts beyond just physical resilience. The ability to heal faster. To sense danger. And—" She looked at Davelina pointedly. "—the ability to charm men. To make them want you. Desire you. Even against their own will."

She paused, then added: "Like Sirens. The sea-women from the old stories who could lure sailors to their doom with just their voices and their beauty."

Davelina's face had gone pale.

"But the magic—" I started. "The power Davelina used—I don't have anything like that."

"Maybe you do," Lucy said. "Maybe it just manifests differently. Or maybe you haven't discovered it yet."

She shifted on the cot, wincing at the pain from her injuries.

"The point is," she continued, "you're both special. Both different from ordinary humans. And if the legends are true, if Endurers really do have these abilities—" She looked between us. "—then maybe we have a chance. A real chance at survival. At escape."

Davelina shook her head slowly. "I don't know how to control it. What happened with Fergus—I didn't plan it. I didn't even understand what I was doing. It just... happened. And now I couldn't use it all I want."

"Then you need to learn," Lucy said firmly. "Because if you can influence a Lord—if you can make him want to protect you instead of hurt you—that's a weapon. Maybe the only weapon we have."

"Okay," Davelina said slowly. "Let's say we accept this. That we're both Endurers. That we have these... abilities. How does that help us escape?"

"I don't know yet," Lucy admitted. "But it's more than we had before. It's hope."

She looked at both of us with fierce determination despite her battered state.

"Anyway, this can't continue," Davelina said finally. "We can't keep living like this. Being used. Hurt. Violated. Passed around like objects for their amusement."

"We could try to escape," I said. The words came out before I'd fully thought them through.

Both of them looked at me.

"Escape?" Davelina repeated. "How? We're on an island. Surrounded by ocean. Even if we could get past the guards and the walls, where would we go? We don't have a boat. We don't know how to navigate. We'd die of exposure or drown."

"I know," I admitted. "But anything is better than this. Sitting here waiting to be used again and again until they finally kill us or we kill ourselves. At least if we try to escape, we're doing something. Fighting back. Taking control of our own fates."

"She's right," Lucy said quietly. Both of us turned to look at her in surprise.

"We're going to die here anyway," Lucy continued. "Whether it's from being beaten to death or raped to death or worked to death or just giving up and letting ourselves fade away. We all know it. Every slave knows it. The only question is when and how much we'll suffer first."

She looked at both of us with her one good eye.

"At least if we try to escape," she said, "we die on our own terms. Fighting. Choosing our fate instead of having it chosen for us."

Davelina was quiet for a long moment, thinking. I could see the conflict in her expression—hope warring with fear, desperation with caution.

"It would be incredibly dangerous," she said finally. "If they catch us trying to escape—if they even suspect we're planning it—they'll make examples of us. Torture us publicly. Make our deaths so horrible that no other slave would ever dare try the same thing."

"I know," I said. "But I'm willing to take that risk. Because staying here—enduring this—it's not living. It's just dying slowly."

"We'd need a plan," Davelina said. "We can't just run blindly. We'd need supplies. Food. Water. Information about the island. About the tides and currents. Maybe access to a boat or—"

"I might be able to help with information," I interrupted.

Both of them looked at me questioningly.

I took a deep breath. "There's something I need to tell you, Lucy. Something that happened at the games."

I explained about the Lycan who'd touched me. Who'd figured out I wasn't really male. Who'd told me to come find him.

"He lives outside the fortress," I said. "Along the creek, downstream. He told me to come alone or he'd expose what I really am."

Lucy's expression darkened immediately. "That's obviously a trap. He's going to hurt you. Rape you. Maybe kill you. We can't—"

"I know it might be," I interrupted. "But what if it's not? What if he actually wants to talk? To negotiate? Maybe he wants something from me. Maybe he's willing to trade information for—for whatever it is he wants."

"Like what?" Lucy asked. "What could you possibly have that a Lycan would want?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "But I have to try. Because if I don't go, he said he'll tell everyone what I really am. And then we're all dead for sure. They'll torture me to find out who knew about the deception. You'll both be implicated. We'll all die."

Lucy stood up and paced the small room, her arms wrapped around herself.