The Lycan King's Second Chance Mate: Rise of the Traitor's Daughter-Chapter 174: The Memory Unmasked

Easter~

The space around us pulsed with tension, heavy and electric. Time itself had stilled in the shimmering frozen memory where my past screamed to be heard. But Jacob wasn’t finished.

"You humans," Jacob said with a smirk. "You never cease to amaze me."

He raised one graceful hand, fingers slicing the silence like a whip. The frozen scene flickered, blurred—like fog lifting from glass—and began to melt into something else entirely.

"Let’s shift the lens, shall we?" he said, his voice calm, but the edge in it sharp as a knife. "Let’s stop pretending holiness runs in your blood."

The memory dissolved into another—vivid and horrifying.

We were in the church—our family’s church. But it wasn’t a sermon we were watching. It was Mama, dressed in her pristine choir robe, sneaking into the back room after rehearsal, locking the door with trembling fingers. And there he was.

Bruno.

The same Bruno who’d been standing all stiff and sanctimonious by the door blocking my escape just moments ago—clutching his imaginary halo like he was the second coming—was now trembling like a leaf. His act had shattered the second his memory-self flashed on that screen, exposing everything he thought he’d buried.

She practically leapt into his arms, their mouths crashing like waves in a storm. Clothes came off. Gasps filled the air. She moaned his name.

I clamped my hand over my mouth, my heart stuttering. I heard my own gasp. "Oh my God," I whispered.

The memory faded—only to be replaced with another.

This time, it was Papa.

In the church basement.

With Bruno.

Bruno again.

Papa’s robe was thrown over a chair. They were on the floor. Bruno laughed—his hands all over Papa—and Papa, eyes closed, mouth open, was loving it.

And the worst part? When it was over... they prayed.

Together.

"Lord, forgive us," Papa whispered in the memory, still breathless. "Help me fight temptation."

Then they laughed. Like it was all a joke.

Mama stumbled back from the memory like she’d been slapped. "No... no, that’s not—"

"That’s not what?" I snapped, voice shaking with disgust. "Not real? Not what actually happened? Are you seriously going to deny what we all just saw?"

Papa turned chalk white. His lips moved, but no sound came.

Melody dropped to her knees, sobbing. "No... no, no, no. I can’t—I can’t believe this. I can’t..."

I felt sick. Actually sick. My knees trembled.

"You hypocrites," I spat, every word soaked in fury. "You called me the whore. You called her the liar. You condemned us to hell while you were rolling around in it like pigs in mud!"

Mama clutched her chest, her lips trembling. "It wasn’t—"

"Don’t," I cut her off. "Don’t you dare. You let them call me unclean. You beat me. You forced me to marry a man who beat and raped me every night because you didn’t want your name dragged in the dirt. And all this time... this was your secret?"

They stood there, helpless. Speechless.

Melody sobbed harder on the floor, gasping like she couldn’t breathe. "I respected you both," she wailed, "I loved you. I thought you were both saints doing God’s work—that you were better than everyone."

Jacob finally moved. With a flick of his wrist, a flash drive shimmered into existence between his fingers. He held it out toward Melody.

Her swollen eyes lifted to meet his gaze.

"This," Jacob said softly, "is every piece of evidence you need to take down the boys who hurt you. Every name, every place, every shred of proof. It’s your choice now—to let them walk free, or make them answer for what they did."

Melody stared at the flash drive like it was fire.

"Why?" she whispered. "Why... are you doing this?"

He glanced at me, and something tender passed through his gaze. "Because of her," he said. "Because she bore the weight of everyone’s sins and still stood tall. Because your sister—who you betrayed—still hoped and prayed everyday to see you again."

Melody clutched the flash drive to her chest. "Who... what are you?"

Jacob turned to her, smile soft and unreadable. "I am her guardian," he said. "Her protector."

Melody crawled toward me, her hands shaking. "Easter... please. Please, forgive me."

I looked at her for a long moment.

And I saw it—raw regret, shame that ran deep.

"I forgive you," I said quietly. "But that doesn’t mean I want you in my life. You... and them"—I threw a hand at Mama and Papa—"are not my family anymore. That title is sacred. And you don’t deserve it."

Melody crumbled to the floor, sobbing like the world had just split beneath her. "I don’t want to lose you again..."

I looked down at her—my voice colder than I thought it could be. "You already did."

Behind her, Mama looked like a ghost—face drained of all color, hands trembling as if gripped by a storm she couldn’t stop. Papa stood rigid, eyes wide, like he’d swallowed acid and it was burning through his soul.

And Bruno?

Bruno looked like he was five seconds away from combusting. Sweat trickled down the side of his face like a confession, his lips twitching, eyes darting for an escape route. He looked like he’d give anything for the Earth to crack open and devour him whole.

Then Jacob raised one finger—and snapped.

The frozen dreamscape shattered like glass under a hammer.

Reality slammed back in.

The living room lights flickered, the air shifted, and the silence was deafening.

Bruno gasped like he’d just surfaced from underwater. His eyes darted around—and then? He ran.

Bolted.

He shot for the door like his soul was on fire, flung it open, and disappeared into the street, sprinting like hell itself was nipping at his heels.

Which, honestly, wasn’t that far off.

The others—Melody, Mama, Papa—just stood there, statues in a crime scene. Shock rooted them to the floor.

I was still catching my breath when I felt the warmth of Jacob beside me. He slid an arm around my waist, the other gently cradling Rose—who, miraculously, was still fast asleep against his chest, untouched by the chaos.

Jacob leaned close, his lips brushing my ear. "Ready to leave this circus?"

I nodded once, slow and sure. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

He gave me that signature smirk—the one that made the air feel warmer, the pain feel lighter. He pulled me in tighter, like I was something precious.

Then he looked back, his eyes scanning the wreckage of the family I’d once begged to love me. "Have a nice day," he said casually, like he’d just finished a business meeting.

And then the world folded in around us—light bending, time twisting—and we were gone.