The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter-Chapter 146: Seriousness and Madness

Natalie~

I stood in Zane’s private chamber, the familiar scent of him wrapping around me like a cloak I never wanted to take off. The warmth of his presence still lingered in my bones after our kiss, but the moment my eyes caught the photos on the table, everything shifted.

Time slowed. My pulse quickened.

My heart began to race, not from love this time—but from a sense of dread.

I stepped closer.

The closer I got, the louder my heartbeat became. A roaring thunder inside my chest.

My parents.

There they were.

Frozen in time. My mother’s radiant smile. My father’s proud, steady gaze.

I barely heard anything else after that.

Because all I could see were the ghosts staring up at me from that table.

My voice trembled. "Why are there pictures of my mom and dad on this table? Why does it feel like you’re all about to tell me something that’s going to break me?"

I turned to Zane. My gaze locked with his, searching his soul.

I could have read his thoughts. I could have looked into this with my powers, dug into the threads of time like it was nothing.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

I’d made a silent promise to myself the first time I saw that softness in his eyes. I would never violate Zane’s mind. Not even now when it felt like my heart was breaking.

So I waited.

I waited for him to tell me.

His jaw clenched slightly before he spoke, voice calm but strained. "Natalie... sit down. Please."

I hesitated for a second, my spine taut with tension, then nodded and lowered myself into the armchair nearest to me. My fingers clenched around the arms of the chair like they were my only anchor.

Zane walked slowly, like the heaviness of what he was about to say could crush the floor beneath him. He stopped in front of me, crouching slightly so we were eye-level.

Then he began.

"The Blackthorns came to the king," he said, tone careful, measured. "They brought a case to court... a murder case."

My heart sank. I didn’t dare breathe.

Zane continued, "They claimed a woman was killed unjustly—no trial, no justification. Just slaughter. Her name, they said... was Katrina. Princess Katrina."

I blinked, confused. "Princess?"

"Yes," he nodded slowly. "Royal blood. Her death was covered up. Buried. Owen and Michael Blackthorn—Griffin’s grandfather and father—were the ones who brought this case forward. Michael accused his brother Darius Blackthorn of killing her."

I sat up straighter, the confusion churning in my mind like a storm. "Wait... what? What does this have to do with me? Why are my parents’ photos here?"

Zane reached for my hand, squeezing it gently. "I need you to breathe, sweetheart."

"I am breathing," I said, even though I wasn’t sure that was true.

"Okay," he whispered, "Okay. The king asked me to take charge of the investigation. It was supposed to be quiet—behind the scenes. So I sent Roland and Abel to Darius’s pack. To dig. To uncover the truth."

I stared at him, gripping his hand tightly.

"And they found it," he said.

There was a pause. A breath.

Then everything shattered.

"They found out that Princess Katrina... was Isla Cross."

My mother?

My entire body went cold. "What?"

"Your mother," Zane said gently. "She was royalty, Natalie. Not just by bond or prophecy... by blood. Your mother was a princess."

My breath caught. My mouth opened—but no words came.

It was like I was falling, but never hitting the ground.

"I... I... Oh mother," I whispered. "I always come through the royal family in all my lifetimes—I know that—but this time, it was so... twisted. So broken. I didn’t even think to look. Everything was just pain, running, surviving. I never imagined..."

I trailed off, unable to continue.

My hands trembled.

Tears welled in my eyes, but I didn’t let them fall.

Because I wasn’t done asking.

"Zane," I said, voice shaking now, "Why? Why would Owen and Michael Blackthorn report my mother’s death? What do they stand to gain?"

Zane’s expression darkened. He ran a hand through his hair and stood, pacing once before returning to me.

"Michael told the king," Zane said slowly, "that your mother—Princess Katrina—was his fated mate. That she went missing years ago and that he only recently learned Darius was the one who killed her."

My jaw clenched.

My entire being rebelled against that idea.

Michael Blackthorn? My mother’s mate?

"I don’t buy it," I growled. "He’s lying. He has to be. He’s trying to gain something—status, a pardon, who knows what. That snake of a family never did anything without a plan."

Zane nodded, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. "I agree. But that’s not the worst part." freeweɓnovel.cøm

I froze.

My breath hitched. Not the worst part? My entire world was already cracking like glass under a hammer. How could there possibly be more?

"What are you talking about?" I asked, my voice barely a thread. "What could be worse than learning my mother’s murder’s brother is now pretending to be her fated mate?"

Zane looked away, his jaw tight, and stood up slowly. He ran a hand through his thick hair and let out a breath that sounded like it had been locked in his lungs for years.

"Abel and Roland informed me..." he started.

I held my breath.

"They found something else. Something buried. Hidden. Natalie..." His voice dropped lower, heavier. "Your parents weren’t killed because your father failed the pack during the royal visit."

I stared at him, my pulse thundering in my ears.

"What are you saying?" I asked, blinking hard.

Zane looked at me, and I could see it in his eyes before he said it—the regret, the helplessness, the anger.

"It was deliberate," he said, voice hoarse. "The royal visit was sabotaged. Someone rigged everything to fall apart. And they put the blame on your father and murdered your family."

My world tilted. My head spun.

Sabotaged? Blamed? Murdered?

For a second, I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

Suddenly, all I could see was red.

Fury surged through my chest like wildfire, licking up my spine, making my vision tremble. I shot up from the armchair, and the sound of it scraping against the floor was like thunder.

"I know who did it," I hissed, my voice low and feral. "I know exactly who the hell did it. DARIUS! He framed my father! It’s definitely him!"

Zane’s eyes widened, and I saw him take a step toward me, but I wasn’t listening. My body buzzed with rage, my fingers curling like claws, and the room around me blurred as the urge to teleport nearly consumed me.

"I’m going to kill him, Zane," I snarled. "I swear on my life—I’m going to rip his throat out with my bare hands and watch him choke on his own blood!"

"Natalie—"

I didn’t hear him. Jasmine was roaring in my head, demanding vengeance, screaming to feel Darius’s bones crack under my hands.

My handbag slipped from my shoulder and crashed to the floor with a loud thud. I barely noticed.

Zane caught me around the waist just as I was about to disappear.

"Natalie—no! Stop!" His voice was rough, urgent, desperate.

"LET ME GO!" I thrashed in his arms, every cell in my body howling with rage. "I’m going to kill him! I have to! He took everything from me—my parents, my dignity, my childhood! And now I learn it was his plan all along?!"

His grip tightened, unrelenting. "Not like this, Nat. You’ll be doing exactly what he wants. You’ll charge in blind, fall into his trap—and die. You said it yourself—he’s backed by the god of Darkness!"

"I don’t give a damn!" I snapped, fire burning in my chest. "I’m a goddess, Zane. I have enough power in my fingertips alone to tear them apart—even if it means becoming the very nightmare the world fears."

Zane yanked me closer, his voice low and fierce. "You think that’s what your mother wanted? You think your father gave his life so you could burn everything down and become what they are? A monster?"

That stopped me.

His words hit like a slap.

My fists went limp against his chest, my breathing ragged and broken. I collapsed into him, my forehead pressing against the fabric of his shirt. I could feel the beat of his heart—fast, steady, solid.

"Breathe, sweetheart," he murmured, wrapping both arms around me. "Just breathe."

I did.

Slowly.

Painfully.

My tears didn’t fall, but my fury turned into something rawer. Something hollow.

After a long silence, I pulled back just a little, brushing my sleeve against my damp forehead.

Then my eyes flicked to the floor—and I gasped.

"My bag—!" I pushed gently out of Zane’s arms and darted toward it, snatching it off the floor like it was made of glass. "Oh no, no, no..."

I rummaged through it with shaking hands, checking everything, ignoring the bewildered stares of the three men behind me.

When I finally found what I was looking for—still intact—I let out a deep, relieved sigh. That would have been a disaster.

"Natalie?" Zane asked carefully, his brow furrowed. "Why are you... is your handbag okay?"

I turned slowly, blinking at him.

He was staring at me like I’d just announced I was going to marry the handbag.

So were Abel and Roland, both of whom were now standing a few feet away with identical expressions of What in the holy wolf is going on here?

"What?" I asked, hugging the bag tighter to me.

Zane arched an eyebrow, stepping forward cautiously like I might bolt. "You were ready to teleport into the heart of enemy territory two seconds ago, and now you’re—what? Babysitting your purse?"

I bit my lip.

This was not the moment to tell them what was in the bag.

So I did the only thing I could.

I shrugged. "It’s a very special bag?"

Roland snorted, trying to mask a laugh and failing miserably. "Is it made of dragon skin and stitched by moonlight?"

Abel didn’t joke. He just kept staring, his sharp gaze flicking between the bag and me, like he was calculating something.

Zane didn’t look amused at all.

"Natalie," he said, tone gentler now but still firm, "what’s in that bag?"

I opened my mouth—then closed it.