TO TAME THE BRUTAL LYCAN BEAST-Chapter 71: BREAKING BONES

VALORIA WILDEROSE

None of what he’s saying makes any sense, and even if they could, I can’t focus long enough to piece them together.

That sinking feeling from before begins eating into me for being unable to break free from his vice-like grip.

It might just be an extension of my imagination again, but he’s stronger — a lot stronger than before.

The Ronan I remember wasn’t a wimp, but he was no warrior.

At basic werewolf strength levels, he was stronger than myself, who barely had any werewolf strength — but not super-powered.

I’m about to cry out in agony from my bones being shattered before his large body is ripped away from me and pinned onto the tiled ground by Eros.

Once again, Eros has sprung out of nowhere, looking out for me like a fucking ninja, popping up only when he’s needed.

"Aarrgh!" Ronan writhes in agony as his arm is twisted by his captor with expertise and a stone-cold facial expression.

"It’s classified as a capital offense to harm one of His Majesty’s women," he blurts out, twisting tighter, drawing more pain.

"I was just greeting her!"

"Didn’t look like a greeting."

Eros adds more force, and something snaps — cracks and pops — followed by a wail of agony that terrifies even me.

"Shall I offer a hand as atonement to you, Lady Valoria?" He throws the choice at me with such a blank stare.

I imagine it’s normal to collect an arm from someone over small disagreements to everyone from the castle, thanks to Azrael’s bloody kink and normalizing extreme violence, but I want nothing to do with any of it.

Even if it’s Ronan.

"N-No, I-I-I’m fine."

"Very well."

He lets him go, and Ronan lets out a gasp of relief before scurrying to his feet and darting off in the blink of an eye.

I watch him run, almost amazed at how seconds ago I was the one so close to pissing my pants.

I feel relief, but I’m still shaken and exhausted. First, I had to face my sisters and now Ronan — all in one morning. It’s too much to handle all at once.

"Are you okay?" Eros asks, looking at me. "You look... pale."

I chuckle dryly before falling silent again, wondering the same thing. Am I okay?

The palace has spoiled me; things I used to be able to handle without falling apart seem heavier to take in.

Even with Azrael’s games and the other concubines’ threats, it’s nothing compared to being in constant fear of harassment from my family, along with being treated less than an animal — or even... a toy.

Azrael polishes me so I can be used another day, whereas they chew on me even when I am completely ruined.

He passes me a knowing look, understanding my silence with ease, so he changes his approach instead.

"I’ll stand and watch guard, if you want."

A small smile forces its way to my lips. It’s the nicest thing I’ve heard all day.

"T-Thank y-y-you," I nod.

I feel him stand behind me, watching as I make my way to the door and, with shaking hands, grab onto the doorknob and twist.

"This might sound insane..." he speaks up suddenly, forcing me to pause and look at him again with curiosity.

He looks like he doesn’t want to speak or get involved, but he’s compelled to.

"Have you thought about asking His Majesty for help?"

I pause and look at him, confused.

I guess that he’s joking, knowing Azrael more than anyone in the world, but his resolute eyes tell me he’s being serious.

Then shock follows.

"W-What? W-W-Why would I-I—"

"He might be able to do something once and for all."

He genuinely thinks his suggestion is a good one from the look on his face—awkward yet full of conviction—and somehow it brings on a wave of conflicting emotions.

"I... I d-don’t think th-that’s a g-good idea," I say quietly, my voice shaking but carrying more conviction than usual.

Because what would asking him even look like? Running to him every time my sisters are cruel during this visit?

Tattling like a child who can’t fight her own battles? Becoming even more dependent on someone who treats me like an entertaining pet?

He already inserted himself this morning without me asking, and look how that turned out—my sisters are probably plotting worse torment for the remainder of our stay. His protection only makes their hatred burn hotter.

Azrael didn’t offer to fight my battles for me this morning. He told me to fight them myself.

He practically threatened me into finding my spine, into showing "more grit" instead of cowering.

Running to him every time my sisters are cruel would be the exact opposite of what he demanded from me. It would prove I’m still that pathetic, mute idiot he accused me of being.

"H-He told me t-to stand up f-for myself. N-Not to h-hide behind h-him." The words taste strange in my mouth, like I’m trying on someone else’s courage. "If I g-go running to h-him every t-time they’re cr-cruel, I’m j-just... I’m just p-proving him r-right about m-me."

And worse—I’d be proving myself right. That I’m too weak, too broken, too pathetic to ever be anything more than a victim.

And what about after we leave? When I have to return here for future visits, for family obligations, for whatever political reasons drag me back?

"H-He’s not g-going to b-be around f-forever, Eros. N-Not at every f-family gathering, n-not at every ob-bligation." I continue, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. "I n-need to f-figure out how t-to do this m-myself. Even if I’m t-terrified. Even if I f-fail."

I’d be a fool falling into the trap of depending on a complete stranger to rescue me—especially one who’s partially responsible for making it worse by bringing me back here in the first place.

Running into his clutches like some pathetic, pitiful damsel who can’t survive without a man’s protection.

He listened to my story, but it doesn’t mean he truly cares. It doesn’t mean he won’t get bored of this game and move on to the next shiny thing that catches his attention.

As long as he has something to gain from it, he might play hero. But the moment the entertainment value runs out? He won’t budge.

That’s the kind of man Azrael is—cold, calculative, and cunning underneath all that charm.

It’s something I must never forget in the midst of his games. Something I must engrave into the back of my mind—that his protection isn’t the answer. My own strength is.

Even if I don’t know where to find it yet.

"T-Thank y-you for the ad-d-dvice, E-Eros," I say with more firmness than I feel, before pulling the door open and stepping through without looking back.