The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter Chapter 266: A Heart Full of Ghosts

Jacob~

We touched down so softly, it was as if the wind itself had lowered us—silent, effortless, unannounced.

The afternoon sun hung high, yet the light barely touched the border of Sebastian’s coven. Dark shadows stretched like claws across the jagged cliffs, draping everything in stillness. It was bright, yes—but unnaturally quiet. That kind of quiet that made the hairs on your neck stand up. Like the world was holding its breath.

"Ho sweet crypt," Sebastian muttered, his voice soft with pride .

I didn’t reply.

I was already in motion—mind focused, senses sharp.

With a flicker of thought, the veil of invisibility slipped over us like a second skin. The wind shifted, scattering dead leaves across the rocky path. To any passerby, we’d vanished into thin air. But that didn’t matter—not to the vampires. They didn’t need eyes to know we were here. I could feel them. Lurking beneath the cliffside alcoves, cloaked in spell-woven shadows and layers of old-world moss. Their energy pulsed from the stone itself. Ancient. Coiled. Ready to strike.

Sebastian stood beside , arms folded tight across his chest. The usual glint in his eye was gone, replaced by sothing grim.

"They’re on edge," he said, scanning the coven grounds. "Tense. Like they can sense what’s coming."

"They’re right to be," I murmured, lifting my hand.

A quiet spark ignited at my fingertips—a pulse of bluish-white light, soft as moonfire. I began to trace through the air, my fingers dancing across an invisible canvas. Runes blood with each motion, glowing faintly before sinking into the earth. Symbols older than language. Magic carved in silence.

With each stroke, a wave of power rolled outward—slow, deliberate, like a tide claiming the shore. Protection seeped into the soil, into the stones, into the very bones of the coven itself.

Sebastian watched in silence as I layered spells one after the other. Wards to deflect hostile intent. Sigils to lock out any bloodline not tethered to the coven. Barriers of spirit and shadow that twisted with anyone who dared to force entry.

Then I went deeper.

I whispered nas—real nas—the kind that aren’t spoken, only known. The nas tied to the very essence of every vampire in this place. I wove them into the threads of my enchantnt like sacred silk. A na bound in magic is a na protected. Held. Untouchable.

When the final syllable passed my lips, I let my hand fall.

The air shimred.

Then it humd.

A low, resonant thrum like the vibration of a bowstring pulled too tight.

"It’s done," I said, my voice a murmur in the hush that followed.

Sebastian blinked at , as if seeing for the first ti. "That was... fast. And creepy. And impressive. How did you even know all those nas? I’m their master, and I don’t know half the ones you whispered."

I gave a faint shrug, lips curling into the barest smirk. "Fast is just what it looks like when you’ve lived long enough to rember what ti actually is. And the nas?" I tilted my head slightly. "I’m Mist. I know everything."

He gave a low whistle. "Right. ntal note: never get on your bad side."

"Too late," I said, turning toward the shadows. "You already dragged back to this crypt. Rember how you set ablaze here? It hasn’t been that long."

Sebastian chuckled, "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

I looked at him then. Dead serious. "She won’t touch you. Or Cassandra. Or anyone in your coven."

Sebastian’s face twitched. "Even if she tries—?"

"She won’t succeed. If she even breathes your na wrong, I’ll know. I’ll feel it. Kalmia will never escape again."

He went quiet for a beat. Then he asked it—the thing I knew was coming. "This is about Natalie, isn’t it?"

I didn’t answer imdiately. I didn’t need to.

"Jacob," Sebastian continued, "she’s not possessed anymore. Natalie forced Kalmia out. You know that."

"I know." I stepped forward, letting the last of the ward settle around us like mist. "But she still dared to enter my sister. To try and control her."

Sebastian lowered his voice. "You’re not going to rest until she’s gone."

"No," I said darkly. "Not until I rip her out of this world myself."

He studied for a long mont, then finally said, "Are you okay?"

The words fell harder than I expected.

I gave him a crooked half-smile.

He squinted and folded his arms. "You’ve got this ’eternal weight of existence’ posture going on. It’s giving Shakespearean ghost."

"Sebastian—"

"Okay, okay." He held up his hands. "I’ll behave. But seriously. You good?" he asked again, this ti softer, as if he knew the answer would be a lie but needed to hear it anyway.

I didn’t answer him right away.

I could feel the tension clinging to my skin like a second coat. My jaw was tight. My fists were clenched even though I hadn’t noticed curling them. My shoulders were drawn back, stiff as steel rods. I must’ve looked like I was standing on the edge of war—because in a way, I was.

I gave him a crooked smirk, one that didn’t quite reach my eyes. "Definitely okay."

Sebastian rolled his eyes and groaned. "Ah yes, the classic Jacob smirk. That’s the one you flash right before you do sothing reckless in the na of protection or—let guess—love?"

"I’m fine," I replied, shrugging off the weight of his concern.

"Right," he muttered, folding his arms across his chest. "And I’m a vegan priest."

I ignored him.

Instead, I walked over to the edge of the protective ward, the mist still clinging to my boots like whispers refusing to let go. I turned to Sebastian. "Take care of things here. Make sure Zane and Natalie are protected."

Sebastian blinked. "You’re leaving?"

"I won’t be long."

He tilted his head, voice skeptical. "Where are you—"

I cut him off by lifting my hand. A shimr of light danced over his form, and just like that, he beca visible again. His outline sharpened in the sun like a ghost returning to the land of the living.

"You didn’t answer my question," he said, voice now fully normal and not filtered through the spell. "Jacob—where are you going?"

I t his eyes for a fraction of a second. Long enough for him to see what I wasn’t saying.

He sighed and dropped his gaze. "You’re really going to her, aren’t you?"

I didn’t respond. I didn’t have to.

With one last look, I stepped back into the space between the world and ti, and disappeared.

I arrived in Paris with the wind still curling around my coat, the cobbled street beneath my boots echoing faintly in the silence of the hour. It was just after 3 AM. The world was quiet. The city slept in a velvet hush, except for a few flickering streetlights and the occasional distant sound of tires over wet asphalt.

Fox’s questions still echoed in my mind.

"I’m saying if you open that door again—if you let her truly rember—she’s back in this world. With us. With gods. Monsters. War. Blood. And you rember how that ended, don’t you?"

I told myself I wasn’t here to stay. I wasn’t foolish enough to drag Easter back into the storm that surrounded , especially now—not with what she’d already been through. She’d earned her peace, no matter how fragile it still looked from the outside. And I... I wasn’t sure I deserved to take it from her again.

Three days. I’ll stay with her for just three days, and then I’d disappear.

She wouldn’t even know I had been here for her.

And besides... I saw Natalie. Her scent had changed. She was pregnant. The mont I stepped into the threshold of the house earlier, I felt it, that subtle shift in her aura. But Jasmine—clever little fox—was hiding the pregnancy from Natalie. I saw the careful way she distracted her, moved magic just enough to shield Natalie from recognizing it herself. And I said nothing. I pretended not to notice.

But I had. Of course, I had.

Natalie needed now. It was ti to stop running and take my place again. As her protector. As her brother. As the Wolf Spirit.

But before I did, I had to say goodbye. Even if only in my heart.

Easter’s small house stood just across the quiet street. I didn’t cross imdiately. Instead, I stood beneath a flickering streetlight, my hands deep in my pockets, watching the glow from her living room window.

The curtain was partially open.

And there she was.

Easter was curled up on the couch, asleep beneath a worn beige blanket that didn’t quite cover her feet. Her curls were a wild halo around her face, framing that delicate, fairytale beauty she never believed she had. A children’s book was splayed open on the coffee table beside a near-empty mug of hot chocolate—Rose’s, probably, judging by the lted marshmallows clinging to the rim.

Her cheek rested against a throw pillow, her lips parted just slightly as she breathed in deep, even rhythms. Peaceful. So utterly peaceful.

And yet all I could feel was pain.

A bone-deep ache tightened my chest, radiating outward like soone was pulling thread through my ribs, yanking it taut. I didn’t need to breathe—but in that mont, I felt like I couldn’t.

How was I supposed to survive this?

How was I supposed to leave her?

Every part of scread to go to her. To walk in. To hold her and tell her she wasn’t alone, that I rembered everything for both of us. That I would never let anyone hurt her again. That she didn’t have to be afraid.

But I couldn’t.