Chapter 5
The silver chains around my wrists shattered.
Not unlocked—shattered. The scarred man hadn't even touched them. He'd simply looked at them, and they exploded into dust, the silver particles evaporating like they'd never existed.
I collapsed forward, too weak to hold myself upright. Before I hit the ground, arms caught me—impossibly gentle for their size—and I was lifted against a broad chest that radiated heat like a furnace.
"I've got you." The voice was deep, steady. Another brother—younger than the scarred one, with sharp cheekbones and eyes that shifted between gold and green. "You're safe now, Serena."
My name. He said my name like it was something sacred.
"My babies," I gasped, clutching my stomach. "They stopped moving. Please—"
The scarred man—their leader—turned to a figure behind him. "Nikolai. Now."
A third brother stepped forward, his hands already glowing with a faint blue light. A healer. He pressed his palms to my belly, and I felt warmth flood through me—not the burn of silver, but something alive, something ancient.
After three agonizing seconds, a kick. Then another. Both twins, moving again.
A sob tore from my throat.
"They're strong," Nikolai said, his expression softening. "Like their mother."
"We need to leave." The scarred man surveyed the clearing with cold fury. "This entire territory reeks of corruption. Roman, carry her. Nikolai, keep your hands on her belly until we reach the convoy. Dmitri, Alexei—if anyone follows, kill them."
"Wait—" I grabbed the scarred man's arm. Even through my delirium, I needed to know. "Who are you?"
He looked down at me, and for the first time, his expression changed—from fury to something raw. Something pained.
"I'm Viktor Volkov. Your eldest brother." He placed his massive hand over mine. "We've been searching for you for twenty-three years, Serena. Since the day you were taken from us."
"Taken?"
"Our father—the Lycan King—had six children. Five sons and one daughter." His jaw clenched. "You were stolen from your crib by a rival faction when you were three days old. They suppressed your wolf, wiped your memory, and abandoned you in human territory."
The world tilted. Everything I thought I knew about myself—the orphanage, the wandering, the weak wolf that never surfaced—it was manufactured. Engineered.
"That's why my wolf never shifted," I whispered.
"They bound her," Viktor confirmed, his voice tight with rage. "With blood magic so old it would have killed you if we hadn't found you in time. But we'll fix it. Our father's healers will unbind everything."
"Time to go," Roman—the brother holding me—said urgently. His eyes were fixed on the treeline. "I smell wolves approaching. Eight. No—twelve."
Viktor's lips curled back from his teeth—teeth that were already elongating. "Then they've chosen their deaths."
"Viktor." I gripped his arm tighter. "Don't. Not yet. Just get me out. I'll deal with them myself—after."
He studied me for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"As you wish, little sister."
They moved like shadows through the forest—faster than any wolf I'd seen, silent despite their size. Roman carried me as if I weighed nothing, his stride never faltering. Nikolai ran beside us, one hand on my belly, his healing energy a constant, soothing pulse.
We cleared the Bloodmoon territory in minutes. At the border, three black armored SUVs waited, engines running, surrounded by more men—all radiating the same crushing Lycan power.
Roman placed me in the back seat of the center vehicle. It was lined with something soft—fur, real fur—and heated. A woman was already inside, medical equipment ready.
"This is Dr. Ivanova," Nikolai said. "She specializes in Lycan pregnancies. You and the twins are in her hands now."
As the doors closed and the convoy began to move, I looked back through the tinted window at the Bloodmoon forest disappearing behind us.
Three years of my life. Three years of begging for acceptance, enduring insults, being hidden and starved and chained. Three years of loving a man who couldn't protect me—who chose not to protect me.
I pressed my hand to my stomach, feeling my twins roll and kick, alive and furious.
"I'll never let anyone hurt you," I whispered. "I promise."
My phone buzzed. A text from Kael.
*"Serena? My mother told me you left. Where are you? Please don't do anything rash. I'm coming to explain everything."*
I stared at the message for a long time. Then I typed two words:
*"Don't bother."*
I blocked his number and dropped the phone on the seat.
Kael Blackwood was no longer my problem.
Not unlocked—shattered. The scarred man hadn't even touched them. He'd simply looked at them, and they exploded into dust, the silver particles evaporating like they'd never existed.
I collapsed forward, too weak to hold myself upright. Before I hit the ground, arms caught me—impossibly gentle for their size—and I was lifted against a broad chest that radiated heat like a furnace.
"I've got you." The voice was deep, steady. Another brother—younger than the scarred one, with sharp cheekbones and eyes that shifted between gold and green. "You're safe now, Serena."
My name. He said my name like it was something sacred.
"My babies," I gasped, clutching my stomach. "They stopped moving. Please—"
The scarred man—their leader—turned to a figure behind him. "Nikolai. Now."
A third brother stepped forward, his hands already glowing with a faint blue light. A healer. He pressed his palms to my belly, and I felt warmth flood through me—not the burn of silver, but something alive, something ancient.
After three agonizing seconds, a kick. Then another. Both twins, moving again.
A sob tore from my throat.
"They're strong," Nikolai said, his expression softening. "Like their mother."
"We need to leave." The scarred man surveyed the clearing with cold fury. "This entire territory reeks of corruption. Roman, carry her. Nikolai, keep your hands on her belly until we reach the convoy. Dmitri, Alexei—if anyone follows, kill them."
"Wait—" I grabbed the scarred man's arm. Even through my delirium, I needed to know. "Who are you?"
He looked down at me, and for the first time, his expression changed—from fury to something raw. Something pained.
"I'm Viktor Volkov. Your eldest brother." He placed his massive hand over mine. "We've been searching for you for twenty-three years, Serena. Since the day you were taken from us."
"Taken?"
"Our father—the Lycan King—had six children. Five sons and one daughter." His jaw clenched. "You were stolen from your crib by a rival faction when you were three days old. They suppressed your wolf, wiped your memory, and abandoned you in human territory."
The world tilted. Everything I thought I knew about myself—the orphanage, the wandering, the weak wolf that never surfaced—it was manufactured. Engineered.
"That's why my wolf never shifted," I whispered.
"They bound her," Viktor confirmed, his voice tight with rage. "With blood magic so old it would have killed you if we hadn't found you in time. But we'll fix it. Our father's healers will unbind everything."
"Time to go," Roman—the brother holding me—said urgently. His eyes were fixed on the treeline. "I smell wolves approaching. Eight. No—twelve."
Viktor's lips curled back from his teeth—teeth that were already elongating. "Then they've chosen their deaths."
"Viktor." I gripped his arm tighter. "Don't. Not yet. Just get me out. I'll deal with them myself—after."
He studied me for a long moment. Then, slowly, he nodded.
"As you wish, little sister."
They moved like shadows through the forest—faster than any wolf I'd seen, silent despite their size. Roman carried me as if I weighed nothing, his stride never faltering. Nikolai ran beside us, one hand on my belly, his healing energy a constant, soothing pulse.
We cleared the Bloodmoon territory in minutes. At the border, three black armored SUVs waited, engines running, surrounded by more men—all radiating the same crushing Lycan power.
Roman placed me in the back seat of the center vehicle. It was lined with something soft—fur, real fur—and heated. A woman was already inside, medical equipment ready.
"This is Dr. Ivanova," Nikolai said. "She specializes in Lycan pregnancies. You and the twins are in her hands now."
As the doors closed and the convoy began to move, I looked back through the tinted window at the Bloodmoon forest disappearing behind us.
Three years of my life. Three years of begging for acceptance, enduring insults, being hidden and starved and chained. Three years of loving a man who couldn't protect me—who chose not to protect me.
I pressed my hand to my stomach, feeling my twins roll and kick, alive and furious.
"I'll never let anyone hurt you," I whispered. "I promise."
My phone buzzed. A text from Kael.
*"Serena? My mother told me you left. Where are you? Please don't do anything rash. I'm coming to explain everything."*
I stared at the message for a long time. Then I typed two words:
*"Don't bother."*
I blocked his number and dropped the phone on the seat.
Kael Blackwood was no longer my problem.