Mated To The King’s Gamma By Jessica Hall

Chapter 22

Gannon POV

I had counted every strike against the old hag’s back, watched as she hung limp in the restraint as my eyes wandered to the packhouse which the King had yet to emerge from. My brows furrowed, and I glanced around at the guards. I was so preoccupied with dealing with Mrs. Daley that I hadn’t realized the King was still inside the packhouse.

I wipe my hands on my jeans which were drenched in blood from the back spray from off the whip. “He still in there?” I ask one of the men standing guard by the doors. He nods his head.

“Yes, Gamma, we tried to go in, but he told us not to disturb him,” the man spoke, and I raised an eyebrow at him as I climbed the steps before shoving the rickety old door in. Alpha Dean and Alpha Brock were sitting on the steps in the hallway.

“Where is the King?” I ask before Alpha Dean lifts a shaking finger and points toward the basement door.

“He told us to get out and wait up here,” Alpha Dean says, and by how pale he was, something had scared the life right out of the old man. As I opened the door, I could hear the King muttering and cursing at myself for leaving him on his own.

Walking down the steps, I knew instantly he wasn’t in the right state of mind by his aura that had my knees shaking and the

goosebumps that rose every hair on my body. That proven more by the moment my feet touched the concrete floor, and I peered over at him where he stood by a table in the center of the dusty old room. The place was floor to ceiling high in boxes and files.

His entire body tensed as he sensed the incoming intruder. One side of the King everyone was petrified of. The monster that lurked beneath the skin of this man. In this form, he was the biggest predator, a lethal beast, and he showed it within seconds of me spotting him.

One minute, he was standing by the table under the hanging light. The next, his hands gripped my shirt’s front, and I was airborne as he tossed me. The air fizzled in my lungs as I hit a stack of boxes.

“Kyson!” I choked as his fist connected with my head. I growl before it’s cut off by his hands around my throat. I grip his wrists, only for him to lift and slam me onto the table that he was standing over when I came down here.

Damian usually dealt with him when he was in fits of rage, and usually, the King kept this part of him locked up tight until it exploded as it had now.

“Kyson!” I choked out as his grip tightened. His eyes were black and plagued with the horrors of his past, where he couldn’t protect his sister, a past full of bloodshed and unimaginable horrors. A place he was currently trapped in, like the nightmares that plagued him, and I was yet to figure out what had triggered him.

I tilt my head to the side just as his fist comes down on the table before punching him in the ribs. His grip never waivers as he hits me again, and I heard the wood crack as my head smashed back against the table. He would forgive me because I wasn’t taking a

pounding from him, and he clearly wanted to burn off some anger.

For what I would figure out after, as he raised his clawed fist again, I shifted under his grip, his tight grip making the transition painful as my neck elongated and the bones in my face broke and shifted, my jaws locked around his fist catching it and I jam my claws in his ribs.

He grunts, stunned by the sudden pain he felt, that momentary distraction making his grip on my throat lessens, and my claws slip free of him as he staggered back, allowing me to roll off the table. Only this time, I was ready and prepared for his attack.

By the time he came back to his senses, I don’t think there was an inch of either of us that wasn’t torn, scratched or bruised. His anger diminished as his eyes settled on me, the King returning and fuck, Damian is going with him next time. Every part of me ached and stung.

The King gasps, blinking. His eyes return to normal as he sits up from where I tossed him off. The basement was destroyed, and I took comfort in knowing I would not be cleaning it.

“Gannon?”

“My King,” I replied, baring my neck to him, hoping not to set him off again. We both breathed heavily, and I felt every bit of the 411 years I spent on this earth.

“You want to tell me what that was about?” I ask him trying to catch my breath as he shifted back. He leaned back against the

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bench and crooked shelf, bracing his arms on his knees. I still wasn’t shifting back, not yet. He was unpredictable at the best of times yet emotional at ticking time bomb running of instinct.

He clutches his hair in his fists, and I leave the question instead of getting up and upturning what was left of the table, the papers scattered across the floor. I was near tempted to go drag Alpha Dean down here when he didn’t answer when I spotted some photographs. One of the women I could barely recognize because she was ripped apart but the two orphanage photos of the two little girls I recognized instantly,

“This has something to do with Ivy?”

“She belongs to that monster,” Kyson breathes, and I glance over my shoulder to find him resting his head back on the shelf and staring at the swinging light.

I turn back to the paperwork, picking up scattered pieces and trying to figure out his words when I spot a photo of a woman! recognized as Marrissa Talbot, the woman responsible for killing his sister.

It didn’t take long before I realized what he meant; Marrissa was Ivy’s mother. “Fuck!”I curse, knowing full well what that woman’s crimes were.

“I can’t be with her, not after knowing who mothered her,”

“We don’t know for certain,” I mutter, picking up more files only to stumble across Abbie’s. I stacked the documents in a pile.

“I am certain that she isn’t her mother, Kyson. How you could even entertain the idea of them being one and the same is beyond me. Besides, that girl was a child and not part of her mother’s crimes if she is, in fact, her daughter,” I tell him.

“And if she is, what do I do with her, then?” Kyson asks me.

“Does it matter? She is your mate!” I tell him while gathering all the documents.

“I won’t have a monster for a mate!”

“Ivy is not her mother? You can’t blame her for the crimes of her mother,”

“I can’t punish her mother for her crimes, yet she left behind a daughter that I can!” he growls before storming out of the basement

“Fuck!” I curse, gathering everything and moving after him. The place was destroyed as if someone had left off a bomb downstairs, and I shook my head at the mess before following after the King.

I hear him barking orders at his men that he wants to leave. Yet I turned to Alpha Dean as he rose to his feet from where he still sat on the steps. “You couldn’t have told us this over the damn phone or faxed this crap?” I asked, shaking it in the prick’s face. He said nothing, and I looked at his pathetic son.

“You’ll need to retrieve a broom,” I tell him. If it were me, I would lock the door and declare the basement no longer exist as the place was upturned thoroughly. Kyson was still arguing with his men to hurry and secure the place. He was impatient and wanted to leave, yet we had protocols before that was possible.

I click my fingers at the driver, who jumps in the front seat before I look around at the men. “Forget it. Mark, go ahead of us. We leave now unless you want him tearing this pack apart,” I tell the man, and he runs to one of the cars. The King wasn’t bing to wait, and I sure as shit didn’t feel like chasing him on foot if he decided to run out his anger.

Climbing into the car, I’slid across the seat and shut the door. The car took off immediately, and the King was looking for clothes. After dropping the documents on the seat, I leaned forward and lifted the bench seat with the storage underneath. I toss him some clothes stealing a pair of shorts and a tank top out as well.

I pulled them on, jerking sideways as the limo went around corners before tugging the shirt over my head. The King’s aura was suffocating in the small space, and Damian would kill me when he found out, but he wasn’t the one having to sit with him, so I reached into the fridge and pulled out some bottle of liquor. I go to hand him a glass when he twists the cap off and puts the bottle to his lips before I can. Liquor dribbles down his chin as he pulls the bottle from his lips before wiping his face on the back of his hand and sighs.

We all knew he was an alcoholic. He had been since his sister died, and right now, I wasn’t helping the issue, but him drunk I could handle. I didn’t feel like going round two with him right now and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the first or the last time I watch him find himself in the bottom of a bottle or two.

Halfway through the third bottle, he was passed out drunk. It was a long drive back, and I was relieved when I watched his eyes

grow heavier before his head slumped forward. Sighing, I took the bottle from his grip and sat next to the two empty ones. Tapping on the screen between the driver and me. The drive wound down the window.

“He’s out?” the driver asked, sounding as relieved as I felt. His aura towards the end was making me queasy, so I knew he would be the same. “Thank god!” he answers when I see his eyes dart to the mirror. Text content © NôvelDrama.Org.

We chat a bit, and he pulls over briefly, allowing the cars behind us to catch up and drive ahead while I hop out for a smoke. I retrieve a blanket from the trunk, and the driver goes in, tucking the King in like a damn child. Usually, that was done by Damian, the tucking in of the King when he got in that state.

Today, I tasked his driver, Bill, with it. He always felt regret the days after or embarrassment, but I had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last of his anger.

The driver hops back in the car just as three cars pull up behind us, three had gone ahead of us now. I toss the last of my smoke, climbing back in with the King. Retrieving the files, I decided to go over them to find out more about Marrissa, and I also wanted to take a peek at Abbie’s files.

Not much was said about Marrissa because, by the looks of it, Alpha Dean wasn’t even aware of who his pack had killed.

-I shook my head and set that file aside before pulling out Abbie’s. I open it to the orphanage photo, which must have been taken

that night they were found. She looked petrified as she stared at the camera, her childlike eyes wide with fear and blood-drenched her clothes. Turning the page, I nearly dropped the files when I found her parent’s ID.

More importantly, when I found her mother’s. That’s not possible. I watched her die; I watched her die, and I knew she was dead because I killed her myself.

I blinked at the picture; her face exactly the way I remembered it, a face similar to Abbie’s. The resemblance was uncanny, yet when I looked at the name, it was wrong except for the last name. This wasn’t the woman I loved and destroyed name, yet! looked at the woman in the picture and the last name.

This woman looked exactly like my mate. Identical, and now I figured out the allure I had to her. Liam was right. I could no longer deny it, and now I know why they shared such a resemblance because I had a feeling the woman I was staring at in the photo was my mate’s twin.

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