His Lost Lycan Luna (Kyson and Ivy)

Book 2. His Found Lycan Luna Chapter 13

Azalea POV

Walking out of my room, I was greeted by Liam, who came over and looped his arm through mine like we

were best buddies. “And what adventure are we going on today, my Queen?” he asks, and I chuckle,

looking around for Dustin.

“Dustin went to get your breakfast,” Liam says as I glance around.

“I’m not hungry. I just want to see Abbie,” I tell him with a frown as I walk down the steps toward

Gannon’s room. Abbie hadn’t left the room since that first night back, and I know that is why Gannon

wanted to take her somewhere, and I wanted to see Abbie before she left.

Kyson told me she was leaving through the mindlink. It always freaked me out when he used it. Not used

to having someone in my head, let alone being a part of something. Abbie was rogue again, and I hated

that, but she refused to let Gannon mark her. Every time I asked Kyson to make her pack, he said she

refused and he couldn’t unless he changed her.

I knew why. She didn’t think she was worthy of having good things, but that wasn’t all. If Gannon couldn’t

change her, then she wouldn’t be Lycan, and I don’t know what I would do without Abbie. Gannon

stopped by not long after the King left to let me know he was taking her somewhere and that they were

leaving after lunch.

Walking through the winding corridors and toward the back of the castle, I knocked but got no answer.

Looking up at Liam, he gripped the door handle and pushed the door open, and stuck his head in the

door.

“I think she is showering,” Liam whispers, although he had a strange look on his face like he knew

something I didn’t, so I push the door open wider and step inside.

“I will wait here. Gannon isn’t here,” Liam says, sniffing the air and looking away from me awkwardly. I

give him a nod before stepping into the darkroom. The curtains closed, and no light made it a little

difficult to see as my eyes adjusted to the darkroom. I managed to kick my toe on a coffee table and felt

like cursing the damn thing. Making my way to the bathroom, I knock on the door.

“Abbie? It’s me,” I call out to her, but I get no answer. However, it sounded like she was crying behind the

door, and I suddenly knew why Liam didn’t want to come in. Glancing around the room, I open the door

and close it behind me. Turning to face the dark bathroom, I find the mirrors are covered over with large

sheets of black paper, the bathroom darker than the main room, the air thick with the salt of her tears and

the billowing steam.

I instantly broke out in a sweat. It was like a sauna in here. Muttering could be heard from the huge glass

shower stall that was fogged up.

“Abbie?” I whisper, opening the shower screen. I find her in the bottom of the shower, scrubbing herself

viciously while pressed into the corner. Her skin is bright red from the heat of the scalding water. I knew

she wasn’t okay. Everyone knew that but seeing her like this broke my heart. She stops like she hadn’t

realized I was here. Her head lifted and she just stared vacantly ahead. A scourer clutched in her hand,

something you would clean a heavily stained pot, not skin with.

“I can still feel his hands, Az, still taste his vileness in my mouth,” she whispers while staring off vacantly.

A tear slips down her cheek before disappearing down the drain with cascading water. Her lip quivered

as stepped into the shower, my clothes becoming saturated, and the water was scalding hot. I move over

to her near the far wall and sit beside her. Some parts of her skin were bleeding like she had scrubbed

herself raw. The scars that littered her body are raw and angry but thankfully healed, now just raised

from the scrubbing

“Sometimes it is okay to remember the dark parts, Abbie. Just don’t stay there too long, don’t let it trap

you,

don’t give him the control he no longer has over you,” I tell her, and she turns her head to look at me. I

grabbed her hand, clutching the scourer, and laced my fingers through hers.

“I don’t want control, I want to forget, I want to hate him and still not love him. How can you still love

someone even after they do something like that? I should have listened to Gannon. I should have

stayed,” Abbie whispers.

“It was the mate bond. That wasn’t really love, just some twisted version of what you perceived as love,” |

tell her.

“I was naive, stupid,” she scolds herself.

“No, you wanted something more than what we have been given, and that’s not your fault,” I tell her. I sit

with her, letting the boiling water scold my legs. Thankfully she only had her legs under the water, the

rest of her pressed against the wall. Yet her skin was raw and raised.

“I can’t live like this, Az. I don’t want to anymore. I don’t want to be the broken doll,”

This wasn’t my Abbie, this Abbie had given up. This was what was left. She looked as helpless now as

she did when we first stepped into that orphanage. Only then we were younger, and children. Children

only know what we are told, accepting of whatever fate we are handed because we don’t know better.

Yet now that we are older we see the horrors of the world with a different light, we see the monsters, the

lies and understand nothing about our childhood was normal. What we thought was normal no longer is,

and this new normal we are still uncertain of. Comfortable with pain because it was normal, comfortable

in our own misery that was normal, so broken was normal. How do you fix normal?

How do break the cycle of a thought pattern, pain is not normal yet all we know, or I did know until I met

Kyson, Abbie hasn’t met her new normal she is still suffering in the version we grew up with. And I knew

she was tired, tired of the old normal. She wears her resilience like armor, but now laid bare I knew for

once she didn’t want to keep carrying it.

“You’re not broken,” I whisper despite the fact she looked it.

“I am. I don’t know who I am anymore,” she whispers, staring off vacantly.

“You’re my best friend, my sister. You are more than my life,” I tell her squeezing her hand.

“No, we are you! We are rogue, we are whatever they let us be and nothing more,” she says.

“Only if you let yourself be, you are not what he did to you, Abbie, you are not what the butcher did to

you, and we are not what Mrs. Daley made us believe,”

“You aren’t. You are a princess and soon to be Queen, you are Azalea Ivy Landeena, I am rogue, I am

nothing, and now everyone knows what they did, everyone knows the dirty things I wished I could forget,

I am sick of them looking at me with pity, sick them looking at me with disgust, sick of being what he

made me!”

“Then be Abbie,” I tell her putting my head on her shoulder.

“But I don’t know who she is” Abbie murmurs, her voice emotionless.

“What they did to you is not you but a reflection of them. That is who they were, were Abbie. They are

dead, and you are still breathing. They don’t get another chance, but you do, so take it, don’t let them

chain you down in the memory of what they did. They don’t deserve it. Live because you can and want

to,” I tell her and she shakes her head and pulls her knees to her chest.

Abbie puts her head in her hands, and cries. Her shoulders shook, and I couldn’t begin to imagine what

she was going through, but she would get through this. She had to because this world wasn’t worth

being in without her.

“You sound like Gannon, but even he looks at me the same as everyone else, even you do; I know you

can’t

help it, but-” she choked out, her entire body shaking.