All Chapters of The Price of a Second Chance: Chapter 151 - Chapter 160

Since the reporter’s visit, something has corroded me. I could hide from my children, I could even try to hide from myself, but not from Lancelot. Sooner or later, he would feel it. Wolves always do. And it was exactly when I thought that the doorbell didn’t ring. There was no knocking on the door. Just a strange silence, the kind of silence that precedes something greater. My back shuddered before I even felt it. The smell. Strong, striking, impossible to confuse. Lancelot. He did not like to mask his smell with me.My body jammed. It didn’t come here. It never did. But now it was on the other side of the door. I took a deep breath and opened it. It was there. The broad shoulders, the brown eyes with that amber glow that denounced the restless wolf. The chest gasped as if it had run until it lost its breath."Lancelot," I murmured in surprise. "What are you doing here?"He did not respond immediately. He only entered, without asking, as if he was pulled by something greater than his

The phone trembled in my hand, but not for lack of courage. It was her excess. I knew that if I thought for one more minute, I would give up. And I could not give up. Not after so many nights awake, with the wolf stuck in the skin, asking for space.I dialed his number. The silence of the room seemed amplified, as if the house held its breath in anticipation of me. One, two, three calls. Until his voice answered, deep, hoarse, and tired."Naomi?""I want to run."The silence on the other side was almost palpable. I could imagine his incredulous expression."Do you know what?""I want to run with you. Today."A low sound escaped from him, something between laughter and disbelief. "You have gone mad.""No." My eyes fell on the open curtains, the crescent moon illuminating part of the couch. My chest burned. "I haven’t run in a while. And you need it. We need it.""Naomi." His voice became more serious, loaded with tension. "It’s not safe. You know. I don’t…""So don’t come." The interru

The body was still burning from the race. Every muscle, every bone seemed to pulse as if it had run alone against the whole forest. But it was not ordinary pain. It was the echo of the wolf, vibrating in me, as if I was still under my skin, waiting for the chance to come out again.I fell on my back onto the mattress, sweating, panting, and my hands shaking. Naomi had looked at me with that boldness of hers. I should have said no. I should have stopped. But I couldn’t. When she called me, when she threatened to run alone, there was no choice. Instinct gives no choice.Closed my eyes. Her smell was still in my body, mixed with the forest. The heart was beating irregularly, as if I had not learned to slow down. I knew that I could not sleep. And even so, sleep pulled me.In the dream, I ran again. The wet ground, the branches breaking under the feet, the wind ripping through the night. By my side, Naomi, her wolf, agile, fierce. With each jump, she seemed to laugh inside, the joy vibrat

The quarry swallows the sound. The body still hurt from the forced transformation. I took a deep breath, trying to believe that if I pulled the air down into my lungs, the wolf would give in. But he wouldn’t."Again," he ordered, with that pretended calm that made me angry."Enough," I growled, still half human, half beast. "That’s enough.""Enough when you stop shaking at hearing her name. Enough when you can look at her without seeing yourself ripping her throat out."The chest burned. "Shut up."He did not shut up. It was what he knew how to do: poke, provoke, and play with the words. The problem is that it almost always worked.And it was at that moment that I felt. The smell. It was not possible. I had not called. I would never let her approach me in that state. But the smell was real, through the dust and sweat of the quarry, firm, hot, and impossible to confuse. Naomi.My whole body shuddered. The wolf advanced from within, fierce, because he recognized the smell of Mate. I alm

The cafe had that old smell of wet wood and burnt coffee that never went away. I didn’t like the place, but sometimes it was useful. A small space, where voices loaded with secrets did not need to hide behind high walls.I entered without haste, the doorbell ringing too high. The counter was empty, but I knew who would be there. Adrian did not miss a dawn in this place, as if the cafe was his personal confessional.And there he was. The reporter. Always with that leather briefcase on his lap, his eyes too restless for someone who pretended to be neutral."Casper." He said my name almost like a sigh, surprised and uncomfortable at the same time.I sat in front of him without asking. "Adrian." I waved to the waiter and ordered a coffee, just for disguise. The smell already made me nauseous. Lancelot was not there.He closed the folder slowly, as if it were a shield. "I didn’t expect to see you here."Smile from the corner. "I show up when I want to. You should know that."Adrian hesitat