The Lycan King's Defiant Surrogate

hapter 20

"Sir. Are you certain!" Tristan asks.

Caleb glares at his Beta, who should know better to doubt him, pecially in front of a guard and a slave Tristan, realizing his mistake, immediately lowers his head. "Apologies, My King I spoke out of turn" "Do it again, and I'll have you whipped like the rest, Caleb snaps

Harper looks confused and pathetic, bottom-lip trembling. Goosebumps raise all over her exposed skin.

"She'll need different clothes," Caleb adds, then scolds himself internally. What does he care what the wears! Let the world see her nakedness. Yet even as he thinks such dismissive thoughts, his hands curl into tight fists He may

ay want to not care who sees her, but at the same time, he wants to claw out the eyes of anyone who dares look.

Disgusted by his own partiality, he abruptly swivels for the door and exits. Tristan keeps pace, ever in his shadow. The guard secures the door, locking the slave back in her cell for now,

She won't be staying there long. When Tristan fulfills Caleb's order, she will be changed and sent further into the caves There is a place that serves as the ultimate punishment for slaves and harem women who commit grave offenses but whom Caleb sees no point in immediately killing.

The Colosseum.

Caleb expects Tristan to branch off at any moment, to see his orders through. Instead, he continues to follow Caleb all the way back to his office. Caleb doesn't bother closing the door as he enters, letting Tristan do that after he comes in. Moving to.

his desk, Caleb shs down in his chair and immediately begins searching through his reports again.

Tristan comes to stand in front of his desk.

They're at a standstill. Tristan won't speak up without Caleb's acknowledgement and permission. Caleb has no desire to hear more backtalk from who is supposed to be his closest ally. Tristan must be feeling bold today, because he speaks up, surprising Caleb.

"My King, I ask you to reconsider this decision."

Caleb, shocked, looks up at Tristan. What fresh treachery is this? Another betrayal? A stab in the back from the one he thought might actually protect it?

He shouldn't be surprised. Maybe deep down he isn't.

"You are on thin ice, Tristan," Caleb says.

"She's different than the others, Tristan presses forward, even at his own folly. "You are different with her."

His words now, more than his disrespect, give Caleb pause. Tristan has never spoken up for a slave before, nor any woman of Caleb's harem. Tristan has always been a dutiful follower. Yet... he will plead for Harper?

Strange, but ineffective. Caleb is tired of thinking of this horrid woman. Constantly she has driven him to madness and obsessive rage. The farther she is from him the better.

Besides, a few weeks in the Colosseum should frighten her enough to loosen her tongue about his child.

"Perhaps you'd rather killer? Caleb says. Can Tristan not see that in this case, Colosseum is more generous than his usual punishment for those who dare to try to escape? "It's within my Kingly rights to have her head lobbed off if you'd prefer it" "No, my King." Tristan says, head lowered again.

"Then see to my commands, Beta," Caleh says. "I will not repeat myself."

At once. Tristan turns for the door and disappears through it.

Caleb, alone again, busies himself with work once more. He ignotes the growing headache pulsing at his temples.

I spend the next hour trying to determine where Caleb could have meant when he condemned me to that place. It could be the whipping pit, or some other kind of torture chamber. Maybe they have more vials with more needles that will send pain scaring through me. Maybe he wants to main me somehow, or brand me?

ime

I don't know what to expect and it's driving me to distress.

At the end of an hour, my cell door unlocks once more. Looking up, I see Tristan entering. He's holding some kind of burlap sack, folded neatly under his arm.

With panic. I look behind him, searching for Caleb. It's only a small relief when I realize he's not there.

Tristan hands me the sack he's holding. I'm confused until I unfold it and realize it's a kind of crude tunic. It's itchy to the touch, undoubtedly uncomfortable, but, without knowing where I'm going, I'd rather be covered. The burlap tunic will at least hide my breasts and my hips. Dragging it over my head, I pull it on. It cinches slightly around the waist, coming to a stop mid-thigh. It does itch and looks like I'm wearing a potato sack. But it's better than the flimsy silks

Glancing at Tristan, I remember how he almost stood up for me. We don't have a friendship by far, but we've built up a of 1

frapport, I think. I've always tried to do a good job with every command he's given me.

kind

So I dare asking him, "Where am I going? Where is that place?"

His jaw locks, and I exhale slowly, believing he won't tell me.

"You are to be sent to the Colosseum, Tristan says.

My heart leaps into my throat. Immediately I wish he hadn't told me. I wish I hadn't asked.

We'd see videos sometimes, back home, of gruesome fights filmed somewhere underground in a mysterious Colosseum. Sometimes the fights were between gladiators. Other times, one gladiator against a swarm of unarmed slaves. Other times still, unarmed slaves against wild animals.

Fear grips tightly at my throat. I suppose it's not a death sentence. Theoretically I could survive somehow. But the odds are stacked against me - especially as someone without a wolf.

I doubt I would survive even one encounter in the Colosseum.

I'm doomed.

"Tristan..." I say.

think he might snap at me but instead he waits for me to finish I truly must be destined for death if he's showing me this kindness.

"Would it be possible for me to make one final phone call? Back home... I want to properly say goodbye. I didn't really get Chapter 201

the chance and now... Tears gvell up in my eyes, but I blink then I've done enough crying. Death has always been an option here. I will meet it with bravery,

But first, I need to warn my pack. And, in doing that, if I can say goodbye to Samuel...

That would be a win win scenario for me.

Tristan considers my words which is far more than I expected.

"Follow me." he says.

He leads me back to the spiral staircase, then up a single flight to the floor above. This level contains rooms rather than iron- bar cells. Glancing in, they seem like interrogation chambers the policemen might use, with a card table in the room and two chairs. Tristan steers me into one of the rooms, Reaching into his pocket, he retrieves and unlocks his own cell phone hands it to me.

"I will stay in the room, Tristan says.

and then

"That's fine." I reply. Maybe he'll punish me for some of the things I want to say. But what worse can they do than the Colosseum? Killing me directly might be a blessing in comparison.

I dial in Samuel's number. I still remember it even after these three long years.

Samuel answers on the third ring. "Who is this?"

Hearing his voice again makes me weak in the knees.Content © copyrighted by NôvelDrama.Org.

There is so much to say and so little time that I don't know where to begin. I follow my heart letting it led.

"Samuel, I didn't mean what I said that day in the attic. I left because I felt I had to, to protect you and the pack..." My voice breaks now. This time, the tears do spill over. "I love you, Samuel, and I -"

"Stop, Harper," Samuel says, his voice cold. "I am your brother-in-law now. Whatever romantic feelings you hold for me have nothing to do with me anymore."