The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter-Chapter 222: Chill in the Shadows

Natalie~

The chill hadn’t left my skin. It clung to me like an unwanted second layer, wrapping around my bones with invisible fingers. I stared at the ceiling, too stiff to move, my breath shallow, heart racing like it was trying to flee my chest.

How?

How the hell did she get in?

This house was protected. Not just by simple werewolf runes or a half-baked enchantment from some backwoods witch. No—Tiger had reinforced every inch of it with celestial wards. Jacob and I had etched protective sigils across the thresholds. Even Fox had sealed the place with his fire magic, just to be extra annoying about it. There was no way—no way—Kalmia should’ve been able to get through.

And yet... she had.

The darkness had slithered into our sanctuary like smoke under a door. I could feel it, still tingling along my spine.

Zane stirred behind me, his voice groggy but instantly alert. "Natalie?"

I didn’t answer at first. My lips were parted, but nothing came out. I turned slowly to look at him—his obsidian eyes now sharp, glowing faintly red under the soft light of the bedside lamp.

"You screamed," he said, sitting up fully now, muscles tense and coiled beneath his sleep shirt. "What happened?"

"She was here." My voice cracked. "Zane... she was just in this room."

His expression hardened like a sheet of ice freezing over a lake. "Who?"

"Kalmia." I swallowed, pushing myself up against the headboard. "She was in the dream, but it wasn’t just a dream. She tried to... to touch me. To take something from me. I don’t know what, but—Zane, the air—it’s still cold. That’s not normal."

He didn’t question it. Not for a second. His instincts kicked in immediately. He moved like a shadow, silent and predatory, scanning every corner of the room with his wolf senses wide open. Red was close to the surface. I could feel it radiating off him like heat before a wildfire.

"You’re absolutely sure?" he asked, voice low, deadly calm.

"Yes," I breathed. "That chill? It’s her. Jasmine felt it too."

"She tried to push us out," Jasmine’s voice echoed in my head, laced with fury and disgust. "I don’t know how, but I felt her digging around inside our body—like she was trying to yank our soul out by its roots."

"I felt it too," I murmured aloud. "But it didn’t work. Whatever game she’s playing, I’m not going to be her pawn."

Zane looked at me then—really looked at me—and something in his eyes softened. Still intense, still protective, but proud. "What do you want to do?" he asked. "Should we call Jacob?"

I shook my head. "No. If Kalmia wants to pick a fight, then she’s picked the wrong damn girl. I’m not afraid of her. She’s a third-rate demon with a good makeup routine."

"Burn," Jasmine giggled.

"What bothers me more," I continued, pushing the covers off me, "is how she got in. I’m going to reinforce every ward, every sigil, every celestial boundary. She breaks through again, and I’ll send her back to the hell-hole she crawled out of."

Zane’s lips curved into a faint smirk. "There’s my feisty girl."

I closed my eyes, reaching deep inside, calling on the ancient light that burned in my chest. My celestial magic pulsed through me like starlight being squeezed through mortal veins. The room glowed as I whispered in a tongue no human—or werewolf—could understand. Symbols appeared like fireflies in the air, dancing and latching to the walls, the windows, the doorframes.

Fox would’ve teased me for making it too sparkly.

When it was done, the entire house shimmered for a second—just a flicker—before the glow faded. Jasmine hummed inside me, pleased.

"That should hold," I said, finally crawling back into bed.

Zane was already waiting, arms open. I curled into his chest, pressing my ear to the rhythmic beat of his heart.

"I swear," he whispered into my hair, "I always feel the safest when I’m with you. You don’t even need Jacob or the others. You make me feel like I could sleep through a war."

"You’d snore through a war," I mumbled, grinning.

He chuckled low, wrapping me tighter. "I’m serious. You’re terrifying... and perfect."

I sighed contentedly, the warmth of him washing the cold away. Sleep came slower this time, but when it did, it was peaceful. No shadows. No demons. Just the steady rise and fall of his chest and Jasmine’s sleepy sass in the back of my mind.

********

Morning came with a sliver of golden light peeking through the curtains and the smell of something mouth-wateringly delicious wafting from the kitchen.

Fox.

I stretched, then immediately rolled into Zane, who groaned and pulled me back under the covers.

"I smell pancakes," I whispered.

"I smell you," he murmured into my neck. "And you win."

I laughed and smacked his chest lightly. "Come on, lazy prince. Let’s go before your son eats everything."

Sure enough, in the kitchen, Fox stood flipping pancakes with one hand while levitating coffee cups with the other. His hair was tied in a messy knot, and he wore an apron that read "Kiss the Chef or Else".

"Morning, lovebirds," he greeted us with a grin. "Breakfast is served. Hope you like your pancakes golden, fluffy, and potentially enchanted."

There were only a handful of us around today—Zane, Alex, Fox, Griffin, and me. Jacob and Easter were still with Tiger. Bubble had vanished again, no surprise there—off doing whatever secretive water spirit stuff he’s always up to. And Eagle? Last I heard, he’d teleported back to Paris and picked up right where he left off—making Nora and Charlie’s lives a living nightmare exactly the way I asked him to.

Alexander was already at the table, syrup smeared across his cheek. "Mommy, Natalie! You’re up! Where’s Rose? And Auntie Easter?"

My smile faltered for a split second. I knelt beside him. "They had to go on a little trip, sweet pea. But they’ll be back soon, I promise."

Guilt knifed through my chest. I hadn’t stopped thinking about Easter. About how I risked her mental health and that of her daughter’s... about how I hadn’t protected her.

Fox shot me a knowing look as he set a stack of pancakes down. "No brooding allowed at the breakfast table, Natalie."

Zane took his seat at the head of the table beside Alexander and began helping him pour juice. I sat next to Fox, across from the empty chair that should’ve been occupied by Griffin.

"Griffin’s not down yet?" I asked, glancing toward the hallway.

Fox shook his head. "He’s probably still knocked out from yesterday. Can’t blame him."

I let out a guilty sigh.

"Let me go check," I said, starting to push my chair back.

"I’ll go," Fox offered, already standing. "Maybe he needs a motivational kick in the—"

He didn’t get to finish.

Because that’s when Griffin stumbled into the room.

And everything stopped.

Blood. freēwēbηovel.c૦m

So much blood.

It soaked through his shirt, smeared across his lips, and dripped from his trembling fingers. He looked pale—ashen—his eyes wild and unfocused as if he couldn’t see us, even though we were right there.

"Griffin?" I whispered, heart stalling in my chest.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but only a choked gurgle came out.

Then he collapsed.

Right there. In front of us all.

Face-first.

Unmoving.

The plate of pancakes shattered on the floor. Alex screamed. Zane vaulted over the table in a blur. I dropped to my knees, hands already glowing, trying to find a pulse.

There was one. Weak. Fading.

But it was there.

"Fox!" I barked. "Get me towels. Water. Anything—now!"

Fox was already moving, a blur of red fire and shock

Zane had Griffin in his arms, holding him gently like he was made of glass. "What the hell happened to him?"

I looked up at Zane, my hands stained crimson, heart racing with fury and dread.

"I don’t know," I said.

But deep inside me, Jasmine was growling.

"This isn’t random. This is a message."

And I believed her.

Because something dark had begun to unravel.

And whatever it was...

It had just arrived at our doorstep.