Mated To The King’s Gamma By Jessica Hall

Chapter 52

His little arm had a bruise, and he cried when I grabbed him, like he thought I was about to hurt him. “Shh, shh. What’s your name?” I ask him, yet he eyes Mrs. Daley, clearly petrified of the woman. He is all skin and bone, his big brown eyes had no light, his cheeks hollow and his eyes sunken in, his curly black hair sat on his shoulders and was matted and knotted.

which I thought was strange, however seeing a rogue child was more bizarre, and I had a feeling it was just for show in case the King stopped by. One thing is apparent – none of these children were cared for properly, and that really grinds my gears.

“Like he can’t, or he doesn’t know how?” I ask her. She shrugs, and her eyes dart to Mrs. Daley. It was clear she was scared of the woman.

“Mrs. Daley is leaving today. She is retiring. You can speak freely, she won’t hurt you,” I tell Kimmy. She bites her lip before scratching the back of her matted blonde hair.

“I heard Mrs. Daley fighting with Katrina. Katrina wanted to take him and his brother but Mrs. Daley wouldn’t let her.”

“He has a brother?”

“Had. We haven’t seen him for two days. He bit Mrs. Daley when she smacked Oliver,” Kimmy says, pointing to the boy in my arms.

“His name is Oliver?” Kimmy nods.

“The brother’s name?”

“Logan, Sir,” she says, and I nod.

“What about Katrina? Does she hurt you?” Kimmy shakes her head, and she looks at Mrs. Daley nervously, who stares ahead, looking out the window above the sink vacantly. She knew she had fucked up.

“Mrs. Daley had the butcher hurt Katrina for sticking up for them. He broke her arm, but she is ok now.”

“Kimmy, can you find some clothes and socks for Oliver?” I tell her, and she nods, holding her arms out for him. He goes to her, and she takes him upstairs while I turn Mrs. Daley’s wheelchair with my foot.

“Where is his brother?”

“The kid is a menace! He bit me like a savage!” she sneers.

“Where is the boy?” I snarl, and Liam glares at her before twisting his knife between his fingers in a warning.

“I would answer him. We don’t like child abusers. But you already know that,” Liam wams her, and she gulps.

“In the laundry room outside,” I growi, storming outside in search of it before finding it behind the shed. I could hear whimpering when I approached the wooden door. Pushing it open, I find another small boy inside a cage underneath the bench next to the washer. Anger courses through me as I bend down and snap the lock. He looks to be about Kimmy’s age, though he is freezing cold, and clearly bruised and battered.

“Did Mrs. Daley do this to you?” The boy shakes his head, moving to the back of the cage. “I won’t hurt you. I am here to help,” I tell him.

“My brother! Help my brother!” he whimpers, cringing away when I break the front door off and open the dog cage.

“Who put you in here? Did Katrina? I won’t hurt you, and I won’t let them hurt you.” I tell him while taking my jacket off. I drape it over his skinny frame, and he shakes his head.

“No, she tried to help me.”

“Who brought you out here, then? Daley couldn’t have. She wouldn’t have got down the back steps.”

“The Butcher did, Sir,” he says as he stares at my outstretched hand.

“Come on, you and your brother are coming home with me. I won’t hurt you, but I need you to come inside where it is warm. Liam is inside. You will like Liam, he is making pancakes,” I tell him. He hesitates before dropping his hand in mine, and I pull him from the small cage.

“How old are you?”

“Eight, Sir,” I nod before seeing his bare feet and scooping him up. I carry him inside before stepping into the kitchen.

“Where is Daley?” I ask, noticing her wheelchair gone.

“She went to get more flour,” Liam says, winking at me.

I smirk, taking Logan to the living room before wrapping the surrounding blanket from the couch around him. I then went and got firewood and filled all the fireplaces, lighting them.

The smell of pancakes wasted through the place. Eventually, Katrina walks in just as I got the living room fireplace going. She was a young

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woman in her twenties, with brown shoulder-length hair. The kids seem to like her, jumping around and trying to get her attention. She

stopped when I stood up and stared at me.

“Who are you?” she asks, looking at me nervously. She sniffs the air before baring her neck to me.

“Gannon. Liam is out there. I assume you are Katrina?”

She nods her head. “Mrs. Daley?” she asks.

“In the basement,” I tell her, and she nods before her brows pinch, and she opens her mouth to say something before spotting Logan by the fire, and her eyes widen. Oliver was sitting on his lap. She rushes over, and I grip her arm. ren

“I won’t hurt them! I am not Daley!” she spits at me, and I let her go.

She rushes over and fusses over them. I sigh before walking to the door.

“Help Liam feed the children. You just got promoted to headmistress,” I tell her, and she nods. Walking to the kitchen, I can hear groaning and pained wails coming from the basement.

“Want a hand?” Liam asks, and I look at him covered in flour…

“Nope,” I tell him, snatching the knives from the counter and opening the basement door. I hear Liam flick the radio on that sits on the

Stomping down the steps. Mrs. Daley tried crawling away where she had been pushed down the stairs, her legs tangled in the wheelchair as she clawed at the ground.

“Change of plans. I wanna hear you scream,” I tell her. Reaching down, I grip her hair and yank her head back. “And you will scream!” I snarl.

Liam had to keep turning the music up. Mrs. Daley’s screams echoed around the basement. Eventually, her screams cut out completely, her body bloody and lifeless, having skinned the bitch alive. Oh, how I loved hearing them scream. Although I could have gone without the erection it gave me. Blood coated the stone floor red, the smell was pungent, and the place reeked of raw meat.

Washing my hands in the filthy sink, I dry them on a hessian bag I found sitting beside it before looking at the old hag’s pelt hanging up on a hook from the ceiling, admiring my handiwork I head for the stairs with a shrug. The rickety old steps creak under my weight as I climb them. Opening the door, I shake my head when I see Liam shaking his ass and dancing to the music he had blaring loudly. Liam was still wearing his floral apron while doing the dishes.

Katrina comes into the kitchen with another pile of plates clutched in her hands, a tea towel draped over her shoulder. She gives me a wary look and hesitates for a second, then hurries past me toward the small kitchen. I watch as she sets the plates on the bench beside Liam. He grabs her hand and twirls her around before pulling her to dance with him, tugging her body flush against his.

Only then does he spot me standing by the basement door. He smirks, before letting her go and drying his hands on the apron.

“About time! I thought you were trying on Mrs. Daley and wearing her skin as a suit with how long you were taking.” Liam laughs. Katrina stares wide-eyed at me, turning my head to look at her, and she hastily looks away.

Liam undoes his apron and sets it on the counter before pecking Katrina on the cheek. “Be seeing you later, doll face,” he says, sending her a wink. I shake my head as he walks towards me when he stops at the door leading out to the hall. “On second thought.” He turns back and snatches the apron off the counter. “You don’t want this, do you?”

Katrina shakes her head. I was pretty sure she would give him her kidney if it meant he would get away from her. Probably even cut it out herself.

“Good, it looks better on me anyway,” he says, chucking it over his shoulder and sauntering out.

“Ah, Mrs. Daley?” Katrina asks me when I turn to follow him.

“No need to worry, I already hung her up to dry. Just let her air out for a bit,” I tell her, following Liam back through the place. I stop when I pass Oliver and Logan, who are both still sitting in the same spot, huddled underneath a blanket, watching the other children playing with some puzzles.

“I will be back in a few hours to pick you up. I have someone I want you both to meet,” I tell them. Oliver rests his head on Logan’s shoulder, sucking his thumb

“Who?” Logan asks me, hugging his brother closer.

“A woman named Clarice. You will like her, and she will love both of you. She will take good care of you,” I tell him as he chews his lip while looking at his little brother. He nods, so I turn on my heel before walking outside. When I do, I am confronted with Alpha Dean and Alpha Brock, who must have been having a heated argument with Liam.

“Can I help you?” I ask them, coming behind Liam and stepping over the small brick fence that ran along the footpath.

“Don’t you mean can I help you? This isn’t your pack, and we were called here about a disturbance.” Alpha Brock states.

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“Is that right? Well, last I checked, werewolves were lower on the food chain. So, I suggest you move along before you meet the real big bad wolf!” I snarl. Alpha Brock looks at Liam and me before focusing back on me and looking me up and down.

“Well, the King never informed either of us that you would be showing up. If we had known, we would have prepared for your arrival,” Alpha Dean adds, glancing around nervously. All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

“No preparations needed. If you will excuse me, I have a butcher who needs butchering,” I tell them before smiling and shoving past them

“Exactly why are you here?” Alpha Brock asks.

“Little slow, this Alpha is. No wonder the pack is going broke. Not one brain cell between the two of them,” Liam says, and I smirk at his words.

“The two rogue boys inside will be leaving with me when I return. Touch them and you will be hanging alongside Mrs. Daley in the basement.” I tell them before climbing into the car.

They glance at the orphanage behind them as we drive off. Liam gave me directions to the butcher’s shop in town. It just so happened to be in the small town square, and we received a few nervous glances as we climbed out and headed inside the small place.

A huge glass display fridge is out the front taking up half the store, but I can see a room out the back behind the till. Pushing through the hinged door beside the fridge display, I went out the back of the small store to the freezer room. I can hear muffled yelling as I approach the enormous steel door. Twisting the handle, I yank it open and step inside. The room is freezing, and I shiver instantly.

“Oh, a little frosty in here,” Liam chuckles. However, my attention is solely on the butcher, who stared with big brown eyes. He was in his mid-forties, still dressed in plaid pajama pants, his hair a mess and sticking up at odd angles. His teeth chattered, and his lips were blue. His chest was bare, and his nipples were hard. Goosebumps covered every inch of him.

Liam had skillfully tied him. There was no way he would have been able to shift to get out of his restraints.

The butcher’s eyes glance between us both, and Liam pulls on his lovely floral apron while I grab one of the rubber ones hanging up outside the freezer room door.

“Bring him out,” I call to Liam, who obeys, rubbing his hands together excitedly.

Liam unties him, and the moment he does, he runs, bolting out the door, but nothing a punch to the windpipe couldn’t fix. My fist connects with his Adams apple. He gasps, clutching his throat. I take a fistful of his hair and slam his head into the steel table. He drops to my feet,

and Liam comes out shaking his head, clicking his tongue before kicking him in the ribs, making him grunt.

“Now listen here, pork chop. I am old, tired and just made over 100 pancakes, so do me a favor and climb up on the steel bench. My back is aching.” Liam tells him while tying the back of his apron.

“There must be some mistake!I don’t even know what I did! You have the wrong guy!” he stammers, eyes wide with fear.

“Is your name Doyle?” I ask, and he nods.

“Do you know a girl named Abbie?” I ask him, and his eyes widen. “So you do know Abbie?” I ask, and he looks between us but shakes his head.

“Well, now that’s a lie, isn’t it? Because Mrs. Daley told us about you, and how you paid her to rape the girl. Stole her innocence and all that,” Liam says, tilting his head to the side observing the man.

“No! I never took that, I swear. Mrs. Daley lied. I never took the girl’s virginity. She is still pure, I swear. If Abbie says I did, she is a liar. I know better than to take her virginity. She isn’t worth as much if she is sold off,” he blurts out, and I look at Liam.

“What do you mean?” Liam asks, clearly as confused as me. The King would not lie or send me on a wild goose chase.

“I am saying you didn’t buy ruined goods. I heard how the Lycan King took her in. She is still pure, I swear. If she is saying she isn’t, she is a liar. Tell the King she is still pure. I know better!” My eyebrows raise. He thought the King would buy a sex slave? Does he not know the King could have any woman he wanted? Not that he wanted any other than Ivy.

“You know better?” I ask, and he nods, looking at me pleadingly. What the fuck is wrong with this man? I thought I was fucked in the head, but he just took it to another level.

“I am a little confused. Are you Gannon? He is claiming to know better, but rape is apparently still acceptable?” Liam asks me.

“What? No! I paid for her. She is just some whore!” he says, and my blood boils at his words. My claws slash down his face, slicing through to the bone before I grabbed his throat, picking him up I slammed him on the table.

“Please, please, she’s still pure! I only fucked her ass! I left her virginity. Buyers value that!” the man begs. Liam’s claws sink into his thigh at his words.

“You seem to be very confused. We don’t care about her virginity status, we care if you hurt her. But keep talking, you are making your death more painful. Two things we hate, rapists and anyone that

hurts children, and you did both those things! Now you will pay for your crimes in

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blood!” Liam growls before dragging his claws out of his leg. His screams echo around us, shrill and loud as Liam pulls them out slowly, twisting his fingers as he did. His hands clutched my hand around his throat.

“Help me move him. Flip him on his stomach,” I tell Liam, who walks off into the freezer. He returns, bringing back the ropes he had tied this scumbag with. We flip onto his stomach before binding his hands and feet to the legs of the table. He thrashes wildly and continues to scream.

Liam starts whistling as he cuts the vile man’s pants off while he cries and begs. Walking into the freezer, I look for a broom, finding one in the back corner by the grate and drain in the floor. Grabbing it, I walk back out to find Doyle crying hysterically and begging Liam to free him.

His words cut off, and his head lifts, his mouth wide open on a silent scream as he gasps when I shoved the broom handle up his ass. His entire body shakes, his legs trembling uncontrollably. Blood trails over the steel table.

“I swear you’re still pure. Anal doesn’t count, right?” I ask him while I walk around the table. I grip his hair, yanking his head back. He pants, eyes wide, and I smile when Liam gives the broom a jiggle, and he makes a pained groan. I drop his head, and Liam walks over to the wall and pulls down a bone saw, chucking it to me. He then unrolls his pouch of knives, selecting one.

“So slice and dice, or will we be more creative today?” Liam asks.

“Please, please! Just let me go!” the man begs.

“Don’t cry, beefcakes. Gannon here will make sure we tenderize your rump before we make you eat it. We can stuff it some more,’ Liam tells him, slapping his ass. “If you want. I reckon you could take another, pretty loose back there,” Liam adds. The man whimpers and sobs before pissing himself, urine cascading down the sides of the table along with his blood.

“What’s that?” Liam asks when Doyle mumbles something incoherently.

“Think he said he wanted the other broom,” I tell Liam, who smiles sadistically while the man screams and thrashes as much as possible.

Liam comes out with a mop, and I shrug.

“It’s alright, I will spit on it first,” Liam tells him before shoving it up alongside the other one. His screams were music to my ears and rang out loudly, making me shiver.

“Now, do you like your meat medium, raw, cooked all the way through? How should we serve it to you?’ Liam says, cutting a chunk of his ass cheek off with his knife. The butcher screams wildly, and I grab my saw before using a rag as a tourniquet. I know he will heal quickly. but the tourniquet will ensure he does before bleeding out. Wrapping it just above the knee, I pull it tight before grabbing my saw, and I start cutting into the back of his knee.

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