Romans & histoires The Originals Bloodlines

“No. I won’t let him steal what’s mine.” “You mean ours,” my father says. My jaw tightens. “No. Mine.” Sebastian speaks, his voice rough. “Even if we expose Carlos, it won’t be enough. Not if the pack’s scared.” “Then we give them something to believe in,” I say. “Something stronger than fear.” “Like what?” my father asks. I hesitate. Then I say it. “Me.” They both look at me, surprised. “I’m done waiting for approval. Done playing by their rules. I’ll show them I’m worthy of the bloodline.”

“Aleta?” Damon nodded slowly. “She came into the Shadow Lands because of him. I thought she might heal what was broken, guide him and his mate to another child. But when she revealed that a cruse lay dormant in his bloodline until him—that he could not conceive—it unraveled everything. Varos learned Soren wasn’t truly his. And that knowledge drove him mad.” Evelyn’s throat closed. The words hung between them, heavy with tragedy. She could almost see it, the proud man cracking apart under betrayal, the wolf in him breaking loose.

“Okay, I’m going to need you to be less cryptic.” Elara inclined her head slightly, like that was fair. “There are bloodlines,” she began, “older than the systems you understand. Older than packs, kingdoms,even the structures that govern them now.” Sage’s frown deepened. “You’re talking about wolves.” “I’m talking about origins,” Elara corrected. “What came before wolves became what they are now.”That didn’t make it clearer. If anything, it made it worse. Sage shook her head slightly. “I don’t-”

"The bloodline we thought we had purged five hundred years ago. The ones who didn't just shift into wolves, but who could command the tides and the stars." Kael felt a cold dread settle in his stomach. A suspicion he hadn't dared to voice began to take shape. "You're saying her line isn't common." "We are saying," the Inquisitor hissed, "that you didn't just reject a mate, Kael Nightfang. You rejected the last High Priestess of the Moon. And in doing so, you allowed the bloodlines to merge in a way that hasn't happened since the Age of Gods." The Hidden Sin

We are taking it back to the work. That's enough. Pren meets us at the airport in Chicago. Not literally. He sends a car and a confirmation: all seven profiles have been mapped against the seven original bloodlines from the 1347 document. I read the results on my phone in the back of the car while the Chicago suburbs moved past the window. All seven of us carry a different primary bloodline. One each. No overlaps. Adaeze was right. Since November we have been seven voices in the same room without knowing it.

I say. "The dormant markers in your blood. They aren't experimental. They're ancestral." She takes a step closer. "The Bloodline Project didn't create them. They discovered them. In the oldest Lycan DNA preserved from before the wars. And they tried to replicate what nature built over ten thousand years." My breath catches. "My markers are Lycan?" "Your markers are the bridge. Between what wolves were and what wolves will become. The old blood and the new. You're not an experiment, Neah. You're an evolution."

He didn't react visibly but something behind his eyes shifted and stayed shifted. I told them about the lineage chart. The founding bloodline. The original Lycan families who had written the first Council charter and given authority to the families who currently held it. I told them what my mother had found, not just that the bloodline existed, but that it had been deliberately erased from official record. Systematically. Over decades. By the families who understood that a living heir would hold a claim that superseded their own. Dante made one note on his pad. Then he set the pen down and just listened.

And somewhere in the territory, in the roots of the land that was already mine, that had always been mine, something old and convinced and waiting for a very long time settled into itself at last. It was not over. Olivia's tribunal was coming. The restructuring would be long and complicated. Aden had his own reckoning still ahead. The child was a secret that could not be kept forever. "The bloodline," my father said. Not a question, a recognition. He was placing what I had just told him against everything he carried from Isara's record and everything he had been writing and everything he understood about what the Founding Line was designed to produce. "Two," he said. "In the same generation,

she said to him. Kiran grabbed her hand when she reached for the needle in his arm. “Give him what he needs. I’ll be fine.” The nurse glanced at Malcolm as Kiran released his grip on her and he nodded his head. “Carter, we need to find more Type O candidates under the Zetas. The King might need more blood than his father can give him without dying himself.” “You just keep him alive!” Kiran said harshly, and sat back down in the chair. “Go, Carter,” Malcolm said in a whisper, his voice desperate. “And be quick about it.”