Lucien returned just before dawn—furious.
"We lost a scout," he growled. "Someone led the Crimson Fang straight to him."
Sera sat upright. "You think there's a traitor?"
"I know there is."
The pack was shaken. Suspicion hung in the air like smoke. Lucien's inner circle turned inward, paranoid and tense.
But Sera noticed something no one else did.
Alira, the mystic, had been avoiding her gaze.
She cornered her alone, near the old ritual stones.
"What are you hiding?" Sera asked, her voice stronger now—darker.
Alira flinched.
"You don't know what your bloodline means."
"Then tell me."
Alira looked up, fear etched into every line of her face.
"Your mother was a wolf," she whispered. "But your father… wasn't. He was something older. Something exiled."
Sera's breath caught. "What does that mean?"
"It means you weren't meant to bond. You were meant to break the bond."
Forbidden Truths
Back at the cabin, Sera confronted Lucien with the truth.
"My father wasn't a wolf," she said. "Was he?"
Lucien looked at her, jaw clenched, expression unreadable.
"I don't know what he was. Only that your blood called to mine before I ever saw your face."
"And now?"
He moved toward her, gently pulling her close.
"Now I know I'd burn down kingdoms for you. Even if it damns me."
Their kiss was different that time—rougher, needier. Like two souls colliding, uncertain if tomorrow would still belong to them.
And as Lucien undressed her, slow and possessive, Sera felt the mark on her skin begin to pulse again.
But this time… it wasn't gold.
It was red.
Blood red.