Shattered Bonds A Second Chance Mate (by Yui) novel Chapter 268

**Chapter 268**

In the territory, whispers did not merely spread; they erupted like a wildfire, consuming everything in their path.

The moment the news broke that the Luna was carrying a child fathered by both a Lycan Alpha and a white wolf descendant, the entire region seemed to pause, as if collectively holding its breath. Every wolf, whether filled with loyalty, jealousy, dread, or hope, exchanged hushed words, speculating on the implications of such a union.

Some voices rose with excitement, their imaginations running wild with visions of heirs born with extraordinary power—beings destined to alter the balance of power among packs for generations to come.

Yet, in stark contrast, others spoke in hushed tones, their faces clouded with worry.

For power like that was a double-edged sword. It was unpredictable, a blessing intertwined with a curse, all wrapped up in tiny fists and the sharp cries of a newborn.

Old tales warned that hybrid children either ascended to legendary status or perished before they ever took their first breath.

Those same stories whispered of the suffering endured by mothers who carried such potent bloodlines, yet no one dared to voice that part aloud.

No one wanted to give form to the fears that twisted like vines through Francesco’s pack.

Inside the Alpha’s chamber, the murmurs from outside faded into a more profound, intimate dread.

Ellaine reclined against a mound of cushions, her complexion paler than the moon that once graced her lineage. Sweat beaded on her brow, even in the coolness of the room. There were days when she struggled to stand, her knees locking painfully, forcing Lira to catch her before she could fall.

Lira had been a steadfast presence, hardly leaving Ellaine’s side since the onset of her weakness; her quiet loyalty served as a constant anchor. She gently wiped Ellaine’s forehead with warm cloths, assisted her in sitting up, and offered her sips of water when her hands trembled too much to hold the cup. Lira never asked for a moment’s rest; she never voiced a complaint.

Meanwhile, Monica and Audrey stood guard, their fierce expressions daring anyone to challenge them. If anyone dared to approach too hastily, Monica’s snarl was enough to send them scurrying back.

Audrey’s hand rarely strayed far from the dagger strapped securely to her thigh, ready for any threat.

They all sensed the monstrous energy swirling within their Luna—not monstrous in nature, but in power. Something that drained energy, life, and strength… perhaps too much strength.

Yet, none of them dared to voice these thoughts.

Ellaine herself was engulfed in confusion. She had anticipated that pregnancy would be challenging, but she had not prepared for the bone-deep fatigue or the sharp, jarring pains that coursed through her. The chill that spread through her limbs persisted, no matter how many blankets Lira wrapped around her.

Nights were particularly tormenting; she would awaken gasping for air, as if drowning in an unseen tide. At times, her heart raced like a prey animal fleeing from a predator’s claws, while at other moments, it slowed to a crawl, making her fear it might cease altogether.

And the child—oh, the child moved with a strength that no unborn pup should possess.

Some nights, the kicks were so vigorous they stole her breath away; on others, she could have sworn she felt a faint glow pulsing beneath her skin, as if the unborn creature housed a fragment of moonlight within.

But she shared none of this with Francesco.

He already regarded her as if she were fragile, as if a single misstep could shatter her. He fought daily against his own spiraling fears, struggling to maintain his composure.

She could see it in his eyes, especially when he thought she was asleep—the panic he buried deep, the fear he swallowed so fiercely it hollowed him out.

Francesco was a Lycan Alpha, a warrior forged from instinct, authority, and strength, yet nothing frightened him more than the thought of weakness in those he cherished.

For weakness signified loss. And loss conjured memories he dared not revisit.

And Ellaine… she was the one person he could not afford to lose.

Thus, he immersed himself in patrols, using his duties as a means of distraction.

He ran the borders himself, pushing himself harder than any of his warriors. Yet even then, his thoughts drifted back home—to her fragile breaths, to the unborn heir that might be tearing her apart from the inside.

He never voiced it, but each step he took away from the heart of the territory filled him with anxiety. His wolf prowled restlessly beneath his skin, refusing to settle.

He told himself he was merely being overprotective. He reassured himself that Lira and the others would summon him if anything changed.

But the unease gnawed at him relentlessly.

It was in this state of mind that he nearly collided with Drake.

The scent hit him first—sharp, familiar, laced with dominance and wildness. Francesco skidded to a halt on the forest path, claws half unsheathed, bracing himself for a potential threat.

What he encountered instead was Drake, casually leaning against a tree in the middle of the trail, arms crossed, his expression unyielding.

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