Chapter 9
The Summit continued for three days. I attended every session, took every meeting, established every alliance Viktor suggested and several he hadn't anticipated.
By the end, the Volkov name was no longer simply feared—it was coveted. Every major pack wanted an alliance with the newly expanded bloodline. Marriage proposals arrived by the hour—for me, for future arrangements with my sons.
I declined them all. Politely. Firmly.
Kael tried to approach me six more times during the Summit. Viktor stopped him twice. Roman stopped him once. The fourth time, I stopped him myself.
"One conversation," he begged, intercepting me in a corridor between sessions. "Just give me five minutes—"
"You had three years, Kael." I didn't slow my pace. "Three years to fight for me. To stand up to your mother. To choose your own children. You spent that time hiding me in a cellar and a cottage while you played house with another woman."
"I was protecting Mira's child—an innocent—"
"By sacrificing your own." I stopped, turning to face him. "You knew what they called my babies. Cursed. Bastards. Abominations. And your solution was to lock me away where nobody could see the evidence of your weakness."
"I was wrong." His eyes were red-rimmed. His wolf was pressing against his skin, agitated, reaching for a bond that no longer existed. "I know that now. I know I failed you in every possible way. But those are my sons, Serena. I can feel them—the pack bond—"
"There is no pack bond." My voice was flat. "Your mother severed it when she wrapped silver around my wrists. And I burned whatever was left when I crossed into Volkov territory."
His expression crumbled. "You can't keep them from me forever."
"Watch me." I resumed walking. "Go home to your Luna, Kael. Go raise the rogue's child you chose over your own blood. And know that every single day, my sons will grow up surrounded by five uncles, a grandfather who calls them his greatest treasures, and a mother who chose them over everything."
"Serena—"
I didn't stop again.
That night, our convoy departed. I sat in the back of the armored SUV, watching the mountain cathedral shrink in the distance, and felt something I hadn't felt in years.
Peace.
It lasted exactly thirty-six hours.
We had just crossed into Volkov territory—our home ground, protected by ancient wards—when Dmitri's phone rang. He answered, listened for ten seconds, and his expression went rigid.
"What?" Viktor demanded from the front seat.
"Bloodmoon Pack has filed a Dominion Claim with the Werewolf High Council." Dmitri's voice was tight. "They're claiming the twins as pack-born and demanding repatriation under ancestral rights."
The SUV went silent.
"On what grounds?" Viktor's voice was lethally quiet.
"Paternity. Kael submitted a blood sample comparison. The Council is legally required to hear the case." Dmitri paused. "The hearing is in thirty days."
Thirty days.
Viktor turned to look at me over his shoulder. "He's trying to take them."
I felt my wolf surge—silver-white, massive, furious—pressing against my skin so hard that the air in the vehicle crackled with static.
"Let him try," I said.
By the end, the Volkov name was no longer simply feared—it was coveted. Every major pack wanted an alliance with the newly expanded bloodline. Marriage proposals arrived by the hour—for me, for future arrangements with my sons.
I declined them all. Politely. Firmly.
Kael tried to approach me six more times during the Summit. Viktor stopped him twice. Roman stopped him once. The fourth time, I stopped him myself.
"One conversation," he begged, intercepting me in a corridor between sessions. "Just give me five minutes—"
"You had three years, Kael." I didn't slow my pace. "Three years to fight for me. To stand up to your mother. To choose your own children. You spent that time hiding me in a cellar and a cottage while you played house with another woman."
"I was protecting Mira's child—an innocent—"
"By sacrificing your own." I stopped, turning to face him. "You knew what they called my babies. Cursed. Bastards. Abominations. And your solution was to lock me away where nobody could see the evidence of your weakness."
"I was wrong." His eyes were red-rimmed. His wolf was pressing against his skin, agitated, reaching for a bond that no longer existed. "I know that now. I know I failed you in every possible way. But those are my sons, Serena. I can feel them—the pack bond—"
"There is no pack bond." My voice was flat. "Your mother severed it when she wrapped silver around my wrists. And I burned whatever was left when I crossed into Volkov territory."
His expression crumbled. "You can't keep them from me forever."
"Watch me." I resumed walking. "Go home to your Luna, Kael. Go raise the rogue's child you chose over your own blood. And know that every single day, my sons will grow up surrounded by five uncles, a grandfather who calls them his greatest treasures, and a mother who chose them over everything."
"Serena—"
I didn't stop again.
That night, our convoy departed. I sat in the back of the armored SUV, watching the mountain cathedral shrink in the distance, and felt something I hadn't felt in years.
Peace.
It lasted exactly thirty-six hours.
We had just crossed into Volkov territory—our home ground, protected by ancient wards—when Dmitri's phone rang. He answered, listened for ten seconds, and his expression went rigid.
"What?" Viktor demanded from the front seat.
"Bloodmoon Pack has filed a Dominion Claim with the Werewolf High Council." Dmitri's voice was tight. "They're claiming the twins as pack-born and demanding repatriation under ancestral rights."
The SUV went silent.
"On what grounds?" Viktor's voice was lethally quiet.
"Paternity. Kael submitted a blood sample comparison. The Council is legally required to hear the case." Dmitri paused. "The hearing is in thirty days."
Thirty days.
Viktor turned to look at me over his shoulder. "He's trying to take them."
I felt my wolf surge—silver-white, massive, furious—pressing against my skin so hard that the air in the vehicle crackled with static.
"Let him try," I said.