The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter-Chapter 110: A God And A King

Zane~

The moment Jacob and I materialized in my father’s private chambers, the air seemed to shudder, the temperature plummeting as if the room itself recoiled from our sudden arrival.

My father stood before the grand arched window, framed by the cold glow of the moonlight. His silhouette was rigid, hands clasped behind his back—a stance that radiated unyielding authority. The soft light from the obsidian chandelier barely softened the sharp angles of his face. The walls were lined with ancient tapestries, each depicting the brutal conquests of our lineage, a legacy written in blood.

The scent of burning incense and aged parchment lingered, a haunting reminder of my childhood, of whispered lessons and unbreakable laws.

Then, his eyes—icy and piercing, identical to mine—snapped to us.

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But I saw it. The flicker. The almost imperceptible twitch of his fingers.

A tell.

He was extremely shocked to see us.

"Zane," he finally said, his voice smooth but edged with suspicion, like a knife. His gaze drifted to Jacob, scrutinizing him with the precision of the deadly predator he was.

Then, with a slow, deliberate pause, he asked, "And you are?"

Jacob, ever the picture of smug confidence, casually slipped his hands into his pockets and tilted his head. "Oh, don’t mind me, Your Majesty. Just a friend of your son’s."

My father’s gaze sharpened. "A friend?" His voice was dangerously quiet, the kind that always preceded a storm. His eyes flicked back to me. "And how, exactly, did you and this... friend get past my security?"

I barely opened my mouth before Jacob grinned, answering with a cocky tilt of his head. "I can do a lot of things, Your Majesty."

My father’s expression darkened. His lips pressed into a thin line as he slowly turned to face me fully. "You brought an outsider into my private chambers?" His voice was ice. "You, of all people, know the importance of secrecy, yet you waltz in here with a complete stranger." He took a step toward me, his towering presence imposing. "Have you completely lost your mind, Zane?"

I clenched my fists, forcing my voice to remain steady. "Jacob can be trusted."

My father let out a sharp laugh, void of any humor. "Trusted?" He scoffed. "You expect me to believe that when you’ve deliberately broken every rule I’ve set for you?" His expression was carved from stone, his fury barely contained. "You are the heir to the Lycan throne, Zane. You should be doing everything in your power to keep your identity hidden, and yet here you are, throwing caution to the wind!"

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. "I wouldn’t have brought Jacob here if it wasn’t important."

"Important?" My father’s voice was sharp and angry. "What could possibly be so important that you’d risk exposing yourself like this?"

I met his gaze, my voice steady. "There’s going to be a coup."

The room fell into silence.

My father’s eyes narrowed. "What did you just say?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "A coup. It’s already in motion. And next week... you’re going to be killed."

For the first time, I saw something flicker in my father’s expression—something close to shock. His fingers twitched again, but his face remained impassive.

Jacob chose that moment to step forward. "That’s where I come in," he said smoothly. "I brought a proposition for you."

My father’s gaze snapped to him, his eyes burning with quiet rage. "A proposition?" His voice was low.

Jacob nodded. "I want your royal scepter."

A sudden silence filled the room.

Then my father barked out a laugh, sharp and full of disbelief. "You’re joking." His laughter faded into something more dangerous as he shook his head. "You think I’d just hand over the most powerful artifact in this kingdom to a complete stranger?" He turned toward the door, his patience clearly at its limit. "Guards!"

I tensed.

Jacob, however, didn’t so much as blink. He merely examined his fingernails, his smirk intact.

My father waited, his expression growing darker by the second. "Guards!" He called again.

Still nothing.

His brows furrowed. "What the—"

Jacob let out a slow chuckle. "Oh, Your Majesty," he mused. "No one can hear you."

My father froze. His gaze darted around the room, realization dawning.

I exhaled quietly. Jacob’s power was absolute.

"Who are you?" my father finally demanded, his voice a low growl as he took on a fighting stand.

Jacob met his gaze without hesitation, his smirk widening. "I am Mist," he said. "Also known as the Wolf Spirit."

My father stilled. Then, suddenly, he laughed again—this time, long and hard, as if he had finally solved the puzzle. "Oh," he exhaled, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. "Now I understand." He shook his head, turning to me. "You’ve brought a madman into my chambers."

His laughter faded as he leveled me with a cold stare. "What is the meaning of this, Zane?" His tone was sharp, commanding. "You’re the heir to this throne, and yet you behave like a reckless child. You’ve always been reckless, but this—this is beyond irresponsible. Do you even understand the consequences of your actions?"

Before he could continue, the temperature in the room shifted.

A deep, rumbling sound filled the air.

Mist. Thick, swirling mist seeped from the floor, curling like spectral tendrils. The lights flickered wildly before extinguishing completely, plunging the chamber into an eerie darkness.

Then, before my father’s stunned eyes, Jacob began to change. freeweɓnovel.cѳm

His body elongated, his form shifting seamlessly. White fur erupted from his skin, stretching over powerful limbs. His bones cracked and reformed, his posture dropping as his hands and feet morphed into massive paws. His eyes—once warm brown—glowed gold, burning like twin suns in the darkness.

The transformation was both terrifying and mesmerizing.

The massive wolf before us—towering, magnificent, otherworldly—exuded an aura so ancient, so powerful, that even the very air in the room trembled. His fur shimmered under the dim light, a ghostly white against the encroaching mist.

And then, as if the very walls of the chamber could no longer contain his power, Jacob’s voice echoed—deep, commanding, undeniable.

"Now that I have your attention, Your Majesty," his voice rumbled through the walls, vibrating in my very bones, "it’s time we talked about why I’m here."