Chapter 6
**Three months later. Volkov Lycan Territory.**
I gave birth in a palace.
Not the cold stone box Kael had locked me in—a real palace, with marble floors and golden chandeliers and an entire wing dedicated solely to me and my children.
Twin boys. Healthy, screaming, furious at the world from their first breath. Pure Lycan blood confirmed by six different healers.
Viktor held them first—this massive, terrifying man, scarred and lethal—cradling two newborns against his chest with tears streaming down his face.
"They have our father's eyes," he whispered.
The Lycan King himself had not yet visited—he was weakened from illness, Viktor explained, the same illness that had delayed their search for me. But his message arrived within the hour of the birth: *"My grandsons will want for nothing. My daughter will want for nothing. The throne remembers its blood."*
In three months, my life had transformed beyond recognition.
The blood magic binding my wolf had been removed in a ritual that nearly killed me—three days of agony while ancient healers burned the curse from my marrow. But when I emerged, my wolf exploded from me like she'd been caged for a lifetime.
Because she had.
She was silver-white—enormous, nearly the size of Viktor's wolf. A royal Lycan wolf that hadn't been seen in the bloodline for four generations. The healers wept. Viktor laughed—a rare, beautiful sound.
"Father will be furious he missed this," he'd said.
Within weeks, my body changed. I was faster, stronger, my senses sharper than any werewolf's. I trained with Viktor's warriors daily—even pregnant, even heavy with twins—and by the time I delivered, I could hold my own against wolves twice my experience.
The Volkov name, I learned, was not just powerful—it was feared. The five Lycan brothers controlled territory across three continents. They answered to no council, no pack alliance. They were above it. The original bloodline, predating every pack in existence.
And I was their only sister. Their princess.
"What do you want to name them?" Viktor asked, still holding both boys as if he'd never put them down.
I looked at my sons—their tiny fists, their golden eyes already open and alert in a way that normal newborns shouldn't be.
"Ash and Cade," I said.
"Strong names." Viktor approved. "Names for kings."
A knock at the door interrupted us. Dmitri entered—the quietest of my brothers, with cold blue eyes and a permanent expression of calculating violence.
"There's a situation," he said flatly.
Viktor's expression hardened. He handed the twins to the nurse and faced Dmitri. "What?"
"Bloodmoon Pack has issued a formal search notice for a 'missing pack member.' One Serena, unmated, no status. They're claiming she stole proprietary information and requesting extradition from all allied territories."
The room went silent.
Then Viktor laughed—a dark, dangerous sound entirely different from before.
"They're looking for her? After what they did?"
"There's more." Dmitri's eyes flickered to me. "The notice is co-signed by Alpha Kael Blackwood and Luna Mira Blackwood. They've also filed a separate complaint claiming unauthorized pregnancy—that any offspring Serena carries may be illegitimate and subject to pack tribunal."
My blood turned to ice. Even here—even three months and a thousand miles away—they were trying to claim my children were cursed.
Viktor turned to me. His expression was calm, but his eyes burned white at the edges.
"What would you like us to do, Serena?"
I looked at my newborn sons. At the Volkov crest hanging on the wall above my bed. At my five brothers, each one capable of decimating an entire pack alone.
"Nothing. Yet." I sat up straighter, ignoring the post-birth ache. "I want to heal. I want to train. I want to be strong enough that when I face them, they'll know exactly what they threw away."
Viktor smiled—slow, proud, predatory.
"Take all the time you need, little sister. They're not going anywhere."
I gave birth in a palace.
Not the cold stone box Kael had locked me in—a real palace, with marble floors and golden chandeliers and an entire wing dedicated solely to me and my children.
Twin boys. Healthy, screaming, furious at the world from their first breath. Pure Lycan blood confirmed by six different healers.
Viktor held them first—this massive, terrifying man, scarred and lethal—cradling two newborns against his chest with tears streaming down his face.
"They have our father's eyes," he whispered.
The Lycan King himself had not yet visited—he was weakened from illness, Viktor explained, the same illness that had delayed their search for me. But his message arrived within the hour of the birth: *"My grandsons will want for nothing. My daughter will want for nothing. The throne remembers its blood."*
In three months, my life had transformed beyond recognition.
The blood magic binding my wolf had been removed in a ritual that nearly killed me—three days of agony while ancient healers burned the curse from my marrow. But when I emerged, my wolf exploded from me like she'd been caged for a lifetime.
Because she had.
She was silver-white—enormous, nearly the size of Viktor's wolf. A royal Lycan wolf that hadn't been seen in the bloodline for four generations. The healers wept. Viktor laughed—a rare, beautiful sound.
"Father will be furious he missed this," he'd said.
Within weeks, my body changed. I was faster, stronger, my senses sharper than any werewolf's. I trained with Viktor's warriors daily—even pregnant, even heavy with twins—and by the time I delivered, I could hold my own against wolves twice my experience.
The Volkov name, I learned, was not just powerful—it was feared. The five Lycan brothers controlled territory across three continents. They answered to no council, no pack alliance. They were above it. The original bloodline, predating every pack in existence.
And I was their only sister. Their princess.
"What do you want to name them?" Viktor asked, still holding both boys as if he'd never put them down.
I looked at my sons—their tiny fists, their golden eyes already open and alert in a way that normal newborns shouldn't be.
"Ash and Cade," I said.
"Strong names." Viktor approved. "Names for kings."
A knock at the door interrupted us. Dmitri entered—the quietest of my brothers, with cold blue eyes and a permanent expression of calculating violence.
"There's a situation," he said flatly.
Viktor's expression hardened. He handed the twins to the nurse and faced Dmitri. "What?"
"Bloodmoon Pack has issued a formal search notice for a 'missing pack member.' One Serena, unmated, no status. They're claiming she stole proprietary information and requesting extradition from all allied territories."
The room went silent.
Then Viktor laughed—a dark, dangerous sound entirely different from before.
"They're looking for her? After what they did?"
"There's more." Dmitri's eyes flickered to me. "The notice is co-signed by Alpha Kael Blackwood and Luna Mira Blackwood. They've also filed a separate complaint claiming unauthorized pregnancy—that any offspring Serena carries may be illegitimate and subject to pack tribunal."
My blood turned to ice. Even here—even three months and a thousand miles away—they were trying to claim my children were cursed.
Viktor turned to me. His expression was calm, but his eyes burned white at the edges.
"What would you like us to do, Serena?"
I looked at my newborn sons. At the Volkov crest hanging on the wall above my bed. At my five brothers, each one capable of decimating an entire pack alone.
"Nothing. Yet." I sat up straighter, ignoring the post-birth ache. "I want to heal. I want to train. I want to be strong enough that when I face them, they'll know exactly what they threw away."
Viktor smiled—slow, proud, predatory.
"Take all the time you need, little sister. They're not going anywhere."