The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter Chapter 366: A Father’s Advice

Nicholas~

I’ve always been the kind of guy who doesn’t just get what he wants—I get it fast. Patience? Never my strong suit. Even as a kid, I was outpacing everyone, no contest. But then again, I wasn’t exactly built like everyone else. Hybrid blood runs through —vampire speed laced with werewolf strength—and that cocktail turned into a freak of nature. While other kids were stumbling through grade school, I was sprinting through growth like soone had slamd the fast-forward button. By the ti I was "eight," I already looked like a teenager—long legs, broad shoulders, towering over Katrina like so premature giant.

She, on the other hand, was still this tiny firecracker, all energy and sunshine, with reddish-blonde pigtails bouncing behind her and those big blue eyes that could soften even the hardest steel. I still rember the palace gardens—marble fountains spraying arcs of silver, roses blooming like they were competing for her attention. We’d turn it into our playground. I’d play the big bad wolf, baring my teeth in mock nace, and she’d shriek with laughter, running in wild circles until she tripped over her own feet.

"Nicky, wait up! You’re too fast!" she’d cry, half whining, half giggling. I’d always slow down, scoop her up like she weighed nothing, and spin her until we collapsed in a heap on the grass, breathless and tangled in laughter.

It took her ten years to finally catch up to , to grow into the sa age I’d been stuck at for what felt like forever. And you’d think that kind of mismatch would make things weird—but it didn’t. If anything, it made us inseparable. Back then, I played the role of her unofficial big brother—blocking school bullies who didn’t know their place, taking the bla for her pranks, sneaking extra desserts from the kitchens just to see her smile.

And then, just like that, I hit the wall. Eighteen. Frozen in ti. Eternal youth carved into my bones while the world kept moving. anwhile, Katrina blood—awkward little kid one day, breathtaking force of nature the next. She grew into herself, into her fire, into this gravity that pulled everyone in, most of all.

Sohow, through all the awkward stages, through the mismatched years and the growing pains, the one thing that never shifted was us. Best friends. Forever.

Speed’s always been my thing. I charm people into liking before they even know my na—cocky grin, dark eyes flashing, and poof, they’re hooked. I snag what I want without breaking a sweat: the best spots at council etings, the rarest blood vintages from Dad’s cellar, or front-row seats to the lunar festivals. And mates? Oh man, I’ve dread about that since I could understand what love looked like. Growing up, I was surrounded by it—Mom and Dad, Cassandra and Sebastian, with their endless banter and stolen kisses that made roll my eyes but secretly ache for the sa. Dad’s always cracking jokes, his jet-black hair perfectly tousled, suit impeccable, while Mom calls him out on his sarcasm with that warrior’s edge. Then there’s Uncle Zane and Auntie Natalie, the ultimate power couple: him with his brooding Lycan king vibe, her radiating celestial light like a walking sunrise. And don’t get started on Uncle Jacob and Auntie Easter—their quiet, rock-solid bond, all lingering glances and shared secrets. I wanted that. Craved it. A mate to call my own, soone who saw through my brooding arrogance to the soft spot underneath.

So when I t Winter that night in my very own living room—shadows swirling around her like a living cloak, her enigmatic eyes piercing right through —I couldn’t believe my luck. It hit like a freight train: the pull, the bond, instant and unbreakable. And the cherry on top? Katrina, my absolute best friend in the world, found her mate at the sa damn ti. Vincent, Winter’s brother. Siblings for mates? It felt like fate high-fiving us both. We were in this together, just like always.

But now, sitting at this massive oak breakfast table in the grand hall, with sunlight streaming through the arched windows and casting golden halos on the silver platters piled high with eggs, bacon, fresh fruits, and those flaky pastries that lt in your mouth, reality’s crashing down hard. The air slls like brewed coffee and cinnamon, but it can’t mask the tension buzzing under my skin. Katrina’s across from , chatting animatedly with Vincent, her blue eyes sparkling as she gestures with a forkful of pancake. Winter’s beside , her hand brushing mine under the table—cool, steady, but with that hidden vulnerability she only lets slip when we’re alone. Dad’s at the end, looking every bit the handso vampire lord in his tailored black suit, black hair swept back, flashing that sarcastic grin as he banters with Uncle Zane.

"Pass the wine, broody king?" Dad quips to Zane, who rolls his eyes but slides it over with a low chuckle.

"Watch it, Seb, or I’ll make you run laps with the pack," Zane retorts, his voice that deep rumble that commands rooms.

Auntie Natalie laughs softly, her celestial glow making the whole table feel warr. "Boys, behave. We have guests."

Alexander’s there too, the perfect crown prince with his disciplined posture, eyeing Vincent and Winter like they’re ticking bombs. But ? I’m trying to play it cool, smirking at Dad’s jokes, but inside, my mind’s a whirlwind. Because just monts ago, as we all settled in and the servants poured fresh orange juice, Dad’s voice slipped into my head through our vampire mind link—private, unbreakable.

"Nicholas, my boy," he’d started, his ntal tone warm at first, like when he used to tuck in with stories of ancient covens. "I’m thrilled you’ve found your mate. Truly. She seems... intense. And hey, sneaking out last night? Water under the bridge. You’re forgiven. But listen close, son."

I’d frozen mid-bite of toast, my dark eyes flicking to him across the table. He was smiling at Katrina, but his mind voice turned grave. "Those two—Winter and Vincent—they’re not who they claim to be. I recognize their scent, their aura. It’s tied to old enemies, dangerous ones. You need to reject the bond. Now. Before it’s too late. Or you and Katrina... you’ll be hurt in ways that can’t be fixed."

My fork clatters against the plate, louder than I intend, drawing eyes. Winter turns to , her enigmatic gaze softening with concern. "Nicholas? You okay?"

I force a cocky grin, the one that usually charms the room, but it feels brittle. "Yeah, just... butterfingers. Too much excitent last night, I guess." I wink at her, but inside, my heart’s pounding like a war drum. Reject the bond? End this? No way. This fast, beautiful love that slamd into like a cot—Winter’s cold edges thawing in my arms, her whispers in the dark about dreams and nightmares, the way she leans into like I’m her anchor—it’s everything I’ve wanted. And sharing it with Kat? Priceless.

But Dad’s words echo, relentless.They’re not who they say they are. I glance at him, and he’s watching now, his dark eyes—mirrors of mine—pleading silently while he jokes aloud with Natalie. "Radiant as ever, Nat. What’s your secret? Bottled moonlight?"

She swats his arm playfully. "Flattery won’t get you extra A negative blood, Seb."

Everyone chuckles, but I’m not laughing. Because Dad’s never lied to . Not once. When I was a kid, thinking I could outrun the world, he told straight: "Speed’s a gift, Nicky, but it won’t save you from bad choices." And his suspicions? Spot-on every ti. Like that shady advisor in the coven who turned out to be a spy, or the "friendly" pack mber plotting against Zane. Dad sniffed them out before anyone else.

"Nicholas," Winter murmurs, her voice a soft whisper that sends shivers down my spine, her hand squeezing mine under the table. "You seem distant. Talk to ."

I turn to her, those eyes pulling in—dark, woven with love and secrets, but vulnerable too, just for . "Just... thinking about last night. How perfect it was. You, here, with ." My voice cracks a bit, emotion slipping through my brooding mask. God, I don’t want to believe Dad. This can’t be bad. It feels too right.

Katrina catches my eye from across the table, tilting her head with that impulsive curiosity. "Nicky? You look like you swallowed a lemon. Spill."

I chuckle weakly, trying to deflect. "Nah, Kat. Just plotting how to steal the last croissant before Alex does."

Alexander snorts, his protective aura flaring as he glances at Vincent. "Dream on, hybrid. Crown prince perks."

The table erupts in light banter again—Zane growling playfully at Dad, Natalie diating with her healing smile—but my mind’s screaming. Hurt without repair? Katrina, my best friend, the sister I never had—laughing now, her pretty hair catching the light as she leans into Vincent. And Winter, my mate, the one who makes my hybrid heart race faster than any speed burst. End it? Reject her?

Dad’s mind link brushes mine again, urgent. "Trust , son. I wouldn’t say this if it wasn’t life or death."

I swallow hard, staring at my plate, the food turning to ash in my mouth. He’s never been wrong. But this ti... this ti, I pray he is. Because if he’s right, this fast beautiful love I’ve finally grabbed? It’s about to shatter everything.