Bloodline 3 Novels & Stories

“Tonight, under the blood moon, we witness the passing of power. Alpha Alexander Laurent, step forward.” Alpha Alexander approached the altar. In his hand was the ceremonial dagger—the same blade used by his father “I, Alexander Laurent, Alpha of the Silverthorn Pack, renounce my title and pass it to my son, my blood, my successor.” He sliced his palm and let his blood fall on the stone. “By blood and moon, I release my hold.” The ground itself seemed to hum as the blood moon overheard pulsed brighter. “Ethan Laurent,” Sage said, “step forward and claim your birthright.”

His voice was laced with concern but I was already on the edge The mere mention, or the thought of finding a mate always struck a nerve, reminding me of this curse that haunted me. I already lost one mate because of it, her death was a stain on my soul I could never wash away. The thought of finding another mate was repulsing but my bloodline was at stake and my mother's constant bickering over finding a mate only made matters worse. I never asked to be an unfortunate heir from a cursed lineage. “Let's just focus on the meeting”, I snapped, redressing my well-tailored tuxedo before dragging in a long puff of my Cuban cigar. “How long before we get to Red Keep?”. I glanced at Ryan, my chauffe

She bent close to the inked lines, eyes losing their surface sharpness and taking on the inward tilt Evelyn recognized as the beginning of a reading. “Moonsblood will ask a price,” Aleta said after a quiet minute. She kept her voice level, as if naming weather. “Not in blood, necessarily. But in truth. The man who called you will not accept victory if it comes too easily. He needs a story worth telling himself. You cannot change that. You can only refuse to be written in his evil script.” “We had planned for that,” Damon said.

She was just looking at me with a kind of sad understanding, as if she'd always known it would end this way. "Please," she whispered, but not to me. She was talking to Violet, trying to keep her daughter calm. "Close your eyes, baby. Just close your eyes." "Don't make this harder than it has to be," Mother said, holding out the syringe. "She knew what she was getting into when she married you. They always do, deep down." I took the syringe with trembling hands. The weight of it felt like holding my father's legacy – cold, unavoidable, deadly.

Elara presented her findings on the morning of the fourth day, in the small session she had requested with Draven, Lyra, and Kieran rather than the full council, which told Lyra that what she had found was significant enough to want the immediate circle's response before it went wider. She laid out the documentation on the table with the organized precision of someone who had spent four days putting things in the order that made their significance most immediately apparent. "The third bloodline exists," she said, without preamble. "The historical triad Azrik describes is documented in three independent sources, two of which predate the Purge Wars and one of which is a survival record from du

“My only job today is to make sure you don’t give birth. The Falcone heir can’t be a bastard.” "He's not a bastard!" I used my last ounce of strength to protect my stomach. "I told you, he's Darren's child..." I felt a warm gush of liquid between my legs. It was blood. A lot of blood. "Stop... please, stop..." She paid no attention, continuing to kick and punch me. "The Falcone bloodline will not be tainted!" Despair washed over me. I knew my baby wasn't going to make it. I lost consciousness completely.

The words 'biological match' glared up at us, and Dad looked like he wanted to tear the paper apart with his stare alone. Dad had always boasted about fathering triplets at his age, calling it a late-life triumph. However, the icy truth of the paternity tests hit him hard. The triplets were not his at all. They were Yvonne and Nelson's children. Dad's eyes burned with a rage that could kill, but I just smirked and walked away. I never returned to the hospital after that day. The next day, I got a call from the police. Dad had murdered Yvonne. In a twisted turn of fate, he was killed by the triplets and Nelson.

Kael shielded himself, but I was already moving—free, alive, burning. The corridor outside was chaos. Sirens blared. Guards ran toward me, weapons raised, but the power within me reacted faster. Their bullets dissolved midair. I moved like lightning, my body guided by instinct I didn’t understand. Each guard that touched me fell unconscious, energy drawn from them like mist. Kael followed, unhurried, his voice echoing through the burning halls. “You still don’t understand what you carry. That bloodline you cling to—it’s older than the packs. Older than wolves.”

Something in my chest that has been in one position for eleven days shifts. "Vienna reported in this morning." He crosses to my desk. Sets down a single printed page with the deliberate care of someone who has thought carefully about how to deliver something. "Prague went dark yesterday. Lisbon haven't responded to three separate messages." He pauses. His voice doesn't change — he's too good for that — but something behind his eyes does. "The degradation pattern is consistent across all five bloodlines. Starts eleven days ago. Simultaneously." Another pause. "To the hour."

"Now. The code. The sequence you memorized and locked away. Give it to me." He reached down, his fingers hovering agonizingly close to the fresh, bleeding cut on my arm, threatening to pry the raw flesh apart to get to the subdermal tracker beneath. A scream built in my chest, but I bit my lower lip so hard I tasted the copper tang of my own blood. Through the blinding haze of physical pain and the crushing weight of betrayal, a spark of pure, venomous rage flared to life deep inside me.