The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter Chapter 265: The Truth Between Us

Natalie~

Zane was staring at .

He wasn’t blinking. He wasn’t breathing. He wasn’t moving. Just frozen, like ti had slamd to a stop around him—and sohow, I was the only one still spinning inside it.

His question hung in the air like smoke.

"Wait... what do you an this is your second child?"

I didn’t answer right away.

What could I even say?

My throat tightened as my eyes locked onto his—those stormy, ice-blue eyes that had once looked at with wariness, then admiration... then the fiercest love I’d ever known.

But right now, they were wide. Confused.

Hurt.

And I hated that look on him. Gods, I hated that look.

I shifted on the bed, curling my hands over the swell of my barely-there belly, drawing strength from the tiny heartbeat pulsing beneath my skin. My child. Our child.

But not our first.

Not really.

I swallowed hard and t his gaze again. "Zane," I whispered, voice raw. "I—" I stopped myself, sighed, and nodded to the spot beside . "Sit down. Please."

He hesitated, still watching like I might grow a second head. But he moved, slowly, carefully, and sat at the edge of the bed, just far enough that I felt the space between us like a canyon.

I looked down at my fingers, at the faint tremble in them. And then I took a breath so deep it felt like I was trying to steady a soul that had lived a thousand lifetis.

"I need to tell you sothing," I said softly. "And I need you to really hear , okay? Not halfway. All the way. No matter how crazy it sounds—just... let finish."

He didn’t say a word. Just gave a single, tense nod. His jaw was set, his eyes locked on mine, unreadable.

I looked down at my hands, suddenly unsure of where to start. My thumb began tracing slow, nervous circles into my palm—anything to distract from the storm building in my chest.

"Do you rember when I first t Alexander?" I asked, my voice quieter now. "Back when I was still at the shelter?"

Zane nodded, still silent.

"I didn’t understand it back then," I said with a shaky breath. "Why I was so drawn to him. I an, I was... lost. Just this shattered, half-alive girl with no wolf, no family, no direction, no reason to hope for anything better. But the second I saw that little wolf pup—Alex—it was like... sothing inside snapped into place."

I gave a soft, bitter laugh. "Honestly, I thought I was losing my mind. But it wasn’t fear. It wasn’t confusion. It was this need—this overwhelming need—to protect him. To love him. To keep him safe. Like... like he’d always been mine."

Zane blinked slowly, his expression finally shifting. But still, he said nothing.

"I didn’t have the language for it back then. My life didn’t give fairy tales or happy endings or soulmates. Just darkness and silence. But that feeling—" I looked up and t his eyes. "—it never left. It stayed with . Through everything. Even when I didn’t understand it."

The air around us changed—thickened. Like the world itself was holding its breath.

I hesitated, biting my bottom lip hard enough to sting. "Three months ago... when those guards ca for —the ones your father sent—and they hurt Alex..."

Zane tensed. His eyes flickered with a pain I knew too well.

"When they stabbed him, Zane... sothing in shattered. It wasn’t just grief. It wasn’t just fear." I swallowed hard. "It was like the dam broke. And suddenly I wasn’t just anymore."

His brows drew together. I pressed on, my hands trembling slightly in my lap.

"mories ca back. Not just thoughts—lifetis. mories of a whole other versions of . Versions I didn’t even rember existed until then. Suddenly I could rember them all."

Zane’s breath hitched. I could see the disbelief starting to bloom behind his eyes, but he didn’t speak.

A beat of silence passed. I pushed through it, heart pounding.

"I know I told you before... about how we always find each other. In every life. We fall in love. Fate kept tying us together no matter how many tis the world tried to tear us apart."

I paused. The next words felt too big for my chest, too fragile to say.

"But there’s sothing I never told you."

"Mara," Jasmine’s voice echoed gently in my mind. "Be careful. This is sacred ground you’re walking on."

I hesitated—but only for a heartbeat. Then I looked Zane in the eyes, and the truth poured out of .

"In every lifeti, I don’t just find you. I don’t just love you. I have a son with you."

Zane inhaled sharply. His body went rigid.

"And that son... is always Alexander." I said, "Every single ti."

My voice cracked on his na. I blinked back the heat stinging behind my eyes.

He blinked. "Natalie—"

"I’m serious," I said, eyes watering. "In every life I can rember, I’ve only ever had him. No other child. No other birth. Just Alex."

I let the silence sit there, watched the war that brewed behind Zane’s eyes.

"In our last life," I continued, "Alex was killed. There was... soone. A god. I don’t know who—I still can’t rember his face—but he took our son from us. And because he was divine, even when my brothers and I tried to bring Alex back, we couldn’t."

Zane’s entire body was rigid now. He looked like a man trying to breathe through stone.

"I thought I’d lost him forever," I whispered. "But then... in this life, I found him again. Alive. Whole. But..." I hesitated, forcing the words through the knot in my throat. "Born of another woman."

Zane didn’t speak. He couldn’t.

"And that’s why I never told you," I said, finally eting his gaze again. "Because you told how much Emma ant to you. You told how special she was. And Alex is the only piece of her you had left."

A tear slipped down my cheek.

"I didn’t want to take that away from you."

Zane’s breath stuttered, a shallow, ragged sound in the silence.

"I didn’t want to make you feel like I was trying to replace her. I wasn’t. I would never. I just... I couldn’t tell you. Not when he reminded you of her so much. Not when he’s sohow such a perfect blend of the two of you."

He still didn’t say anything.

And I didn’t bla him.

I just gave him a broken smile and said the only thing I could. "I’m sorry, Zane. I should’ve told you."

The silence was endless. Crushing.

I watched him.

He looked flabbergasted. Not just surprised—but shattered.

His lips parted like he wanted to speak. But then he stopped, closed them again. Opened them once more. Nothing ca out. His eyes darted away from mine, staring blankly at the floor.

I could see the chaos swirling in him like a violent sea—his mind racing, heart pounding, trying to make sense of sothing that simply defied logic.

He pushed himself up from the bed, slow and awkward—like his body had forgotten how to move, like even gravity was reluctant to let him go.

His muscles were tense, jaw clenched, shoulders rigid. There was sothing distant in his eyes as he finally turned to face .

His voice ca out soft, dry, like it had been scraped against sandpaper. "I need so space."

It hit harder than I expected—those four words. I didn’t cry out or collapse, but sothing inside flinched. Tightened. My throat closed up around the million things I suddenly wanted to say.

"Zane—" I began, reaching out without thinking.

But he lifted a hand—not to push away, not unkind, just... a boundary. Quiet but unshakable.

"Please, Natalie. Just... give ti. I need to clear my head."

And that was it.

Before I could breathe out the questions building in my chest—before I could promise I’d wait, or ask him to stay, or just stand still long enough to let reach him—he turned.

His footsteps were nearly soundless on the shiny marble floor, but each one echoed like thunder in my chest. His back was stiff, unreadable, like a wall I didn’t know how to climb anymore.

He reached the door. Opened it.

And walked out.

Just like that—gone.

The silence that followed was brutal. It pressed against my ears, filled up the spaces where his voice had been.

I stood frozen, surrounded by a stillness that felt too loud. Only my heartbeat remained—mine, and the tiny one inside .

That steady rhythm was all I had left of the mont we just shared. Of the love that still lingered in the air like smoke—thick, fragile, and fading.

I didn’t cry.

I didn’t scream.

I just stared at the door like it might change its mind and open again.

And when the silence got too heavy to carry, I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding and whispered:

"Please co back."