Aria sat in the war room, her mind racing. The words welcome to the real war echoed in her head, wrapping around her like a vice.
She had spent her entire life running from the Shadow Order, believing she was their experiment, their creation—a mistake that needed to be erased.
Now, Cassian had given her something far more terrifying: the truth.
She hadn’t been a mistake.
She had been intentional.
Her parents—wolves she had never known, faces she could barely remember—hadn’t just opposed the Shadow Order. They had been trying to build something beyond it.
And they had created her.
She felt Dante shift beside her, his body tense. He was staring at Cassian like he was waiting for him to say something—anything—that would justify punching him in the face.
Lucian stood in the far corner, his silver eyes unreadable, arms crossed over his chest.
She was tired of secrets.
She was done waiting for answers.
Aria exhaled sharply, forcing herself to meet Cassian’s gaze. “Start from the beginning.”
Cassian smirked slightly, pushing off the edge of the table. “Alright, then.”
He crossed the room, picking up a thick leather-bound book from a nearby shelf. The pages were old, yellowed with time, filled with faded ink and hand-drawn symbols.
“This,” Cassian said, flipping through the pages, “is a record of all known supernatural bloodlines. Not just wolves—all of them.”
Aria’s stomach twisted. “There are more than just wolves?”
Cassian shot her an amused look. “You think wolves are the only ones playing in the shadows?”
Aria swallowed hard. Of course not. She had always known that other creatures existed in the supernatural world, but her entire life had been centered around packs, hierarchies, dominance, and survival.
The idea that something more had been at play in her own creation? That was something entirely different.
Cassian continued flipping through the pages, then stopped. He turned the book around, sliding it across the table toward her.
Aria leaned forward, her eyes scanning the inked words.
A symbol caught her attention first—a crescent moon intertwined with an intricate circle of jagged lines.
Beneath it, a name was written in careful script.
The Primordial Lineage.
Her pulse quickened. “What is this?”
Cassian exhaled. “Your parents weren’t just scientists or rebels. They were part of the oldest known bloodline of supernatural beings. Wolves, yes—but not like the ones you know.”
Aria’s chest tightened. “What does that mean?”
Lucian’s voice cut through the tension. “It means you’re not a normal wolf.”
She looked at him sharply, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.
Lucian took a step forward, his silver eyes gleaming under the dim torchlight. “We’re not normal wolves.”
The room stilled.
Dante muttered a curse under his breath. “Fantastic. More riddles.”
Cassian ignored him. “The Primordial Lineage is believed to be the first of our kind. The origin of werewolves as we know them. But unlike the wolves today, they weren’t just shifters.”
Aria clenched her fists. “Then what were they?”
Cassian’s expression turned grim. “Something more.”
Aria’s blood ran cold.
More than just wolves.
More than just experiments.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she turned the pages, scanning the old text for any explanation, any answer to what she had become.
And then she saw it.
A single passage, written in bold ink:
"The Primordial cannot be controlled. Their strength defies natural order. The blood of the first-born carries both creation and destruction within it."
Her vision blurred.
The room tilted.
She barely registered Dante’s voice calling her name as the words burned into her skull.
Carries both creation and destruction.
Aria gripped the edge of the table, her breathing ragged.
Lucian’s voice was quiet. “This is why they want you.”
She turned toward him, something cold settling in her chest. “The Shadow Order has been trying to recreate this bloodline?”
Lucian nodded. “For years. But they never succeeded.”
Cassian crossed his arms. “Because you can’t manufacture something that was never meant to be controlled.”
Aria swallowed hard. “And yet… here I am.”
Silence stretched between them.
Lucian’s gaze never wavered. “You survived.”
Dante scoffed. “Great. So what does this mean for us? For her?”
Cassian exhaled. “It means she’s more powerful than she even realizes.”
Aria hated that answer.
She didn’t feel powerful.
She felt lost.
She ran a hand through her hair, her chest tightening. “If my parents were trying to destroy the Shadow Order, then why didn’t they tell anyone?”
Cassian sighed. “Because they knew what would happen if the packs found out.”
Dante frowned. “And what’s that?”
Lucian’s voice was quiet.
“They would have killed her before the Order could get the chance.”
Aria felt like she couldn’t breathe.
Dante cursed under his breath. “That’s insane.”
Lucian didn’t blink. “Is it?”
Cassian’s expression darkened. “The packs are built on tradition. On hierarchy. A bloodline like Aria’s?” He shook his head. “It would have shattered everything they believed in.”
Aria’s hands shook.
Sebastian.
Kai.
Her pack.
Had they known?
Had the Moonstone Pack suspected what she was all along?
Her stomach twisted violently.
Cassian’s voice softened slightly. “Your parents weren’t trying to abandon you, Aria. They were trying to hide you.”
Aria clenched her jaw. “And they failed.”
Lucian exhaled. “Yes.”
The weight of it all pressed down on her, heavy and suffocating.
She wasn’t just being hunted.
She was being studied.
Tracked. Replicated.
And she was the only one left.
Dante must have sensed her unraveling, because he placed a hand on her shoulder, grounding her. “We’ll figure this out,” he murmured.
Aria swallowed hard. “How?”
Cassian smirked. “We start by going after the bastards who’ve been hunting you.”
Dante arched a brow. “Just like that?”
Cassian chuckled. “You’ll find we’re not much for patience around here.”
Lucian nodded. “The Shadow Order won’t stop. But now we have the advantage.”
Aria exhaled sharply, her resolve solidifying.
She wasn’t running anymore.
She was done being afraid.
If they wanted to hunt her, then she would hunt them back.
She met Lucian’s gaze. “Then let’s finish this.”
Lucian smiled.
And for the first time, it wasn’t cruel.
It wasn’t mocking.
It was proud.