Chapter 9: Bloodline Revelation

Tehila's POV

My heart stopped. Breeding program. The words echoed in my brain. Zane's claws moved inches from Thorne's throat, trembling with the effort of restraint. I wanted him to do it. I really wanted to watch the life drain from the eyes of the man who had judged me while hiding his own monstrous secrets. But the terror in my chest was louder than my rage.

"Explain," Zane's voice rumbled, still in wolf form. "Now."

Thorne coughed, blood staining his teeth. "There's an organization and it’s been operating for decades. They track specific wolf bloodlines, control breeding, eliminate anyone in their way." He laughed. "You think pack politics are brutal? This makes us look like children playing house."

Dr. Lorett stepped closer, her rifle lowered but ready. "He's telling the truth. I've seen their files. They call themselves the Preservation Society, but there's nothing noble about it. They're trying to breed 'perfect' wolves—stronger, faster, more controllable."

The words landed like physical blows. Controllable. Like we were dogs to be trained.

"What does this have to do with me?" My voice came out smaller than I wanted.

"Your grandmother," Dr. Lorett said gently. "She was part of a bloodline they particularly valued. She had genetic markers, exceptional healing, and strong mate bonds. They lost track of her family line thirty years ago when she went into hiding."

I thought of my grandmother, the one person who had truly loved me. She'd never spoken about her past, always changed the subject when I asked about her life before our pack. I'd thought she was just private. Now I understood, she'd been running.

"When Tehila manifested her first shift at thirteen," Thorne continued, his voice strengthening with each word, "I recognized the markers then reported it to my contact. They've been watching her ever since."

Whst the hell?! Thirteen. I'd been a child. And this man had been selling information about me like I was livestock.

"That's why you wanted her eliminated," Zane growled at the empty space where Dalton's mother had been. "Not just to protect your son."

"Partially," Thorne admitted. "But also because Tehila's bloodline made her valuable to their competitors. The organization has rivals—other groups who want the same bloodlines for their own purposes. By killing her, we'd eliminate the competition and keep our arrangement intact."

Jade made a sound like a wounded animal. She sat in the dirt, her perfect facade shattered. "I was a pawn." Her voice was hollow. "All of it—you pushing me toward Dalton, encouraging the engagement. So all that was to keep Tehila isolated and make her vulnerable."

"You were useful," Thorne said. "Ambitious enough to manipulate, and foolish enough to believe you deserved what wasn't yours."

His words made her  flinch like he'd struck her. For the first time, I saw my sister clearly—not as my enemy, but as another victim of these power games. It didn't erase what she'd done, but it added context I didn't want.

Dalton dragged himself forward, his wounds reopening with the effort. Fresh blood soaked through his bandages. "My mother mentioned them. 'The purchasers,' she called them. She said they wanted 'breeding stock.'" He looked at me, devastation written across his face. "I didn't understand what she meant until now."

The term made bile rise in my throat. Breeding stock. Like I was a mare to be sold at an auction.

"They gave me your DNA months ago," Thorne added, almost conversational now. It seemed death was close enough that secrets didn't matter anymore. "Hair samples, blood from when you got injured in training. They have your complete genetic profile."

"And they're coming for her," Zane finished. He shifted back to human form, his naked body covered in blood and dirt. Someone threw him pants to cover his nakedness. "That's what you meant. They're already here."

"Close enough."

A commotion erupted at the edge of the group. One of Thorne's warriors—a young male I recognized but couldn't remember his name stumbled forward, his face twisted with guilt and fear.

"I'm sorry," he gasped. "I'm so sorry. They told me my sister would die if I didn't comply. They said they had her in a facility—"

"What did you do?" Zane's voice was deadly calm.

"During the battle. I planted a tracker. On her." He pointed at me with a shaking hand. "It's already transmitting. They know exactly where we are."

The safe house turned chaotic. Wolves shouted over each other, some demanding we run, others insisting we fight, a few suggesting we surrender me to save themselves. Just wow. 

"Silence!" Zane's command cut through the noise, but barely enough to stop them. Fear made wolves stupid and desperate.

"We need to evacuate," Dalton's father said, his military training taking over. "Scatter in different directions, make it harder to track—"

"They'll follow her signal," someone interrupted. "Wherever she goes, they'll find her."

"Then we remove the tracker," Jamie suggested.

"It's subcutaneous," the guilty warrior said miserably. "It was designed to dissolve if tampered with. It'll release toxins into her bloodstream."

Of course it would. These people thought of everything.

"How long?" I asked, surprised by how steady my voice sounded.

"An hour, or maybe less. They'll send mercenaries first—human soldiers with specialized weapons. Then their wolf teams."

An hour to decide between death by fighting, death by running, or death by capture. My hands clenched into fists, my nails biting into my palms. I'd spent my whole life being pushed around, manipulated, controlled. Even my DNA wasn't my own.

"We fight," I said.

"We can't fight them all," someone argued. "These aren't pack warriors. These are professionals."

"Then we run," another voice offered.

"To where?" Jade asked bitterly. "They have her DNA. They can track her anywhere."

The arguments grew louder, more desperate. I watched the group fracture before my eyes. Some wolves were already backing away, planning their own escapes. Loyalty meant nothing when survival was at stake.

Dalton swayed on his feet, despite the amount of blood he was losing. He shouldn't have been standing but he pushed through the crowd toward me, each step in obvious agony. When he reached me, he held my hand.

The touch sent electricity through our damaged mate bond. Pain and longing mixed with anger and grief. His eyes held mine, and I saw everything he'd never been brave enough to say.

"There's one place they can't track us," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "The Dead Zones."

The crowd went silent. Even Zane looked shocked.

"That's suicide," Dr. Lorett said flatly.

"What are the Dead Zones?" I asked.

"Territories where technology doesn't work," Zane explained. "Something about the mineral deposits disrupts all electronic signals. That’s why they're called Dead Zones for a reason." His eyes found Dalton's. "No wolf who enters has ever come out alive."