All Chapters of The Lycan King’s Hidden Male Omega: MM Romance: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

[Cillian’s POV]The great hall was completely deafening.Hundreds of people were shouting, drinking, and singing. The Silver Fang generals were slamming their heavy silver cups against the wooden tables, laughing loudly. The smell of roasted meat, spilled wine, and sweet perfumes filled the air. It was a massive, joyous celebration for the new King and Queen.I sat at the head of the high table, wearing my heavy crown. But I felt like a ghost.I could not hear the music. I could not taste the wine in my cup. Every time I blinked, I did not see the beautiful decorations or the smiling faces of my lords. I saw Elian.I saw him tied to the heavy wooden post. I saw his pale, shivering skin. But most of all, I saw his smile.“It's okay, Alpha. Do it. I am not afraid.”Those words played in my mind over and over again, like a cursed song that would never stop. The way he looked at me—with so much gentle forgiveness, even when I was holding the weapon that was about to tear his flesh apart.

[Elian's P.o.v]Bang. Bang. Bang.The sound of a heavy iron tool hitting rock was the only sound in the Northern Silver Mines. It bounced off the wet stone walls until it felt like the noise was stuck inside my head.I swung the heavy iron tool again. It hit the rock wall and sent a small cloud of gray dust into the air. I breathed it in. It tasted like ash and old metal. I coughed a dry, rough sound from deep in my chest but I did not stop swinging. If you stopped working in the mines, the guards hit you with heavy wooden sticks.I did not know how many days had passed since I got here. Down in the deepest tunnels, there was no sun to tell the time. There was only endless darkness, freezing water up to my knees, and terrible, bone-breaking cold.Every time I lifted my arms to swing, the skin on my back pulled tight. The deep cuts from the Warlord's whip had stopped bleeding, but they were covered in thick, painful scabs that tore open a little every day. My broken right hand was wra

[Elian's P.O.V]A loud iron bell rang through the dark tunnels.The work shift was over. My arms dropped to my sides right away. The heavy iron tool fell from my hands and splashed into the dirty water. I was so tired I could not even feel my fingers. Every muscle in my body was hurting badly.The guards hit their wooden sticks against the rocks, yelling at us to line up.We dragged our feet through the water, walking in a long, slow line toward the iron feeding area. We were not allowed to eat in the dining hall like the guards. We were pushed into a large, freezing cave surrounded by thick iron bars.A guard stood by the gate with a large wooden bucket. As we walked past, he pushed a single hard piece of old bread into my chest. Another guard handed me a small tin cup filled with dirty, lukewarm water.That was our only meal for the day.I took my bread and water and walked to the darkest, farthest corner of the cave. I sat down on the cold rock floor, pulling my knees to my chest.

[Selene’s POV]I stared at my beautiful reflection in the vanity mirror, gripping my silver hairbrush so tightly that my knuckles turned white.I was the Queen of the Blackwood. I wore the heavy iron crown. I slept in a bed draped in the finest silks in the kingdom. But my husband, the great Warlord King, treated me like an absolute ghost. He had not touched me once since our wedding night. He slept in a separate room. He barely looked at me when we sat at the high table.It infuriated me. He was still mourning that filthy, disgusting scullery slave.A quiet knock on my heavy bedroom door pulled me out of my angry thoughts."Enter," I snapped sharply.The heavy door opened, and a Silver Fang guard named Vane stepped into my warm room. He bowed deeply, his eyes glued respectfully to the floor. In his arms, he carried a dirty, tied bundle of rough gray wool."What is that trash?" I asked, wrinkling my nose. "It smells like wet dog and cheap flour. Get it out of my chambers.""Forgive me

[Elian’s POV]There was a specific kind of cold in the Northern Silver Mines that did not just touch your skin. It crawled inside your mouth every time you breathed. It slid down your dry throat, settled directly into your empty stomach, and stayed there like a heavy block of solid ice.I stood in freezing, muddy water up to my knees, swinging my heavy iron pickaxe against the dark cave wall.Clang. Clang. Clang.My arms felt like they were made of dead, rotting wood. The deep cuts on my back from the Warlord’s leather whip pulled and burned with every single swing. The dirty, salty mine water splashed against my bare chest, washing over the angry, infected brand on my collarbone. The numbers ‘84’ were swollen, hot, and constantly leaking yellow fluid into the dirt.But I did not stop swinging. I did not make a single sound.My stomach cramped so hard that I almost dropped my heavy pickaxe. I was starving to death. We were only given one hard, moldy piece of stale bread a day, and dir