Chapter 8
The registration sent shockwaves through every faction at the Summit. Within minutes, delegates were scrambling—sending messages, rearranging alliances, recalculating power dynamics.
The Volkov bloodline had been considered dying. The King was ill. Five sons, no daughters, no heirs beyond them. Packs had been positioning themselves to absorb Volkov territory when the line ended.
Now there was a princess. Now there were twin heirs. The game had changed entirely.
I remained seated, composed, while Viktor handled the chaos. Representatives lined up to offer congratulations—which were really just thinly veiled attempts to assess me.
I smiled graciously and gave them nothing.
Twenty minutes after the announcement, a figure appeared at our table. Kael.
He looked wrecked. His suit was rumpled where he'd been gripping his own collar, and his eyes were wild—desperate in a way I'd never seen.
"Serena." His voice cracked on my name. "I need to speak with you. Please."
Viktor moved to block him, but I placed a hand on my brother's arm.
"It's fine, Viktor."
"It's not," Viktor growled, his eyes fixed on Kael with lethal intent. "This is the one?"
"Yes."
"Then it's definitely not fine." But he stepped aside—barely—giving Kael approximately two feet of space. His message was clear: say the wrong thing and die.
Kael didn't even seem to notice the threat. His entire focus was on me—my face, my hair, the red gown, the Volkov crest. Like he was trying to reconcile me with his memory and failing.
"The twins," he whispered. "They're—they're mine?"
"They're Volkovs," I corrected. My voice was ice. "They have no father registered in their bloodline records."
He flinched as if I'd struck him. "Serena, please. I didn't know—I didn't know who you were—"
"That shouldn't have mattered." I stood, and in my heels, I was nearly his height. "I didn't need to be a Volkov princess for my children to deserve protection. I didn't need a royal bloodline to deserve not being chained and left to die."
"Chained?" His face contorted. "What are you talking about? My mother said you left—"
"Your mother chained me in the exposure circle with silver while I was eight months pregnant with your sons." My voice didn't waver. "She left me to die at dawn. If my brothers hadn't arrived, the three of us would be bones in that clearing."
The blood drained from his face completely. He swayed on his feet.
"No," he said. "No, she told me you ran. She said you left in the night—"
"And you believed her." I smiled—cold, pitying. "Just like you believed Mira when she said her child was yours. Just like you believed them every single time they told you I was worthless."
"Serena—"
"We're done, Kael." I smoothed my gown. "I didn't come here for you. I came to register my sons' birthright. They are Lycan princes. They will never need anything from Bloodmoon."
"They're my sons too!" His voice rose, attracting attention from nearby tables. "I have rights—"
Viktor materialized at my side so quickly Kael stumbled backward. My brother didn't speak. He simply placed one hand on Kael's shoulder—and the Alpha of Bloodmoon dropped to one knee, crushed by the Lycan dominance like gravity itself had increased tenfold.
"You have no rights," Viktor said softly, his voice pleasant, his eyes murderous. "You abandoned a pregnant woman. You let her be abused under your roof. You chose another over her and your blood. In Lycan law, that's a forfeiture. Your sons don't know your name. And they never will."
Viktor released him. Kael gasped, catching himself on the floor with both hands.
"We're leaving," Viktor said to me.
I stepped past Kael without looking down. But I paused—just for a moment.
"The search notice you filed," I said over my shoulder. "The one calling my children illegitimate? I'd retract that before my brothers decide to take it personally."
I walked away, Viktor's hand warm on my back, my heels clicking against the cathedral floor.
Behind me, I heard Mira's voice, shrill and panicked: "Kael! Get up! People are watching—KAEL!"
I didn't turn around.
The Volkov bloodline had been considered dying. The King was ill. Five sons, no daughters, no heirs beyond them. Packs had been positioning themselves to absorb Volkov territory when the line ended.
Now there was a princess. Now there were twin heirs. The game had changed entirely.
I remained seated, composed, while Viktor handled the chaos. Representatives lined up to offer congratulations—which were really just thinly veiled attempts to assess me.
I smiled graciously and gave them nothing.
Twenty minutes after the announcement, a figure appeared at our table. Kael.
He looked wrecked. His suit was rumpled where he'd been gripping his own collar, and his eyes were wild—desperate in a way I'd never seen.
"Serena." His voice cracked on my name. "I need to speak with you. Please."
Viktor moved to block him, but I placed a hand on my brother's arm.
"It's fine, Viktor."
"It's not," Viktor growled, his eyes fixed on Kael with lethal intent. "This is the one?"
"Yes."
"Then it's definitely not fine." But he stepped aside—barely—giving Kael approximately two feet of space. His message was clear: say the wrong thing and die.
Kael didn't even seem to notice the threat. His entire focus was on me—my face, my hair, the red gown, the Volkov crest. Like he was trying to reconcile me with his memory and failing.
"The twins," he whispered. "They're—they're mine?"
"They're Volkovs," I corrected. My voice was ice. "They have no father registered in their bloodline records."
He flinched as if I'd struck him. "Serena, please. I didn't know—I didn't know who you were—"
"That shouldn't have mattered." I stood, and in my heels, I was nearly his height. "I didn't need to be a Volkov princess for my children to deserve protection. I didn't need a royal bloodline to deserve not being chained and left to die."
"Chained?" His face contorted. "What are you talking about? My mother said you left—"
"Your mother chained me in the exposure circle with silver while I was eight months pregnant with your sons." My voice didn't waver. "She left me to die at dawn. If my brothers hadn't arrived, the three of us would be bones in that clearing."
The blood drained from his face completely. He swayed on his feet.
"No," he said. "No, she told me you ran. She said you left in the night—"
"And you believed her." I smiled—cold, pitying. "Just like you believed Mira when she said her child was yours. Just like you believed them every single time they told you I was worthless."
"Serena—"
"We're done, Kael." I smoothed my gown. "I didn't come here for you. I came to register my sons' birthright. They are Lycan princes. They will never need anything from Bloodmoon."
"They're my sons too!" His voice rose, attracting attention from nearby tables. "I have rights—"
Viktor materialized at my side so quickly Kael stumbled backward. My brother didn't speak. He simply placed one hand on Kael's shoulder—and the Alpha of Bloodmoon dropped to one knee, crushed by the Lycan dominance like gravity itself had increased tenfold.
"You have no rights," Viktor said softly, his voice pleasant, his eyes murderous. "You abandoned a pregnant woman. You let her be abused under your roof. You chose another over her and your blood. In Lycan law, that's a forfeiture. Your sons don't know your name. And they never will."
Viktor released him. Kael gasped, catching himself on the floor with both hands.
"We're leaving," Viktor said to me.
I stepped past Kael without looking down. But I paused—just for a moment.
"The search notice you filed," I said over my shoulder. "The one calling my children illegitimate? I'd retract that before my brothers decide to take it personally."
I walked away, Viktor's hand warm on my back, my heels clicking against the cathedral floor.
Behind me, I heard Mira's voice, shrill and panicked: "Kael! Get up! People are watching—KAEL!"
I didn't turn around.