Betrayed By My Mate, Claimed By His Lycan King Uncle
Chapter 77: We Need A Female Slave. A Nanny.

Chapter 77: We Need A Female Slave. A Nanny.

Sorayah sat perched atop the wheelbarrow, nestled among the bundled goods, while Dimitri pushed them steadily through the bustling crowd.

Now that she no longer needed to pretend she was a woman in labor, her role from the day before, she could finally take in her surroundings without distraction. The city sprawled before her, alive and thrumming with energy.

The streets were alive with activity, filled with both werewolves and humans moving side by side. Market stalls lined either side of the stone-paved road, overflowing with goods of every shape and color, jewelry, spices, fabrics, and weapons. Sellers called out their wares with practiced enthusiasm, while eager buyers haggled over prices.

The air was heavy with the scent of freshly baked bread, roasted meats, and sweet pastries. Laughter echoed through the air, mixing with the rhythmic drumbeats of performers nearby.

A group of werewolf women, dressed in vibrant, flowing garments, were dancing in synchronized circles, their movements both wild and graceful. Children cheered from the sidelines while a group of young men engaged in a competitive ring-toss game, howling in delight at each successful throw.

Sorayah’s gaze drifted longingly toward a bakery just a few steps away, the warmth of its ovens beckoning her like a siren’s call. Her stomach gave a loud, undeniable growl. She turned to Dimitri, her eyes wide and pleading, hands pressed to her belly as if in emphasis.

"I’m hungry," she said softly, almost childlike in her tone.

Dimitri glanced down at her, his expression tight with frustration as they found themselves momentarily halted by the crowd. The street ahead was temporarily blocked by the dancing performers.

"Do you understand what’s at stake?" he whispered sharply, leaning in close so only she could hear. The heat of his breath brushed her ear. "We’ll eat after we’ve finished the task. Not before."

Sorayah tilted her head toward him, her voice calm but firm. "We’re stuck anyway. And I need something to eat to have strength for this oh-so-dangerous mission of yours."

Before he could reply, she slid off the wheelbarrow with practiced grace, letting herself appear as though she were still weak from childbirth. Her movements were slow and slightly shaky, her hand brushing her side dramatically as she took a breath.

The hairpin holding her golden hair in place glinted under the sunlight. It was the same one given to her the night before, still faintly carrying the scent of the infant and his mother, a subtle but unmistakable signal that she was a nursing mother.

Dimitri froze, the sight sending a wave of disbelief and irritation down his spine. She was improvising again. Boldly. Recklessly.

"She’s growing so bold these days..." he muttered under his breath, biting down the growl that threatened to escape. Still, he forced a smile to mask the irritation curling in his chest and stepped closer, choosing to stand beside her rather than create a scene.

Sorayah had already reached the bakery counter, her eyes sparkling with delight at the sight of warm golden bread and decadent cakes topped with layers of glossy chocolate.

"Good morning, sir," she greeted the vendor with radiant charm, her lips curling into a smile that could melt butter faster than the sun.

"Well, good morning to you, young lady," replied the elderly werewolf behind the counter, smiling back warmly. He was arranging a fresh tray of steaming bread, his movements practiced and efficient.

"May I have a slice of that cake? The one with the chocolate coating," Sorayah asked, pointing delicately. "And a loaf of that soft bread, please. It smells too good to resist."

"Of course, of course," the baker said with a slight chuckle, clearly delighted by her politeness and enthusiasm.

"You shouldn’t run off like that, darling. Remember, you just gave birth," Dimitri said softly as he appeared beside her, a warm smile stretched across his lips as he slipped a protective arm around Sorayah’s waist, pulling her closer to him. His voice, though gentle, carried an unmistakable edge of warning only she could detect.

"Make it two of each, please," Dimitri added, already counting out a handful of coins from his pouch.

"Right away, sir," the baker replied with a respectful nod. He swiftly handed over a small bundle containing two hot loaves of bread and two generous slices of chocolate-coated cake.

Sorayah accepted the bundle with bright eyes and visible excitement. Without a moment’s hesitation, she unwrapped one of the cakes and took a big bite, her expression melting into sheer bliss as the rich chocolate burst onto her tongue.

"Mmm, this is so good," she mumbled around a mouthful of cake, her voice muffled but enthusiastic. The warm sweetness melted across her palate, chasing away the lingering tension in her chest.

Dimitri stepped forward to settle the payment while she continued eating.

"Thank you so much, Mrs.," the old man said with a chuckle, mistaking Dimitri’s silence for shyness. Then he reached toward a nearby shelf and pointed to a sealed bottle and a thick, meat-stuffed bun. "For you, new mother. Your baby needs all the nutrients, and so do you."

"Oh! Thank you," Sorayah said with genuine warmth as she took the gift, her smile radiant. Her cheeks were slightly puffed with cake, adding to her disarming charm.

Dimitri, caught off guard by the man’s generosity, sighed quietly and reached into his pouch again to offer more coins.

"It’s free," the old man said, waving off the payment with a kind smile. "A gift to your wife."

Sorayah turned to the baker and nodded in appreciation. "Thank you so much. That’s very kind of you."

Dimitri offered a rare, grateful smile of his own, and with that, the couple turned back toward their wheelbarrow. The crowd had cleared, no more dancers in the way so they began moving again.

During the quiet journey, Sorayah made sure to savor every bite of her cake and bread. She even offered a few pieces to Dimitri, who accepted with a resigned sigh and a grateful nod, taking sips of the milk she passed to him. For a few moments, there was peace between them.

Soon, they reached a narrow dirt path that curved away from the main road and the palace beyond. The way was too tight for the wheelbarrow, so Dimitri pulled it aside and hid it behind a cluster of bushes, camouflaging it beneath a tarp and some loose leaves.

"We’ll come back for it later," he murmured, then turned to Sorayah but both knew that was just a lie.

The path ahead led toward the slave market.

Two towering guards stood at the outer gate, broad-shouldered and expressionless. A tall, crumbling watchtower loomed above the structure, and more guards patrolled its top level, their eyes sharp and weapons already drawn, alert for any sign of danger.

Dimitri leaned toward Sorayah, his voice low. "It’s time."

Sorayah swallowed hard, her fingers tightening slightly around the bottle of milk. She nodded slowly.

"Remember, we just have to endure for one hour no matter what happens," he whispered, his breath hot against her skin.

"I know," Sorayah whispered back, her voice steady but quiet.

Dimitri placed a hand at her waist again, a show of affection meant for the guards’ eyes. They approached the entrance, moving as one.

The air outside the slave market was already heavy with dread. Faint screams and guttural groans seeped through the walls. The iron gate creaked open as they stepped in, but no one questioned their presence.

Everyone here understood: visitors either walked out with a slave or didn’t walk out at all.

As they entered, the noise hit them full-force. Inside was a world of torment. Naked slaves, werewolves and humans alike moved about in chains. Many were forced to walk in endless circles, while guards barked orders and swung their whips at the slow or the weak. Blood stained the dirt floor in places, and the scent of fear hung in the air like smoke.

Sorayah inhaled sharply, her stomach twisting. This was her second time in a slave market, but the horror hadn’t dulled. She couldn’t erase the image from her last visit: a young slave woman who had died right in front of her, branded and then ravaged by werewolf guards. The memory clawed at her from within.

But she couldn’t afford to break. Not now.

They had a mission.

And fear, or even righteous fury, could destroy it.

"Are you here to purchase a slave?" a gruff voice boomed from behind them.

Both Sorayah and Dimitri turned around swiftly, facing the source. A massive, shirtless man with skin like toughened leather and a black cloth tied around his lower half stood watching them.

"Yes," Dimitri said smoothly, slipping back into character. He drew Sorayah closer, his hand curling protectively around her hip. "We need a female slave. A nanny. Someone to help care for our newborn."

The man’s eyes flicked between them, assessing, before he grunted and turned around.

"Follow me."

They obeyed without question, passing through the broken archway into the inner auction hall.

Immediately, the cries grew louder. Rows upon rows of cages lined the walls, small, rusted things meant for dogs, not people. Yet inside them, humans and werewolves huddled in varying states of terror. Some screamed for freedom. Others stared blankly, their minds clearly already gone.

Sorayah and Dimitri stood together, their bodies pressed close, a facade of unity as their eyes scanned the nightmare around them.

The burly man climbed a small platform, stepping up as if to begin a show, while Sorayah and Dimitri remained on the ground floor, blending into the group of buyers.

The air was thick, suffocating with the stench of blood, sweat, and hopelessness.

Sorayah’s stomach turned violently, but she forced herself to remain still.

They were here for a reason.