Chapter 15

“All right—what do you want from me? What’s with this intimidation and impatience?” Lady Barbara hissed as she cracked open the carriage window, her voice low but sharp. Lois’s head rested unconscious in her lap, her face pale as parchment.

“Don’t be offended, my lady, but we must do our duty,” the soldier replied curtly.

“What do you mean? You’re going to search my carriage?” Lady Barbara asked, her heart racing.

“Yes,” he answered, his tone stern.

Her tongue froze. Speechless. If they searched and found Lois, it wasn’t just the girl’s life on the line—it was hers. Her entire family could be stripped of nobility, cast into exile. The weight of ruin pressed against her ribs.

Quickly, she tugged the small pouch from her gown, her fingers trembling as she shoved it into the soldier’s hand. His eyes widened; the glimmer of gold shone even in the shadows. Never would he have imagined a noble lady stooping to bribery.

“I’m in haste,” Lady Barbara said with a forced smile, though sweat gathered at her lip. “Let us pass.”

“You may go, my lady,” the soldier said, lips curling into a mischievous grin. He stepped aside.

The coachman snapped the reins at once, wheels rattling over the stones as the carriage bolted forward.

“Would you not inspect her?” another soldier asked faintly as the carriage vanished into the dark, already far from reach.

Back at the Barbara mansion, Lord Barbara paced, his nerves fraying as soldiers tore through his home like a raging storm.

After some time, Naismith descended the staircase, eyes narrowing dangerously at him.

“Did you seek approval from the authorities before barging into my home?” Lord Barbara growled, jaw tight.

“I did not need their approval. I got it from the king himself!” Naismith shot back with a smirk. “You should know His Majesty suspects you’re the accomplice hiding the woman who stole the unborn heir.”

Lord Barbara’s brow furrowed, voice low. “What have you told the king?”

“You should tell me,” Naismith snarled, his blade flashing as it pressed against Barbara’s throat, “where the hell you’ve hidden her!”

“I will not risk my head or my family for a slave!” Lord Barbara snapped back. “What would I need her for? I have beautiful women all around me. I could claim any prominent woman in the city today—why would I dare hide the king’s sex slave?” His lie burned bitter in his throat, but he swallowed it.

Naismith stared long and hard at him, distrust darkening his eyes. “I’ve got my eyes on you,” he muttered coldly before turning away.

Three months later, Lois lived in monotonous isolation inside a tower on a remote island, guarded only by a single man. Her belly was heavy and round now—so large she was certain she might be carrying triplets. She leaned against the window, eyes lost in the endless ocean. The waves sang in monotone, a lull of sound and silence that soothed her fraying spirit.

Far below, Rita and one of Sandra’s spies crouched in the shadows, triumphant smiles tugging at their lips. After months of trailing Lady Barbara, they had finally found Lois’s hiding place.

“The security is weak,” Rita whispered, eyes gleaming. “They trusted no one would ever search this deep into an isolated island.”

“We must inform Consort Sandra at once,” her companion replied. “She’ll want her eliminated tonight.”

“She’s going to have triplets?!” Sandra shrieked, brows drawn so tight they nearly touched. The news ripped from Rita’s lips made her pulse spike.

“Yes, my lady. She looks as radiant as a fresh-bloomed rose, even swollen with pregnancy,” Rita answered, her voice laced with bitter admiration.

Sandra bit her lip so hard she tasted blood. Rage contorted her face as her fists clenched, trembling.

“Send the assassins. Tell them to get rid of her tonight!” she commanded, venom in her tone.

“Yes, my lady.” One of her men bowed and departed swiftly.

Sandra’s lips curved into a cruel smile. “This is your last day, Lois.”

“Pain is the language I understand,” Alpha Karl whispered darkly, his voice coiling like smoke around the assassin’s ear. “When you scream, it’s a melody to my soul.”

With ruthless precision, Karl drove the glowing red-hot iron into the man’s earlobe. The assassin shrieked, body convulsing in raw agony.

Karl smirked. “So funny. I haven’t even started.”

Wolfe drenched the man with cold water, his body strapped tightly with wires.

“Tell me,” Karl demanded, leaning close, “who the hell do you work for in my palace?”

The assassin, a man caught in disguise among the palace guards, spat blood but grinned through it. “You can take my life. I’ve already paid it for something greater. Even dead, I win.” His laughter was wild, hysterical.

“Heat the rod again,” Karl ordered. Wolfe obeyed, plunging the iron back into the flames until it glowed.

“Let’s see if this will loosen your tongue,” Karl said. He pressed the searing iron against the man’s chest.

The scream that tore from him was long and guttural, shaking the chamber walls. His body writhed, the smell of burnt flesh thick in the air. Yet through it all, he still tried to laugh, choking on his own torment.

Karl’s eyes darkened with grim satisfaction. The man’s agony was his intoxicant.

Naismith, watching, swallowed hard. His heart pounded as Karl’s gaze flickered toward him. If the king’s wrath turned, he could be next.

“It’s eight months now. Still no update?” Karl asked, his tone low and lethal.

“For months we’ve scoured the kingdom,” Naismith stammered. “Every region has been searched. Only the isolated island remains, but… no one goes there, my king. It’s haunted—deadly creatures, uninhabited for a century. We doubt she’d be there.”

Karl let the iron fall from his hand with a clang and walked out of the torture chamber.

Naismith exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his legs nearly buckling.

“If you want to see another dawn,” Wolfe growled, looming over him, “you’d better start the next search now. Dare rest while the king’s slave is unfound, and you’ll end worse than him.”

“I’m tired!” Naismith groaned, collapsing onto the floor, the weight of failure crushing him.