The drive to the private airfield was dead silent, save for the low, melancholic hum of the radio. My mother hadn't come. I knew her heart was too fragile to endure the finality of the tarmac.

When the sleek jet came into view, my stomach dropped into a bottomless abyss. It was real. I was leaving the only soil I had ever known. Pulling out my phone, I typed one last message to Gideon.

At the airfield. I’ll miss you, always. :(

I slipped the device into my back pocket and stepped out into the cold wind. After the attendants cleared my security clearance and loaded my luggage, we reached the boarding stairs—the boundary where the boys could no longer follow.

I turned and threw my arms around Valen, squeezing him with every ounce of strength I possessed. He lifted me completely off the ground, swinging me back and forth as if he could hold onto my childhood forever. My father cleared his throat roughy, breaking the spell.

I wiped away a stray tear and stepped into my father's stiff embrace. He cleared his throat again, and when I pulled back, I saw the glassy sheen of tears he refused to let fall.

Finally, I hugged Cian, inhaling his familiar scent of pine and iron. As we pulled apart, I placed a hand against his jaw. "Take care of my brother for me, Cian."

They all let out a hollow laugh as I turned and climbed the metal stairs. At the cabin door, I turned back one last time, waving to the three males who defined my world, before the heavy door sealed shut.

Sinking into the leather seat, I pulled out my phone. The screen lit up with five urgent notifications.

I love you, my little girl. I want you home the second this storm passes. Be good for your uncle. — Mother

I can’t believe they’re doing this. Please come back to us soon, Evadne. — Morrigan

Text me the absolute second the wheels touch the tarmac. — Valen

Why? — Gideon

Don’t dare forget me, sweetheart. — Gideon

I stared at his final text, a heavy sigh escaping my lips. There was no force in the supernatural realm that could make me forget him.

I could never forget you, Gideon. But I should be the one saying that—you’re the one surrounded by high-society wolves now.

I flipped the phone to flight mode as the engines roared to life, propelling us into the sky toward Budapest, Hungary.

After a grueling seventeen-hour flight, the jet finally touched down in the frosted expanse of Budapest. I navigated the labyrinthine customs gates, my nerves frayed, before emerging into the grand baggage claim. It was only then that a terrifying realization struck me: I had absolutely no idea who was supposed to be retrieving me.

"Excuse me? Evadne?"

I spun around and immediately stopped breathing. Standing before me was a male far too massive to be human. He stood at least six-foot-five, a towering wall of two hundred and twenty pounds of dense, lethal muscle. His tailored dark suit strained against shoulders that looked carved from granite. His eyes were the exact same deep, midnight blue as mine, but his hair was a striking sandy-blonde, identical to my father's.

"Are you Cassandra Evadne?"

I managed a weak nod, my voice caught in my throat.

"I’m Derrick, your cousin," he said, his deep voice carrying a strange, foreign accent that sounded smooth yet dangerous. He nodded toward two other monolithic guards standing like statues behind him. "My enforcers will handle your luggage. Come, I’ll take you to the transport so you can meet my father and get settled."

Still mute from shock, I followed him out to a sleek, armored black Cadillac. Derrick slid behind the wheel, and I climbed into the passenger seat. The engine purred to life, and for the first few miles, the only sound was the tires humming against the asphalt.

"So," Derrick murmured, flicking his dark blue eyes toward me before focusing back on the road. "What exactly did your father tell you about our clan?"

"Nothing," I admitted, looking down at my interlaced fingers, a sudden wave of embarrassment washing over me. "I didn't even know I had an uncle until yesterday. My father didn't even tell me his name."

I pulled out my phone, intending to text Valen, but the signal bars were completely dead.

Derrick let out a low, gravelly chuckle. "We aren't surprised. My father’s name is Darrius, by the way. The High Alpha of the European Territories."

I nodded, absorbing the massive title. Derrick spent the rest of the drive asking sharp, calculating questions about my upbringing, and I answered them as honestly as I could until the vehicle pulled down a massive, cobblestone driveway.

My breath caught. Rising from the mist was a breathtaking, ancient Gothic manor, its stone walls covered in dark ivy and flanked by gargoyles. It looked more like a royal fortress than a house.

"Derrick... my phone has absolutely no service here," I noted, frowning at the screen.

"Ah, yes. The estate is shielded by ancient runes," he replied, shifting the car into park. "I’ll provide you with a European clan SIM card later. First, I must present you to my father."

I followed his towering frame through the cavernous marble hallways until we stopped before a set of massive double doors carved with wolves. Derrick gestured toward the brass handle. "He’s inside. Just knock and enter."

He left me there, his heavy footsteps echoing away. I took a deep breath, knocked firmly, and pushed the heavy doors open.

The room was a sprawling, dimly lit library. Seated behind a massive mahogany desk was a male who looked like an ancient deity of war. Uncle Darrius possessed the same striking features as Derrick, but his temples were dusted with distinguished silver, and deep, authoritative lines were etched into his brow. He radiated an aura of raw, crushing dominance that made my inner wolf want to drop to its knees.

"Well, if it isn't our lost princess," Darrius murmured, his voice a rich, dark velvet.

Princess? The word tasted foreign. No one had ever called me that in the rugged American packs.

Darrius let out a deep chuckle, gesturing toward the leather armchair across from him. As I sat down, his piercing blue eyes scanned my posture, a faint, approving smile touching his lips. "Your father truly kept you in the dark about your lineage, didn't he?"

I shook my head quietly. Darrius clicked his tongue in disappointment.

"Well, little one, you are the first female born to the main royal bloodline in three generations," he revealed, leaning back in his throne-like chair. "That is why you are our princess. I cannot believe your father is punishing you for his own ignorance."

My eyes widened in sheer shock, completely lost. "What do you mean?"

Darrius sighed, running a heavy hand through his silver-streaked hair. "He should have kept you home from school, just like he did your brother."

"Why?"

"Because your brother couldn't control his emerging Alpha emotions," Darrius explained, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that pinned me to the chair. "And because you are his twin, you couldn't control yours."

He clearly saw the utter bewilderment on my face. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. "Evadne... do you have any idea how extraordinarily rare you and your brother are?"

I shook my head.

"Twins are a mathematical impossibility for our kind," Darrius stated solemnly.

"How rare?"

"In the entire recorded history of the Lycan race, there have been only twenty confirmed cases of twin births."

My jaw dropped. My mind reeled as I stared at my uncle. He was the complete polar opposite of my father; he held no secrets, delivering the truth with absolute transparency. And I found myself instantly craving it.

"Lycan twins are fundamentally different from normal wolves," Darrius continued, his voice laced with awe. "The female twin inherits a higher concentration of the physical strength and muscular density typically reserved for Alphas, while the male twin inherits unparalleled speed and a heightened, hypnotic allure. You shared the primordial gifts while inside the womb. That is why you have always matched the size of your brother and Cian, rather than the average female."

I sat frozen, a thousand puzzle pieces clicking into place. That was why I could hold my own against the boys.

"But there is an aspect of this bond that can become volatile," Darrius warned, his tone dropping into a dark register. "You two are tethered. Not like fated mates, but through an ancient, primordial blood-link. A sacred bond that cannot be severed, not even by the hand of death."

Without realizing it, I leaned forward, my chest pressing against the edge of the mahogany desk, desperate for more. "What kind of link?"

"Have you ever experienced a sudden, phantom pain when you had no physical wound? Or fallen ill on the exact day your brother did?"