All Chapters of The Lycan King's Hybrid Mate: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Jensen's Point of View The crisp night air bites against my skin as Ronan, Caleb, Mira, and I step out of the diner. The warm lights from inside cast long shadows across the empty parking lot, contrasting with the cool, silver glow of the street lamps above. My heart pounds with urgency, each beat echoing the name I can’t stop thinking about, Rosalee. Mira takes the lead, her sharp gaze sweeping across the pavement as she follows the faint trail left behind. Ronan and Caleb flank her, noses slightly tilted upward as they take in the fading scent. I follow closely, tension knotting my muscles with every step. The only sounds are our footsteps crunching against the asphalt and the faint hum of distant traffic. They guide us toward the edge of the parking lot, right where I was standing when they first arrived. Mira crouches down, her fingers grazing over the surface of the ground. Her eyes narrow in concentration. A brief silence falls, heavy with anticipation. Caleb steps beside h

Jensen's Point of View The small backroom of the gas station is dimly lit, the scent of stale coffee lingering in the air. The man behind the desk moves quickly, skipping through the security footage until the timestamp reads 6:00 PM. The screen flickers slightly as the footage fastforwards. We all stand completely still, eyes locked on the monitor, our breath barely audible over the faint hum of the old computer. The road on the screen remains mostly empty, just a few scattered vehicles passing by. My fingers curl into fists at my sides, impatience gnawing at me. And then... A dark blue car emerges from the diner’s side of the street. “Stop,” I say sharply. The man freezes the frame, and I immediately step closer, my eyes narrowing at the screen. The timestamp reads 06:20 PM. My pulse quickens. This has to be them. The vehicle appears unremarkable at first glance, no obvious signs of who might be inside. The image quality isn’t great, making it hard to distinguish detail

Rosalee's Point of View The moment I step into the bathroom, I turn the shower tap on, letting the water run until it’s scalding hot. Steam begins to rise, curling around the air like a thick mist. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but my gaze is immediately drawn to the mirror above the sink. I look tired. My eyes, usually bright, seem dull and clouded. There’s dried mud on my legs, faint scrapes along my arms. My hair is tangled, wild from the time spent wandering through the forest. I look exactly how I should, like someone who had barely escaped, who had run until she had no choice but to keep going. It was the perfect illusion. I keep staring at my reflection, as if searching for something, maybe reassurance, maybe doubt, until the mirror completely fogs over, blurring the girl staring back at me. With a small sigh, I pull the oversized T-shirt over my head and step into the shower. The moment the hot water cascades over me, my muscles loosen, the tension

Jensen's Point of View I sit in silence, watching Rosalee as she absently traces patterns on the table with her fingers. She’s distant and quiet, too quiet, as if lost in thought. I’ve spent the last hour trying to piece together everything she told me, but I still don’t have the clarity I need. I don't want to doubt her but something isn’t adding up. Pushing my chair back, I stand, breaking the tense silence that has settled between us. Rosalee looks up, her blue eyes unreadable. “I need to go to my office to get some work done,” I tell her, my tone firm. “I’ll send someone to keep an eye on the house... just in case.” Her expression shifts, a flicker of resistance, the slightest narrowing of her eyes. I know she’s about to argue, but I don’t give her the chance. I turn on my heel and stride toward the door, feeling her gaze boring into my back as I leave. The moment I step outside, I open a mind link. “Keep an eye on my house.” “On my way, Alpha.” I cut the link and inhal

Jensen's Point of View I watch Rosalee carefully as she sits in my office, her presence both calming and unsettling at the same time. Something about her story doesn’t add up, but I push the thought aside. Maybe I’m just overthinking it. Maybe she’s truly realized that it’s safer here with me than out there alone. She shifts in her chair before finally standing, her gaze drifting toward the large bookshelf against the far wall. As she walks over, I take in her movements, steady, but with an underlying tension that she tries to hide. Rosalee reaches out, letting her fingertips lightly graze the spines of the books, her eyes scanning the titles with curiosity. I don’t interrupt, simply watching as she pauses at an older, well worn book. The leather cover is slightly faded from age, the edges softened from years of use. She pulls the book from the shelf, turning to face me. Her expression is thoughtful, almost hesitant. "Is this book truly about werewolves and where they came fr