The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter-Chapter 195: The Unveiling

Zane~

The silence in the room was deceptive.

It wasn’t the kind of silence that brings peace—it was the kind that crackled, alive with tension and fire and something deeper. Ancient. My heart was pounding so loudly, I was sure Natalie could hear it from across the room. She stood tall, proud and ferocious, like a storm made flesh, her voice still echoing in the air like the aftermath of thunder.

"I want Darius branded," she had said. Calm, unshaking. But her words were laced with something dark, something I understood too well—vengeance wrapped in blood.

I hadn’t been able to take my eyes off her. My shy Natalie—the same girl who once stammered when asking for a glass of water, who curled up like a frightened doe when we first met—was gone. She stood before my father like a queen demanding justice, and damn it, I had never been prouder.

My father stood still, absorbing every word she said. I could see the weight of it hit him, could see the careful tightening of his jaw, the slight narrowing of his eyes. But he didn’t flinch. Instead, he bowed his head once, low and respectful.

"You will have justice," he said, his voice firm but reverent. "Darius will be branded. Traitor across his face. Murderer across his chest. And the world will know what he did."

Natalie blinked, just once. The fire in her eyes dimmed slightly, like she hadn’t expected him to agree so quickly, so easily. My father didn’t stop there.

"You gave me a gift, Natalie," he continued, lifting his gaze. "When you asked Mist to erase the memories of everyone at that ball... you spared me a humiliation I didn’t deserve to recover from. You’ve given me a chance to stand again. And I swear on my crown, I won’t waste it. You’ve reminded me of who I used to be. For that, I thank you."

The air caught in my throat. Natalie’s eyes widened, caught off guard. Even I stood a little straighter, stunned. This was a side of my father I hadn’t seen in a long, long time—not since my mother died.

"You... You don’t need to thank me," Natalie said, voice cracking slightly, her fierce mask slipping for just a heartbeat.

"Yes," he said, straighting. "I do."

Then he turned to me. The shift in his gaze felt like a spotlight hitting my chest.

"Zane," he said, and everything in me locked in place. "Since the situation has turned like this, I will go back to the ballroom... and I will announce you as my heir—officially. No more hiding. No more masks."

My throat was suddenly dry.

"After the announcement, I will see to Darius personally. He will be arrested tonight, and his pack investigated thoroughly. Anyone involved in Natalie’s torment will face the same fire she asked for."

I nodded, but my legs felt heavy. Like they’d just been chained to something ancient.

He turned back to Natalie. "Leave the matter to me, child. Rest. Be by Zane’s side. The kingdom will need its future Queen."

"Queen." Red, stirred at the word.

And then, without waiting for a reply, my father strode to the door. His hand on the handle, he glanced back at me, his face unreadable.

"Gather yourself, son," he said. "Come to the ballroom in twenty minutes."

And then he was gone.

The door clicked shut.

The silence that followed wasn’t like before. It was thicker. Heavier. My heart? It was a goddamn drum now.

I stared at the closed door for a long second. My chest rose and fell too fast. My hands were ice. Everything I had spent years hiding was about to be dragged into the light—and not just any light. Royal light. Blinding. Unforgiving.

The kingdom would know my name.

Zane Anderson Moor. The Faceless Prince no more.

I wasn’t afraid of them—not the nobles, not the public, not even the wolves who once cursed my name. What I was afraid of... was failing them. Failing her. Failing Alex. Failing myself.

What if I’m not the king they need?

What if I make the wrong call, pass the wrong judgment? What if I—

"You’re doing that thing again," Natalie said softly.

I blinked. She’d stepped closer without me noticing. Her voice was gentle, but it cut through my anxiety like a warm blade.

"What thing?" I asked, voice hoarse.

"Spiraling in your own head. Drowning in ’what-ifs.’" She placed her hand on my cheek. "You don’t need to say it. I can feel it."

"I..." I swallowed. "What if I screw this up?"

She smiled. Goddess, that smile. "Then screw it up like a king. And fix it like a man."

I stared at her. My soul needed that hug before I even knew I did.

She pulled me close, wrapping her arms around me like they were built to hold the broken pieces. I buried my face in her shoulder, taking in the scent of her hair, the warmth of her touch. She kissed my cheek, then the corner of my mouth.

"You’ll be great," she whispered. "Because you already are."

I stepped back slightly, brushing her cheek with my fingers. "You’re dangerous when you’re confident."

"Then you’re lucky you have a thing for danger."

We both laughed. The moment needed it.

She ran her hands through my hair, then murmured a word in a language I didn’t understand. Magic shimmered like soft wind around me. I looked down—my wrinkled shirt, the collar I’d tugged on nervously, my tousled black hair—all fixed, refined, regal. My ceremonial tunic gleamed silver and black, my boots polished. I looked like a prince again.

"You could’ve just told me my hair was a mess," I muttered.

She smirked. "Where’s the fun in that?"

But I wasn’t done.

"Wait here," I said and ran into my walk-in closet.

My heart was pounding again, but this time from something different—anticipation. I opened the wardrobe’s third drawer, the one no one was allowed to touch. I pulled out the dress.

It was the color of midnight skies and starlight—tailored to perfection. A ceremonial gown embroidered with the royal crest of our house: the twin moons cradled in a wolf’s howl. Flowing sleeves, elegant cuts, and soft gold threading that shimmered like firelight. I’d spent an entire week on it—the royal tailor did most of the work—Anyway, I had Roland sneak one of her dresses just to get the measurements right.

When I returned, she was sitting on the edge of my bed, brushing Alex’s hair back gently.

"Here," I said.

She turned—and froze.

"Oh my Goddess," she whispered.

I held it out, awkward suddenly, like a teenage boy with a prom corsage.

"Will you wear it?" I asked. "I want you there. Beside me. When the world finds out who I am."

Tears welled in her eyes.

"Zane..." Her voice broke, and she stood to take the dress. Her hands trembled as she touched the fabric. "This is... it’s beautiful. You... You did this for me?"

I nodded. "Of course I did. You’re my everything."

She flung her arms around me, hugging me so tightly it knocked the air from my lungs. Her tears soaked into my shirt. I didn’t care. I held her tighter.

"I’ll be waiting for you in the ballroom," I whispered into her hair. "Come out when you’re ready."

She nodded, still crying. I kissed her gently, our foreheads pressed together.

Then I turned and walked to the door, nerves knotting in my stomach.

Just as I stepped into the hallway, a familiar voice pierced my mind.

"Finally. You done playing dress-up?"

"Sebastian." I nearly groaned aloud.

"Where the hell are you?" I snapped. "You said you’d be here hours ago. I’m unraveling, Seb. I need you."

His chuckle echoed in my head.

"Relax, your royal grumpiness. I just arrived at the palace gates. Took the long way to dodge a few exes. Now breathe. I’ve got you."

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.

Sebastian was here.

The ball was about to begin.

And by the end of tonight...

The world would know my name.