All Chapters of The Price of a Second Chance: Chapter 211 - Chapter 220

When the sun went down, I had already decided. Anger worked as fuel. During the day, I could not act; there were children, the eyes of others, and social duties that required me to be the correct alpha. At night, however, the city changes skin. People retreat into their worlds, and the forest is back to what it was.I turned on the car and drove slowly, without haste and with no clear destination beyond that edge, which now called me. The smell of Naomi stuck to my coat and accompanied me all the way, as if she had left an invisible trail that only I could feel. It hurt. Not for the betrayal itself, which was expected; it hurt to be humiliated to realize that another presence still had power over me after all I did to cancel the past.I parked where it was easier to disappear and continued on foot. The night air had a thin layer of moisture that stuck to the coat’s hair. I stepped firmly, attentive to the signs. Footprints, broken branches, recent marks—all this formed a line that, if

She still believed I could stop him with words. "Lancelot, look at me. You can do it. Breathe, please."He breathed, yes, but the air entered as if it were fire. With each breath, the chest opened more, the body changing shape. I saw his gaze find me among the spasms. It was not a look of supplication. "He will turn completely," I murmured, low, without emotion.Naomi turned her face to me, her eyes swollen. "So help.""Do you think I can help with that? If I knew, I wouldn’t have any problems either. Besides, I can’t stand this guy. There is no reason for me to help.""If you stop treating him like an enemy."Laugh, short, dry. "He is an enemy. Always was. Always will be. Enemy of normal wolves and my enemy."She came closer to the collapsing body, and the smell of blood increased. Lancelot tried to push her, but there was no force. His fingers were no longer. Claws cracked the skin, opening new cuts. The surrounding ground became dark."Naomi, get out of there. It’s not safe.""If

I woke up to the sound of my own breath. My whole body hurt. For a moment, I did not understand where I was. I only saw the forest moving slowly, the gray sky in the morning, and the smell. The smell was everything. I tried to get up, but the body did not respond as before. The legs obeyed differently, the weight was distributed incorrectly, and when I tried to support my hands, I realized the mistake. The nails had turned into claws, short, sharp, and dirty with blood. I touched my face and felt the muzzle still incomplete, the skin stretched, the jaw caught between two forms. Half man. Half wolf. Neither was it entire yet.The head throbbed. The memories came in disjointed flashes: her voice calling my name, the sound of the rifle being armed, and the scream that came out of me before everything was extinguished. And then, nothing. Now, only the emptiness.I tried to remember what made me stop. Run. I shouldn’t have run. The instinct was to return, to finish what had been started,

The smell of burning iron guided me. Even from a distance, I already knew that something had gone wrong. The forest was too quiet. I walked with my heart beating fast, my feet sinking into the wet earth. With each step, the smell of blood became stronger. I recognized that smell, even mixed with others. It was his. It was Lancelot.When I came out of the trees, the house appeared in front of me, half swallowed by the mist. The windows were open, and the wind made the curtains slam hard. The feeling was one of abandonment, but I knew it wasn’t that long. He had been there. I could feel it. The wood was stained. I touched the surface, and dried blood stuck to my fingers. Still warm enough to tell me it wasn’t even an hour.The door was ajar. I pushed carefully. The inside smelled of iron, sweat, and gunpowder. I entered. The floor had marks, deep scratches that cut through the wooden floor. I followed the trail to the corridor. Every step hurt. Every memory, too.When I got to the basem

I lifted him as I could. His body was light and heavy at the same time. I held him in my lap, resting my head between my shoulder and my chest, and felt the scent of mud, blood, and fur mixing with his smell. "Stay with me," I whispered. "Hold on, just a little longer." He breathed, a short sound.The branches scratched my legs, the boots slipped in the mud; in each fall, I held him as if holding the last piece of the world. There was no rush to take everything at once. When the skin rubbed with my hand, I felt trembling; when the forehead touched my shoulder, I almost fainted in relief.The stream stayed behind, and the trail went up. Every time I saw a clearing, my body reacted. Casper was not foolish; he would not give up.At one point, his chest sank against my body, and I felt his heart beat. I felt the ribs under my hand, the uneven heat, and started chanting small, simple things to keep humanity there. The breath faltered, and for a second, his eyes trembled as if they wanted t