Shattered Bonds A Second Chance Mate (by Yui) novel Chapter 242

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The dream began with rain.

Not the soft kind – the kind that fell like broken glass.

It hit the earth hard, merciless, washing the color from the world until everything was gray.

And in the middle of it – him.

Francesco…

He was on his knees, his hands slick with blood, his chest rising in shallow, ragged breaths. The bond between us pulsed weakly, like a dying heartbeat trying to keep rhythm against a storm.

“Francesco!”

I ran to him, slipping on the wet stones. The rain smelled of iron. His blood was everywhere – on the ground, on my hands, on the fabric of my dress.

He tried to speak, but only a tremor escaped his lips. His eyes were still gold, still beautiful, but dimming, dimming—

“Don’t…” He coughed, his voice faint. “Don’t cry.”

“Please–no, you can’t-”

“I love you,” he whispered. “You always make me forget I’m cursed.”

My hands pressed against the wound in his stomach, desperate, shaking. “You’re not cursed! We can fight this, we—”

He smiled weakly. “Then why does it always end like this?”

I looked down. My palms were drenched in red. His blood.

And then his eyes went still.

The world broke apart.

“NO!” I screamed, the sound tearing through the storm-

-and I woke up.

Gasped loudly, I feel my lungs burned.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

It took me a moment to realize I was still in bed

Francesco wasn’t beside me.

The sheets on his side were cold.

The dream still clung to me, sticky as blood.

1/6

—

that the rain was only the sound of my own pulse rushing in my ears.

I pressed my shaking hands to my face and whispered, “It’s not real.”

But the bond between us said otherwise.

It pulsed faintly, unsteady. Hurting.

The days after thai dream blurred together – gray, heavy, each one worse than the last.

Francesco barely slept now.

He trained until his body broke, then healed, then broke again. His knuckles were always bleeding, his eyes sunken, his voice quieter.

He stopped eating.

Stopped laughing.

Stopped looking at me.

When I reached for him through the bond, he closed himself off- as if he thought he could protect me by keeping me out.

But I felt everything anyway.

The pain. The guilt. The self–loathing.

The whispers…

At night, when he thought I was asleep, I could hear him talking to himself.

No- not to himself. To her.

To the curse.

To Severine.

Sometimes I heard my name. Sometimes I heard his own.

Sometimes I heard nothing but silence, and that silence was worse.

The pack noticed too.

Audrey watched him from the edge of every training field.

Marlow never left his side.

Even Alfonso – who never flinched at anything – looked worried when he thought no one saw,

Monica begged him to rest. He didn’t listen.

And I… I watched him die a little more each day.

That night, I found him sitting on the balcony again.

He didn’t hear me come in.

He was shirtless, the moonlight tracing the lines of his muscles, his skin glistening with sweat.

2/6

His claws were out, buried in the stone rail until cracks splintered under his hands.

His breath came in shallow bursts.

I felt the bond strain- tight, suffocating.

“Francesco…”

His head jerked slightly, but he didn’t look at me.

“You’re hurting yourself,” I said softly.

He let out a low, bitter laugh. “It’s better than hurting you.”

I stepped closer, wrapping my arms around his shoulders from behind. “You’d never-”

“I almost did….”

The words froze me.

He still blame himself.

He turned his head just enough for the moonlight to catch his face. His eyes were wet, his jaw trembling.

“I saw it,” he whispered. “In my head. My hands around your throat. My voice saying things I’d never say.”

He closed his eyes. “And it felt… real.”

Oh my God.

I swallowed hard. “That wasn’t you…”

He shook his head. “It’s in me, Ellaine. Her voice. Her hate. Every time I close my eyes, she shows me what she wants — your death. My hands doing it.”

He looked at me then, finally, and there was so much pain in his eyes it almost broke me.

“I love you,” he said. “But… I don’t trust myself anymore.”

I

wanted to say something – anything – but the words wouldn’t come.

—

Because I could feel it too.

The darkness inside him.

The pull…

It was like standing at the edge of a cliff together, knowing only one could step back.

“I’m not leaving you,” I whispered. “Even if it kills me.”

He flinched at that physically, like the words cut him.

—

“Don’t….” he said, voice breaking. “Don’t ever say that.”

The next few days blurred again.

3/6

Sleep abandoned both of us.

Every morning, he grew quieter. Paler.

The circles under his eyes darkened like bruises that no one could heal.

Sometimes I’d find him standing in the corridor, staring at nothing.

–

Other times, I’d wake in the middle of the night to find him gone out in the woods, bleeding under the moonlight just to feel something human.

The pack started whispering. They thought I didn’t hear.

But I did.

The king is losing control.

The curse is taking him.

The Luna will be next.

And maybe… they were right.

Because that morning, when I looked into his eyes, I didn’t see the light anymore.

I saw fire.

It happened just after sunset.

I’d gone to his room

–

our room

–

to bring him water.

He hadn’t eaten all day.

The door was open.

The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of the dying fire.

At first, I thought he wasn’t there.

Then I saw him.

Standing by the window.

A silver knife in his hand.

My heart stopped, where did he get that?

I notice it was the same knife that his father do to killed the vampire…. Dangerous weapon with poison.

“Francesco?” My voice was barely a whisper.

He turned slowly.

There was blood on his lips – I didn’t know if it was his or from biting through the inside of his cheek.

His eyes looked… distant. Empty.

4/6

“Ellaine….” he said softly. “I didn’t hear you come.”

My stomach twisted, afraid to asked. “What are you doing?”

He looked at the knife, then back at me. “Trying to be strong.”

“Put it down,” I said gently, stepping closer.

He smiled a sad, broken thing. “It won’t stop, Ellaine.”

My heart beating fast.

“What won’t stop?”

“The voice. The hunger. The curse. It whispers every minute I’m awake. It waits while I sleep. It wants blood – your blood.”

I shook my head. “You’re stronger than this. We’ll find another way.”

He took a step closer.

The knife caught the light.

“There’s only one way to end it,” he said quietly. “It won’t stop until one of us dies.”

My breath caught. “No…”

“Yes.” His voice was shaking now. “It wants me to kill you. But if I die first…”

He raised the knife to his chest.

“Francesco-” My eyes widened in fear for what I saw, hoping this is just a dark joke.

“It’s better I than you.” His voice was calm. Too calm. “I love you, Ellaine.”

WHAT??!!!

“NO!”

–

The word tore out of me as I lunged forward — but I was too late.

The blade plunged deep into his stomach.

Time stopped.

He gasped, eyes wide, blood already spreading across his skin like red ink.

My scream filled the room.

“No! NOOO000000000000!”

I caught him as he fell, my hands pressing against the wound, warm blood soaking through my fingers.

“Francesco! Stay with me! Please-!”

He tried to smile, but it came out as a trembling breath. “It’s quiet now…”

5/6

“Don’t you dare-!”

He brushed my cheek weakly with his bloodstained fingers. “Don’t cry, my Luna. It’s not the end. The bond-”

His words faded into a whisper.

Then silence.

Francesco!!!!!!”

I screamed again, shaking him, calling his name, begging the bond to hold, to pulse, to do something!

But it was gone.

All I could feel was blood warm, too much, too fast.

–

And in the dying firelight, the mirror on the far wall shimmered faintly:

A woman’s reflection smiled through the cracks.

‘Love always ends in blood, Severine whispered.