Shattered Bonds A Second Chance Mate (by Yui) novel Chapter 193

Chapter 193

The night after the feast carried a stillness that felt fragile, like glass balanced on the edge of a table.

One wrong touch and everything would shatter.

The French Alphas had left at dawn, their banners disappearing into the mist like carrion birds reluctant to leave the scent of blood. Yet their presence lingered, heavier than smoke. The servants whispered in corridors. The guards walked their rounds sharper, blades polished twice. Even the air in the manor seemed to hum with unease.

But here, on the balcony of our chambers, Francesco’s arms wrapped around me, grounding me in a world that was trying to tilt.

His warmth pressed into my back, his chin resting lightly on my hair, his breath deep and steady despite the storm he had weathered at that table.

I closed my eyes, letting myself rest in the bond.

For a moment, there were no whispers, no rumors, no sharp smiles from Dorian. There was only us–his heart beating beneath my cheek, my hand covering his where it rested over my stomach.

“You carried us last night,” Francesco said finally, his voice low and rough. “With a few words, you silenced wolves who’ve been baying for my blood for years.”

I smiled faintly, tilting my head to look up at him. “Not silenced. Only reminded.”

“Reminded of what?”

“That you are not your family. And that I am not afraid.”

His gaze softened, dark eyes catching the moonlight. “Sometimes I think you forget you are the bravest creature I’ve ever known.”

“Not brave,” I corrected gently. “Only stubborn.”

He laughed, low and warm, and bent to press his lips against my temple.

The sound vibrated through me like a prayer.

*****

Later, inside, we sat together with no Alphas, no guards, no advisors. Just wine and firelight.

Francesco leaned back in his chair, his coat undone, the stern Alpha’s mask set aside.

His eyes followed me as I sat cross–legged on the rug, rearranging the little sketches I had made in the garden. I had tried to capture the rosemary sprig before it bent toward the light, the lavender’s reaching stalks. The sketches were smudged with soil, imperfect, but when I laid them out in order, they felt like a story.

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Chapter 193

“You make things live even on paper,” he murmured.

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I tilted my head, smiling. “You fight with teeth and steel. I fight with charcoal.”

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“And yet,” he said, leaning forward, his hand brushing my cheek, “it is your fight that keeps me from turning into the monster they whisper about.”

I caught his hand, pressing it to my lips. “You were never the monster. They only fear what they cannot control.”

His eyes burned as he pulled me up into his lap, the bond singing between us, sharp with longing and soft with love.

Our lips met, hungry and tender at once, a promise and a plea. He kissed like a man who had almost lost everything once and refused to let it slip again. I kissed back with the fury of someone who knew pain and chose joy anyway.

When we finally pulled apart, breathless, he rested his forehead against mine. “One day,” he whispered, “when these wars end, I will take you away. Just you and me. No crowns. No packs. No whispers.”

“Promise?” I asked, though I already felt the truth of it in his bond.

“Promise,” he said.

The next days moved quickly.

Reports trickled in from border patrols: rumors spreading in neighboring packs.

Some said the Luna had nearly killed Isolde and been covered by her King’s power. Some said Francesco had silenced the French Alphas with threats, not reason. Others whispered darker things–that the last Lycaon was gathering land the way his ancestors had gathered blood.

It was poison, dripped in carefully. And though no one named the source, I felt Dorian’s shadow on every word. He was too clever to strike openly. He preferred rot over fire, rumor over blade.

But rumor does not always stay in whispers. Sometimes it grows teeth.

It was near twilight when Marlow came to us, his face grim.

“Rogue movements on the southern border,” he reported. “Scattered. Uncoordinated, it seems. But… there are too many for chance.”

Francesco rose instantly, Alpha authority crackling around him. “Prepare a strike team. I’ll ride with them.”

I stood as well. “Then I’ll-”

“No.” His gaze snapped to me, fierce. “You stay here. With Audrey. With the guard. I won’t risk—”

I laid a hand on his chest, feeling the thunder of his heart. “You think I’m safer here? Rumors have long legs, remember? Dorian’s words aren’t meant to stay in France. He’s already here.”

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Chapter 193

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His jaw clenched, but before he could argue, Audrey entered, blade at her hip. “The Luna stays with me,” she said flatly, as though daring anyone to contradict her.

Francesco’s bond surged with reluctance, but he nodded finally.

He kissed me once, hard and fast, a brand more than a kiss. “Stay alive. That’s all I ask.”

“Always,” I whispered.

And then he was gone, a storm given legs, Marlow and his knights thundering after him into the night.

For a while, I stayed in the manor.

Audrey paced the halls like a real wolf on a short chain, Monica close behind with sharp eyes. But the silence pressed too close, and so I walked the garden paths, lantern in hand, breathing in the night air. The plants I had sown whispered in the dark, small but defiant.

It was then the wind shifted.

The scent hit me first: wrong, sharp, feral.

Rogues…?

Too close…

“Luna,” Audrey hissed, blade half–drawn.

Figures emerged from the treeline, shadows with eyes gleaming red, teeth bared in silent grins.

My heart pounded–not in fear for myself, but in the knowledge of what this meant.

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