Unwanted Mate Of The Lycan Kings (by jessica hall)

Chapter 29

~Zirah~

The drive is mostly silent; both Zeke and I are plagued with thoughts we don't feel the need to share.

Yet as we reach a large stretch, I can see the huge looming walls forming a perimeter around his

kingdom, tall as skyscrapers. I crane my neck to peer up at the guard standing atop with watchful eyes.

The gates of Regan’s kingdom open before us like the jaws of a mechanical beast, revealing a

cityscape that looks more like a meticulously designed movie set than an actual city.

As we drive through, a futuristic fortress emerges from the depths of a thick shroud of silence. The

buildings, all towering, angular structures of steel and glass, glint in the afternoon sun, their austere

silhouettes painting a grim backdrop against the cloudless sky. Not a soul is visible on the pristine

streets, not a whisper of life resonates in the air as we drive through the first half of the city. It's an eerie

stillness, the kind that makes your skin crawl and mind churn. Content (C) Nôv/elDra/ma.Org.

People, seemingly sucked out of their mundane routines, scurry into the safety of their homes and

shops as the limo glides along. Their faces betray their fear, like deer caught in the headlights, each

movement painstaking and cautious.

I notice litter is absent, no graffiti, no decoration of any sort, instead replaced by vigilant armed guards

stationed at nearly every corner, their stern gazes scanning the city. Even the children here are quiet,

their innocent laughter swallowed by the city's overwhelming tension.

As I absorb the unsettling surroundings, a soft humming draws my attention to the sky. Drones, a

dozen of them, zipping around in coordinated formations. The first thing that hits me about the city isn't

the eerie silence, or the palpable fear that seems to hang over the place like a shroud.

It's the eyes, the haunted, lifeless eyes of the city's residents. "This place…it's a damn prison," I mutter,

scanning the fearful faces peering out from the modern buildings.

"Yeah, a futuristic one at that," Zeke answers from beside me. I sense a note of guilt in his voice, and a

hint of resignation.

"Why all the security?" I question, gesturing at the drones hovering ominously above us. "What are

those things for?" I ask Zeke, my eyes tracking the drones.

"Cameras, they monitor the city," he says, his voice tinged with unease, his usual vibrancy replaced by

an unnerving quietness as I take in the kingdom. I blink, taken aback by the dystopian extent of

security. "They…they keep the peace." Zeke adds.

"Peace?" I scoff, letting out a bitter laugh. "This isn't peace, Zeke, it's terror."

Approaching the city center, I lower the window, a part of me hoping that the soft rustle of the breeze or

the distant chatter of the city will replace the oppressive silence. Instead, the quiet intensifies, as if the

city itself holds its breath. It's too quiet, too sterile, too controlled. Yet as we drive deeper, we notice

people running away from the city center. Zeke sits up and in the distance; I can hear the sounds of

shouting, crying, and begging. I glance at Zeke, who moves closer to peer out the window.

A sudden commotion breaks out, drawing my attention to a frightened woman pleading with a market

stallholder. A child, presumably her son, clings to her skirt, tears streaming down his face.

The stallholder, a red-faced and fuming man, motioned wildly toward the woman and a young boy. The

woman pleads with the stallholder, her words drowned by her son's terrified wails. Her flustered

attempts to calm the situation are met with armed guards storming toward her.

"Guard, she is refusing to pay for what her son broke!" the man yells, waving the armed guards

forward.

Catching the sight of a shattered pot at her feet, I gasp. All this racket for a broken pot?

Without a word, Zeke opens the door and leaps out, his aura of authority evident even from this

distance. The entire place falls silent as he steps out of the car, straightening his suit, before he leans

back in and snatches his wallet from beside me. "Stay in the car," he tells me, shutting the door.

Zeke springs into action, snapping at the stall owner and arguing with the guards. He’s commanding,

authoritative, but the fear in the air makes me uncomfortable.

"Selfish bastard!" he barks at the stallholder, tossing a wad of cash at him. However, the guards don't

release the woman at his command, but their grip on her loosens.

I step out of the car and instantly, the city's gaze fixates on me. Drones zoom in, their lenses trained on

me, their humming intensifying like a swarm of angry bees. This is a city under surveillance, people

living in the shadows of fear, every move monitored, every action accounted for. It doesn’t sit right with

me. My own magic flares in response, a primal instinct to protect and defend. My hands tremble, my

skin tingling with stored energy.

"No more," I demand. All eyes are on me, the city’s quiet fear replaced by shocked whispers. Zeke

protests, but I'm past caring. "Zirah, get back in the car," he snarls at me, glancing nervously toward the

sky.

As I draw closer, I take in the guards: sturdy men clad in ominous black, with hard lines etching their

faces and cold gazes that seem to pierce through the soul. They argue with Zeke, one of them pulling

out a phone, presumably to consult their king. Over a broken pot?

Yet, instinct kicks in as I witness the woman clinging onto Zeke, pleading for mercy. I can't stand there,

watching this injustice unfold. My fingers twitch, the magical energy within me flaring up.

"Causo Frango!" I mutter under my breath, directing my energy towards the guard's phone. It flies out

of his hand, hitting the ground, and melting into a molten mess. Gasps ring out audibly, while the guard

hisses, staring at his hand.

The drones swarm around me, their electronic eyes flashing menacingly.

"Zirah, don't fucking move!" Zeke's voice reaches my ears just as a pronged wire flies towards me from

a drone. An electric shock jolts through me, making me crumble to my knees, every nerve in my body

screaming in protest. The sensation of a thousand needles pricking my skin overpowers me, and I'm

left gasping for breath and absolutely livid. The electric current dies out as the drones continue to circle

me, beeping and flashing in warning.

With a grunt, I rip the prong out of my shoulder. Anger replaces the pain, electricity crackling between

my fingers. My glare fixes on the machine that attacked me. As the drones spin to focus on Zeke, I

channel my anger.“Zirah, don’t…!” Zeke yells.

The warning comes too late. I throw out my hand, sending a pulse of magic at the nearest drone.

Sparks fly as it crashes to the ground, smoke billowing from its wreckage. I continue, targeting each

drone one after the other until all seven lie damaged on the ground. Yet the moment I take those out,

more replace them.