Chapter 67

Lauren

The sterile scent of the hospital room clung to my senses as I sat in the small, dimly lit space, the weight of the situation pressing down on me from all sides. Though, Doctor Belsing’s office house’s medical wing smelled more of wetwood, moutain air and a chill.

Gingi was working on my leg, wrapping with with proper bandages as we sat in relative silence, waiting for her to be done to interpret the Doctor’s words.

Owen and Abigail were asleep, finally calm after the storm of emotions and terror they had experienced. The were cuddled close on the couch next to Alexander, who looked more then stiff to be sitting.

Our gazes met and I looked away quick. I could still feel the thudding of my own heart in my chest, how close he had held me for hours.

A soft knock at the kitchen doorframe pulled me from my thoughts. Dr. Helsing entered without waiting for permission, waving Gingi to hurry up on my leg.

He clutched some papers in his frail hand, his tall, thin frame casting a shadow across the room. His silver hair matched the wrinkles around his eyes, and his sharp, observant gaze seemed to see more than most let on. Something in his expression told me he wasn’t about to deliver good news.

He motioned for me to relax, but I was already wanting to pace the small room, anxiety swirling in my gut. I could feel Alexander’s presence behind me, his solid, quiet strength a contrast to the chaos I felt inside.

“Lauren,” Gingi said softly for Helsing, her voice a low hum next to me as she finished my leg, “I’ve gone through the genetic tests you asked for, along with a few additional tests on the children. And there’s something unusual I think you should know.”

I felt my body stiffen, looking between the two of them. “Well,” I pressed, “What is it?”

I turned to look at Alexander, my heart pounding. His brow furrowed, his jaw set in that way that told me he was already preparing for bad news.

“What did you find?” he asked, his voice a quiet rasp.

The assissant cleared her throat before answering, pulling up a series of images on the tablet from the doctors hands. The flickering light from the screen cast sharp shadows across there face’s

“There's a specific genetic marker present in both twins,” she said slowly, her voice gaining an edge of unease. “It’s not something that should be there. It’s... ancient, nearly forgotten. At first, we thought maybe this was a recessive Alpha gene from Alexander. But the strange part is, it’s not in your bloodline, Alpha. We’ve double-checked, and there’s no trace of it in your genetics.”

The breath in my chest seemed to freeze, swiping a glance at Alexande who’s eyes narrowed.

Before he could finish, I spoke, my voice coming out in a rush, barely above a whisper, “If it’s not from him then…it’s from me?”

The doctor paused, eyes widening ever so slightly, before nodding. “Yes. It appears that way. This is a... rare, lost line of blood, Lauren. It’s not common in werewolves today. In fact, it’s considered extinct in most records. That’s probably why your machines were malfunctioning.”

Alexander’s face was unreadable, though his lips pressed into a tight line. The shock I could see in his eyes was a rare thing. He was a man who had always been certain, always in control.

“A lost line?” he repeated, voice barely audible. “What does that mean?”

The doctor gave him a solemn look, then turned back to the tablet in his hands, scrolling through the information as Gingi continued. “The genetic marker traces back to what we call the Lyan line—an ancient and royal bloodline among wolves. A lineage said to be one of the first, the strongest. The Lyan wolves were considered the kings and queens of our kind, their blood pure and their strength unmatched. Over the centuries, the line faded. And with it, the genetics that accompanied it. But it seems... it has resurfaced in your children. In your blood, Lauren. You’re a Lyan.”

I think my heart stopped.

No—I'm sure it did.

The Lyan line. An ancient bloodline. A royal one.

Me? How? Impossible.

I was just a nobody. A lowborn, raised in the gutters. My parents were poor, I was a waitress from the south side. We had nothing. No titles. No legacy. Just a life of struggle, day after day. So how—how could this be? Why me?

“Lauren… a Lyan?” Alexander asked, his voice rough. “So… what does that mean for our children. What’s happening?”

Gingi looked up from the screen, her expression serious. “It means your children possess something... extraordinary. The bloodline, although dormant for so long, is still incredibly potent. But it’s a dangerous thing. The Lyan genetics are strong—too strong for most wolves, which is why it faded over the years. The traits that come with it are... unpredictable.”

“Unpredictable?” Alexander repeated, his voice darkening.

The doctor nodded gravely. “The twins’ genetic makeup shows an extreme sensitivity to transformation. Owen, especially. He’s already begun to show partial transformations, even at his age—”

“Partial?!” I barked, “That’s impossible!”

Gingi shrugged, mirroring Helsing. “The claws... the tail. Yeah, we knwo that shouldn’t happen. Let alone someone so young. It’s the bloodline that saved him on the mountain. Without it, he wouldn’t have survived.”

My heart stuttered in my chest as I processed his words. Owen’s claws... his tail?

“Claws?” Alexander asked, his voice masking control.

“Yes,” the Gingi continued, still looking at the tablet. “Miles found him at the bottom of the mountain, alone, with only the partial transformation to protect him. The claws... they allowed him to scale the cliffs, to survive the elements long enough to make it to safety. But only the claws and tail. It’s remarkable. But also deeply concerning. This early stage of development, especially with the Lyan genetics, could be dangerous. They’re still so young, and their abilities are unpredictable. Transformation is already under studied, so this is fairly unexplored. We don’t know what will happen.”

The room fell silent, the weight of the doctor’s words pressing down on me. I had known my children were special, but this... this was something beyond anything I could have ever imagined.

“But what does it mean for them?” I asked, my voice shaky as I struggled to keep my composure. “Are they... are they going to be okay? Can they stay in the pack? I don’t understand?”

Gingi’s eyes softened as he met my gaze. “They will need careful guidance. Their abilities will be much stronger than those of a normal wolf. They’re going to be more powerful, faster, more dangerous. But it’s a double-edged sword. They’ll need to learn control... and I’m not sure how long that will take.”

I turned to look at Alexander, his jaw tight with frustration and fear. The idea that our children might have powers beyond our comprehension was terrifying. Something we couldn’t teach…

And yet, a part of me couldn’t deny the pull of awe I felt. They were... special. More than just the future of our pack—they were a connection to something ancient and powerful.

“Do they have to—” I started to ask, but Alexander cut me off, his voice sharp and commanding.

“Get the staff out of here. Now.”

The doctor nodded and motioned for the nurses in the kitchen to leave, his eyes never leaving mine. The door clicked shut behind them, and the air between us thickened, the tension palpable.

“What does this mean, really?” Alexander asked, his voice low, rough with emotion as he slowly stood.

Gingi sighed, looking between us, reading Helsing’s hands. “It means your children are the heirs to an ancient legacy. The Lyan bloodline, once royal, once revered. It means they’ll have the strength of the ancient wolves... but also their instability. Their power will be more than most can handle. And they’ll need to learn how to control it. Fast. Also means, there about to be targets. Blood, breeding for power is…’outdated’ but that doesn’t mean there aren’t some who won’t come for it.”

“They are children!” I snapped to my feet, nearly callasping on my wrapped leg.

“Yes,” she said, “But they won’t be forever.”

I swallowed, the enormity of it settling in. I… had hidden geno. Our children would change everything. Would they be able to handle it? Would we?