The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter Chapter 122: The Real Cassandra

Sebastian~

Six Hours Earlier

I sat alone, fingers drumming against my knee, dressed in my favorite black three-piece suit—silk lapels, gold cufflinks, not a wrinkle in sight. Still, I felt like a wreck inside.

I had barely touched the blood in the crystal glass beside . Vintage AB-negative, imported straight from our labs in the Alps. Smooth, sweet, with a hint of spice. It tasted like ash on my tongue.

Luca and Alia were still out searching. Every second that passed without news tightened the vice in my chest. Cassandra—no, Brielle—was still out there. And if she really was her, then everything I thought I knew was about to collapse like a bad soufflé.

The lounge was deathly quiet—until a soft, almost apologetic knock disrupted the silence.

I straightened in my seat, brows furrowing. That wasn’t the knock of soone eager. It was hesitant, uncertain. "Enter," I called, voice smooth, steady. Not a trace of the storm swirling beneath my surface.

The door creaked open and three vampires stepped in. Two young won, couldn’t be more than a hundred years old, probably turned around the sa ti. Their blonde curls and wide, terrified eyes practically scread fledgling. The man with them was older—at least three centuries—gray in the beard, shoulders squared with the confidence of soone who’d survived more than his fair share of bloodbaths.

All three bowed low. "Lord Sebastian," the man greeted respectfully, voice gravelly.

I gave them a slow nod. "Speak."

The older man stepped forward, his hand brushing the back of one of the girls in a reassuring gesture. "Forgive us, my lord. We heard you were here. And we heard you’re searching for... the vampire hunter. Cassandra."

The na cracked through the air like lightning. I didn’t move. Didn’t blink. But every nerve in my body stood on end. My instincts, honed through centuries of survival and betrayal, scread.

I raised an eyebrow, swirling the blood in my glass like it was brandy. "And what interest do you have in the vampire hunter?"

The man’s jaw tightened. "She’s taken everything from us."

"Please," one of the young won stepped forward, her voice trembling. "My sister... my twin, Layla. We were turned together. We hunted together. Slept in the sa crypt. Cassandra tore her apart in front of . Said we were unlucky to be what we were. But Layla hadn’t done anything wrong—she only fed from the willing."

"She took my fiancé," the second girl said. "Devon. He was only ninety. He was gentle. He wanted to open a blood-wine vineyard. He didn’t even fight back when she ca for him. She just... she just looked at and smiled as she ripped out his heart."

The man’s voice broke as he spoke next. "And my son, Xander. He was only turned a decade ago. Still didn’t know how to cover his scent properly. She hunted him like an animal. Sent his ashes back to our estate in a box marked ’No gods will save you.’" His eyes burned with rage. "We want justice, my lord."

I sat frozen. Their faces—all contorted with pain, with desperation—blurred into a single question I didn’t want to answer: Was I protecting the monster they spoke of?

Was Brielle... really Cassandra?

Alia and Luca had both sworn it. Sworn on their lives. That the girl who filled my dreams with her voice, the mate given to —

Could she really be the sa creature who’d butchered these people’s loved ones?

My throat tightened. Still, I offered a smile. Charming. asured. "Your pain is valid. And your losses, unforgivable."

"Then you’ll help us?" one of the girls asked, eyes wet with tears. "You’ll find her? You’ll—"

"I will look into the matter," I said carefully, every word a weight on my tongue. "And I promise to bring you so form of closure."

The three of them dropped to their knees as if I’d just offered salvation. "Thank you, Lord Sebastian. Thank you," they murmured.

"Go now," I said gently. "You’ve done enough. Rest. I’ll do what needs to be done."

They rose, bowed once more, and quietly exited the lounge.

The mont the door clicked shut, the mask I’d worn cracked. My hand trembled as I reached for the blood glass, downing it in one go. It burned like guilt all the way down.

"Damn you, Cassandra," I whispered.

Or was it Brielle?

Was this so cruel twist of fate? That the one person who’d made my ancient, jaded heart beat again was the very person everyone wanted dead? The one person I should want dead?

I slamd the glass onto the table and stood, pacing the room like a caged animal. "Why couldn’t she have just been a runaway barista or sothing? Why this?" I muttered. "Out of all the people in this damn world, why did you have to be my mate?"

I chuckled bitterly and dragged a hand through my hair. Why couldn’t my life be easy for once? Why did I still want her despite everything I had just been told? Damn. I wanted her. I wanted her sarcasm, her fire, her refusal to laugh at my terrible puns. I wanted the way she looked at like I was the last bit of sunlight she’d ever see.

And gods help ... I wanted to believe she wasn’t the killer they claid she was. I wanted to believe the thing with Kalmia was just a bad coincidence.

I sank back into the leather seat, my head in my hands. I was supposed to be strong. Ruthless. Calculated. The man who survived being burned under the sun, abandoned by the coven I once called family. The man who survived countless wars, who built an empire with Zane from scratch. The man who laughed in the face of hunters.

And here I was, begging so ancient deity I didn’t even believe in.

"Please," I whispered. "Please don’t let her be Cassandra. Don’t let her be the one they want to kill. I can’t—"

My voice broke.

I couldn’t finish the sentence.

Because if she was Cassandra, I knew damn well what my heart would choose.

And it wouldn’t be the coven.

It wouldn’t be justice.

It would be her.

Always her.

Even if it destroyed .

********

Back To The Present

You’d think a vampire with centuries behind him and heightened senses sharper than a surgical scalpel wouldn’t be caught off guard by sothing as obvious as her scent.

But there I was, halfway down the hallway of my own damn house, blinking like an idiot.

I’d walked through the front door like a storm—my dead heart almost thundering, brain doing ntal gymnastics, body tense and twitchy like I’d guzzled five AB-negative blood and soone dared to sit still. I should’ve slled her the second I stepped inside. Her scent—Damn, that scent—wild, intoxicating with a hint of bloodlust and broken promises. That scent was her. It haunted . Mocked . Called to .

But I’d been so frantic, so hyper-focused on the chase, on the idea of her, that I missed the truth sitting right under my nose.

Literally.

Now, standing inches from my bedroom door, I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

My breath caught. My fingers flexed at my sides. My fangs itched.

No.

It couldn’t be.

It was.

Her scent was bleeding through the wooden door like mist, thick and real and impossibly here.

Brielle—

Was in my bedroom.

And I had no idea if I wanted to laugh, cry, kiss her, or set the entire room on fire.

I shoved the door open, hard enough that it bounced off the wall with a loud crack.

And there she was.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, legs crossed like she owned the place, a duffle bag slumped at her feet. She looked up slowly, like she’d been expecting . Like this was a casual Tuesday and not the climax of my emotional ltdown.

And she smiled.

Smiled.

"Hey," she said, voice soft. Too soft.

I stared at her.

My brain completely short-circuited.

"Are you—are you smiling at right now?" I asked, stepping into the room like a man approaching a lion with a bouquet of roses.

Cassandra tilted her head, still smiling. "Missed ?"

"You drugged ."

"I did."

"This morning."

"Yep."

I blinked. "You drugged this morning, Brielle."

"You’re repeating yourself, Sebastian."

"I feel like that’s warranted!" I exploded, throwing my hands up. "You knocked out! With sothing that even worked on ! Do you know how hard that is?! I’ve survived assassins, witches, three wars, and a jealous succubus ex-girlfriend—nothing works on ! But you? You toss so fancy potion in my mouth and bam—I wake up drooling on my bed like a child!"

Cassandra didn’t move.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t even stop smiling.

And that scared more than anything.

"You ran away," I said, quieter now, eyes narrowing. "You left there like I was so... so... one-night-stand with poor self-esteem and a flat wallet. Why? What was the plan? And don’t tell it was to protect . I’ve heard that line before."

She was silent.

Then she stood.

Slowly.

Gracefully.

She moved like smoke—slipping off the bed and standing in front of with a casual strength that made the predator in stir. Her eyes locked on mine, and for a second, I saw it—the war inside her. Love and fear colliding like storm clouds.

I wanted to touch her. Shake her. Hold her.

But instead, I asked the question that had been clawing at my chest since this morning.

"Is your na even Brielle?"

She froze.

The smile faltered. Just a crack.

I took a step forward. "Is it?"

She hesitated. Then shook her head.

"My real na... is Cassandra."

I let out a breath. Loud. Disbelieving. "Cassandra. As in... the Cassandra?"

She tilted her head, eyes guarded. "That depends. Which Cassandra are you talking about?"

"Oh, I don’t know," I said, voice rising. "The Cassandra. The rogue wolf. The vampire hunter who works for a demon and probably has a kill count in the triple digits. That one?"

"Yeah," she said, voice only a whisper. "That one."

I stared at her like she’d grown horns and sprouted wings.