The Lycan’s King’s Heart

Episode 5- Secrets Unfold

Oscar’s pov

The evening air was cool against my skin as I made my way to the hospital. The doctor had informed me that Hazel had regained consciousness. The news brought a strange mix of relief and something else I couldn’t quite place. Perhaps it was curiosity.

I hadn’t expected her to survive, not with the extent of her injuries. But there she was, alive and fighting, just as I’d hoped.

As I approached the hospital, a sudden movement caught my eye.

A man, dressed in the uniform of a cleaner, darted out of the entrance and sprinted down the path as if the hounds of hell were on his heels. I frowned, watching him go, and instinctively scanned the area, expecting to see someone chasing him.

But there was no one—only the fading sound of his footsteps echoing in the night.

Then the door swung open again, and I saw her—Hazel. She was dressed in white hospital pajamas, her hair disheveled, her face pale.

She leaned heavily against the doorframe, her breathing labored.

"Arthur, wait!" she called out, her voice filled with desperation. She stumbled forward, her movements slow and unsteady, clearly still weak from her injuries.

She paused to catch her breath, clutching her side in pain, but then she forced herself to keep going, limping as she pursued the fleeing man.

She wasn’t going to make it far. The man—Arthur, apparently—was already out of sight, his speed far outpacing her labored steps. I didn’t need to think twice.

"Stop him!" I barked at one of my guards stationed nearby. The man nodded and took off in pursuit, his strides long and powerful. He would catch the cleaner within moments.

I turned my attention back to Hazel, who was still trying to make her way down the hallway, her breath coming in ragged gasps. I moved to her side, gently placing a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

"You need to calm down," I said softly, though my tone was firm. "You’re still recovering. Let me handle this."

She looked up at me, her eyes wide, fear and frustration filled her eyes.

"I just… I just need answers," she murmured, her voice trembling. "I need to know what’s going on."

"You will get them," I assured her. "But not like this. You’ll hurt yourself if you push too hard."

Her shoulders slumped, the fight seeming to drain out of her, and she nodded reluctantly. I kept a steady hand on her arm as we walked back to her room. I looked at her pale face, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Hazel," I said gently, "we’ll get to the bottom of this. But you need to trust me. Let me handle it."

She nodded slowly, her expression dazed, as if she were struggling to piece together everything that had just happened.

"I just… I need to know the truth," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"And you will," I promised, my voice firm. "But first, you need to rest. We’ll talk to that man once my guard catches him. He’ll tell us what he knows."

"Come," I said softly, guiding her back towards her room. "You need to rest now. We’ll find the answers, I promise."

She nodded again; her steps slow and weary as I led her back.

As we walked, I found my mind drifting back to the moment I’d found her in the woods. The sight of her, broken and bleeding, had sparked something inside me—an instinct, a need to protect her.

It was an urge I hadn’t felt in years, one that was almost foreign to me now. I had long since learned to distance myself from others, to guard my heart against attachments. And yet, with Hazel, that resolve was crumbling.

‘Do you know why you care so much about her?’ Den asked me.

I didn’t have an answer. I’d spent the last few days wrestling with that very question.

There was no logical reason for me to feel this way, no explanation for the way she haunted my thoughts, the way I found myself drawn to her, protective of her.

It was as though she had slipped past the walls I had so carefully built around my heart, and now, I couldn’t seem to push her out.

‘Because she’s our mate,’ Den answered for me, his voice a low, insistent rumble. ‘You feel it, just as I do. We were meant to protect her. Go ahead and claim her.’

I shook my head slightly, trying to push the thought away.

"No way Den," I argued silently, as I guided Hazel back to her bed. "I can’t do that to her. I have three months left, and then…"

Den pranced around in my head, growling in frustration, still he was insistent. ‘Three months or not, we can’t deny what she is to us. We need her.’

I forced myself to remain calm as I helped Hazel sit up in a comfortable position on the bed, pulling the blanket up to cover her. She looked up at me, confusion and pain in her eyes; my heart clenched at the sight.

"It doesn’t matter what we need," I told Den. "She deserves more than to be tied to someone like me—someone who’s doomed."

My wolf didn’t answer, but I could feel his discontent simmering just below the surface, a constant reminder of the battle raging within me. I sat on the bed looking at Hazel wondering what was going through her mind.

“I want to thank you for saving my life,” she said looking up at me.

“It's not a problem, Hazel.”

“You know my name?” she asked me, clearly puzzled.

“Yes, I know you are the daughter of …”

The sound of the door opening interrupted my words as my guard had returned, dragging the man behind him. Arthur was struggling, his face a mask of terror, his eyes wild with panic.

"Here he is, Your Majesty," the guard said, pushing the man forward.

Arthur stumbled, nearly falling to his knees as he was brought before us. He was shaking violently, his eyes darting between Hazel and me as if looking for a way out.

I studied him, noting the deep lines of fear etched into his features.

Before I could speak, Arthur blurted out, "Please don’t kill me.”

“Why should I kill you Arthur,” Hazel asked him, pulling her legs from the bed so they are placed on the floor. “You served my parents well to the best of my knowledge.”

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but the words seemed to die on his lips. He was trembling so violently now that I thought he might collapse.

Hazel removed the sheets and stood up, she stepped forward, her hand outstretched as if to comfort him, but she hesitated, her own fear mingling with the confusion that clouded her expression. I stood close to her to give her comfort and assurance.

"Arthur," she said softly, her voice wavering. "What are you afraid of? Talk to me.”

Arthur looked at her face, then quickly blurted out, “I didn’t kill your parents! It wasn’t me!"

The words hung in the air like a dark cloud, heavy with implications. I felt Hazel stiffen beside me, her breath hitching in her throat. I glanced at her, seeing the shock and confusion in her eyes. Clearly, this wasn’t the answer she had been expecting.

"What are you talking about?" I demanded, my voice low and commanding. "Explain yourself.”