Chapter 7
**One year later.**
The Grand Lycan Summit was held every five years in neutral territory—a massive underground cathedral carved into a mountain, where every major pack, coven, and supernatural faction sent representatives.
Attendance was mandatory for all Alphas. Including Kael Blackwood.
I'd spent twelve months preparing for this moment. Training until my body was a weapon. Studying politics, alliances, and pack law until I could dismantle a council argument in seconds. Learning the Volkov legacy until it was part of my bones.
My wolf—once suppressed to nothing—was now the most powerful in the bloodline. The healers said it was because she'd been compressed for so long. Like a spring held down for twenty-three years, finally released.
I was no longer the trembling girl who'd been chained in a clearing.
"You're certain about this?" Viktor asked as we approached the Summit entrance. He was in a tailored black suit, his scar on full display—a warning to anyone who looked too long.
"Certain." I adjusted my gown—blood red, split to the thigh, with the Volkov crest embroidered in gold thread across the back. My silver-white hair—another change after the unbinding—cascaded over one shoulder.
Behind us walked Roman, Dmitri, Nikolai, and Alexei. Five Lycan princes escorting their sister. The power radiating from our group made other delegates physically step back as we entered.
Whispers erupted immediately.
"Is that—the Volkov brothers? All five of them?"
"They never attend together. Something's happening."
"Who's the woman?"
I kept my eyes forward, my chin lifted. Let them wonder.
The cathedral was cavernous—thousands of supernaturals arranged in tiered seating around a central floor. At the Alpha table, I spotted him immediately.
Kael Blackwood.
He sat beside Mira, who wore a gaudy golden Luna crown and a self-satisfied smile. Their "son"—nearly a year old now—was not present, but Mira kept touching her chest where a locket hung, performing motherhood.
Kael looked... diminished. Thinner. Dark circles beneath his eyes. His golden gaze was scanning the room restlessly, as if searching for something he'd lost.
When his eyes found me, he went completely still.
I watched the recognition hit him in stages. First, confusion—he didn't immediately reconcile the silver-haired woman in the red gown with the hollow-eyed girl he'd locked in a cottage. Then shock, as the pieces assembled. Then something that looked like physical pain.
I held his gaze for exactly three seconds. Then I looked away, dismissing him, and took my seat at the Volkov table—front row, center. The seat of the highest bloodline in the room.
"Welcome, delegates," the Summit Master announced. "We begin with the registration of new bloodline members."
Viktor stood. His voice carried across the cathedral without effort.
"The Volkov bloodline registers three new members. Princess Serena Volkov, daughter of the Lycan King. And her sons—Ash Volkov and Cade Volkov. Twin heirs to the Volkov throne."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Then the eruption—gasps, shouts, the scraping of chairs as people stood to see. The Lycan King had a daughter? Heirs? The bloodline that everyone believed was fading had just announced not one but three new members.
I stood, letting the room see me fully. Letting the power roll off me unrestrained.
And across the cathedral, I watched Kael Blackwood's face drain of every drop of color.
His sons.
The sons he'd let his mother call cursed.
The sons he'd abandoned.
They were Volkov princes.
Mira's hand was gripping his arm, her face twisted with something between fury and terror. She was whispering urgently in his ear, but he wasn't listening.
He was staring at me like a man watching his own grave being dug.
Good.
The Grand Lycan Summit was held every five years in neutral territory—a massive underground cathedral carved into a mountain, where every major pack, coven, and supernatural faction sent representatives.
Attendance was mandatory for all Alphas. Including Kael Blackwood.
I'd spent twelve months preparing for this moment. Training until my body was a weapon. Studying politics, alliances, and pack law until I could dismantle a council argument in seconds. Learning the Volkov legacy until it was part of my bones.
My wolf—once suppressed to nothing—was now the most powerful in the bloodline. The healers said it was because she'd been compressed for so long. Like a spring held down for twenty-three years, finally released.
I was no longer the trembling girl who'd been chained in a clearing.
"You're certain about this?" Viktor asked as we approached the Summit entrance. He was in a tailored black suit, his scar on full display—a warning to anyone who looked too long.
"Certain." I adjusted my gown—blood red, split to the thigh, with the Volkov crest embroidered in gold thread across the back. My silver-white hair—another change after the unbinding—cascaded over one shoulder.
Behind us walked Roman, Dmitri, Nikolai, and Alexei. Five Lycan princes escorting their sister. The power radiating from our group made other delegates physically step back as we entered.
Whispers erupted immediately.
"Is that—the Volkov brothers? All five of them?"
"They never attend together. Something's happening."
"Who's the woman?"
I kept my eyes forward, my chin lifted. Let them wonder.
The cathedral was cavernous—thousands of supernaturals arranged in tiered seating around a central floor. At the Alpha table, I spotted him immediately.
Kael Blackwood.
He sat beside Mira, who wore a gaudy golden Luna crown and a self-satisfied smile. Their "son"—nearly a year old now—was not present, but Mira kept touching her chest where a locket hung, performing motherhood.
Kael looked... diminished. Thinner. Dark circles beneath his eyes. His golden gaze was scanning the room restlessly, as if searching for something he'd lost.
When his eyes found me, he went completely still.
I watched the recognition hit him in stages. First, confusion—he didn't immediately reconcile the silver-haired woman in the red gown with the hollow-eyed girl he'd locked in a cottage. Then shock, as the pieces assembled. Then something that looked like physical pain.
I held his gaze for exactly three seconds. Then I looked away, dismissing him, and took my seat at the Volkov table—front row, center. The seat of the highest bloodline in the room.
"Welcome, delegates," the Summit Master announced. "We begin with the registration of new bloodline members."
Viktor stood. His voice carried across the cathedral without effort.
"The Volkov bloodline registers three new members. Princess Serena Volkov, daughter of the Lycan King. And her sons—Ash Volkov and Cade Volkov. Twin heirs to the Volkov throne."
The silence that followed was deafening.
Then the eruption—gasps, shouts, the scraping of chairs as people stood to see. The Lycan King had a daughter? Heirs? The bloodline that everyone believed was fading had just announced not one but three new members.
I stood, letting the room see me fully. Letting the power roll off me unrestrained.
And across the cathedral, I watched Kael Blackwood's face drain of every drop of color.
His sons.
The sons he'd let his mother call cursed.
The sons he'd abandoned.
They were Volkov princes.
Mira's hand was gripping his arm, her face twisted with something between fury and terror. She was whispering urgently in his ear, but he wasn't listening.
He was staring at me like a man watching his own grave being dug.
Good.