The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter
Chapter 237: A Wolf Without a Moon

Chapter 237: A Wolf Without a Moon

Jacob~

I stayed with her the whole night.

Unseen. Unmoving. Quiet as breath in a church.

Easter slept soundly, her breathing steady, arm draped around little Rose like she was something made of stars and dreams—delicate, glowing, impossibly precious. I watched over them from the edge of the room, my thoughts crackling like a storm I couldn’t silence. The air carried the scent of burnt leaves and leftover magic—Mariel’s spell lingering like frost on glass, beautiful and dangerous.

I’d paid a price for that peace. A heavy one. One that couldn’t be measured in coin or time.

And yet... somewhere deep in my bones, I still held on.

To a flicker. A whisper of hope.

That when Easter opened her eyes, she’d feel the pull of me. That maybe—just maybe—some buried piece of her soul would stir. That she’d say my name without knowing why. That she’d reach out like she remembered.

That something in her would still burn for me.

But when she stirred—

When those green eyes fluttered open, glinting softly in the early morning light—

Nothing.

Not even a flinch.

She didn’t look around the room like it was foreign. Didn’t panic. Didn’t tremble or ask where she was again.

No, she stretched like a cat in sunlight, her body moving with sleepy familiarity.

"Mmm... Rose," she murmured, reaching over to brush a curl from her daughter’s face.

She leaned down and kissed Rose gently on the forehead. "Sorry, baby. Mama fell asleep before putting you to bed last night."

My breath caught. My chest ached.

She believed it.

Mariel’s spell had worked so well that Easter thought this house had always been hers. That this life Mariel and I conjured up for her was simply something she’d always known. She got out of bed, humming softly to herself—a song I used to hear her sing when she joined Tiger and Alex to play in the garden with Rose on her hip. She walked to the little bathroom near the kitchen, brushed her teeth, and wrapped her hair up in a bun like it was any ordinary day.

She wasn’t confused. She wasn’t afraid.

She was... home.

Without me.

She moved through the house like water in a familiar stream. She even smiled when she saw the small pot of tea I had made for her when she was sleeping. She didn’t wonder who made it. She simply poured herself a cup, wrapped her fingers around it, and sighed in contentment.

I had thought I could handle it.

I had planned to handle it.

It was for her good, I reminded myself.

For her mind. For her unborn child, for Rose and for peace.

But no one warned me it would feel like dying.

No one told me that the heart of an immortal could break.

I stepped back from her world like it was fire. I turned away from the house, from the laughter of little Rose waking up and calling for her mama. From Easter’s soft voice responding with warmth. From the clink of teacups and sunlight streaming through the window.

I vanished.

Not just from sight—

From the world entirely.

I ran.

Not with legs or paws but with spirit and will. I ripped myself from the mortal realm, dove into the dark ether between places, and emerged in the ancient space that had always been mine.

My realm.

The endless silver forest, where moonlight always wept through the leaves and rivers flowed with memories. Where wolves howled lullabies to stars and time didn’t matter.

I stood beneath the old tree—the Tree of Souls—where every wolf born from my line had been marked.

And for the first time since my creation...

I collapsed.

I didn’t howl. I didn’t roar.

I fell to my knees, hands digging into the moss-covered ground, and I wept.

It started quiet. A tremble in my shoulders. Then it consumed me—sorrow that felt ancient, like it had been waiting centuries to be set free. I clutched my chest, shocked by the pain blooming inside. It was sharp. Real.

Physical.

Immortals don’t feel pain like this. We know rage. We know sorrow. But not this. This felt like being torn open with a blade made of her smile.

I’d faced battles that ripped mountains in half.

I’d fought gods. Lost brothers. Watched civilizations crumble.

But nothing... nothing had ever hurt like Easter forgetting me.

And I had chosen it.

I had erased her memories. I had asked Mariel to rewrite her memories. To give her a life without fear. A mind without scars. A morning where she could wake up and just be happy.

And she was.

She was.

Without me.

I stayed there, curled beneath the silver canopy, for what felt like days. I didn’t answer when my brothers called. I ignored Tiger’s silent knock at the edge of my thoughts. I even blocked Natalie.

I couldn’t let them in.

Because if I did, I’d fall apart all over again.

Only one voice I couldn’t block.

The one that lived in the moonlight itself.

The one who made me.

"Jacob."

I opened my eyes, breath catching.

She walked toward me through the mist like a dream wrapped in light. Her silver hair flowed behind her like a comet’s tail, her feet not touching the ground. Her eyes—like the night sky before stars—held eons of knowledge and softness.

"Mother," I whispered, voice breaking.

The Moon Goddess knelt beside me, brushing her hand against my cheek. Her touch was cool, calming, eternal. I leaned into it like a child, burying my face in her shoulder. She held me the way only a mother could—like I was still her little boy, even if I now carried the weight of wolves and legends.

"I couldn’t take it," I murmured against her. "She forgot me. She looked at me like I was nothing. She woke up in a world where I don’t exist."

"You did what was right," she whispered into my hair. "You gave her a gift. A chance to breathe again."

"But I don’t know if I can live with it," I choked out. "I thought I was strong enough. But... she smiled. She smiled, and I wasn’t the reason anymore."

The Moon Goddess pulled back, her fingers gently tracing the edges of my jaw. "Your heart... your immortal heart... it’s learning what it means to love beyond return. To give without needing."

"I never asked her to remember the love she had for me," I said. "I just... hoped she would remember me. Just a piece of me. A tiny memory."

"You didn’t do anything wrong," she said firmly. "You saved her. The child growing inside her. And little Rose."

"Then why does it feel like I’ve been cut open?" I breathed. "Like something is tearing inside me that can’t ever heal?"

She smiled, softly. The kind of smile only a goddess could wear—ancient and knowing.

"Because love, true love, always comes with a wound. A mark. One that aches when it’s tested. One that sings when it’s returned."

I searched her face, desperate for answers. "So what now? What do I do?"

"The answer," she said, tapping her finger gently against my chest, "is clear as day."

I looked down at her hand. "Then tell me. Please."

But she only smiled again.

"No," she said gently. "Because if I tell you, it will mean nothing. You must see it for yourself. Earn it. Choose it."

Her lips pressed to my forehead—warm, powerful, final.

"I will always be near, my son. But this part of the path... you must walk alone."

And then, like the last glimmer of moonlight before dawn, she was gone.

Leaving only her scent of winter stars behind.

I stood there in the silence of my realm, alone once more, her words echoing in the marrow of my soul.

The answer is clear as day...

But I had to find it.

Alone.

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