The Secret Heirs of the Lycan King (by Misha K) novel Chapter 66

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

I burst into the room, my heart racing with a mix of dread and urgency. Troy, sensing my turmoil, opened the door wider, stepping aside with a silent invitation for me to enter. Millie trailed closely behind, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, as if preparing to defend us both from the unseen dangers lurking in the air.

The hospital room was an oasis of stillness, punctuated only by the rhythmic beeping of the machines that surrounded Scott. There he lay on the bed, his complexion a ghostly contrast to the crisp white sheets enveloping him. Tubes snaked from his arms, connecting him to the machines that monitored his fragile state. For a fleeting moment, I was paralyzed, my feet rooted to the ground. I had witnessed him in a myriad of emotions—anger, laughter, mischief, and wild abandon—but this stillness, this haunting silence, was something altogether different.

A wave of sadness washed over me, engulfing me in a shroud of desolation. My emotions swirled chaotically within me, like leaves caught in a tempest. What was it about him that rendered me so vulnerable? It was as though an invisible thread connected us, a bond that pulsed with a life of its own. Each day that passed, that thread grew taut, vibrating with an unmistakable intensity.

I approached his bedside slowly, as if the very floor might crumble beneath my feet if I dared to move too quickly. The sight of him so near was a physical ache, a wound that cut deep. His lips parted slightly, just enough for him to draw breath. He lay bare-chested, his steady rise and fall a testament to his life. The tattoos that adorned his skin were stark against his pallor, each one telling a story of its own. Even in this vulnerable state, he was undeniably beautiful.

I settled myself beside him, my voice barely a whisper. “Hey,” I breathed, fully aware he wouldn’t hear me. “I’m here.” My fingers trembled as I reached for his hand, and as soon as our skin connected, his fingers instinctively curled around mine. A lock of hair had fallen across his forehead, and I gently brushed it back, tracing the curve of his hairline before allowing my hand to linger against his temple for a brief moment. His skin was warm, a stark contrast to the chill that gripped my heart.

Sliding my hand down the length of his chest, I murmured, “You scared me.” The words felt heavy in my throat, laden with unspoken fears. “You stupid, stubborn man.” I bent forward slightly, resting my forearm next to him, my fingers still entwined with his. I focused on the monitor, watching the lines rise and fall, desperately trying to steady my racing heart. But my efforts were in vain; a tear slipped down my cheek, landing softly on his chest. He stirred momentarily but quickly fell back into silence.

I hastily wiped my tears away. “I’m sorry,” I said, my voice cracking. “I never thought I would break like this… Those books you gave me… That note… Thank you. It’s—”

Troy stepped forward, positioning himself on the opposite side of the bed. “I understand you, Bella,” he stated, his voice steady and reassuring. Millie stood beside him, her presence a comforting anchor. Troy wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. “I would have done the same for Millie.”

I licked my lips, the words catching in my throat. “Had I not come, Tasha would have—” I turned my gaze away, fresh tears threatening to spill. Then, almost as if compelled by an unseen force, I asked, my eyes locked on Scott’s face, “What is Chainflower? You said he was drugged with that. What is it?”

Troy exhaled slowly, the weight of the truth heavy in the air. “Chainflower is a rare plant. It grows in a few hidden places, and almost no one is permitted to possess it. In small doses, it can be used in rituals to calm a raging wolf or ease painful transformations. But the effects are… too strong. It slows the body, traps the mind, making it nearly impossible to move or shift. In the wrong hands, it becomes a weapon. If administered in a high enough dose, it can be lethal.”

My grip on Scott’s hand tightened instinctively. “And someone put this in his drink,” I stated, my voice firm, though it was more an assertion than a question.

Troy nodded solemnly. “Yes.”

“Tasha,” I hissed, bitterness seeping into my tone. “It has to be her. She was right there with him. I saw the wineglass toppled beside him. She was kissing him, her hands all over him, and he couldn’t defend himself.” A sharp heat ignited in my chest, a fire fueled by rage.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify