The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter
Chapter 248: The Stillness Before the Storm

Chapter 248: The Stillness Before the Storm

Sebastian~

I’d never admit it to anyone—ever— but I was panicking.

The kind of panicking where your brain won’t shut up, your chest feels like it’s caving in, and despite being a centuries-old vampire with more power in my pinky finger than most warlocks have in their whole bodies... I felt useless.

"Pick up, pick up, damn it, pick up—"

I jabbed the call button again, pacing in front of the fireplace like a blood-drunk predator. Jacob’s face flickered on the holo screen. Again. No answer. Again.

Why the hell did he bother giving me his contact if he was just going to ghost me like a coward in the fog?

Fine. Plan B. Yell his name like a deranged banshee and hope the universe gets tired of ignoring me. Worked once—might as well ride the chaos again.

"Jacob!"

Nothing.

"Mist? Jacob Bartholomew? Oh Great Wolf Spirit? You mangy, moon-kissed cryptid—I know you’re listening!"

Still silence.

I dropped into the leather armchair, more for the drama than the comfort. I don’t need sleep. I don’t even need rest. But occasionally, I indulge myself. Tonight, I needed grounding.

My fingers trembled. That... that was new. I’ve watched empires crumble, lovers die, and friends rot into myth. I’ve burned through centuries with fire in my veins and shadows at my back.

But this?

This silence.

This not knowing?

This scared the hell out of me.

Then I heard the jingle.

Keys.

Door.

Her.

Cassandra.

She walked in like a goddess of moonlight and storm—bags of groceries in her arms, curls damp from the light drizzle outside. She kicked the door shut behind her with effortless grace.

"I swear," she huffed, "if I had to argue with one more cashier about the difference between almond milk and almond beverage, I was going to shift in the store and end up on the six o’clock news."

I tried to smile, but it probably came out more like a grimace. "Tell me someone at least helped you carry your bags."

"Oh, he tried," she said, arching an eyebrow. "I told him if he touched me again I’d dislocate his jaw. Nicely, of course."

"That’s my girl," I murmured, walking over, reaching for her bags. She let me take them, but her eyes—sharp, always watching—narrowed on me.

"You okay?"

"Peachy."

She tilted her head. "Peachy?"

I gave a little bow. "Positively dripping in peachiness."

"You don’t peaches. Or anything else for that matter."

"Exactly. Which proves I’m fine. See? Logic."

She stepped closer, her hunter instincts flickering beneath her skin like coiled wires. I could almost smell her suspicion.

"What happened?"

"Nothing," I said too fast. I backed up, casually dropping a bag onto the kitchen counter. "You’re overthinking again."

Cassandra crossed her arms. "That’s rich coming from you. You once threatened to burn down a flower shop because the florist looked ’too smug.’"

"He was smug. His orchids knew too much."

She didn’t laugh.

Didn’t move.

Just kept staring at me. She always saw more than she should. I liked that about her.

Now? I hated how easily she could see through me.

"Sebastian," she said quietly, "what’s wrong?"

I turned my back. Cowardly, sure, but necessary. "Nothing’s wrong, Cass. Just tired. I didn’t feed last night. The scent of... almond beverage still haunts the air. It’s unsettling."

She stood behind me in silence, and I knew—I knew—she didn’t believe me. But she didn’t push. She just placed a hand on my back and kissed my shoulder.

"I got you a rare blood bag," she said softly. "The good kind. I was told it doesn’t taste like sadness."

I swallowed. "You’re too good to me."

"You don’t deserve me," she teased. "But I’m here anyway."

I didn’t respond.

Because deep down... I was terrified she’d be gone soon.

The Next Morning

There was still no answer.

No reply.

Nothing from Jacob. Nothing from Fox, Tiger, anyone.

The mind link Fox gifted me—a connection that was supposed to transcend dimensions—was silent. It was like shouting into a void where even echoes feared to return.

Even Zane... Zane wasn’t answering.

That one hit different. Zane was my heartbeat in a world where mine didn’t beat anymore. My anchor. My little brother not by blood but by bond. If something had happened to him—

No.

I couldn’t think like that.

I tried again.

"Zane? Come on, Man. Talk to me.

I swear I’ll finally let you win in an argument. I’ll even buy you another Lamborghini. Just... answer me."

Nothing.

I stood in the hallway, knuckles white around my phone, heart screaming even though it had no rhythm.

Cassandra walked in wearing one of my button-down shirts and absolutely nothing else, sipping her coffee with a sleepy yawn. She looked so soft like that. So safe. I wanted to freeze time just to keep her here, in this kitchen, forever.

She looked at me and frowned. "You’re still here?"

I forced a smile. "Change of plans."

"You were supposed to be at the company an hour ago."

"Was handling something urgent. You know how investors are."

She sipped again. "You’re lying."

"Excuse me?"

"You get this slight twitch in your left eye when you lie. Also, your voice gets all velvety and deep, like you’re doing a commercial for vampire cologne."

I narrowed my eyes. "There should be vampire cologne."

"Sebastian—"

"I’m going. Don’t worry." I leaned over and kissed her forehead. "And no, I’m not up to anything stupid. Just... business. I’ll be back before nightfall."

She raised an eyebrow. "You’re not going to the company, are you?"

I chuckled. "Now who’s lying?"

But she didn’t smile.

So I left before I cracked.

I went straight to the Palace

The palace guards didn’t even blink when I walked past the main gate.

Apparently, "His Highness said if Mr. Lawrence ever shows up unannounced, we’re to offer him the good wine and zero questions."

I wasn’t in the mood for wine. I stormed through the gold-trimmed halls of the palace like a storm wrapped in velvet. My boots echoed on marble. My coat whipped behind me like a cape. I looked every bit the vampire billionaire I was pretending to be.

But beneath the confidence?

Panic. Dread. Ice.

I needed to see him.

Now.

The guards bowed and stepped aside as I reached Zane’s private quarters.

I pushed the double doors open.

"Zane?" I called, voice cracking in the middle.

There he was.

Sitting on the velvet couch, legs crossed, dressed in one of his royal black-and-gold tunics, reading a book like nothing in the universe was wrong.

Relief hit me so hard I nearly sagged. "Zane—thank the gods. You had me worried out of my eternal damn mind! Why haven’t you been answering? I’ve been calling, mind linking, even telepathically yelling your name like an obsessed fangirl!"

He didn’t look up.

Didn’t speak.

Then...

Something rippled.

The image shimmered.

Zane’s form twisted like mist blown by wind—and standing in his place was someone else entirely.

A bit taller. Bulkier. Sharp foxlike eyes.

Tiger.

"Tiger?" I choked. "What the—Why the hell are you pretending to be Zane? Why were you in his room?! Reading his books? Are you impersonating royalty now?! I thought I was the dramatic one!"

He sighed. "Calm down, Sebastian."

"Calm down?" I barked. "You illusioned yourself into Zane! I thought he was dead—or worse! What’s going on?! Where is he?!"

Tiger’s expression dropped its usual calm. He looked... guilty.

"The truth is," he said softly, "Zane and Natalie left."

My voice was nothing but breath. "Left...?"

He nodded. "They went on a spiritual journey. No one knows where. Not even I. Just that they had to go, and it was urgent. Natalie and Zane asked me to cover for them. I also knew you’d come looking."

I stepped back.

"I... I don’t understand. He left? Without saying anything? Without telling me? Do I look stupid to you?"

Tiger tilted his head. "That was rude, Sebastian."

I barely heard him. "Zane didn’t tell me..."

Tiger moved closer. "He didn’t want to worry you. He—"

"Tiger! Please, give it to me straight. Where. Is. Zane?"