The True Alpha of Lupine (Seraphina and Ronan) novel Chapter 268

SERAPHINA

I sat by the lake, wailing for Ronan, when a strange shift in the weather caught my alteration

*The rain is falling in only part of the area,” Phina murmured, her gaze fixed toward the clearing

I frowned at the strangeness of the weather. Half the sky was pouring rain while the other half was te dry Quickly, I slipped back into my clothes, ready to investigate when footsteps thundered behind me

“Luna!”

I turned as Mace jogged toward me, breathless and urgent.

“The man I sent to capture Dante Blackwood’s father, he found something,” Mace said.

I stepped closer, pulse quickening. “What did he find?”

Mace’s expression was grim. “Your suspicion was correct. All the Alphas who married those women every twenty–five years… they knew those she–wolves would disappear after giving birth.”

My brows snapped together. “Why?”

Mace met my gaze, his voice dropping. “Because…they were not real women.”

I stiffened. “What?”

He handed me a thick, weathered record book detailing generations of the Blackwood bloodline. As I flipped it open, my hands froze on a particular section.

Mace continued, “In exchange for marrying the woman sent to the Blackwoods every twenty–five years and breeding with her once to bring life to the dormant fetus she carried… the Blackwood line would be protected from every disaster.”

Seraphina inhaled sharply. “So those women were nothing but vessels, wombs, to birth a male heir every twenty–five years.”

Mace nodded. “Exactly. And that is why they vanished into thin air. They never truly existed to begin with. At least, not as real she–wolves,” our eyes met as he added, voice low, “But if those women were not real then… someone had to create them.”

A chilling realization snapped through me.

“If I was not the cause of the she–wolves dying in that ritual,” I whispered, “Then that means-

Mace’s eyes widened at the same time mine did.

“That ritual drained their sanity and life,” he said, voice trembling, “to create those wombs!”

I nodded, gripping the documents tightly in my hands. My mind was racing, my pulse quickening. “But why every twenty–five years?”

I read the documents again and again, my eyes tracing the names, dates, and the unsettling patterns. That was when it clicked. My breath caught in my throat as I noticed one horrifying detail. In every single case, a male child that had been born twenty–five years earlier was recorded as dead, just like Dante

“Wait a minute,” I muttered, a chill creeping over me, “I think I understand.”

“What is it, Luna?” Mace’s voice was sharp, impatient.

“These male children, they’re being born and dying with some kind of purpose.”

Mace’s brows furrowed, confusion flickering across his face “But for what purpose? The ritual ended when your mother’s wornb absorbed the white flower. Dante was already five by then. So how could he-

His words trailed off, but my thoughts were already spiraling, connecting the dots I had not been able to see before Dante, Ryker, both of them had unnatural powers Ryker could change his face, manipulate time, survive death. He’d come back, over and over, in a new body, each time searching for me. He had been pretending to die, slipping into the shadows, only to return in a new form when the time was right.

I glanced down at the documents in my hand, feeling my heart skip a beat. “What if–what if the male child that was born every twenty–five years was actually always Ryker?”

Mace’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What are you saying, Luna? Is that even possible?”

“The ritual ended with me,” I continued, my voice growing steadier as the truth settled in. “After it was discovered that I was the Blood Petal, there was no need for more pregnant she–wolves, no more energy needed to fuel the ritual. But those wombs…they were still being created, sent to the Blackwoods. To make more male children, to sustain the ritual. But Dante didn’t just arrive at the Academy by coincidence, he was searching for me. The Blood Petal. Ronan told me the Blood Petal always returns to its source. Dante’s been coming back, over and over, every twenty–five years, looking for me. And when he couldn’t find me, he would fake his death. He would die, or be declared dead in the records, and then he would be born again, into another womb, created just for him.”

Mace’s mouth hung open in shock, his face pale.

The air suddenly shifted, and another deafening clap of thunder cracked through the tension. Mace turned toward the clearing, his senses alert. “I’ve been feeling it for a while, the change in the air in this territory. But now, it’s stronger. There’s something wrong, Luna.” He turned to me, determination settling into his expression. “I’m going to check it out. Please stay here.”

I nodded quickly, the urgency in his tone matching the anxiety twisting in my stomach. But as he moved away, my hand suddenly burned. I looked down, startled, as the document in my hand began to smolder, smoke curling from the edges.

“W–what?” My pulse quickened in panic. I dropped the paper.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify