The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter-Chapter 149: Change of Plans

Zane~

The smell of blood still clung to the air. Metallic and Unforgiving.

It was in my hair, under my nails, pressed into every inch of skin. The bodies of our enemies lay in contorted heaps across the marble floor, their twisted limbs a grim reminder of what just happened.

My father had shifted back into human form, yet he looked anything but calm. His robe, hastily thrown over his massive frame, did little to hide the fury vibrating from every inch of him.

He paced like a caged beast, bloodied footsteps leaving dark prints against the pristine white marble. His yellow eyes which indicated that his wolf was still very present, were burning with rage—sharp, feral, and deeply personal.

"DARIUS," he spat the name like venom. "That flea-ridden mongrel dared to attack me? In my palace?"

His voice thundered through the room, and I swore the walls trembled. Abel and Roland stood near the edge of the throne room, completely silent, eyes cast downward. They knew better than to interrupt a storm mid-rage.

I tried to speak, to soothe, but my father raised his hand, silencing me with nothing but a growl. He turned, teeth bared, fangs peeking through. Even in human form, he was terrifying.

And still, through the haze of bloodlust and fury, Natalie stood near the door, quiet and still. She hadn’t moved an inch. Her arms were crossed, her blue eyes flickering with a strange mixture of amusement and something else... something darker.

But my father hadn’t noticed her yet. Not with his rage blinding him.

His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his own palms. "Darius didn’t act alone," he hissed. "No mutt like him could organize an assassination attempt inside my throne room without help from someone inside."

Then he said it.

"Nathan," he growled, pacing again. "That treacherous bastard. I bet he still has rats running around my palace."

"I thought so as well." I said softly, stepping closer. My voice low but it carried and edge of anger.

My father whirled around to face me. "Nathan," he snapped. "You think I’m going to let you get your way just like last time? What a joke!"

The air turned heavier, thicker.

"I’m going to stomp out Darius," the King snarled. "Him. His pack. The entire Silverfang bloodline—I’ll erase them from the werewolf world. Like they never existed."

I swallowed hard. "Dad—"

"No! No more patience. No more watching from shadows. They want war? I’ll give them war."

I took a slow step forward. "We need to be strategic."

"Strategic?" he barked a laugh, bitter and sharp. "You think I’ve ruled this long by being impulsive? I’m angry, not stupid."

He exhaled hard through his nose and rubbed a trembling hand over his jaw. Then, as if remembering something, his eyes flicked to mine.

His voice dropped, lower now. Dangerous.

"What about Katrina?" he asked, his voice slicing through the thick silence.

Her name landed like a guillotine in the blood-slicked throne room, sharp and final.

I let out a slow breath. "I looked into her."

His gaze narrowed, sharp enough to cut glass. "And?" freewebnσvel.cøm

"I’ve got proof," I said, stepping forward, the sound of blood squelching under my boots filling the hush. "She didn’t just die. She was executed. Alongside her chosen mate—and anyone who tried to stand in the way. Friends. Allies. Collateral."

His face didn’t shift, not a twitch. But his eyes—the way they flickered, calculating, connecting dots like puzzle pieces—told me everything.

"Abel and Roland gave me what we needed," I continued. "Documents, voice recordings. Even letters. Smuggled out of the pack when it all went down."

Still, he said nothing. Just turned to the tall window, framed in cracked gold and old shadows. Then slowly, he pivoted back to me.

"Children?"

I nodded once. "She had a daughter."

Something changed in his expression—not surprise. Something colder. More deliberate.

Then, the smile came.

Not warm. Not soft. Just... lethal.

"Bring her to me," he said, each word crystal-cut and final.

I blinked, unsure. "You want to see her?"

"I want to know her," he said. "Her blood. Her truth. Her eyes. If she’s Katrina’s daughter, I have to see her."

I glanced at Natalie, standing off to the side, silent as ever. Her face was unreadable, untouched by the weight of his words. As if none of this phased her.

"I’ll handle it," I said carefully. "But I’ll need time."

"You don’t have time." His voice cracked through the air like thunder. "None of us do. Not anymore."

He stepped away from the window and started toward me. The marble floor groaned faintly beneath his feet, smeared with drying blood. A trail. A warning.

"This attack tonight," he said, eerily calm, "rewrote everything. If Darius and Nathan had landed their strike—if I’d been just a second too slow—"

He didn’t finish.

Didn’t need to.

Instead, he looked out again at the darkened courtyard, where moonlight painted shadows in blue and silver.

"I’m moving up the Royal Ball."

I frowned. "Wait—what?"

"Two days," he said. "Let the court drink. Let the wolves dance. Let the traitors toast under chandeliers... and I’ll be waiting. When they gather, thinking they’ve won, I’ll strike. All masks will come off at the ball, Zane."

My heart pounded.

"You’re doing this... in case—"

"In case I die," he said, without hesitation.

The words slapped the air out of my lungs.

He kept going, steady, unshaken.

"I’m not planning to fall, but I’m not arrogant enough to pretend I can’t. If I go down, the kingdom needs clarity. It needs strength. And you, my son..."

He turned again, eyes on mine. This time, there was a softness to them—barely there, but real.

"You need to be ready to wear the crown."

I looked away. The weight of it crushed my chest. "Dad, I’m not ready."

He let out a breath that might’ve been a laugh, might’ve been regret.

"I didn’t ask if you’re ready," he said, smirking faintly. "I said you need to be. Because when the time comes, it won’t wait for you to catch up."

Then—all of a sudden, we heard soft laughter, from behind.

Natalie.

I hadn’t even noticed her move.

She was no longer by the door. She leaned lazily against one of the columns now, the sunlight catching her long red hair like a curtain of fire. Arms folded, expression amused.

"I always love when you get all dramatic," she said with a crooked smile.

I rolled my eyes. "You’re really not helping right now."

She shrugged and strolled closer, the sound of her heels echoing softly.

"I’m just saying, if you’re about to become a recognized prince in two days, you should probably consider a wardrobe upgrade. Your current vibe screams ’I don’t even like birthday parties.’"

My father raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained.

His gaze flicked to her, curious.

"Who is she?"