The Lycan King and his Dark Temptation novel Chapter 320

KATHERINE

I tried to crawl back to the safety of the forest with one last desperate breath.

"Aahh!" I screamed at the sharp sting when the sole of his shoe pressed against my hands, bound tightly with rope.

I felt the tiny bones in my fingers creak, on the verge of breaking.

"HELP! ELLIOT! SOMEONE... HELP!"

"Shut the hell up, damn it! You’re getting on my nerves!"

"Just finish her off already! The boss said—"

"Shut up and don’t tell me what to do! Come here, talk now or die, bitch!"

He grabbed my bound hands, yanking me like a rag doll.

I panted heavily, my vision blurred with tears. I tried to fight, though my strength was fading fast. The icy blade of a dagger pressed against my throat.

"Tell me right now, who told you we were stealing? Are you working for someone else, trying to screw up our business? Speak!"

"Go to hell… you bastard," I spat in his face, hanging on my knees.

Blood and saliva splattered across his murderous expression.

"I'm so sorry, my love, I'm so sorry," I sobbed in my mind.

I knew he was going to kill me to silence me, whether I gave him the answer he wanted or not.

Besides, I didn’t work for anyone. I didn’t even understand what was happening…

"You brought this on yourself, you filthy little Duchess."

I felt him tighten his grip on the dagger's handle. A firm hold, ready to make a clean, swift cut. I closed my eyes, resigned, only regretting that I was leaving my daughter alone.

In that moment of death, with darkness as my witness and the scarce moonlight peeking through the stormy clouds, the sound of galloping hooves filled my ears.

Was I dreaming? I must be.

"It’s the Duke!"

"Damn it!"

My eyes flew open as the pressure on my throat eased.

I saw him as if in slow motion, emerging from the midnight mist, between the twisted trees of the forest—a white steed carrying an untamed man. It lasted just a second, just a blink, before the blade was about to slice my throat.

The swift horse passed right behind my attacker. Hot blood splattered like a fountain across my face, my neck, my clothes.

I looked up in horror and saw half of the laborer’s face slide down, his head split in two, his brain spilling into the open air.

His eyes still held the terrified expression from the moment the Duke’s sword ended his life.

The corpse collapsed before me with a dull thud.

I watched as the towering black-haired man dismounted his horse like a lethal predator, launching himself at the other two men.

They didn’t have time to run; instead, they fought back.

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