LAYLA

The sound of Antoine's footsteps echoed down the stone corridor until it faded completely. His silhouette had long vanished, yes the sharp stab of betrayal he had left behind remained—a crown lingering reminder of his abandonment.

How could he do this? Antoine, the perfect stranger I had trusted with my heart, had turned me over like a lamb to the slaughter. All those promises of keeping me safe, the naive hope that he had protect me were shattered in one swift act. I had been foolish to think I could rely on anyone, even him after what Drake had done to me.

The darkness pressed in, thick and suffocating, broken only by my shallow breath and stifled sobs. I could barely see through the blur of tears as I sank the cold floor, my fingers clutching at the rough stone. How was I going to survive this? My thoughts were spiraling, dragging me deeper into despair. The only thing keeping me for breaking entirely was the gentler reminder of life blooming within me— the tiny heartbeat of my unborn child.

I knew that if everyone abandon or betray me, there was still hope for me. My child.

A tiny hope that kept me going.

I didn't know how long I sat there, hurdled in the corner as the chill seeped through the tiny fabric of my dress. The silence was finally broken by a raspy, hoarse whisper from the other side of my cell.

"So, are you the new one?"

I jumped at the sound, my eyes snapping to the figure beyond the bars. The voice was rough and gravelly, like stone scrapping against stone. He was barely more than the shadow the dim light, ragged and filthy, his eyes hollow and sunken—eyes that seem to have seen too much, haunted by the horrors of this place.

I swallowed, my throat dry. My voice was barely whisper. " Who... are you?"

He leaned closer, his gaunt face catching the smallest ray of light . His cheeks were hollow even his wild eyes too.

" Names doesn't mean much down here," he rasped, his voice heavy with despair. " What matters is who comes for you."

His words make my stomach turn, twisting with nauseating dread. " What exactly do you mean?"

He let out a humorless chuckle, a sound that held no joy—only resignation. " They didn't tell you, did they? They never tell us, but we all find out soon enough." He leaned back, his voice dropping lower, almost conspiratorial.

"You are here for the Lycan King, aren't you?"

The word sent a shiver down my spine. The stories I had heard about the Lycan King were meant to frighten children, tales told by grandparents to stubborn little children long ago.

But I guess all that didn't matter now, it was a modern word and nobody believes such trash.

But I kept my thoughts to myself.

The prisoner shifted, leaning even closer to the bars. His gaze was intense, proving . " They didn't tell you. I can see it in your eyes. You're terrified."

I clutched my knees to my chest desperate to stop the shaking. " What... does he look like?" I managed to ask, my voice trembling. Parts of me didn't want to know, but another curious part needed to understand what I was facing. Or about to face.

He sighed, his voice laced with bitterness and feared. " He's not like anything you have ever seen. There is no comparison. And the story didn't do him justice either."

His gaze drifted as if recalling a memory he couldn't shake. " They called him the Southern Lycan King. They say he wears a mask— a piece of iron called a 𝑘𝑎𝑣𝑎𝑠ℎ that covers his left eye. No one's seen his true face."

"Why?" I dared to ask, though my heart pounded wildly." Is he ... deformed?"

The prisoner chuckled again, but his expression was grim, his eyes glinting with fear. " Some say he lost his eye in a battle, that it is a cursed scar ... Or something worse. A reminder of who he truly is. But one thing is certain, anyone who sees his face doesn't live to tell about it."

I shuddered, like I had been bathed with ice water.

"They say it's a death sentence to see the true face of the Southern Lycan King."

A chill crept through me, like ice settling in my veins. Antoine had known this. He knew and still sent me here.

My chest tightened and anger mixed with fear flared within me. Antoine hadn't just betrayed me—he had condemned me. I clenched my fist, my nails digging painfully into my palms as I fought to keep my voice steady.

"Is that why you are here?"I asked, my voice barely a whisper." Because of him?"

The prisoner's gaze grew distance, his expression haunted. Slowly, he shook his head. " No. I haven't seen his face, and I don't plan to. But I have seen enough to know that these are not mere stories. His presence alone can break the strongest of men." His eyes found mine again.

"I also heard that he was one of fourteen sons and he had to kill the rest of his brothers to become the Alpha, " he shook his head again and smiled painfully.

" Others said three of his brothers are alive and are hiding in other packs."

I really didn't know what to make up of this stories, but the more I thought of it the more my heart kept pounding against my ribs.

"Some also said he's as old as the mountains, that he had watched kingdoms rise and fall."

I swallowed, my mouth dry. If this was true then he was not fit to be called a wolf but what do I know ?

Every instinct told me to stop asking questions, but fear and desperation drove me forward.

"What happens to those who survive?"

He leaned closer, his eyes darting, his voice just like a whisper. "No one knows. Those who go into his domain... vanish. The stories vanish with them. It's as if they fade away, like they don't exist in the first place."

Each word he spoke made the darkness around me feel heavier, most suffocating. Panic clawed at my chest, and I struggled to breathe, my heart hammering wildly. But amid the fear, a spark of anger surge through me . At Antoine , at the Lycan king who I haven't seen but was causing me so much fear.

" When this is over," he said in a small voice." I will help you escape. I have a plan , we will escape together and you will be free to live your life."

I looked up at him and wondered if I should believe him. Antoine had promised me same thing. Derek had made me feel useful then discarded me for someone else.

" Why are you helping me?" I whispered.

" Because I see a strong girl who has a bright future before her." He said calmly and something in me wanted to believe him.

"I don't belong here," I whispered, more to myself than to him." I don't deserve any of this."

The prisoner looked at me, a flicker of pity in his tired eyes. "No one does," he murmured, his tone gentle. " But down, here it doesn't matter what you deserve. All that matters is how much you can endure."

His words hung heavy between us, feeling the silence with a weight pressing down on me. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to breathe, trying to calm the storm of fear and anger raging within me.

But even as I try to find some peace, the prisoner's warning echoed in my mind.

The Southern Lycan King. The masked monster who could kills anyone who dared to see his true face.

Just as I about to think about my life, the rejection and betrayal from the two men I had trusted the most and also reminding myself not to ever love or trust again, we heard something .

A low rumble which shook the walls, pushing through the stone floor. From the corner of my eyes I saw the prisoner tensed, his gaze snapping to the door at the far end of the corridor. His face paled and I saw the fainted tremor in his hands.

"He's coming," he whispered, his voice trembling with barely contained terror. His gaze return to me, filled with pity and resignation. " Whatever you do, don't look into his eyes. Don't even think about looking at his face. No matter the curiosity."

I nodded, my heart pounding so lovely I could barely hear anything else. The echo of footsteps grew louder, each step sending a jolt of fear through me.

My breath hitched, and I pressed myself against the wall, every muscle test and coiled.

The prisoner backed away, retreating into the shadows of the cell.

"Remember," he whispered, his voice faint. " Do not raise your head."

The footsteps drew nearer, stopping just outside my cell. I couldn't see him, but his presence was overwhelming, filling the space with a heavy, oppressive force that made it hard to breathe. My skin prickled, and every instinct screaming at me to hide, to look away, to vanish.

Then, a voice broke the silence—a low rumbling voice that seem to shake the very air.

"Are you Layla?"

The sound of my name on his lips send a chill through me, freezing the blood in my veins. I clenched my fist, fighting the overpowering urge to look up, to see the face behind that voice.

But the prisoners warning echoed the my mind , holding me in place and his promise of an escape gave me hope.

....𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 .

"Layla," his voice was barely more than a whisper but it carried a weight of command, a power that made my knees weakened.

" Judgement is here." He said. "Do not waste my time."