Prey Of The Lycan Queen Chapter 4

“That's not true,” he whispers.

"What was that? Because you had no issues leaving me with Zeke!” I grow! at him, turning my glare

on Zeke.

“And what have you got to say for yourself?” I snarl at Zeke.

“I'm sorry,” he murmurs.

“That's it?" I ask.

“No, that is not it, Zirah. We fucked up, and you can rub that in our faces all you want, but you are

our mate!”

“If 1 choose for you to be mine!” I scream.

“Tables have turned, Zeke, and after what you've done, there is no way I'd choose you.... Any of

you!"

“Don't call me that,”

“And you wouldn't choose me. You said you would once,”

“Because you were the lesser of three evils!" I scream at him.

“You're lying... don’t give me that shit, Z. I know you love me,” Regan growls, stepping toward me.

Hunter growls, and he backs up.

“Hunter!” Zeke snarls.

“He doesn’t answer to you no more, and you're about to learn. Neither do I,” Zeke looks away and

nods once.

"Zirah, please.... At least give us another chance. We can fix this. Make it up to you,” Lyon pleads.

Does this fucker not realize I just burned for him!

I scoff, shaking my head. "No, you just all need to back off. I've lost everything because of you!" I

scream, and lightning cracks across the sky.

"I've lost everything!" I repeat, my voice breaking.

“You haven't lost me,” Regan murmurs, and I look at him.

“No... but you've lost me,” I tell him.

The sky opens up, and torrential rain starts to fall. The kings look up at the stormy sky, but I turn on

my heel and continue walking when Zeke calls out.

“Finish the game, Zirah!” I stop, glancing over my shoulder at him.

“My father is back now. He can run your Kingdom. Go through with the marriage agreement. Even if

you don’t choose me, you can at least choose one of them.”

“Are you serious? You want me to play your stupid little game!” Zeke shrugs while his brothers stare

at him.

"Come to our kingdoms, then decide. Finish the game, then decide. If you still don't want us, we'll

stand down from our thrones.”

I scoff. All this crap was caused because of them wanting the throne, and they expect me to believe

they would walk away from theirs for me. I shake my head and turn back toward the castle, ignoring

them.

When I finally reach my room, I collapse onto the floor, grief washing over me in waves. The pain of

losing my grandmother is raw and fresh, a wound reopened by the knowledge that she had been

alive, only for me to lose her all over again.

Memories of my mother's death batter my mind, the image of her burning at the stake just like I

did. I remember how my entire life flashed before my eyes, how I got my runes, and how my

grandmother always protected me.

The cold floor presses against my cheek, my body shaking with grief as I lie there, utterly consumed

by the memories of my past. My heart aches, and I can't help but feel as if I've lost a part of myself —

a part that was taken from me twice, first by the illusion of her death and now again with her

sacrifice. My mind floods with images of my mother and grandmother, and the memory of the day

my powers first revealed themselves takes center stage.

I remember the damp, earthy scent of the cave and the faint echoes of water dripping in the

distance. I was playing near the entrance, my laughter reverberating off the walls as I chased after a

rabbit that had caught my eye. The sunlight filtered through the trees outside, casting a warm,

golden glow on the cave's mouth. My grandmother was busy preparing our dinner, her knife deftly

slicing through the meat of a freshly caught rabbit.

My curiosity got the better of me, and I reached out, brushing my fingertips against the lifeless

creature. To my astonishment, its fur suddenly bristled with life, and it leaped up and scampered

away. My grandmother's eyes widened in fear, and she snatched my hands away from the rabbit,

her grip tight and protective.

"What did you do?" She asked, her voice quivering as I struggled to understand my newfound

abilities.

Before my grandmother could answer, a gasp echoed through the air, and we turned to see a man

stumbling into our camp. His eyes were wide with terror, and his voice shook as he pointed a

trembling finger at me.

"She's a witch," he stammered, his fear palpable.

My grandmother shot him with her bow and arrow without hesitation, killing him instantly. She then

dragged me back to the safety of the caves, her eyes filled with determination and concern.

There, she branded me with runes, the searing pain causing me to cry out as she chanted a

protection spell to obscure my powers from the world until I eventually passed out. It is now clear to

me why she had to keep rebranding me; each time was a milestone of when I manifested more, the

stronger I got, the quicker my magic wore off, and the weaker hers got trying to mask mine. This is

why she aged so drastically; it wasn't the elements but me. Her magic camouflaged mine, trying to

contain it while constantly stealing those memories from me so I wouldn't be tempted to use my

power, tempted to unleash it.

As my tears mix with the cold stone beneath me, I can't help but think about my dreams, the visions

of a kingdom that haunted me throughout my life. The dreams were filled with battles, love, and

betrayal, pieces of a past life that seemed just out of reach. And now, I am faced with the reality that

my grandmother gave everything to protect me, just as she had done so many times before.

I curl into myself, the weight of my grief threatening to crush me. The world outside my room seems

distant and unimportant, and I can't help but wonder how I could possibly face it without my

grandmother by my side. As the rain continues to pour outside, I cling to the memories of my past,

seeking solace in the love that my grandmother so selflessly gave me.

After my self-pity party, I eventually gather the strength to stand, feeling the need to wash away the

grief that clings to me. My wolves follow me into the bathroom, their presence comforting.

The warm water begins to soothe my aching body and mind as I step into the shower. Halfway

through my shower, Gnash suddenly jumps to his feet and stares intently at the bathroom door.

"What is it, boy?" I ask, hastily washing the shampoo from my hair and eyes.

As I turn to see what has caught his attention, I spot Regan standing in the doorway of the

bathroom; his eyes fixed on me. "Hate me all you want, but I'm not leaving,” he tells me, peeling off

his soaking wet shirt.