The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter-Chapter 186: Unexpected Events

Darius~

I stood at the far end of the ballroom, cloaked in black and red like a war-bent shadow, trying to feign enjoyment. Danielle, hovered beside me, silent as always, though she knew better than to speak when I was this tense. My fingers wrapped tightly around the stem of my goblet as I watched the celebration unfold.

Laughter filled the air like a lie. Soft music drifted through the chandeliers, spinning noble wolves in gold-threaded gowns and silk tunics across the floor. A polished, glistening sea of faces swayed and sipped, pretending the world wasn’t crumbling outside these opulent walls. And right in the middle of it, with a crownless air that made my blood boil—

Cole Lucky.

He didn’t smile, didn’t speak. Just watched—kept watching, as if he saw every weakness before it bled.

I sipped my drink and tried to ignore the gnawing sensation building in my chest. It wasn’t envy. No, I didn’t envy Cole. I hated him. Everything about him screamed superiority, like he was born to walk over us lesser wolves.

Something was wrong tonight.

I could feel it.

My pack stood behind me—my best and most loyal—they were still as statues, but I could smell it on them. The tight scent of unease. They felt it too. Even Danielle shifted uncomfortably, her fingers brushing mine once before pulling back.

Then—

Crash.

No warning. No hesitation. Just an explosion of glass.

The ballroom’s crystalline walls shattered with a scream of wind and rage, a cyclone of razor-edged shards cascading into the air. The music died mid-note. Goblets dropped. Screams echoed across the vaulted ceiling as nobles ducked beneath tables in blind terror.

And through the chaos—like the vengeance of the gods themselves—she arrived.

Natalie.

Her silhouette cut through the settling glitter of broken glass, her feet slamming onto the marble with a force that cracked it beneath her. Like thunder. Like a curse. The impact rang through the ground, through my bones.

Her red hair was a wild storm, untamed and whipping around her blood-streaked face. Blood. On her lips. Her fingers. Smeared across her jaw like war paint. Her dress torn at the sleeves. Her eyes—

They weren’t Natalie’s.

They were a storm.

Every head in the room turned as if pulled by a divine thread.

The King rose slowly from his throne, goblet still in hand, his face caught somewhere between horror and disbelief.

Then, she smiled. freeweɓnøvel.com

Wild. Wrathful. Radiant.

"Hello, Your Majesty," she purred, voice dripping honey and venom. "Miss me?"

Gasps burst from the crowd. My own breath lodged in my throat. I turned toward my pack, blinking hard, thinking maybe—maybe—I had finally gone mad.

"Tell me," I hissed low, "am I seeing things?"

Danielle didn’t answer. She just stared, pale as moonlight.

"Is that—" My voice cracked, a rare thing. "Is that Natalie?"

"Yes, Alpha," muttered one of my warriors, eyes wide. "It looks like her."

"She looks like she’s murdered a thousand people..." another whispered.

"And walked through fire to do it," someone else added.

What the hell was happening?

The King looked like he’d seen a ghost. His jaw tightened, goblet still frozen in his grasp. He squared his shoulders finally, the weight of the crown pushing him to command again.

"What is the meaning of this?" he barked, forcing authority into his voice. "Have you lost your mind, girl?"

Natalie laughed.

But it wasn’t her laugh.

It echoed—no, it reverberated off the ballroom walls, distorting in ways that no mortal voice should. Every single person in the room whimpered or flinched. Even Danielle gasped and grabbed my arm.

The air chilled. The very walls seemed to exhale frost.

This wasn’t the scared, wolfless girl I’d marked like property and cast aside years ago.

No. This was something else.

"You dare ask me that?" Natalie hissed, her voice still half-laughter, half-nightmare. "You dare, after what you did?"

"W-What did he do?" I mumbled, more to myself.

"I should rip your damn crown off and shove it down your throat," Natalie spat. "You sent men after me. Your pathetic hounds." Her voice trembled with wrath. "And they stabbed my son."

A stillness fell over the room like death.

I blinked. "Her... son?"

Cole Lucky stood off to the side, shadowed in the corner of the ballroom—motionless, composed, and frustratingly unreadable. He didn’t move to stop her. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.

He just watched her.

Like he knew.

Not just what she was going to do. No—like he’d seen it all before. Like the chaos unfolding around us had been quietly inevitable.

Then the guards stormed in.

Twenty of them. Clad in ceremonial silver armor that gleamed under the shattered chandeliers, they surged into the ballroom like a crashing tide. Blades drawn. Rune-lit palms glowing with authority and fear.

"Stand down!" one barked, his voice sharp with command.

Natalie didn’t even look at him.

She raised a hand.

Just one.

And they dropped.

All of them.

Like strings had been cut. Bodies thudding against marble like sacks of wheat. Not dead, no. Their hearts still beat—but there was no breath. No twitch. No whisper of consciousness.

Just silence.

Utter, terrifying silence.

I blinked. My throat was dry.

"What in the hells is she?" I whispered.

Danielle’s fingers dug into my arm, her voice barely audible. "She’s... powerful."

Understatement of the century.

Natalie took a step forward. Then another.

Each one sent a subtle tremor through the floor, like the palace itself was holding its breath.

Her eyes locked on the King.

And gods help him—he looked shaken. The goblet in his hand had been discarded. Sweat beaded along his temple, and yet he stood his ground... barely.

"Answer me," she roared, her voice thunderous, layered with something ancient. "Before I lose my temper."

The words echoed—no, rattled—off the ballroom walls.

Every soul in the room flinched.

The King’s lips parted. But no words came. His mouth opened and closed again before a hoarse whisper finally slipped out.

"I... I didn’t mean to hurt him," he said, his voice cracking under the weight of her fury. "I didn’t know they’d go that far. Natalie... he’s my grandson."

A collective gasp tore through the crowd like wind through dry leaves.

The King had a grandson?

And then—

The math hit me like a thunderclap.

Natalie. The boy. The King’s son...

"Wait," I muttered. "That means Cole—Cole Lucky—is the father? Could he be the Faceless Prince?"

Danielle’s eyes widened beside me. "Cole," she whispered "isn’t he the one dating Natalie? Does that mean he’s royalty?"

Gasps exploded across the ballroom like fireworks. Nobles murmured behind trembling fans. Even the high-ranking generals looked dazed.

"The King’s heir had a child with this woman? Who is she?" People asked all around.

The irony tasted bitter in my mouth.

Then more guards poured in—thirty this time. They circled Natalie like wolves thinking they’d cornered a lamb.

But this wasn’t a lamb.

Natalie didn’t flinch. Didn’t so much as glance at them.

She raised her hand—

Snap.

Sleep.

All of them collapsed.

Same eerie stillness.

Same terrifying stillness.

No blood. No breath.

But their hearts still beat in quiet defiance.

Danielle tightened her grip on me, her nails digging through my suit.

"She’s not wolfless," she whispered. "Not anymore. She’s... something else. Something holy. Or maybe unholy."

Natalie raised her hand again—but this time, not toward the guards.

The King gasped.

And then—he rose.

Lifted off the ground like a puppet yanked by invisible strings. His feet dangled helplessly. His hands clawed at his throat, breath caught in something we couldn’t see.

He was choking.

Not from pressure.

From fear.

The nobles shrieked. The generals surged forward—but none dared get too close. They’d seen what happened to the others.

Natalie’s voice dropped. Low. Ferocious. Wolf and goddess twined together.

"You stabbed my child," she growled, eyes blazing silver. "Do you really think I’m going to let you walk away from that?"

And then—

He moved.

Cole Lucky.

No longer hidden in the shadows. He took one calm, deliberate step toward her.

Not rushing. Not shouting.

Just... present.

Natalie whirled toward him, power crackling along her skin like a living storm. Her hand surged upward, a spear of silver-blue light flaring to life.

"Don’t—" she started, voice climbing into warning.

But then—

She saw him.

Her hand trembled.

Her voice broke.

"...Zane."

And just like that, the storm paused.

No one breathed.

No one moved.

Even the walls seemed to hold still.

Cole stood there. No armor. No defenses. Just him. Silent. Unshaken.

Natalie didn’t lower her hand.

But she didn’t strike.

She could have.

We all knew it.

She could’ve turned the King into ash, buried this palace, and crowned herself goddess of fire and ruin—and none of us could have stopped her.

But she didn’t.

Because of him.

Because of Cole.

And the look on her face—raw, torn, uncertain—was more frightening than any power she’d unleashed tonight.

The silence stretched on, thick and waiting.

Something was coming.

Something more.