Page 41 of His Fierce Lycan Luna
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“I’m not leaving you Kyson, I am just curious about who I am. What I am. You don’t need to feel threatened by any of it,” I tell him. He nods but doesn’t say anything else, yet I know he is hiding something.
When we are nearly back to the room, we run into Peter carrying a cloth and bucket of soapy water up the steps. Kyson takes the bucket from him, and Peter sighs.
“Since when are you on cleaning duty?” Kyson asks as Peter follows us up the steps.
“Since Clarice asked me to clean the steps as punishment,” Peter answers.
“What did you do?” Kyson asks.
“I forgot to feed the horses. So Clarice said since she had to do one of my chores, I had to do one of hers,” Peter says, and Kyson chuckles.
“Well, get scrubbing,” Kyson tells him, putting the bucket on the top step. Peter groans, but tosses his cloth into the bucket and gets to work.
“I am going to visit your old pack today. You’re coming with me,” Kyson says, leaving no room for argument. He pushes the door open.
“Warm clothes; it is supposed to rain today. Get dressed,” Kyson says, wandering off to the bathroom.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
ABBIE
Gannon is off doing an errand for the King. He had been nagging me about Cassandra and what I wanted to do about her, but I still have no idea. I don’t like the idea of having someone’s life in my hands, especially when I’ve hardly had any control over my own. Yet, when Gannon goes off with the King, I wander around the castle. I explore the wine cellars and am getting ready to clean them when I hear a familiar voice calling out from the cells down the corridor.
The wine cellar runs what appears to be the entire length of the castle, with different underground corridors leading off in different directions, and the one to my left I know goes to the dungeons. Guards stand on either side of the arched tunnel leading to them, and I glance at them. They pay her no attention while she continues screaming out for them to set her free.
Finding the cobweb brush, I head back toward the stairs leading into the kitchen’s huge pantry. Only once I am halfway up do I stop. Cassandra has three children, which has been nagging at me. As much as I want the woman dead, I don’t want to punish her children for her crimes. Her husband and their father are dead, and her life is now resting in my hands.
Leaning the cobweb brush against the stairs, I walk back down the steps, over to the corridor, and stop in front of the guards.
“Miss Abbie?” one asks, and I chew my lip, glancing toward the dark dungeons.
“Can I see her?” I ask, looking at the man. He has a mustache and light blue eyes that are almost white they are that light. He glances at the other guard, who has a full beard, dark eyes, and long hair that cascades almost to his waist and is tied in two braids.
“One of us will come with you,” the other man says, and I nod. I start walking down the corridor when I hear her screaming out again, and I stop. Her voice grating in my head as memories of the same voice teased and taunted me while she would hold my head to stop me from trying to pull away from him. She is just as sick as him to do that to another woman. I hadn’t realized I had stopped moving until the guard’s hand falls on my shoulder. Only then do I realize I am shaking like a leaf.
“I’m right here. She can’t hurt you, Miss; I have mindlinked Gannon,” he says, and I swallow.
“Maybe this was a bad idea,” I murmur.
“It’s up to you. No one will force you to go in there, Miss Abbie,” he whispers.
I look at the man, and his dark eyes look black under the dim lighting. I should feel embarrassed that he knows what she did to me, yet his gentle voice holds no contempt.I nod but force myself to keep going until I am stopped outside her barred cell. She sits in the cell’s corner sobbing, her head in her hands and knees to her chest.
Cassandra looks up, and I can tell she is about to scream out again, but her words die out when she notices me standing there.
“I suppose you’re here to gloat?” she says, resting her head back on the brickwork. She turns her face away from me. Shelooks like crap, her nails all chipped, her hair a mess, her clothes wrinkled, and she has no shoes on.
Turning to the guard, I hold my hands out for the keys, and he looks at me. “Abbie,” he asks questionably.
“Keys, please,” I tell him, and he pulls them off the key chain and hands them to me.
Cassandra looks at me and jumps to her feet as I put the key in, but I don’t turn it. Instead, I notice the bottled water just outside the cell door and pre-packaged sandwiches. I move to the small table and grab two of the triangle packages and a water bottle before tucking them under my arm. My hands shake as I open the cell, and my eyes move to her when I notice the chain around her ankle that is attached to the wall.
Cassandra watches me warily as I enter, closing the door behind me. This isn’t the same scornful, confident, and entitled woman I knew. This woman is helpless and looks petrified of me. She knows her life is in my hands. Gannon told her that much.
