Zion |✔️ {featured on Wattpad Talent Scouts}

TWENTY-EIGHT

"Do you have records of what they did after? Or if I can call them?" I ask, watching as Drexel paces the room, bored as I search through the files. "I have their names but nothing else."

Drexel looks toward me, raising an eyebrow as I stand before him, needing the information. "All of those who quite the service are allowed to erase their information from the years of their arrive," Drexel explains.

"What about where to contact, surly these women have a number or address I can reach them at?" I'm needing the information. "I need it." But I already know Lillian is dead, as Trent told me. Or was he lying? Was he just saying she was dead, or is she?

Drexel shakes his head, letting out a deep sigh. My heart skips a beat as my stomach falls to my feet. "I can't tell you that, Lady Sybil," he explains, taking the file from my hands.

"And why not?" I ask, feeling myself grow annoyed that I cannot obtain the information. "I need this information as soon as possible."

Drexel shakes his head, closing the file cabinet and begins walking towards the door. Looking over his shoulder, Drexel motions for me to leave with him. Why can't I get the information? Why did these women want their information erased? Did they just want to be thrown off the face of the earth for no reason? Did Zion want one of their names terminated?

I follow Drexel, watching as the door shuts before me. "Thank you," I say, my tone neutral, and my breathing heavy and stressed. I never got my answers really. Maybe te rogues would know? Maybe they would not, for why would rogues care for female warriors? Maybe if one of them was the mate of the Alpha King they would know about them?

As I leave the wing for the warriors, my thoughts are now focused upon if Alpha Finn will tell Zion what I did. Pulling my hair back, my hands run though my hair, stress taking over as I let out a deep sigh. If Zion ever finds out, I can only guess what he will think. Or even do.

Heading back to my room, I find Marisa packing the rest of my bags, fitting in things that still have tags on them. Whatever I'm packing for here, I know it's just not the mission to gather those names up for the Senate, but it seems as if it's a vacation. "How long until I leave?" I ask, watching as Marisa puts a pair of heels into the mix of items.

"King Zion will collect you in ten minutes I believe."

Collect? She speaks as if I am some item to the King.

Am I though?

Am I really just some item to the King and nothing more?

"Marisa, how many days are you packing for?" I question, watching as she takes a flannel shirt out, one that does not look new, but work and dirty. For sure I'd need something older for when I seek out the ring leaders. She puts the older shirt into a bad, tucking it away with a pair of worn pants and combat boots. Of course they would stereotype rogues into people who cannot afford to dress themselves in anything more.

"I am packing for what the King instructed, Lady Sybil."

I nod, getting the feeling that Marisa does not want to speak at all. The least Zion could have provided me with here could have been a maid that I could talk with.

As I get the outfit from the bed laid out for me, I head towards the bathroom. A dark wash pair of pants and cream blouse are all I change into, missing the days of unwashed sweatpants and a shirt with stains from long nights of binge watching. One simple braid done to my hair and I have my eyes glued to my reflection.

What have I become? Some doll for the King to parade around? I miss my days of simplicity, days where I could order a pizza and just watching something without having to feel fat.