Chapter 138: I Will Kill Him (Molly and Verak)

Molly

Molly stood still in the dirt, her breath catching in her throat as she stared at the man standing before her.

I cannot believe my eyes, she thought, her mind spinning out of control. It is him.

Before her stood the exact same man she had saved during the tournament. It didn’t make any sense. How was the wounded stranger she had saved now towering over her as a conqueror? How was he the Rogue King?

Varek stepped forward, his dark eyes fixed on hers. He reached out, took her shaking hand in his, and pressed his lips briefly against her knuckles.

"It is a pleasure to finally and formally meet you, Princess," Varek said, a dark amusement playing in his voice.

Molly stood frozen, her entire body trembling. She couldn’t wrap her head around the impossible reality unfolding right in front of her. "How... how is it you?"

Varek smirked, tilting his head. "Did you expect someone else, my lady?"

"Yes!" Molly gasped out, pulling her hand back. "Yes, I expected someone else! Someone who is not you!"

"Your bride certainly does have a big mouth."

The sharp, chilling female voice rang out from directly behind Varek. Molly snapped her gaze past the king, watching as a young woman stepped out from the shadows. She had dark curly hair and wore simple, unadorned clothing, but the air around her felt heavy and wrong.

That must be the witch, Molly thought, her stomach twisting into a hard knot.

The woman looked every bit a witch, but it was her presence that pushed Molly to the edge. It felt entirely eerie, like static electricity crawling over the skin.

The woman carried no scent at all, yet Molly could instantly tell she wasn’t a beta. She just couldn’t figure out what she was, wolf shifter, vampire, or lycan, not a single clue. But then she remembered that Varek told her he was a hybrid, so maybe his sister was one two?

Varek turned his head, his smile dropping into a sharp warning. "Sister, do not be rude. I will tolerate no disrespect toward my future wife."

Akara rolled her eyes, her accent thick. "Forgive me."

Before anyone else could speak, Trina stepped up beside the princess, trying to salvage what little dignity they had left. "My princess is very tired. If you may, please take us to a bedroom? We have had a long, exhausting journey."

Varek let out a low laugh. "How rude of me. I should formally introduce myself and show you to your quarters. I am Varek, and that is my sister, Akara. Unfortunately, as you can see, we were expecting you a bit later. My palace is still being built. We tore everything down to start fresh, but my men have set up comfortable quarters for you nearby. What is your name?"

Molly ignored him completely, keeping her chin raised and refusing to offer her name in return.

Trina cleared her throat, rushing to fill the silence to keep things from getting worse. "This is Princess Molly, as all of you already know, and I am Trina, her lady-in-waiting."

"Alright," Varek said dismissively. He raised his voice, calling out across the clearing. "Shatam! Get over here."

A scarred rogue stepped out from the ranks of workers.

"Escort the princess to her quarters," Varek ordered, "and ensure preparations for the wedding begin immediately."

Shatam grunted, gesturing for them to follow. Molly turned on her heel, marching behind the guard as they were led away from the ruined center of the pack. They walked through the temporary tent camps hastily pitched near the shattered stone buildings of the old Sundown Pack territory.

As she walked, she could hear the rogues whispering, pointing, and murmuring about her as she passed. She hated it with every fiber of her being. She wanted to punch every single one of them in the face and run into the woods, but she forced her hands to stay tightly clasped behind her back, biting the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.

Finally, Shatam stopped in front of a massive, heavy-duty tent. It was structured like a large wooden hut with thick felt walls, similar to a yurt. "In," Shatam grunted, holding the flap open.

Molly stepped inside, and Trina hurried in right behind her, letting the heavy fabric fall shut to block out the noise of the camp.

The moment she was shielded from view, Molly ripped the veil off her head, threw it onto the floor, and stomped down on it with her boot. "How could it be him?!" she yelled, her voice cracking. "How could this possibly be him?!"

Trina rushed forward, wringing her hands. "Princess, are you alright?"

Molly looked back at the tent entrance where the guard stood, watching her. "You’re dismissed. Get out!" she shouted through the tent.

Shatam rolled his eyes, and walked away clearly not giving a damn about her or her tantrum. Trina turned to the furious princess, her eyes wide. "Are you alright now?"

"No, I am not alright!" Molly paced frantically across the woven rug, her chest heaving. "That man... I saved him in the forest during the tournament! How is it possible that he is sitting here as the Rogue King?!"

Trina stared at her, completely stunned. "I do not understand. You... you saved him?"

"Yes!" Molly cried, throwing her hands up. "I was just being a decent person! Of course I saved him when I found him bleeding out!"

"That is... a lot of news to process," Trina muttered, shaking her head.

Molly stopped pacing, her shoulders slumping as a crushing wave of guilt hit her chest. "This is my fault, isn’t it? If I had just left him to bleed in the dirt, he would have died, and none of this would be happening."

"Oh, come on, Princess," Trina reasoned, stepping closer. "You cannot possibly blame yourself for this. He clearly played a trick on you. There is no way he was ever going to die out there. His sister is a witch capable of swapping souls. He wasn’t going to perish just from a few wounds. I think he was just playing with you from the very beginning."

"Then why me?" Molly whispered, tears blurring her vision. "Why out of everyone in the entire world, did it have to be me?"

"I do not know," Trina answered honestly.

Before they could speak further, the flap of the tent pulled back, and a line of royal guards began lugging Molly’s heavy chests inside, stacking them neatly against the wooden poles before bowing and leaving them in peace.

Within minutes, the room was filled with all her belongings, but Molly just sat down heavily on the edge of the large bed, completely numb. She couldn’t process a single thing happening around her.

Trina immediately set to work, organizing the clothes and chests so the room wouldn’t look like a disaster zone.

Sitting alone on the bed, Molly stared at the rug, forcing her erratic thoughts to slow down. I am actually here, she told herself firmly. Panicking won’t save me. Crying won’t save me. I need to toughen up. I need to be brave.

Without a sound, she reached down to the hem of her dress, slipping her hand under the fabric to unbuckle the leather sheath hidden against her thigh. She pulled out a sharp, silver-plated dagger, letting the cold steel catch the dim light inside the tent.

Okay, she thought, her eyes narrowing with a deadly, quiet resolve. I am going to kill him. I won’t be trapped here for more than a week. I am going to find a moment alone with him, and I am going to slit his throat.

Suddenly, the fabric flap of the tent rustled.

Molly panicked, lunging forward and quickly shoving the dagger deep underneath her feather pillow just as the entrance opened.

She let out a shaky, relieved breath when she saw Trina step back into the room. "Oh, Trina... it’s just you," Molly breathed, pressing a hand to her racing heart.

"Yes, my princess," Trina said, offering a soft smile. "It is time for dinner. The king—"

"Don’t refer to him as king," Molly interrupted sharply. "He is no king, just a boy pretending to be king."

"My mistake, Princess," Trina corrected herself quickly. "Varek is asking for you to join him for dinner." Molly laid back down flat on the bed, pulling a blanket over her legs. "Tell him I am fine and that I am not hungry."

"Yes, my princess. I will convey that," Trina said, turning around and slipping back out into the camp.

Molly stared up at the wooden beams of the tent ceiling, her fingers twitching as she remembered the hidden dagger resting beneath her pillow. She closed her eyes, letting the exhaustion finally pull her under as she drifted off to sleep.