The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter-Chapter 169: Three Hours

Natalie’s POV

The moment the door slammed shut behind Zane, it was like the sound punched the breath right out of my lungs.

I stood there frozen, staring at the space where he had just stood, heart cracking open, my soul screaming louder than I could bear. My legs gave out beneath me, and I collapsed onto the couch, burying my face into my hands as the tears came—hot, angry, messy. And loud.

"I messed everything up," I sobbed, my voice barely recognizable. "Gods, I messed it all up."

Fox was by my side before I could fall any further. His arms slid around me, warm and firm, pulling me into the safest thing I had left in that moment—his embrace. I gripped his shirt like it was the only thing keeping me afloat, and he let me cry, not saying a word at first.

Then finally, softly, he whispered, "It’s not your fault, Firefly."

I hiccupped. "It is. It is my fault. I should’ve told him. I should’ve looked him in the eyes and told him about Griffin the moment it happened, but I didn’t. I waited too long. I got scared, and now—now he thinks I betrayed him."

Fox tilted my face gently to his, golden eyes glowing with warmth and defiance. "Zane’s in love with you, Nat. Not like puppy-crush or just a bond love. That man would burn the world for you. You know that. You have lived too many lifetimes together not to know that. He’s just angry because he cares so much. He’ll come back."

I shook my head, wiping my tears but more just took their place. "But he looked so... broken. Like I’d ripped out his heart with my bare hands."

The room stayed silent save for my sobs—until the front door creaked open again.

I didn’t even lift my head.

A deep, calm voice broke the quiet. "What happened?"

I blinked through the blur of tears and turned.

Tiger. freewёbnoνel.com

He stood in the doorway with the grace of something ancient and wild. His hair was tousled, his green eyes were calm but observant, carrying the scent of forest and fresh soil with him. His shoulders were still damp from morning dew—he must’ve just returned from his earth duties.

But then his gaze dropped.

Right to the mess on the floor.

To Griffin Blackthorn, unconscious. Lying like a sack of regret in a pool of his own piss.

Tiger’s brows lifted just a little. No disgust. No surprise. Just a small, resigned shake of his head.

Typical.

But the moment his gaze flicked back to me, something changed. His eyes widened just a little. He saw Fox holding me like I might shatter, saw my tears still falling, my hands trembling.

He was across the room in an instant.

"Little moon?" Tiger crouched before me, his voice uncharacteristically soft, panic tucked into every syllable. "What’s wrong? Did someone hurt you? Did he—" His head snapped toward Griffin.

"No, no, no..." I shook my head furiously, grabbing his hand. "It wasn’t him. It’s Zane. He—he found out about Griffin. I didn’t tell him fast enough and now he’s angry. I—I think I broke him, Tiger."

Tiger’s brow furrowed, then relaxed. He gave a silent nod—then looked toward Fox, who gave him a brief but heavy look.

Their eyes locked.

Fox must’ve mind-linked him a summary.

Because the very next moment, Tiger leaned in and wrapped both arms around me, pulling me into a protective, warm cocoon. "Don’t cry, little moon," he whispered into my hair. "He’ll come back. Zane is yours. That man is too far gone for you."

I let out another sob, and Tiger only held me tighter.

"He’ll forgive you. You’re his home."

Fox chuckled faintly. "Told you. Man’s so whipped."

We stayed like that for a while. Me sandwiched between my fire spirit and earth spirit brothers, trying to piece myself back together while feeling like a complete disaster.

Then we all pulled back, still sniffling, laughing weakly through the pain.

Tiger turned toward Griffin again and exhaled like the situation personally exhausted him. "I’ll clean that up."

"Thank you," I murmured, still leaning against Fox, who rubbed soothing circles on my back.

Tiger walked over to Griffin and raised his hand. A soft green glow shimmered across the room, and just like that, the mess—that mess—was gone.

Then Tiger knelt and placed a hand over Griffin’s chest. Vines of energy spiraled outward from his fingers, wrapping around Griffin’s body like a cradle of life.

Griffin jolted.

He gasped sharply, his eyes wide and wild. He blinked, sat up fast—too fast—and looked around.

The moment our eyes met, something flickered inside him. Recognition. Shame. Then pure, undiluted horror.

"Griffin?" I asked softly, trying to push myself up. "Are you okay?"

He didn’t answer.

Didn’t even look at me.

He scrambled to his feet and ran—bolted like a wounded animal—straight toward the guest room.

The door slammed shut.

And didn’t open again.

I stared after him for a long moment, but I couldn’t feel anything for him. Not now. Not when the one man who held my heart had just walked out feeling betrayed.

Time passed slowly after that. Too slowly.

I stood near the clock, my arms folded tightly around myself, watching the seconds tick by like drops of water from a leaking faucet. Each minute dragged like it was mocking me. Each second stretched, heavier than the last.

Three hours.

He said he needed three hours.

Please, Mother, please...

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. "Please bring him back to me," I whispered under my breath. "Please don’t let this be the last time I see him walk out that door."

Please.

Jasmine, stirred softly in my head. "Don’t worry, Mara. He’ll come back. Zane loves us. He’s just hurt. Give him time."

"But what if he doesn’t come back?" I whispered back.

"That’s just your fear talking. He will, she insisted gently. He will."

Three hours came.

And went.

Still no Zane.

My panic swelled. "He’s thirty minutes late, Jasmine."

Jasmine, who had been the picture of calm just forty minutes ago, suddenly sounded like she’d been guzzling espresso and watching a soap opera.

"Okay, but like... where is he though?" she blurted in my head, her voice a pitch higher than usual. "It’s been over three hours! What if he got into an accident? What if he ran away to start a new life as a forest hermit? What if—oh my goddess—he met some beautiful she-wolf at a bar and she laughs at his sarcastic jokes and doesn’t keep huge secrets from him and now they’re soul bonding over tequila shots?!"

I blinked. "Jasmine, a while ago you said everything was going to be fine."

"Yeah, well, a while ago I wasn’t living in a Zane-less reality! Don’t judge me, I’m panicking." she snapped.

I nearly facepalmed, pacing the living room like a woman possessed. "You’re not helping."

"I was helping. But now I’m spiraling, and I need you to spiral with me so we can be emotionally unhinged together," she said dramatically.

I rolled my eyes, but my heart was thumping. "I need to find him. I have to go—"

Tiger’s hand wrapped around my wrist, steady and grounding. "No. Don’t panic. Breathe. Use your power."

"My what?"

"Your celestial sense. You’re more than just a wolf Nat," he said calmly. "Feel him."

I closed my eyes, forcing the tremble from my limbs, reaching inward.

And there he was.

A thread of silver light glowing faintly in my chest.

He was coming home.

"He’s close," I gasped. "He’s almost here."

I didn’t wait.

Didn’t even think.

I ran barefoot across the porch, heart slamming into my ribs like it was trying to escape.

Zane hadn’t even finished pulling into the driveway when I reached him.

I flung myself at him, crying so hard I could barely breathe.

"I’m sorry," I choked out as I crashed into his chest. "Zane, I’m so sorry. I should’ve told you. I was scared and stupid and I’ll never lie to you again—I swear—please, don’t leave me—"

His arms were around me in a heartbeat, lifting me like I weighed nothing.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, legs around his waist, clinging to him like a scared child.

He didn’t say anything.

Just held me.

Tight.

As if he’d never let go again.

He walked straight into the house, his jaw set, his gaze stormy and unreadable. But his arms around me... they were tender.

Possessive.

Forgiving.

He carried me up the stairs, past the others, past the pain, into the privacy of our room.

He kicked the door shut behind us.

And then his lips were on mine—urgent, hungry, angry, aching.

His mouth devoured me, and I surrendered to him completely. To the taste of him, the scent of him, the feel of him.

To the love we almost lost but refused to let go.

His kisses trailed down my jaw, my throat, collarbone—like he was branding me again, claiming me all over.

"You’re mine," he growled into my skin.

"I’ve always been yours," I whispered back, trembling.