Chapter Twelve: Bloodlines of the DamnedThe storm rolled in fast.Thunder cracked across the sky as rain began to fall in cold sheets, soaking the clearing where the Council had just gathered. The Alphas dispersed to prepare their warriors, urgency replacing the last remnants of pride and suspicion. Lyra stood still, her cloak pressed tight to her shoulders, her mind spinning around one name:Lucien.Celeste’s brother.A name Killian had never once spoken.“Why didn’t you tell me she had a brother?” Lyra asked, her voice sharp as they hurried back toward the main tent, where maps, war sigils, and territory markings were being laid out.Killian’s jaw tightened. “Because I thought he was dead.”Elias glanced over his shoulder. “You’re not the only one. We all did.”Inside the war tent, torches were lit, casting warm glows over the soaked canvas and the worn wood table. The southern and western Alphas arrived moments later, including Soraya, her expression grim. Behind her trailed Nyra,
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