The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter Chapter 317: Unexpected Predators

Easter~

I pushed the door shut behind , its soft click sounding like the last word in an argunt I hadn’t finished having—with them, with myself, with the world. The night air wrapped around , cool and sharp, like it knew I needed sothing to keep grounded. Above, the stars drifted lazily across the sky, ancient and unbothered, while inside everything churned—grief brushing against anger, gratitude tangled up in the ss, a knot so tight I couldn’t tell where one feeling ended and the next began.

How could I hate Jacob? He was my rock, my protector, the man who’d saved and our unborn child from the brink of death. But he’d stolen my choice, wiped away chunks of my life like they were smudges on a window. As he recounted the story, fragnts had rushed back—the laughter with Tiger, my only real friend whose face I’d sohow forgotten, the warmth of family dinners with Fox and the others, Rose’s giggles echoing through the halls. But there were gaps, black holes where mories should be. What if those lost pieces were the sentintal ones? The quiet monts with Jacob under the moonlight, or Rose’s happy stories in that enchanted ho? Would they ever return, or were they gone forever, sacrificed on the altar of his "protection"?

My feet found their own way down the winding path, carrying farther from the house with every determined step. My hair bounced against my shoulders, a ssy counterpoint to the ache building in my chest. Tears blurred everything—trees, shadows, the moon—hot and relentless as they traced burning paths down my cheeks. I swiped at them with the sleeve of the jacket I’d thrown over my nightshirt, the fabric still holding the faint warmth of the room I’d fled.

The night breathed around . Leaves whispered secrets to each other in the dark. Sowhere far off, an owl called out, its voice low and haunting. But all I could hear was Jacob’s voice echoing in my head—soft, pained: I’m sorry. His warm brown eyes had been heavy with regret, shadows cutting through the gold I once loved in them.

Part of wanted to turn around, to crash into his arms and feel the steady strength of his lean, athletic fra, to forgive it all just to feel safe again. But the sting of betrayal burned too hot. God or not, he had no right—no right to slip inside my mind and rearrange my thoughts, to tilt my whole world without my permission.

Gratitude wrestled with fury inside . I was alive. My baby was alive. But did that miracle erase the right to be angry? Did it silence the voice in that scread You crossed the line?

I wasn’t paying attention to where my feet were taking —my gaze stayed locked on the ground, eyes wide but seeing nothing, the churn of my thoughts pulling under. The neighborhood shifted around in a haze, familiar streets lting into the skeletons of half-built houses.

No light glowed in those unfinished shells. They stood silent and hulking, like the ghosts of hos that never got to live. Rusted rebar jutted out like bones from broken limbs, and strips of tarp shivered in the breeze, their flapping carrying an eerie, hollow sound. The air slt of sawdust and the damp tang of wet cent—so far removed from the warm, guarded neighborhood I’d just left behind.

It wasn’t until a burst of raucous laughter shattered the stillness that I looked up.

"Ha! Look at this haul, boys. These tools are gonna fetch a pretty penny on the black market," a deep, gruff voice bood. More laughter followed, echoing between the hollow walls. They spoke in rapid French, the words rolling and sharp in the night air.

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. Up ahead, in the shadow of a half-built house, five n huddled around a pile of stolen construction gear—drills, hamrs, coils of wire. They didn’t look like workers; their clothes were ragged, faces scarred and unshaven, eyes gleaming with a predatory glint under the dim streetlight. Illegal reasons, definitely—thieves, or worse. I cursed under my breath. I’d wandered too far, into this desolate part where no one lived yet. Quietly, I started to back away, hoping the shadows would swallow .

But one of them turned, his nose twitching like he scented sothing on the wind. His eyes locked on mine, and a slow, wolfish grin spread across his face. "Oh my goddess, what do we have here? A little lost lamb wandering into the wolves’ den?"

The others whipped around, their laughter dying into leers. They were all built like tanks—broad shoulders, tattooed arms, the kind of n who thrived on intimidation. Before I could bolt, they fanned out, moving with unnatural speed that set my nerves on edge.

"Hey, sweetheart! Where you headed in such a hurry?" the first one called, his voice dripping with mock charm. He had a jagged scar across his cheek, and his buddies flanked him, blocking my path back.

I kept my head down, pretending I hadn’t heard them, heat flooding my face—not the warmth of embarrassnt, but the prickle of fear working its way up my spine. My pulse kicked faster, urging my legs to move, and I picked up my pace.

Behind , boots pounded against the rough, unfinished pavent, closing the distance with an unhurried confidence that made my skin crawl. They weren’t just following—they were hunting.

"Co on, don’t be shy! We’re just havin’ so fun," another one jeered, this one with greasy hair tied back in a ponytail. "Pretty thing like you, out here all alone? At night. That’s dangerous."

I sniffed the air instinctively—Jacob had warned about this new sense, the wolf inside sharpening my perceptions. They didn’t sll human; there was a musky, wild undertone, like damp fur and earth after rain. Werewolves? I wasn’t sure—being new to this whole shifting thing made everything feel uncertain. But if they were...

One of them leaned in as they closed the gap, inhaling deeply. His eyes widened, pupils dilating. "Hold up, boys. Sniff that. She’s one of us... and damn, she’s in heat."

My stomach lurched, sinking like a stone. The heat—that relentless, maddening cycle—had dulled today, loosening its grip just enough to give a break. But it hadn’t vanished. It lingered in the background, a faint thrum beneath my skin, a trace of warmth I could still feel in my bones. And worse... it clung to . A subtle, telltale scent, sweet and unmistakable, curling in the air like an uninvited perfu.

I’d forgotten about it in the chaos of everything else. But now? Now it was my biggest betrayal.

"Delicious," the scarred one growled, licking his lips. "Like ripe berries and wildfire. Haven’t slled a she-wolf in heat this strong in ages."

"Easter, we have to get out of here." My wolf whispered in my mind, her fear, just as wild as mine.

The others murmured agreent, their voices low but crystal clear to my enhanced hearing. "We takin’ turns?" Ponytail asked, eyeing up and down. "I call first dibs. Break her in nice and easy."

"Nah, first," a burly one with a beard chid in, chuckling. "I’ll make her howl. Then you lot can have the scraps."

"Share and share alike," Scarface said, his grin widening. "We got all night. No one’s around to hear her scream... or moan."

Their words slithered into my ears, fueling a rage that bubbled up from deep within. How dare they? I wasn’t so prize to be divvied up. My hands clenched into fists, and a low growl rumbled in my throat—unbidden, primal.

"Back off," I snarled, my voice steadier than I felt. My eyes flashed with warning, goosebumps standing out against my flushed skin. "If you lay a hand on , you’ll regret it. My mate is strong—protective as hell. He won’t let you get away with this."

They burst into laughter, the sound echoing off the empty houses like hyenas. Scarface doubled over, slapping his knee. "Oh, listen to the puppy! Trying to act tough. Your mate? Where is he now, huh? Left you wandering like a stray?"

"Yeah, sweetheart," Ponytail added, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes. "If he’s so protective, he should’ve kept you on a leash. But don’t worry—we’ll take real good care of you."

The bearded one nodded, still chuckling. "Puppy’s got spunk. Makes it more fun. Co on, let’s show her what real wolves do."

I bared my teeth, the growl deepening. "I’m warning you—stay away!"

But Scarface didn’t listen. Without warning, he lunged forward, his hand shooting out like a snake. He grabbed my breast through my jacket, squeezing hard, his fingers digging in with crude possessiveness. "Mmm, feel that? Soft as—"

Pain and violation exploded in , but fury overrode it all. Sothing inside snapped—the wolf Jacob had awakened in surged forward. I didn’t fully shift; I couldn’t, not yet. But my right hand transford in a blink, fingers elongating into razor-sharp claws, fur sprouting along my knuckles. With a savage swipe, I raked them across his face, tearing deep gashes from cheek to jaw. Blood sprayed, hot and tallic, and he yelped, staggering back.

"You bitch!" he roared, clutching his ruined face, blood streaming between his fingers.

The others froze for a split second, shock rippling through them. Then, as one, their eyes darkened, growls erupting from their throats. Claws extended, fangs glinting in the moonlight. "Get her!" Ponytail snarled, shifting partially, his muscles bulging.

All hell broke loose.