Shattered Bonds: A Second Chance Mate - Chapter 87: Chapter 87

Third Party point of view:
There she is.
Ellaine Rollin Lycaon.
The Alpha Lycan’s mate. The glowing Luna. The survivor turned symbol of hope. The perfect little muse to a kingdom trying to convince itself it had healed.
She was breathtaking—even I had to admit that. Dressed in soft champagne silk that clung to her like a second skin, the gown shimmered beneath the golden chandeliers like moonlight captured in fabric. Her long, silvery hair cascaded down her back in loose waves, framing her porcelain face like some kind of divine portrait. And her laugh… gods, that laugh.
I gripped my glass tighter, fingers whitening around the delicate stem.
That sound made me want to crush her throat just to make it stop.
She stood near the grand staircase, radiant and effortless. Surrounded by students, warriors, dignitaries—those lucky enough to be invited to this exclusive celebration in the Alpha’s private hall. A graduation ball, they called it. But make no mistake—it was her coronation.
Even the human guests could sense she was different.
My gaze sharpened.
Ellaine. The girl who should’ve faded into obscurity. Who should’ve been forgotten after her rejection, buried by shame, consumed by her own grief. But no—she’d returned. Not just standing tall but shining. Stronger. Loved.
Adored.
Especially by him.
Francesco Lycaon. Alpha of the European Crescent Pack, the last living Lycan of royal blood. The one man I wanted more than anything to see on his knees—crushed beneath the weight of loss and regret. But instead, there he stood, tall and poised, his gaze soft as it followed her every step.
He looked at her like she was all that mattered. Not his lands. Not the Council. Not even the looming unrest creeping across supernatural borders.
Just her.
It was pathetic.
And terrifying.
She walked toward him now, graceful and unaware of just how much I hated her. He met her halfway, his hand resting at the small of her back. She whispered something, and he laughed—low and warm, like a man who finally found peace after centuries of war.
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I smiled.
Frozen. Flawless. Just as I’d been trained to be.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” my friend asked, her brows pinched with concern.
I blinked. Shook my head lightly, forcing my lips to curl upward. “Tired,” I said simply. “Too much champagne.”
She nodded, believing it too easily.
I peeled away, making my way toward the refreshments table with practiced grace. But my eyes never left her. Never.
Ellaine. So unaware. So trusting.
So breakable.
They thought her healed. Reborn. But no matter how bright she glowed, I saw the cracks. I had created them.
She had no idea what was already inside her.
Poison—not just in body, but in spirit.
And it had already begun.
I sipped my wine, the bitter tang grounding me.
This celebration was a mistake. A weakness. A moment of vulnerability they’d gifted me on a silver platter.
I watched as Ellaine and Francesco disappeared toward the rooftop garden, the crowd parting with reverence. I knew what that meant. They weren’t just taking in the night air.
They were preparing.
For the run.
I heard it before anyone else did.
A howl.
Low. Beautiful. Ancient.
Every wolf froze for a second. The air shimmered with instinct.
The Graduation Run.
A sacred tradition. A symbolic run beneath the full moon to celebrate one’s academic achievement in the human world—a ceremony not just of survival but of pride and unity. Few ever received such an honor. Only those with the Alpha’s blessing. Only those deemed future leaders.
Ellaine, of course, would be at the center of it all.
As if surviving heartbreak made her a goddess.
As if coming back made her chosen.
But it didn’t matter.
Because I had already set things in motion.
I smiled to myself, a quiet and private thing.
Patience, Katrina.
It was only a matter of time now.
The potion she drank was slow. Subtle. Laced with ancient magic, brewed by Luca himself—the exiled leader of the Eastern Shadows. It wouldn’t kill her, not yet. That would be too easy. Too kind.
No. It would unravel her from the inside.
First, the dizziness. Then confusion. Dreams she couldn’t tell from memory. Small gaps. Then wider ones. The faces she loved would become strangers. The language she spoke would falter on her tongue. She would question her own name.
Piece by piece, she would forget.
And when she was nothing more than a hollow shell—
He would come for her.
To reclaim what should’ve been his.
A soft tremor of anticipation curled in my belly.
I moved back to my table, greeted by the easy laughter of my circle. They were all tipsy, flushed with wine and joy, unaware of the storm I had summoned into their sanctuary.
“Hey, everyone’s heading out. Want to walk with us?” Angela asked, a little slurred but glowing.
I nodded. “Yeah. Just need to grab my clutch.”
She leaned into me, her breath warm with champagne. “Best. Party. Ever.”
Her laughter was cut off by a loud crash.
Brug!
A goblet had fallen. Shattered on the floor.
The music faltered, and a collective murmur spread.
My heart jumped.
It wasn’t the sound. It was the sudden shift in the air.
A growl.
Low. Primal. Not human.
One of the warriors—Orion, I recognized him—was sniffing the air, his eyes lit with a faint gold glow.
No.
No no no.
He turned. Met my gaze. Froze.
Recognition.
Damn it.
I bolted.
“KATRINA?! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?” Angela’s voice followed me.
Perfect. Scream my name, why don’t you?
I shoved past the crowd, weaving between startled guests. The exit by the kitchens was open—I took it without hesitation, heels clicking against marble, then stone.
I didn’t stop until I hit the alley behind the hall.
Tore off my shoes. Ran barefoot.
My lungs burned.
But I had to get to him.
Kellan.
My mate.
My real reason for all of this.
He said if I proved myself, he’d claim me. Not just in word. But bond. Blood. Power.
Ellaine never saw me coming. She was too busy healing. Too busy finding love and safety.
I was right beside her the whole time.
A friend. A peer. A harmless bystander.
Until I wasn’t.
I ran past closed shops and sleeping inns, the streets thinning into trees. Into shadow. Spell-laced wards began to soften the senses—muffling sound, scent, sight. A protective veil we’d created years ago for moments just like this.
He waited where the forest swallowed the path.
Kellan.
Tall, cruel, beautiful. With eyes like volcanic glass and a smile that promised ruin.
“You’re late,” he said, stepping from the trees.
“She drank it,” I panted. “Everything went to plan.”
His lips curled. “Good.”
“Once it starts,” I whispered, “she won’t know what’s real.”
He didn’t answer. Just turned and started walking.
“Luca will be pleased,” he said after a pause. “She’ll break. And when she does…”
He didn’t finish.
He didn’t need to.
I followed without question.
I’d done what was needed.
Now all that remained was to wait.
To watch her fall.
—
High above, beneath the moon’s silver eye, Ellaine twirled in Francesco’s arms, unaware of the doom curling inside her like smoke.
Her laughter floated into the night, a light note in the darkness.
She felt alive. Free. Loved.
And yet…
As the rooftop twirled with moonlight and soft music, a flicker of nausea twisted her stomach.
Just a second. Just a breath.
She brushed it off, leaning into Francesco’s warmth.
He held her tighter, as if he sensed something—something small, quiet.
But then she smiled again.
And the moment passed.
The celebration below had ended.
But the true war?
It was just beginning.
And this time, betrayal wore a familiar face.