The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter-Chapter 184: Royal Ball Night

Darius~

I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the cuffs of my black embroidered tunic, the golden accents glinting in the soft light of the chandelier. My reflection stared back—stern, brooding, tired. I barely recognized the man I used to be. My hands tightened into fists at my side. I still had power. I still had control. But lately... lately it felt like it was all slipping away.

"Danielle!" I barked, my voice echoing through the room. Having a useless mate like her was also part of my problems.

She appeared almost instantly, flinching as she stepped through the door. "Yes, Darius?"

"I don’t want any of you embarrassing me tonight," I snapped. "The royal ball is not a damn street carnival. You’ll make sure the pack members I handpicked are on their best behavior, or so help me, Danielle—"

"I understand," she said quickly, eyes lowered. "I’ll take care of it."

"You better," I growled, returning to my reflection. "I don’t need the king—or anyone else—looking down on us like we’re savages."

She hesitated at the door, lips parted like she wanted to say something, but then she thought better of it and quietly left.

Good. At least someone still knew how to follow orders.

But the second the door clicked shut, the silence swallowed me whole. My thoughts, once sharp and sure, now churned with doubt and fury. It all started three months ago.

That cursed day.

I was in this very room when Prince Nathan—King Anderson’s own brother—walked into my pack house with a man called Dexter. I knew right away that Dexter wasn’t normal. There was something off about him—something... monstrous. He looked like a man who enjoyed cutting people open just to see what they looked like inside.

"Darius," Nathan had said, seating himself like he owned the place. "We have a proposal for you."

They wanted the king dead.

At first, I laughed. Thought it was a joke. But when I saw the seriousness in Nathan’s eyes—and the gleam of murder in Dexter’s—I knew they meant every word. Nathan was sick of being in his brother’s shadow, and Dexter... well, I don’t think he cared who ruled as long as there was blood to be spilled.

In that moment, it all came rushing back—the way the crown turned its back on us after the last royal visit. We pleaded for help, begged for aid, and got nothing but silence in return. No support. No respect. Just enemies creeping in from the shadows while we fought to survive alone. So when they came with talk of a coup, offering power, resources, new beginning for Silverfang, it was easy—too easy—to say yes to their little plan.

For three months, we plotted. Every single detail.

And then... came him. Garrick.

The man strolled into my pack lands like he owned the place, and with him came her. Natalie.

She had changed—undeniably, irrevocably. She moved like a queen now, untouchable and fierce. Her gaze no longer dropped beneath mine; she held it, steady and unafraid. My voice didn’t shake her anymore. But the worst part? The impossible part, the part that tore through me like a bullet—

She didn’t carry my mark.

Her scent was no longer mine.

It was his. Alpha Cole Lucky. That smug bastard.

I was livid.

I wanted to rip that scent off her. Remind her who claimed her first. Who owned her. freёweɓnovel.com

But I couldn’t. Because standing beside her was that strange man Garrick, who claimed to be the king’s advisor—and worse, who held the royal scepter in his hands. I remember how my heart pounded the moment I saw that golden staff. It hummed with power.

And Garrick... the bastard toyed with me.

"I want in," he said smoothly. "I’ve grown tired of the king’s rule. Let’s finish what you started, Alpha."

He didn’t stay long. Answered none of my questions. Left with Natalie, just like that. Vanished.

But I noticed something else too—Dexter had been in the room that day. Or at least... he was supposed to be. Just before Garrick and Natalie entered, Dexter looked at me with those eerie eyes and whispered, "I’ll still be here. Just... not where they can see me." Then, he vanished into thin air.

I don’t know how. I don’t know what he is. But I know he was there, watching every moment.

After that day, nothing made sense. Nathan stopped responding. Dexter ghosted me. And Garrick? Gone. It was like I’d been tested—and failed. Like they never truly meant to include me.

I clenched my jaw, snapping out of the memory for a few seconds before diving back in.

I needed to prove myself.

So I sent a team—my best wolves—to the palace. Their mission? Kill the king. Quick. Efficient. Bloody.

None returned.

No word. No bodies. Just... silence.

I should’ve backed down then. Should’ve stopped. But my pride wouldn’t let me. I needed them to see. Nathan. Dexter. Garrick. Even Natalie. I needed them to fear me again.

And then came the invitation.

The king—the king—personally invited me and my pack to the royal ball. He even requested my presence.

At first, I was certain he’d found out. Maybe he knew about the coup. About the attack. Maybe it was a trap.

But the longer I thought about it, the more I convinced myself: If he knew, I’d be dead already. Or rotting in a cell. Not being sent fancy invitations.

This was a second chance.

An opportunity to win favor. To restore my pack’s reputation. To get close to the throne.

And maybe... just maybe... I could get Natalie back.

With the king’s influence, I could break whatever bond she had with Cole Lucky. Remind her where she truly belonged. With me.

I smirked at my reflection in the mirror. "Tonight," I whispered, straightening my collar, "we begin again."

By the time we arrived at the palace, the sun had long set and the entire place glittered like something out of a dream. Marble columns. Gold-dusted staircases. Hundreds of werewolves and other supernaturals mingling beneath a ceiling painted with stars.

The thirty pack members I selected stood behind me—polished, silent, obedient. Danielle beside me, not daring to speak.

We walked in, heads high.

And that’s when I saw him.

Cole Lucky.

He stood there in finely tailored ceremonial robes that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. The fabric shimmered subtly under the grand lights of the hall, and the way he held himself—you’d think he was born to guard kingdoms and command armies. His presence was calm, confident, and annoyingly magnetic.

He looked like he was searching for something—or someone. His eyes scanned the room with quiet intensity, like he was waiting for a cue only he could recognize. The way he stood there, right in the middle of the room, so calm, so sure of himself—it was like the palace had been built around him. Like he belonged there more than anyone else ever could. That quiet arrogance in his posture, the way his shoulders were relaxed like royalty had always been stitched into his skin—it set something off inside me.

A hot surge of fury rose in my chest, fast and unforgiving. It clenched tight, like a vice made of fire, until it felt like my ribs might snap from the pressure. I wasn’t just angry—I was unraveling, bit by bit, just from the sight of him acting like the palace was his rightful place.

Then, he turned toward the king—seated on his ornate throne, regal and composed. For a moment, a wordless exchange passed between them. No nods. No gestures. Just... understanding. That made it worse.

I clenched my jaw and swallowed the fury bubbling inside me.

Something in the air shifted, subtle but real. My instincts prickled with warning. Whatever this night was meant to be, it was changing fast. I couldn’t explain it, but I could feel it in my bones.

Something was coming.

And the night had only just begun.