I don't remember deciding to move.
One moment I was standing there, the world tilted and buzzing, my heart pounding too fast in my chest—and the next, my body was already stepping forward, feet moving over the earth like it knew the path better than I ever could.
I didn't choose it.
Something else did.
The second I stepped off the plane, it hit me. Not pain. Not fear. A pull—soft, but relentless, like an invisible thread hooked deep beneath my ribs, tugging me forward. I'd tried to ignore it. Tried to pretend it was nerves, curiosity, or my imagination spiraling the way it always did when things felt too big.
But it wasn't any of that.
It was recognition.
The land hummed under my feet, ancient and awake.I looked at the twins across the training field, something inside me stirred—not me, but something older. Warmer and familiar in a way that made my chest ache.
Not familiarity with the twins, per se,but with my power, a sort of kinship feeling.It was like watching two long-separated parts of the same story suddenly remember each other.
I felt… welcomed.
Then my hands were on them.The realization crashes into me all at once, sharp and nauseating.
I touched them. Anxiety spikes, breath catching painfully in my throat as memory slams back into place.My palms pressed to their chests, the way the light had erupted without my permission and the way the air itself had seemed to bow.
Oh, Goddess.I didn't mean to do it.I swear I didn't.
The sound of Melanie's voice cuts through the ringing in my ears, snapping the invisible thread that had wrapped me in that strange, detached calmness.
"Holy shit," she breathes. "You're a White Wolf?"
Reality slams back into place.
Too fast.
Too loud.
I stumble backward, my hands curling into fists like I can physically pull my power back inside myself. My skin feels too tight, like it doesn't quite fit anymore.
"They're… they're kneeling," I whisper, horrified.
Dawson and David are on one knee before me.
Before me.
Their heads are bowed, hands pressed over their chests like I've just crowned myself without asking, without wanting it, without even understanding what I did.
This is wrong. What the fuck did I just do?
'Emma, what happened?' I reached out to her for answers.
I–I don't know, but don't you ever fucking put you hands on another male again. Cade is losing his shit.' She replies quickly.
Fuck.
Kieran.
Every instinct in me screams it.
"I'm sorry," the words tumbled out, breathless and panicked. "I didn't—I didn't mean to. I had no control, I swear. I would never—"
Warm hands settle on my waist from behind.
Kieran.
The moment he touches me, the chaos inside me eases, just a fraction. My lungs remember how to work. My knees stop threatening to give out.
I lean back into him without thinking, grounding myself in the solid heat of his body, the steady rise and fall of his breathing. His thumbs draw slow, deliberate circles against my skin, anchoring me to the present.
To him.
"It's okay," he murmurs, low and steady, meant only for me. "I've got you."
I swallow hard and nod, forcing myself to turn back toward Melanie.
"I'm sorry," I say again, more clearly this time. "I didn't mean to touch them. I didn't know what was happening."
If it were any other she-wolf, I know how it would have gone– violence, fury, blood.
'That's what I would have done," Emma bites in as she lounges around.
Instead, Melanie just watches me.
She's petite and slim, her frame delicate, but unquestionably fragile. Rich red hair frames her face in soft waves, drawing attention to bright green eyes that hold understanding instead of judgment. She stands there calmly, like she sees the chaos—and accepts it.
Turning to the twins, my voice trembling despite my effort to steady it, "Please. You don't have to kneel. Please stand."
Slowly—reverently—they rise.
No one else speaks.
We just stand there absorbing everything that just happened and Goddess I don't even want to acknowledge it. What is more frightening is the mark that is clearly visible on their upper left chest. Goddess it is identical to the one in the center on my own.
I shudder at what this can all mean.
Looking around I see, Cameran, Mayla, Callen, and Enoch stare like the world has just cracked open in front of them and spilled something impossible onto the ground.
Melanie is the first to find her voice, a shaky laugh escaping her as she runs a hand through her hair.
"I knew it," she says breathlessly. "I knew you two were? weren't? full of shit."
The twins glance at her, amused, but solemn.
"For years," Melanie continues, gesturing wildly, "they've been going on about being 'chosen warriors' and 'sworn protectors of the White Wolf royal line.' I thought it was just some dramatic myth you made up to feel special."
Dawson nods, expression unreadable. "It was never a myth."
He takes a step forward, his gaze locking onto mine—not threatening, not possessive. Reverent.
"Our family was chosen by the Moon Goddess herself," he says quietly. "Sworn to protect the royal line of White Wolves."
My stomach twists. A memory surfaces– of the story my father told me as a pup, "If your mother and I are ever gone," he whispered, touching Samantha's cheek, "you find them. Look for the mark. The wolf moon encrusted flame. Touch it and say the words."
"Lumera Purgete."
My breath catches or shudders at the realization, he was telling the truth; instructions in a form a pup wouldn't question, but remember.
"When the massacre occurred," David continues, voice heavy, "Queen Celeste entrusted our family with her daughter. She was hidden here. Raised in secret. Shielded from a world that wanted her dead."
My heart pounds so loudly I'm sure everyone can hear it.
"She was meant to reclaim her throne one day," Dawson adds. "But that day never came."
My breath catches, listening to every word.
"Intructions were giving," David said, "that she would receive a letter from her mother when she came of age. In it, the Queen told her not to pursue the crown. To live. To find happiness. To stay free of the shackles the throne would bring. To stay free."
A strange ache blooms behind my ribs.
"Our great-grandfather believed that was a mistake," Dawson admits. "But Selene—your grandmother—listened to her mother."
My vision blurs, trying to process his words.
"She found her fated mate," David continues softly. "Our grandfather. Together they had two pups. One was a White Wolf."
I shake my head faintly, barely breathing.
"We didn't know it was possible for a White Wolf to have a child who wasn't one," Dawson says. "But she did. Our father, the former Alpha of SilverFlame. He was the one who taught us about our history."
The world tilts understanding the implications.
'You're correct. Their blood recognizes ours,' Emma whispers in my head.
"That would make us," my voice falters. "Cousins."
Dawson faintly smiled, "Yes, our father's brother was the white wolf."
"My father," I whisper, the truth landing like a blow. "Robert."
Dawson nods once. "Yes."
Cameran exhales sharply, planting her hands on her hips. "Okay, hold the fuck up."
I wince. Of course.
"You're telling me," she says slowly, eyes narrowed, "that the Moon Goddess picked your pack to be some magical, mystical knights for the White Wolf royal line, then conveniently mated your ancestors together?"
Her gaze sharpens. "Because that sounds like a power grab dressed up as destiny."
David chuckles softly. "Fair question."
"We can prove it," he says calmly. "The letter between our grandparents exists. So do the records. The bond was fated—documented long before it was consummated."
"And more than that," Dawson adds, eyes glowing faintly, "we physically cannot harm the reigning White Wolf. It's bound into our blood."
Melanie lets out a nervous laugh. "Okay. Cool. Great. Let's… maybe talk inside. With food."
"Wait," Cameran presses, relentlessly. "Sam isn't the reigning Queen."
The air changes.
As if the temperature drops. Everyone shifts on the heel of their feet for a moment. Enoch slightly pushes Cameron behind him and Callen does the same to Mayla.
Kieran stiffens behind me, his grip tightening just enough that I feel the tension ripple through him. His fingers draw slow, possessive circles at my waist—protective, grounding. Laying a silent claim in front of the twins. Daring them to act, to respond negatively. I feel his chest rumbling on my back and the hairs to my neck rise.
The twins straighten instantly, rising to the challenge Kieran is not vocalizing.
Dawson's gaze locks onto Kieran, sharp and unyielding. "Yes, she is."
Even Kieran stills.
"Even if an imposter sits on the throne," Dawson spits. "The crown belongs to her, we serve her alone."
Kieran growls, low and dangerous, his hands tightening on me.
David steps forward. "You should let her go." Threatening.
Emma perks up, as if enjoying the show.
Before I can react, Kieran gently, but firmly guides me behind him, toward Mayla.
This is spiraling.Too fast.Too much.
"No," Kieran says coldly. "She's my mate."
"Convenient," David snaps. "Claiming the last White Wolf ensures your rule."
I feel panic claw up my throat.
This isn't what I want.
I step forward again, pushing between them before anyone can stop me.
"Stop," I say, voice shaking but firm. "Please."
I press my palm to Kieran's chest—not the twins, ensuring not to aggravate Kieran's wolf more.
'Good choice,' Emma said.
'You're not helping!'
"It's true," I say. "He is my fated mate. Neither of us knew what I was."
Melanie frowns. "But you should have shifted as a pup."
"I did," I say quietly. "Once. There was a fire. I lost my parents."
I glance at Cameran and Dirge, then back at Kieran. "I never shifted again." Not wanting to explain my trauma but did so anyway.
"My wolf hid the rest," I whisper, interlocking my fingers with his. "When we met… none of this mattered."
Kieran exhales, tension easing just slightly.
Melanie claps her hands, forcing a smile. "Well then. Let's go inside, food always calms a wolf."
No one moved at first. Eventually, slowly, we start heading back to the pack house.
But I know—
This shit storm isn't over.