The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter Chapter 385: The Flame

Vincent/Vaelthor~

I rose from my seat with quiet grace, inclining my head to the King and Queen. "Thank you for breakfast," I murmured. "It was... illuminating."

The words hung in the air like a subtle poison, seeping into the cracks I’d just widened in their perfect family facade. Zane’s jaw tightened, Natalie’s eyes narrowed with that celestial glow flickering at the edges, but neither said a word. Alexander’s glare could have scorched stone, and Cassandra’s silence was a blade unsheathed. Sebastian, ever the opportunist, just smirked like he was enjoying the show. I turned toward the doorway, feeling the shadows whisper against my skin like a lover’s touch, urging onward.

Behind , the royal family picked at their fractured morning. Ahead of , war was already unfolding—quiet, precise, beautiful. And I... was smiling.

As I stepped into the grand hallway of the palace, the marble floors echoing my footsteps like a heartbeat in the void, my mind shifted to the next move. Katrina. My mate. The key to unraveling it all. The breakfast had been the spark; now I needed to fan it into flas. I had to find her, exploit that raw vulnerability she’d exposed, and drive the wedge deeper. Tear down her family bit by bit, until the revenge for my mother’s death and my father’s imprisonnt felt like justice served on a silver platter.

The palace was a labyrinth of excess: arched ceilings dripped with golden vines, walls smothered in tapestries that sang of wars won and monsters slain. Monsters like my parents. Every heroic image of Zane and Natalie bathed in celestial light made my blood simr just beneath the surface, a quiet storm demanding release. Their victories were built on our pain. My family’s pain.

I moved like a shadow through the corridor, letting the silence stretch and bend around . My senses sharpened, every sound and scent blooming into clarity. That’s when I caught it—soft, subtle, but impossible to miss. Lavender. Katrina’s scent. It wound through the east wing like a silk thread, laced now with sothing bitter and raw. Salt. Tears.

She was crying.

I followed without hesitation. Each step was asured, soundless, my heartbeat syncing with the rhythm of my vengeance. The scent drew deeper into a more secluded wing of the palace—the part reserved for the royals when they wanted to be powerful without being watched.

The gym.

The heavy steel door was left ajar, a faint slice of light bleeding into the corridor. From inside ca the sound of impact—thud, thud, thud—like a war drum in the distance. Fists against leather. But beneath the rhythmic violence, there it was: the muffled hitch of breath, the fragile tremor of soone trying to keep their pain hidden.

Katrina.

She was fighting sothing she couldn’t punch into submission.

I lingered in the shadows for a heartbeat longer, savoring the mont. The storm inside her was the opening I’d been waiting for. If I played this right, she’d never even realize when the knife slid in—not into her back, but straight into her heart.

I paused at the threshold, peering in for a few minutes as I watched my fiery princess, her reddish-blonde hair tied back in a ssy ponytail that swung like a pendulum with each strike. She wore simple training gear—a fitted black tank and shorts that hugged her athletic fra, sweat glistening on her skin under the harsh fluorescent lights. The massive sandbag swayed from its chain, dented from her Lycan-enhanced punches. But her face... gods, her face. Blue eyes rimd red, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks, mixing with the sweat. Each hit landed with a growl, but the sobs betrayed her—raw, heartbroken, like a storm trapped in a fragile vessel.

My heart, without my permission, twisted, a sharp, unwelco agony that clawed at my chest. What the hell was this? I didn’t like seeing her like this, broken and vulnerable. It stirred sothing deep, sothing I hadn’t anticipated. Love? No, impossible. It had to be the mate bond, that cursed tether binding us despite my demonic heritage. Once I severed it, this weakness would vanish. I’d be free of her pull, free to exact my revenge without these infuriating pangs. Stubbornly, I shoved the feelings down, locking them away behind walls of shadow and ambition. But for now, to stop my heart from fracturing further at the sight of her tears, I had to act.

I rushed across the room, my footsteps silent until I was right behind her. "Katrina," I whispered, my voice laced with feigned and genuine concern as I wrapped my arms around her from behind, pulling her sweat-slicked body against mine. She stiffened at first, a gasp escaping her lips, but then she lted into , her fists unclenching as the sandbag swung to a halt.

"Vincent," she choked out, turning in my embrace. Her blue eyes t mine, wide and shimring with fresh tears. "I... I didn’t an to—"

"Shh," I soothed, cupping her face in my hands, thumbs brushing away the salty trails on her cheeks. I leaned in, pressing soft kisses to her forehead, her eyelids, the tip of her nose, her tear-streaked cheeks—every inch, as if I could kiss away the pain I’d helped ignite. Her breath hitched, her hands clutching my shirt like a lifeline. The mate bond humd between us, electric and undeniable, making my resolve waver for a split second. Damn it.

"Co on," I whispered, my voice a low current ant only for her ears. I gently took her trembling hands and guided her away from the sandbag, its leather surface still swaying from her relentless punches. Her knuckles were red, breaths sharp and uneven—like soone trying to outrun their own pain.

We moved toward a quiet corner of the gym, a small sanctuary tucked between racks of gleaming weights and neatly stacked mats that looked like forgotten shields from battles long past. There, against the far wall, sat a leather bench—simple, sturdy, untouched by the storm raging inside her.

I eased her down, and as we sank onto the cool leather, her body folded into mine as if seeking refuge. She fit against like she’d always belonged there, her forehead pressing lightly against my chest, each shaky exhale warming the fabric of my shirt.

The room still carried that familiar gym sll—a mix of rubber, iron, and the sharp tang of exertion—but it all blurred into nothing around her. All I could focus on was her: the heat of her skin bleeding through every inch that touched , the way her pulse thrumd fast and frantic beneath her jaw, and the faint glow of her celestial magic.

It flickered weakly beneath her skin, like embers struggling to survive after a storm had drowned the fire. She wasn’t just hurting; she was unraveling. And right then, holding her like that, I could feel the fragile line between comfort and control humming under my fingertips.

She sniffled, burying her face in my chest. "I’m sorry. For everything. The way they treated you... it’s not fair."

I stroked her hair, letting the strands slip through my fingers like silk. Ti to dive in. I schooled my features into a mask of profound sadness, eyes downcast, voice trembling just enough to sell the lie. "Katrina... I don’t feel welco here. Not for a second. Your family—they see as a threat, an outsider. And after today... I think it’s best if I leave."

Her head snapped up, eyes widening in shock. "What? No, Vincent, you can’t—"

I pressed on, my tone heavy with fabricated sorrow. "I’ve always been alone, abandoned. It’s nothing new to . My sister and I... we belong on the streets, where no one expects anything from us. It’s safer that way. No judgnts, no suspicions. Just survival."

Tears welled up anew in her blue eyes, spilling over rapidly as panic etched lines across her beautiful face. She shook her head frantically, gripping my arms. "No, please! Don’t go. Don’t leave . I can’t... I can’t lose you. Not when you’re the best gift ever given to ."

Her voice cracked, raw and desperate, each word a plea that tugged at that damned bond. I watched her unravel, part of reveling in the control, another part aching inexplicably.

"Vincent, I’ll talk to them," she begged, her hands trembling as they cupped my face. "I’ll make my parents see how good you are, how much you an to . Alex is just being overprotective—he loves , but he’ll co around. Please, stay. For ."

She leaned in, pressing frantic kisses to my lips, my jaw, as if sealing her words with her touch. "I beg you, don’t abandon like this. We can fix it. Together."

I let her words wash over , her desperation fuel for my plan. It was ti to drop the bomb. I pulled back slightly, eting her gaze with steady resolve. "Katrina, if I’m going to leave... you have to choose. Will you co with ? With Winter and ? Or will you stay here, with your family?"

Her breath caught, eyes searching mine in disbelief. "Choose? Vincent, I—"

"I’ll support whatever you decide," I said softly, injecting warmth into my voice. "I could never hate you. You’re... everything to ." The words tasted like ash, but they rang true in a twisted way. "But don’t tell anyone about this. Not your parents, not Alex, not even Nick. I don’t want anyone else in our business. It’s between us."

She nodded numbly, tears streaming unchecked. "Okay, I won’t. I promise. Just... give ti to think?"

"Take your ti," I agreed, though I added a gentle urgency. "But not too long. Once I have your answer, I’ll go. We can’t drag this out."

I rose from the bench, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to her forehead. Her skin was warm, tasting of salt and promise. As I pulled away, she reached for , but I stepped back, offering a sad smile.

"Vincent..." she whispered, voice breaking.

"I’ll be waiting," I replied, turning toward the door. As I walked away, the gym’s echoes fading behind , a small smirk curled my lips. The seed was planted. Now, to watch it grow—and watch her world crumble.