Shattered Bonds A Second Chance Mate (by Yui) novel Chapter 230

Chapter 230

Go to Francesco Point of view:

Ugh…

He can’t sleep.

453

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The storm had passed hours ago, but its weight still clung to the manor like a fever that refused to break.

Water whispered down the gutters, the wind muttered in the chimney, and somewhere in the woods a wolf howled as if remembering its master’s grief.

Francesco hadn’t closed his eyes.

Not that he don’t want, he want it, but he can’t.

Sighed loudly before he sat at the edge of the bed, bare–chested, the sheets pooled around his hips, his back to the window.

Moonlight cut through the glass and spilled across his scars, tracing the ancient mark just below his collarbone — the seal of Lycaon blood.

It was warm again.

Too warm.

He looked down at it and flexed his hand. The mark pulsed faintly beneath his skin,

like something alive that didn’t belong to him.

Ellaine slept beside him, her breathing soft and even, after everything that had happened to her, waking her up is the last choice he will take.

Her presence was the only sound in the room that didn’t echo.

Every rise of her chest, every small sigh in her dreams, soothed the wild thing in him that had known only war and command.

It put calmness to see her like this.

But tonight the peace was thin, like glass stretched to its limit.

He rubbed his temple, trying to quiet the thrum behind his eyes.

The bond hummed louder than usual, no longer a melody of warmth – but a dissonant chord.

He could feel her dreams touching his mind like soft feathers, but beneath that… something older stirred.

A voice…

15:46 Fri, Oct 10

Chapter 230

It came faintly at first, a whisper beneath the rhythm of her breathing.

Soft. Familiar.

Not hers.

“Leave her…”

His breath caught.

The words slithered through his blood like smoke seeking air.

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He turned toward the window. The moon had gone pale behind a gauze of clouds; its light made the world look washed–out, lifeless.

The kind of night when ghosts walked freely.

“You know how this ends,” the voice murmured again, low and intimate, as if speaking from inside his veins. “You are Lycaon. You always choose yourself. You always destroy what you love.”

His jaw tightened. He clenched the edge of the mattress until the wood groaned beneath his grip.

“Not this time,” he muttered.

But the whisper only laughed – soft, knowing.

“You will kill her, just as he killed me.”

He saw a flicker of blue fire behind his eyes – a woman’s scream echoing through centuries.

The scent of sea salt. Blood.

It hit him so hard he nearly doubled over.

“Enough!” he snarled, clutching his chest. The mark burned against his palm, searing through skin like it wanted out.

A gust of wind blew the curtains wide.

Cold moonlight flooded the room – – and for a heartbeat, he wasn’t alone.

A figure stood in the corner.

A woman, draped in gray.

Mother Severine.

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

But her eyes

—

pale as rainwater fixed on him with something between pity and contempt.

–

15:46 Fri, Oct 10

Chapter 230

“You,” he growled, low and dangerous.

:

Her lips didn’t move, yet the voice filled the room like smoke finding every crack.

“Love makes you weak. Leave her before it consumes you both.”

He took a step forward, the floorboards creaking beneath his weight.

“I am not him,” he said through gritted teeth.

The whisper lingered. Soft. Disbelieving.

“Aren’t you?”

Francesco’s control snapped.

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Power rippled through the air, invisible but heavy, shaking the curtains and rattling the glass. His Lycan stirred under his skin – the ancient beast that had ruled and killed and conquered.

For a second, he almost welcomed it.

“I would die before I hurt her.”

The room went silent.

Then came the reply, a whisper that sounded almost gentle: “That’s what he said.”

Pain exploded through his chest.

He dropped to one knee, gasping.

The mark flared bright crimson, veins of light crawling up his throat like molten fire.

He bit back a roar, his claws half–forming, scraping the floor.

Every instinct screamed to fight, to break, to destroy.

But Ellaine shifted in her sleep, murmuring his name,

and that single sound pulled him back from the edge.

“Stop,” he hissed at the phantom, sweat running down his temple. “You’ve taken enough from me.”

The whisper quieted.

The gray figure blurred at the edges, her outline thinning into mist.

“Then prove it,” she murmured- and vanished.

The silence afterward was worse,

15:46 Fri, Oct 10

Chapter 230

Chapter 230

Go to Francesco Point of view:

Ugh…

He can’t sleep.

:

53

55 vouchers

The storm had passed hours ago, but its weight still clung to the manor like a fever that refused to break.

Water whispered down the gutters, the wind muttered in the chimney, and somewhere in the woods a wolf howled as if remembering its master’s grief.

Francesco hadn’t closed his eyes.

Not that he don’t want, he want it, but he can’t.

Sighed loudly before he sat at the edge of the bed, bare–chested, the sheets pooled around his hips, his back to the window.

Moonlight cut through the glass and spilled across his scars, tracing the ancient mark just below his collarbone the seal of Lycaon blood.

–

It was warm again.

Too warm.

He looked down at it and flexed his hand. The mark pulsed faintly beneath his skin,

like something alive that didn’t belong to him.

Ellaine slept beside him, her breathing soft and even, after everything that had happened to her, waking her up is the last choice he will take.

Her presence was the only sound in the room that didn’t echo.

Every rise of her chest, every small sigh in her dreams, soothed the wild thing in him that had known only war and command.

It put calmness to see her like this.

But tonight the peace was thin, like glass stretched to its limit.

He rubbed his temple, trying to quiet the thrum behind his eyes.

The bond hummed louder than usual, no longer a melody of warmth

—

but a dissonant chord.

He could feel her dreams touching his mind like soft feathers, but beneath that… something older stirred.

A voice…

15:46 Fri, Oct 10

Chapter 230

It came faintly at first, a whisper beneath the rhythm of her breathing.

Soft. Familiar.

Not hers.

“Leave her…”

His breath caught.

The words slithered through his blood like smoke seeking air.

55 vouchers

He turned toward the window. The moon had gone pale behind a gauze of clouds; its light made the world look washed–out, lifeless.

The kind of night when ghosts walked freely.

“You know how this ends,” the voice murmured again, low and intimate, as if speaking from inside his veins. “You are Lycaon. You always choose yourself. You always destroy what you love.”

His jaw tightened. He clenched the edge of the mattress until the wood groaned beneath his grip.

“Not this time,” he muttered.

—

But the whisper only laughed soft, knowing.

“You will kill her, just as he killed me.”

He saw a flicker of blue fire behind his eyes – a woman’s scream echoing through centuries.

The scent of sea salt. Blood.

It hit him so hard he nearly doubled over.

“Enough!” he snarled, clutching his chest. The mark burned against his palm, searing through skin like it wanted out.

A gust of wind blew the curtains wide.

Cold moonlight flooded the room and for a heartbeat, he wasn’t alone.

A figure stood in the corner.

A woman, draped in gray.

Mother Severine.

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

But her eyes

—

pale as rainwater – fixed on him with something between pity and contempt.

15:46 Fri, Oct 10

Chapter 230

“You,” he growled, low and dangerous.

:

Her lips didn’t move, yet the voice filled the room like smoke finding every crack.

“Love makes you weak. Leave her before it consumes you both.”