Traded To The Lycan King by MG Wattsons novel Chapter 155

I slip on my still damp clothing, sliding an annoyed side eye over at Kyra. There is no way her clothing is even close to dry yet if mine is still this wet. I don’t say anything. I already have to be wary of what I say now that she overheard me and Koda talking. Not that I didn’t say anything I wouldn’t say to her face. Well, maybe I wouldn’t say all of it to her face, but the point remains the same. I didn’t speak any mistruths.

“Remind me again why we are leaving now?” Nisha mumbles, unhappy about not staying out of the rain longer.

“Because we need to catch up to Ezrah.,” Kyra says with a heavy sigh. “Do you guys even want to find this guy, or is this really just some cover to avoid helping with the war?”

“The fuck did you just say?” I Koda growls, his head snapping up as he glares at her. “You think this has been a damn picnic for us, sweetheart?”

Kyra doesn’t even flinch as she reaches out and grabs her bag, slinging it over her shoulder.

“No, I questioned exactly what you all have been doing out here for two years. I never said it was easy, just that it seems like you guys are trying to avoid–” she says, gripping the strap tightly, the only show of her nerves.

“He heard what you said, Kyra.” I break in, giving her a stare that pleads with her to shut up. The last thing we need is a group of pissed off lycans and werewolves at our backs. I know for a fact they will protect me, but I need to know they will protect her, too. She isn’t making it all that easy.

“She makes a point,” Marcos says, and Koda scoffs, shaking his head.

“Of course you would try to agree with her, you want in her pants,” he grumbles.

“Marcos is right, Koda.” I say, reaching for my bag. Koda scoffs and chuckles dryly. “Or do you think I want to get into his pants?”

He frowns at me and shakes his head as if this whole conversation is unbelievable.

“No, I don’t get the vibe you want in Marcus’ pants.” He says finally.

“We should be jumping at every opportunity to get Ezrah. We have become complacent in our failure. Clearly, we have forgotten what it is like to have a lead.” I remind everyone, looking at Nisha, Dean and Koda especially.

“It’s just rain,” Dean says, trying to break the residual tension.

“Yeah, nothing like a wet dog,” Nisha grumbles to herself as she slides a glance at Kyra and Marcos.

“Enough.” I say, my voice low but firm. “This bickering and bullshit is done here and now. Do you understand me?”

Nisha nods like a child who has been scolded, and Koda mutters in agreement. Dean throws his hands up like he has had nothing to do with all of this while Marcos looks around, also trying to appear innocent. When my eyes land on Kyra, she is chewing the inside of her cheek, her face flushed and her grip tighter on her strap.

“Sorry,” she whispers.

“Good. Now–”

“Woah woah…” Kyra says, cutting me off with raised eyebrows. “What about you?”

My nose scrunches in confusion as I look around at everyone, annoyed to see almost all of them nodding in agreement with her.

“What about me?” I scoff.

“Well, you kind of are part of the problem with all the bickering and stuff…no offense.” Dean explains. I snort a laugh.

“I am the leader. I don’t bicker.”

“You bicker with Kyra all the time.” Nisha points out, crossing her arms over her chest. “How are we supposed to trust her when you don’t?”

I exhale, my annoyance morphing into an angry monster as I slide my tongue over my teeth.

“I will say this only once and then it will be dropped. Is that understood?” I grit out as they nod. “I trust Kyra with my life and yours. If you doubt her, then you are doubting me. Do you doubt me?”

“No, of course we don’t.” Dean says, speaking for everyone.

“Then this conversation is over and the shitty attitudes are gone.” I grunt, walking to the door and yanking it open.

The hinges snap and the door falls to the side as I realize I might be a little more frustrated than I thought. I clear my throat and let it fall to the side; the others following along behind me in silence.

No one speaks as Kyra guides us along with the point of her hand. I try to avoid her, lingering in the back to make sure I don’t bicker or make a scene. After all, Nisha makes a point. My constant arguing with her does no one any good. So avoiding her seems to be the best thing I can do. Even if I feel like I should be up there with her.

“Did you mean it?” Dean asks abruptly, his words quiet as he frowns at me. My brows pull together and my mouth pulls to one side as I try to understand what the heck he is talking about.

“Could you maybe be a little more specific?” I ask him, and he lowers his voice.

“When we started this mission, you told me your goal was to find Ezrah and die in battle. Did you mean it?”

I stay behind, collecting myself and my thoughts. It shouldn’t come as a shock for me that Merikh informed them of my wish to die, and it shouldn’t be a shock to them either. When I selected my group, I took the ones I thought had a similar mindset to mine, ones that would understand I have nothing left to live for.

Even in my moments of clarity where I realize the errors of my misplaced emotions towards my only family, I still don’t want to be here anymore. My intentions have not changed because my brother’s Alpha order remains fully intact.

I can not allow myself to die unless it happens naturally. Since he refuses to put me on the front lines, this was the closest I could get, and even here he has his pawns ensuring I fail at my one true mission.

My death.

“Hayes,” Kyra says softly next to me, making me jolt in surprise.

“Are you going to question my motives, too?” I ask her and she tilts her head, a sadness in her eyes.

“No, just letting you know we should try to catch up with them. That’s all.” She gives me a gentle, encouraging smile, and yet behind it I can see pain.

I am not the only one living with the agony of survivors’ guilt. Is that the reason she accepted this mission? Has she been lying and have the same idea as I did? Die in a battle to save ourselves the punishment from the heavens for destroying our gift of life?

“You’re not going to lecture me on wanting to die?” I scoff at her as I follow the path of the others. She laughs, light and yet eerily hollow.

“Nah, I promised I wouldn’t bicker with you anymore. Which basically means I have to avoid you.” She says, her tone changing to a more cheerful one. “I really enjoy bickering with you. It’s like I am getting you back for all the times you strong armed me into doing things I hated.”

“Like what?” I ask her, shocked she ever felt that way.

“Like when you used to make me eat lemon bars with you?” She scrunches her nose, her freckles dancing on her delicate skin as I swallow a lump in my throat and look away.

“You like lemon bars.” I remind her, and she clicks her tongue against her teeth.

“No, Hayes, YOU like lemon bars. I just liked you.”

I can’t help but break into a smile, holding onto a secret that I don’t think I can ever tell her. Lemon bars are my least favorite food on the planet. All that time I was convinced it was her favorite, so I always had it made for her by the pack cook.

And now, at the strangest time in the world, I find myself craving that tangy sweet flavor on its buttery cookie, just so I can have a moment with her like we used to. Just one more time before our inevitable parting.