Chapter 5 - THE BLOOD TEST THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN IMPOSSIBLE
The files were inside my calculator.
Not literally inside the buttons.
Inside a tiny removable memory card I'd hidden beneath the battery cover after discovering my work laptop had been accessed without permission.
It was a precaution I'd learned from a forensic-accounting seminar.
At the time, I thought I was protecting evidence of corporate fraud.
Now I was discovering that the fraud might involve people who transformed into wolves.
My life had become ridiculous.
Dondre examined the memory card.
“Why didn't you turn this over to your supervisor?”
“I did. The next morning, I was fired.”
His jaw tightened.
“What reason did they give?”
“Organizational restructuring.”
Nia laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
I looked between them.
“Can someone explain what Hollow Crown is?”
Dondre remained silent.
Then he said, “An abandoned research initiative.”
“Research into what?”
“Suppressing wolf transformation.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“During the Winter Schism, some packs wanted a way to prevent imprisoned combatants from shifting.”
My stomach tightened.
“Imprisoned?”
Dondre nodded grimly.
“The program was supposed to end decades ago.”
“But it didn't.”
“Apparently not.”
Two hours later, we were inside a private medical office attached to the Blackwood Council's Seattle residence.
I had agreed to a blood test after Dr. Lillian Hart explained what it could reveal and assured me that participation was voluntary.
Lillian was a silver-haired woman with kind eyes and the exhausted expression of someone who had spent years dealing with powerful people who ignored medical advice.
“Your parents likely protected you from awakening early,” she said.
“How?”
“Certain botanical compounds can temporarily dampen wolf traits during childhood. That may explain why you never experienced a full shift.”
I remembered the herbal tea my mother insisted I drink every winter.
The bitter taste.
The way she called it an old family remedy.
My stomach dropped.
“Did she know?”
“That's something you should ask her.”
Lillian collected the sample.
Then we waited.
Dondre sat across from me in the small consultation room.
“You don't have to stay,” I told him.
“I know.”
“Don't you have kingly things to do?”
“Several.”
“Tax policy? Full-moon speeches? Royal dog shows?”
He laughed.
“Mostly paperwork.”
“Terrible. I'd abdicate.”
His smile softened.
Then the door opened.
Lillian entered carrying a tablet.
She looked pale.
Dondre stood.
“What is it?”
Lillian didn't answer.
She approached me.
“Honey, has anyone ever told you about your biological ancestry?”
I stared.
“My parents are Evelyn and Thomas Evans.”
“I'm not questioning who raised you.”
Something cold moved through my chest.
“Then what are you saying?”
Lillian placed the tablet down.
“The sample contains markers associated with the Moonkeeper lineage.”
Nia, standing near the door, exhaled in relief.
Then Lillian continued.
“But that's not the unusual part.”
Dondre's expression hardened.
“What is?”
“The pattern matches a lineage that the Council records declare extinct.”
Silence filled the room.
Lillian looked directly at me.
“Honey, according to those records, no one with this bloodline should have survived the Winter Schism.”
I swallowed.
“But I did.”
“Yes.”
Dondre approached slowly.
“Lillian, what else?”
She hesitated.
“The royal compatibility markers are unusually strong.”
I looked between them.
“English, please.”
Lillian took a breath.
“The bond between you and Dondre isn't merely rare.”
She paused.
“It may be the first fully reciprocal Moonkeeper–Alpha bond recorded in more than a century.”
My heart began pounding.
Dondre closed his eyes.
And Nia whispered something that frightened me more than any of the medical terminology.
“The prophecy.”
I stood so quickly my chair struck the wall.
“No.”
Everyone stared.
“No prophecies. No royal destiny. Absolutely not.”
Dondre opened his eyes.
“Honey—”
“I had a spreadsheet job three days ago.”
I pointed toward the window.
“I had coworkers. A terrible boss. A broken coffee machine. My biggest problem was rent.”
My voice cracked.
“Now you're telling me my blood is extinct and my future belongs to a prophecy?”
Dondre stepped back.
“It doesn't.”
“Then say that again.”
He held my gaze.
“Your future belongs to you.”
For a long moment, I watched him.
Then I nodded.
“Good.”
But that evening, when I returned home, my mother finally called.
Her voice shook.
May you like
“Honey, there's something I need to tell you about the night you were born.”
And I knew the truth was going to hurt.
