Chapter 2

The SUV smelled like cedar and old power. A man sat across from me—silver-haired, sharp-eyed, radiating the kind of dominance that came from decades beside a throne.

"Miss Sera. I'm Gideon, your grandfather's Beta. He sent me personally."

I stared at him. My chest still burned where the mate bond was ripping itself apart. "I haven't spoken to anyone in the Voss bloodline since I was seven. My mother cut all ties. She said they'd destroy me if I went back."

"Your mother was trying to protect you." Gideon chose his words carefully. "But circumstances have changed. Your grandfather, Alaric Voss, Supreme Alpha of the Dominion, has the blood-wasting sickness. Healers say weeks. Possibly less."

My chest tightened for a different reason now. I barely remembered my grandfather—only a towering figure, warm hands, the rumble of his voice when he told me bedtime stories about wolves who swallowed the moon.

"There's more." Gideon opened a leather case and slid a document across the seat. "Your grandfather named you his sole heir. The next Supreme Alpha."

I blinked. "Impossible. What about my uncle? My cousins?"

"Your uncle, Magnus Voss, has contested the succession for two years. He's been commanding the Dominion during your grandfather's illness and has no intention of surrendering the seat. He wants the title for his son, Cade."

"Then why me?"

"Because your grandfather trusts only you." Gideon held my gaze. "And because Magnus has been bleeding the Dominion dry—diverting warriors, hoarding territory, funneling resources to a shadow pack he built in secret. Your grandfather discovered it six months ago. The stress accelerated his decline."

The highway blurred past the tinted windows. I looked down at the document. The Voss Dominion—twelve allied packs, four thousand wolves, territories spanning three states. The most powerful werewolf alliance on the continent.

Three hours ago, my mate told me I was nothing.

"What does my grandfather want from me?" I asked quietly.

"He wants you to come home, claim the succession, and save the Dominion from Magnus." Gideon paused. "He also wants you to know he never stopped searching for you. Not once in twenty years."

Something cracked deep inside me. I pressed my lips together and turned toward the window.

We arrived at the Voss ancestral stronghold before midnight. The fortress rose from the mountainside like it had grown there—stone, iron, and ancient timber, surrounded by towering pines. Sentries lined the approach road, their eyes glowing amber in the dark.

Inside, the halls were silent. A healer led me to a chamber on the upper floor.

My grandfather lay in a massive bed, gaunt and pale, his once-powerful frame reduced to bone and memory. But when he saw me, his eyes—gold as a harvest moon—blazed to life.

"Sera." His voice was a fragile rasp. "You look just like your mother."

I knelt beside him and took his hand. Ice-cold. Paper-thin.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," I managed.

"You're here now." He squeezed my fingers with what little strength remained. "There's something I need to tell you. Something your mother never wanted you to know."

A cough seized him. The healer stepped forward, but he waved her off.

"Your mother didn't leave because she wanted to. Magnus threatened her. He told her if she didn't disappear, he'd have you killed. You were seven years old."

The room tilted. "What?"

"Magnus wanted the succession for his own blood. You were the obstacle." My grandfather's eyes hardened with a fury even death couldn't extinguish. "I've spent twenty years building a case against him. Everything is in the ancestral vault—ledgers, blood-oath recordings, evidence."

He pressed something into my palm—an iron medallion engraved with the Voss crest, warm to the touch.

"The Alpha Sigil. It opens the vault, and it answers only to true Voss blood." His grip tightened with shocking force. "Take the Dominion, Sera. Destroy Magnus. And when Draven Blackwell comes crawling back—because he will—make him beg."

"I promise."

He smiled, and for a heartbeat he was the grandfather I remembered—immense, fierce, untouchable.

Then his eyes fluttered shut. The healer's instruments wailed.

"He's stable," the healer said after an agonizing minute. "But we have days. Maybe less."

I stood in the corridor, the Sigil biting into my palm.

Days. I had days to learn an empire, face a man who'd tried to murder me as a child, and prove I wasn't the worthless wolf my mate had thrown away.

My phone buzzed. Draven.

"You threw your mating cuff into the fire. Real mature. The formal rejection papers will be at the den tomorrow. Sign them or I'll file unilateral. Don't test me, Sera."

I stared at the screen.

Then I typed: "Have your wolves call mine. The name is Voss."

I hit send.