Traded To The Lycan King by MG Wattsons novel Chapter 127

*Merikh*

“Have you spoken with Beta Hayes?” Percy asks, the ashes of Giselle in his arms as I carry a now sleeping Colette. My muscles are tense, my instincts screaming out as I try to reach my brother and get no mind link back.

“We might be too far out.” I suggest. Percy nods like it is a possibility, but I think we both know that something is terribly wrong. I can feel the pack. I know they are near and that I am well within range of Hayes, yet he says nothing.

–Hayes, answer me, that is an alpha order–I shoot out to him directly one more time.

The silence is deafening and the nagging in my gut tells me he is dead, or in need of saving.

“Fuck,” I mutter, my chest ripping in two when I look down at my tear stained luna, who is pale and speckled with injuries, do not heal, even with my presence and constant holding of her.

“Do you want me to go look for him?” Percy asks, just as figures are seen in the distance.

“No,” I say, zeroing in on them as I break into a labored run, “I need you to take Colette to the healers and get her in a bath of healing waters immediately. Hayes is my responsibility. I will find him and then kick his ass for not responding.”

It’s a grim joke, but in order to keep my mind from fearing the worst, I need the light release of humor. Percy, heavens bless him, forces out a tight chuckle, waving down the warriors in front of us. They sprint toward us, eyes wide when they see the sight and then tilt their head, confused, looking at what is in Percy’s arms.

“Is Luna Colette okay?” Brandy, one of my top warriors, asks.

“She is in need of healing. Percy will take her.” I glance around, noting the bodies on the ground are either bloody or burned. Many of them are my people, and a sadness grows deeper in my chest.

“Where is Beta Hayes?” Percy asks, motioning for the warrior with Brandy to take the ashes.

“No one has seen him since—” Brandy pauses and clears her throat.

“Since what, Brandy?” I ask, my voice firm as my stomach twists in knots. Percy steps up and I gently place Colette into his arms, then scan around once more, trying to decide in which direction I need to look first.

“Leandra disappeared. One moment she was there and the next she was running from the pack house screaming.”

“Get to the point already, Nate.” Brandy hisses at him. “The alpha doesn’t need the details. He needs a general idea of where to find Beta Hayes.”

He furrows his brows and looks at the ground.

“His mate went crazy and ran into the woods screaming. All the wolves with the red eyes did—”

“We tried to stop him, but Beta Hayes went beyond the line, Alpha. He crossed behind the dragons and they chased him and Leandra. As soon as the fog hit and the dragons left, we started looking for them, but truthfully…I am not holding out much hope for their survival.” Brandy says, tears in her eyes.

“Get Percy, Colette, and those ashes to the pack house now. I will return.” I spin on my heels when thin fingers gently squeeze my wrist, the fluttering in my stomach disappearing as the bond relieves my worries, even if just for a moment.

“Merikh,” Colette whispers, I turn, giving her a gentle look before her teary eyes meet mine.

“I will be back soon,” I tell her and she seems to shrink at the thought of me leaving her side. “Hayes is missing,”

“Are you sure?” I ask him and the man frowns, a gloom look on his face as he looks away, pointing behind a rock.

“I am sure, Alpha.”

Something feels off, the air stale, tasting slightly of burned flesh and boiled blood. My nose scrunches at the smell, my mouth sealing closed to keep the stench of it from entering any way. I inch around the rock and my body freezes, unable to move, my chest burning and my blood vacating my face so quickly it feels like I might faint.

“Hayes,” his name falls from my lips as I snap into action, flying to my knees and landing at his side.

A raging burn licks up the side of his face, nasty little tendrils where the flame had burned hotter reaching up and into his hairline. Muscles are exposed in some parts of his chest, the melted, twisted flesh bleeding into his neck.

It looks as if half his upper body took a direct his from a dragon’s flame, but under it all, behind the stench and the burns and blood, I see the slow rise and fall of his chest.

“What of his mate?” I ask the young warrior, who doesn’t respond. I sigh heavily, turning to look at him and chastise him for his lack of response when I see him look up into a tree. My eyes follow his line of sight and bile rises in my throat.

“AHHH!” Hayes lets out a scream of agony that makes my skiing crawl.

“Hayes, I know it hurts, it’s okay—”

“NO!” He roars, his burned arm shoving at my chest and knocking me aside, then he looks up and he stares. He says nothing as he lays back down, his eyes focused on the mangled flesh of Leandra in the tree.

“Hayes,” I say once more. But he doesn’t register me or my words. He focuses only on his dead mate, his eyes locked on her cold and lifeless, bleeding orbs.