The Secret Heirs of the Lycan King (by Misha K) novel Chapter 64

**When Midnight Winds Carry Secrets Toward Worlds Yet Unknown**

I had come for him. The weight of my resolve settled heavily in my chest as I forced myself to breathe, my gaze locked onto Scott. He lay crumpled on the ground, and in that moment, something within me snapped like a brittle twig. He was in dire need of help, and it was painfully evident that Tasha was exploiting his vulnerability. A fierce promise ignited within me: if I emerged from this night alive, I would exact my revenge on her without hesitation. I stood up, my heart racing, and scanned the ominous surroundings.

For a fleeting moment, I felt as though I had stepped into the pages of one of those fantastical novels I used to devour as a child.

The circle of shadows tightened around me, constricting my space before I could even think to flee. Low, menacing growls reverberated through the air, one after the other, creating a symphony of warning that made the night feel alive with danger. I had never encountered a real werewolf before. Now, I found myself standing at the heart of a pack, as though I had slipped into a parallel universe. In that singular moment of clarity, I understood that one misstep could lead to my demise.

My heart pounded relentlessly, a wild drumbeat that echoed in my throat. The silver belt I clutched felt slick in my palms, and my grip on the gun wavered. Every instinct screamed for me to run, but there was no escape.

In a fleeting thought, my mind drifted to the books Troy had gifted me. I had opened them with the expectation of indulging in fantastical romances and supernatural dramas, filled with over-the-top werewolf princes and impossible rituals. Yet one of those books had held a different story. Its language was ancient, speaking of Samhain, and it ominously named silver as poison to werewolves. Hidden within its pages, I had discovered a small folded note in Troy’s familiar handwriting:

*If you ever feel something is wrong and no one will tell you the truth, follow this map. But bring silver. Trust yourself.*

At the time, I had chuckled, dismissing it as some grand joke, and tucked the book away without a second thought.

Scott had called out to me, but I had ignored him, prioritizing my own safety. Yet, with each passing hour, a chilling dread settled deep in my bones. I couldn’t quite grasp the connection or the overwhelming need to be by his side, but it was a primal instinct that transcended all logic.

Last night, I had dreamt of Scott, clutching his chest beside a flickering fire, as if he were grappling with an unseen force, on the brink of collapse. I awoke in the dead of night, my instincts screaming that something was terribly wrong. The dream had felt so vivid, so real, that despair washed over me like a tidal wave. I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I found Troy’s note again and committed the map to memory.

After confiding in Nancy, fabricating a story about a business trip, I followed Troy’s cryptic directions. I recognized the folly of my actions, yet an irresistible force propelled me forward until I found myself driving into the depths of his pack’s territory in the dead of night. It had taken the entire day to arrive here.

And now, here I stood, directly in front of him. I stepped protectively in front of Scott, my heart racing with fear and determination. I dropped one of my silver belts, my fingers trembling as I reached for my waistband and drew the gun. “Back away,” I commanded, striving to keep my voice steady despite the quiver of fear beneath my bravado. “If any of you come near him, I will not hesitate to pull the trigger.”

Some of the wolves flinched at the sight of the gun, while others snarled, their pride wounded by the challenge posed by a mere human. Their claws extended, glistening in the moonlight. The thought of those lethal claws tearing into me sent a jolt of terror through my veins.

Desperate for Scott’s safety, I warned them again, “I said move back.” My voice trembled, betraying my fear. “If any of you come near him, I promise I’ll pull the trigger!” Surely, I was more insane than I had ever believed to be warning werewolves.

Tasha’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. “You stupid little bitch!” She pushed her way past two burly men, stepping forward with eyes ablaze, clutching her wounded arm. “You have made the biggest mistake of your life by coming here.” She turned to the pack, raising her hand toward me. “I know her! She is a human hunter. Her target is our King. Look at her! She’s armed with silver bullets. Do you not see it? Claw her, string her intestines, and hang her body from the nearest tree!”

At her words, the wolves reacted as if a switch had been flipped. Growls intensified, reverberating through the air, deep and primal. Several pairs of eyes locked onto me, their intent clear and murderous. My legs shook, the reality of my situation crashing down on me. I could die here. They could tear me apart, and no one would come to my aid. I tightened my grip on the gun. “Don’t!” I cried out, pointing my trembling weapon at them. “You have to help him,” I gasped. “Scott is unwell. Please! Take him to a hospital. I beg of you.”

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