Ch. 131..135: A Warrior Luna's Awakening Chapter 131-135
Chapter 130
may even welcome it.”
Freya looked down. The air froze in her lungs.
Condoms.
Finished
Her wolf flared with indignation. She wanted to curse Wren to the moon and back. What in the hells is going on in that man’s head?
The chamber doors creaked, and Silas’s voice cut through. “What are you discussing?”
Wren straightened, his wolf tail practically between his legs. “Nothing, Alpha! Leaving now!” He vanished, his footsteps echoing hurriedly down the corridor.
The silence that followed felt heavier than stone.
Freya’s fingers clenched the box until the cardboard bent. She lifted her gaze–and found Silas’s eyes already upon the item in her hand
His expression was unreadable, almost placid, as if he were inquiring about the weather. “What is that?”
“It’s… Wren gave it to me-” She froze, her throat constricting as she finally registered what she was holding. Color surged to
her cheeks.
The Ironclad Alpha studied the object, his voice steady, unflinching. “Do we need to use it?”
Freya nearly dropped the damn thing. How could he say such a thing in that tone? Calm. Direct. As though they were discussing dinner.
“Of course not!” she burst out, tossing the box into a drawer with almost violent force.
A shadow flickered in Silas’s eyes, quickly veiled. Disappointment. So she still would not have him.
“Enough,” Freya said, desperate to end the mortification. “Go to sleep.”
“Talk to me first,” Silas replied quietly, a thread of vulnerability hidden beneath his command. “If you speak, perhaps I’ll be able to rest.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Anything.” he murmured. In truth, he wanted only the sound of her voice–the soft cadence, the gentleness that soothed the storms in his mind.
Freya exhaled, reached for a magazine resting on the shelf–a journal on technological advances, something that had caught her interest earlier. Settling back, she began to read aloud, her voice low and melodic, filling the chamber with a calm. rhythm.
Silas closed his eyes. The knots in his muscles loosened. His wolf, ever restless, stilled beneath the spell of her presence. Each word she spoke wove a cocoon of quiet around him, and for the first time in many nights, true sleep seemed possible.
And as sleep pulled him under, realization coiled sharp and dangerous within his chest.
Her voice was light in the dark, her presence a tether pulling him back from the abyss. He was already becoming bound, already sinking too deep.
A man who had walked through night and blood all his life could not easily give up the sun once he had tasted its warmth.
And Silas Whitmor was no man who surrendered lightly.
If his wolf craved her, then he would have her. No matter the cost.
Chapter 131
Freya’s POV
.
.
+8 Pearls
Two days later, I boarded the ferry with Silas. The sea wind was sharp, carrying the brine of the waves and the weight of something inevitable. We were bound for the island where the Halston Dominion had organized the groundbreaking ceremony–a show of unity between packs, humans, and industries.
I should have been focused on the event itself, on the politics that would thread through every smile and every handshake. But instead, my thoughts snagged on Silas.
“You’re sure you don’t need to see a healer for… that condition?” I asked quietly, leaning closer as the ferry rocked.
I meant the way he had lost himself in the forbidden chamber, as though dragged into a nightmare he could not wake from.
“I’ve already taken my medicine,” he replied, calm as stone. “Don’t trouble yourself. It hasn’t surfaced in years. I thought it had been buried for good.”
But his jaw tightened, betraying the ghost of memory. I could sense the storm beneath his words. His wolf flared briefly, bitter and wounded. I knew, even without asking, that Jocelyn Thorne’s meddling had triggered something–digging at scars best left sealed.
His lips pressed thin, his gaze hardening with a dangerous gleam.
The ferry moored before I could press further. We disembarked, our boots striking the dock, and the salt wind carried voices ahead of us. There, waiting with smiles sharp as knives, stood Jocelyn alongside several of my clan’s elders.
Jocelyn’s smile was sweet poison. “Alpha Silas, you’ve finally arrived. We’ve been waiting such a long time.”
She said it as though he hadn’t once wrapped his hand around her throat. As if that night of fury and fear had never scarred the air between them.
Silas gave her nothing–just a fleeting glance, cold as steel, before dismissing her entirely.
But Jocelyn wasn’t deterred. Her gaze flicked to me, the curve of her lips deepening. “Oh, Freya, did you know? Your ex–mate is here today. He has something he wishes to tell you.”
A chill crept into my spine. I followed her look, and there he was–Caelum. He stood with Aurora, daughter of the Bluemoon. Pack’s Beta, her uniform crisp, her emerald ring gleaming in the sun.
Jocelyn lifted her chin, voice bright and cruel. “Caelum, Freya is here. Didn’t you say you wanted to make a clean break with her? What better time than now?”
I saw him falter. His shoulders stiffened, his jaw clenched. His eyes flicked between Jocelyn and me, caught in a vise of his own making.
Aurora leaned closer, her voice a silken lash. “You wouldn’t back down, would you, Caelum? If you refuse, I won’t force you. But understand this–if you keep wearing those rings you once shared with her, people will talk. I might not doubt you, but others will. And their whispers will drag us both into the mud.”
His gaze locked with hers, and I saw the decision settle in his bones. He straightened, mask of resolve sliding into place.
“I am not unwilling,” he said, voice carrying over the gathering. He reached into his coat, withdrawing two silver bands. Then he stepped forward, each pace deliberate, until he stood before me.
“Freya,” he said, his voice low but steady, “I want us to end this–truly, once and for all.”
I let my eyes meet his, cold and sharp. “There was nothing left between us to end.”
He opened his palm. Two cheap rings rested there, dull metal catching the sunlight like mockery. The sight of them clawed something raw inside me.
“You left these behind in the nightstand when the Lunar Severance Phase ended,” he continued. “I thought it best we dispose of them now.”
I stared at those worthless rings, the kind you’d find tossed on a vendor’s blanket in the back alleys of The Capital. Back then,
Chapter 131
+8 Pearls
I had been so blind, so willing to believe. It doesn’t matter if they’re worthless, Freya. If his heart is true, then the metal doesn’t matter.
I could still hear his voice, the promises whispered in the dark: When I earn more, I’ll buy you something finer. These are only the beginning.
But the truth? When a man chooses to mark you with trinkets no better than scraps, it means you were never in his heart.
Because when his fortunes grew, when wealth poured into his coffers, the ring he bought was not for me. It was for Aurora.
My gaze drifted past the silver scraps in his hand, settling instead on the emerald ring gleaming proudly on Aurora’s finger. The stone was radiant, its green fire impossible to miss.
“Why are you staring at Aurora’s ring, Freya?” Jocelyn’s voice lashed out, cruel satisfaction in every word. “It doesn’t matter how fine her jewels are–they’ll never be yours.”
Before I could speak, Silas’s voice cut through the air like a blade. “You talk too much.”
Jocelyn flinched as though struck, color draining from her face. I knew she felt it–the phantom memory of his grip at her throat, the pain that had once silenced her. She swallowed, her bravado faltering.
I drew a breath, forcing my voice calm. “Silas, this is my affair. Let me deal with it.“.
Then I turned to Jocelyn, my wolf rising hot within me. “And how do you know Aurora’s ring isn’t mine? That emerald was purchased during my marriage to Caelum. He bought it in secret–behind my back, while I still wore his mate’s bond. So yes, I have every right to reclaim it. That ring was bought with betrayal, and it belongs to me.”
Jocelyn froze, her mask cracking. Around us, I felt the shift–the ripple of judgment through the crowd. The elders‘ eyes darkened. The whispers began.
I held Caelum’s gaze, my wolf baring its fangs in silence.
And for the first time, he looked as though the ground beneath him might give way.
Chapter 132
Caelum’s hand trembled. The two silver bands slipped in his palm, nearly tumbling to the stone beneath our feet. The cheap metal caught the sunlight in a way that mocked us both.
Aurora stiffened at his side, her eyes blazing as she snapped, “How dare you claim these rings as yours, Freya? Caelum bought them with the money he bled for, building SilverTech Forgeworks from the ground up. If you have any pride at all, buy your own rings with your own earnings instead of clinging to the wealth of others!”
I let out a low laugh, one sharp enough to draw a hush from the crowd gathered along the pier. My gaze slid toward Caelum, slow and cutting, as if to peel back his mask. “Is that so? That money is yours, Caelum? Then may the Fates grant that you keep earning it.”
Aurora lifted her chin with the arrogance of a newly risen hawk, a gleam of triumph flashing in her eyes. “Without you dragging him down, he’ll soar higher than ever.” Her hand brushed the emerald ring on her finger. “Especially with me by his side.”
She thought herself untouchable. Fool.
“You haven’t learned your lesson,” I murmured, stepping past Caelum. The crowd shifted as I closed the distance between myself and Aurora, each step deliberate, my wolf prowling beneath my skin. I halted before her, so close I could hear the quickening of her breath. “Last time, I stripped a necklace from your throat–jewel stolen in the shadows, a gift he gave you while still bound to me. And yet here you stand again, flaunting the emerald ring he bought while still tied to my bloodline. Is it that you’ve worn another’s jewels so long, you truly believe they belong to you?”
Her cheeks flamed crimson, the mask cracking. “Thief? You dare call me that? This ring was a gift. Caelum gave it to me!”
My lips curved into a blade of a smile. “Did he? Then tell me, Aurora–why was I forced to wear trinkets so cheap they wouldn’t fetch a coin in the markets, while you drape yourself in a stone worth millions? Was his love so thin for me, yet so generous for you?”
The air shifted, whispers hissing like dry grass in the wind. Wolves from every pack began murmuring to one another, their eyes darting between Aurora’s flushed face and Caelum’s rigid stance. The taste of scorn thickened in the air.
Aurora faltered, her voice rising shrill. “Caelum gave me jewels because I saved his life! Tell them, Caelum! I pulled you from death’s jaws when no one else would. What did she ever give you?”
A snarl threatened my throat. I seized her right hand, claws of my will tightening over her fingers until she gasped.
“What are you doing?!” she yelped, panic breaking through her facade.
Caelum lurched forward, fury blazing–but Silas moved like a shadow, pressing a hand to his shoulder and pinning him where he stood.
“Take another step,” Silas said softly, his voice as calm and inexorable as the sea, “and I will shatter your leg.”
The crowd froze. The menace in his tone carried weight far heavier than mere words. He was the Ironclad Alpha–when he spoke, others listened. No one dared move.
Caelum’s face contorted with helpless rage. “Whitmor, you would enable her cruelty? You’re letting Freya abuse her place, hiding behind your strength!”
Silas’s lips curled into something between disdain and amusement. “If she wishes to wield power, I will lend her mine. If she chooses to crush you, I will stand beside her. That is what it means when an Alpha decides where his loyalty lies.”
The words dropped like thunder across the pier Gasps broke out, shock flashing across every face. Even my kin–the Stormveil elders gathered–stared wide–eyed.
Jocelyn Thorne’s face twisted in disbelief and fury. For years she had clung at Silas’s side, blinded and broken, yet he had never spoken such words for her. Yet for me–for the Bloodmoon–born wolf she despised–Silas declared himself my shield.
Her eyes burned with venom as she glared at me, teeth grinding.
But I ignored her. My focus stayed locked on Aurora. I dragged her with me, her wrist clutched in my grip, toward the edge
11:29 AM PP.
Chapter 132
of the dock. Her breath came in ragged bursts.
“What–what are you doing?!” she shrieked, panic rising. “Freya, don’t be reckless!”
+8 Pearls
I smiled coldly. “You said you were Caelum’s savior, that you plucked him from the Blackwater when he was bleeding from eight blades. Such a feat would mean your swimming is unmatched. Surely these waters hold no fear for you.”
Her eyes widened, confusion chasing terror across her face. She hadn’t yet understood.
Then, with a swift twist, I pinched the emerald from her finger. The gem slid free with satisfying ease, glittering in my palm. And with the same motion, I released her hand.
Aurora staggered backward, heels slipping on wet stone, and plunged into the sea.
The crowd erupted.
“Help! Help me!” she screamed, arms thrashing wildly, her cries echoing against the cliffs.
Caelum surged forward, but Silas’s grip hardened, keeping him caged. Rage carved deep lines across Caelum’s face, his wolf straining against the leash of control.
From behind, Jocelyn’s voice cut the air, shrill with accusation. “Freya Thorne! Are you mad? You’ll drown her! You’ll stain your hands in blood out of petty jealousy!”
“Jealousy?” I let the word drip with contempt. My eyes swept the water, calm and glassy, where Aurora splashed like a frightened pup. Then I raised my voice, carrying it over the waves. “Strange, isn’t it? For one who claimed to dive into the raging Blackwater and drag a half–dead Alpha from its depths, she flounders here in waist–deep tide.”
I bent, seizing her by the arm, and hauled her upright. The sea only licked at her waist, no higher. Aurora’s face flamed crimson as she realized the truth–that her performance had been nothing but a lie unraveling in the open.
I turned then, my gaze locking onto Caelum. The emerald gleamed in my palm, proof of his betrayal. My wolf’s growl rumbled beneath my words.
“Tell me, Caelum,” I said, each syllable deliberate, unyielding. “Do you still believe Aurora was the one who saved you? That she, and not another, dragged you from the Blackwater when eight knives pierced your flesh?”
The silence that followed was thick, electric, heavy with judgment. Every eye on the dock pressed into him.
And for the first time, I saw doubt fracture the mask of the Silverfang Alpha.
Chapter 133
Freya’s POV
+8 Pearls
Caelum just stood there, staring at me and Aurora. His throat worked, as though something heavy and jagged was lodged there, strangling his words.
Aurora’s face flushed with humiliation, her hair plastered against her cheek, seawater dripping down the cheap fabric of her uniform. Yet still, she snapped with that shrill, defensive bite of hers.
“Freya, I saved Caelum’s life. Everyone knows it. You can’t rewrite what happened just because you can’t stand it. You can’t
smear me.”
الاسلام
I laughed, short and sharp, the sound cutting across the hush of the pier. “Smear you? Aurora, you flatter yourself. You’re not worth the effort.”
I dragged her by the wrist back to the shoreline and released her with a violent shove. She hit the sand hard, collapsing in a heap. Sand clung to her wet clothes, to her face, to the once–pristine braid down her back. She looked every bit the pathetic thing she was, sprawled out with the ocean clinging to her skin.
My own clothes were damp from where I had waded in, but no one watching would dare call me disheveled. I carried the sea like a cloak, the storm like a crown, and I let my wolf prowl just beneath the surface.
Aurora scrambled up, her eyes darting frantically to Caelum, clinging to him like a lifeline. “It doesn’t matter what she does. Caelum trusts me! Don’t you?”
Caelum finally blinked, as though waking from a trance. His gaze slid to hers–hesitant, conflicted–and then his jaw tightened. “Yes,” he said. “I trust Aurora.”
The words landed like blades.
He had already chosen her, long ago. The fool in me had just refused to see it.
Aurora exhaled in relief and turned to me, triumphant. “You see? He trusts me. You’ve humiliated yourself, Freya. You’re nothing but a spectacle now, a bitter wolf howling at shadows. And that emerald ring–give it back. Stop behaving like a thief who steals what isn’t hers.”
I tilted my head, letting my voice drop to a blade’s edge. “That ring was bought with shared resources while he was still bound to me. That makes it mine by right. So tell me, Aurora–who is the thief here?”
Her smugness faltered. I took a step closer, my gaze locking with hers. “Hear me well, Bluemoon brat. Any time I see you flaunting jewels bought during my binding with Caelum, I will take them back. One by one. I will strip you bare if I must. Do you understand?”
Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth, then shut it again. Around us, the crowd whispered, eyes narrowing, some already sneering at her. She had no defense, not when the truth gnawed at her heels. Even she knew it.
I turned then, ignoring her, and walked straight to Caelum. My pulse thundered, but my voice came calm, deliberate. “You wanted an end between us, didn’t you? Then where are the rings, Caelum?”
His body stiffened. Slowly, almost unwillingly, his hand opened.
Two rings sat in his palm. Simple, cheap metal bands, bought at some marketplace stall years ago. Our marriage tokens. They looked so small there in his hand–so laughably fragile, so pitifully unworthy of the vows I had given.
I stared at them, and suddenly a bitter laugh broke free.
I laughed at the girl I had once been, the girl who had thought Caelum Grafton was a mate worth bleeding for. I laughed at how blind I’d been, giving him my trust, my loyalty, my everything–only to realize he had never given me his
Without hesitation, I plucked the rings from his hand. My claws itched to pierce the cheap metal, but instead, I walked to the edge of the dock and flung them into the sea.
The bands spun once in the air, caught the light for a heartbeat, then vanished beneath the waves. The tide seized them, pulling them into its dark belly, gone forever.
1/2
11:30 AM P P
Chapter 133
Caelum inhaled sharply. “You-”
+8 Pearls
His voice cracked, cut off. He hadn’t expected it. Hadn’t expected me to sever the bond so ruthlessly, with no trace of regret. His eyes widened as he stared at me, as though I had torn the ground out from under him.
He had carried those rings all this time, clutching them like relics of something worth saving. And I had thrown them away like the scraps they were.
Garbage.
I turned my gaze back to him, my voice steady, final. “It’s done, Caelum. This is the end.”
For the first time in years, I felt light. Empty, yes–but empty in a way that meant I had space again. Room to breathe. Room to fight for myself.
He lifted his head sharply, staring at me as though he’d never seen me before. His hand twitched–instinctively reaching out, aching to pull me back.
But before he could touch me, a shadow moved between us. Silas struck his hand aside with casual force, his presence radiating danger.
“You’ve lost that right,” Silas said, his tone like steel wrapped in ice. “You no longer have the claim.”
Then he fell into step beside me, as though he had always belonged there.
The two of us walked away from the pier, my heart still pounding in my chest. I did not look back. I didn’t need to.
I knew Caelum was watching us, watching me leave him behind. And I knew he felt it–the hollow emptiness, the realization that what he had lost was not just two worthless rings.
He had lost me.
–
Later, I changed into dry clothes in the rest chamber. The saltwater still clung faintly to my skin, a reminder of the storm I had unleashed, but I welcomed it.
When I opened the door, Silas was there, leaning against the frame, arms crossed. His wolf–shadow was impossible to ignore -looming, protective, unwavering.
“You…” I blinked at him. “Why are you still here?”
His eyes caught mine, sharp as obsidian. “Waiting,” he said simply. Two syllables, nothing more–but in them was a weight I could not mistake.
Waiting for me.
For a heartbeat, I forgot how to breathe.
Then I pulled my shoulders back. “We’ve wasted enough time. The cornerstone ceremony begins soon–we should go.”
Silas inclined his head in agreement, and together we strode toward the gathering. My wolf stretched within me, no longer shackled by Caelum’s shadow, and for the first time in too long, I felt the stirrings of something fierce.
Freedom.
Chapter 134
Third Person’s POV
0
0
+8 Pearls
On the trail leading toward the ceremonial grounds, Silasr’s voice broke through the coastal wind. His tone was low, steady, yet carried the weight of an Alpha whose words rarely fell without purpose.
“You’ve truly severed all ties with Caelum Grafton?”
Freya lifted her gaze toward the horizon, the salt air tangling with her scent. “What else would you call it? Whether those two rings were cast into the sea or left behind, the bond was already broken. When I abandoned them on the bedside table and walked out of the Silverfang estate, I had already shed that life. I had no use for rings, no use for vows, and no use for him.”
She had not expected Caelum to bring the wedding bands here, like relics dragged from a grave.
Silas’s expression remained cool, though the faintest ripple of a smile crossed his face, softening the cold steel in his gaze for a fleeting moment.
“That’s good,” he murmured, and though his words were simple, there was something dangerous about the approval behind them–like an Alpha marking his choice in the presence of others.”
Elsewhere, in the guest wing prepared for the Bluemoon emissaries, Aurora’s hands shook as she stripped off her damp clothes. She scrubbed herself raw under the shower, but no heat of water could wash away the humiliation she had suffered. Fresh garments clung to her body when she stepped out, only to find Caelum seated heavily on a leather sofa, his eyes fixed on the open palm of his hand.
The rings. His thumb traced a ghost that was no longer there.
“Caelum,” Aurora ventured, her voice too sweet, too coaxing. “What’s on your mind?”
He blinked, startled, and quickly closed his hand as if caught. “Nothing.” His voice was firm but unconvincing. He rose slightly, searching her face. “You’re unharmed?”
Aurora’s lips curled into bitterness. “This is all Freya Thorne’s doing. She wants me dead, First she ripped away the necklace, now even the ring you gave me. She won’t stop until I have nothing.”
“I’ll buy you better,” Caelum promised, his voice laden with guilt, “Everything she stole, I’ll replace.”
That placated her. A little.
But Caelum’s mind did not rest. “Aurora… why were you so panicked in the water earlier? You always swam well. Otherwise, you couldn’t have saved me back then, when the current nearly took me.”
Aurora froze, just for an instant, before plastering her indignation across her face. “Are you accusing me? Do you think it wasn’t me who pulled you out of the river?”
He faltered, then shook his head quickly. “No. Not accusing. Only… it seemed strange.”
Her voice sharpened, defensive. “It was sudden. I’ve been abroad for years–without training, without practice. Anyone could freeze for a moment. If you truly doubt me, then stop calling me your savior. I never asked for that title. I told you before–I didn’t pull you from the water to chain you in obligation. Back then you were nothing, Caelum. I owed you nothing
Shame flickered across his face. Because he had doubted her. Because Freya’s shadow had seeped into his thoughts.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Aurora sighed, feigning graciousness. “Forget it. She’s poisoned you against me. But enough of this. Focus on the future. I’ve heard from the Thorne elders–the city council is interested in your drone initiative. Silver Tech Forgeworks may secure the partnership. You’re thriving now, Caelum. Without Freya, you’re stronger.”
His lips pressed into a thin line. He could not tell her that the proposal she praised was not wholly his. The designs were Freya’s work, drafted in the final months before she left SilverTech. The patent–her patent–tiled during their binding
It was theft dressed as enterprise.
Chapter 134
+8 Pearls
Still, Caelum soothed his conscience with easy lies. She abandoned the company. She abandoned me. Her work was ours, and what was ours, I claimed. It belongs to SilverTech. It belongs to me.
The cornerstone ceremony began as dusk settled over the island.
The gathering place, ringed by banners of steel and cloth, filled with figures of power: government officials, council liaisons. and the scions of the major packs who had invested in the construction of the island base. Their presence was more than ceremonial–it was a declaration of dominion, a contest of who would stand tallest when the project was completed.
Among the crowd, Silas Whitmor stood apart. Towering, dark, unmistakable, the Alpha of the Ironclad Coalition. commanded attention with presence alone. At his side, Freya drew eyes that carried whispers with them. Not all of those whispers were kind.
Jocelyn’s glare was sharp enough to cut stone. The heiress of Stormveil’s first branch had expected this day to be Freya’s undoing. She had wanted the world to see Freya as abandoned, discarded, humiliated–a she–wolf stripped of mate and standing.
But the tide had betrayed her.
It was Aurora who had been shamed. Caelum who bore the stain of weakness. And Freya who now stood in the shadow and strength of Silas Whitmor, the most unyielding Alpha in the Coalition.
Those who watched took note. The implication was clear.
ww
Jocelyn’s nails dug crescents into her palm. Her jaw tightened, fury smoldering beneath the mask of courtesy.
At her side, Abel Thorne, her uncle, leaned close. His voice was gravel, edged with warning. “Jocelyn. Silas Whitmor is not a man you can bend.”
She turned sharply toward him, eyes narrowed. “Uncle, you told me otherwise. You told me if I could bind him to me, the first branch would rise above the others. That was the plan.”
“That was before,” Abel said flatly. His gaze slid toward Freya. “Before she returned. Back then, perhaps you had a chance. Silas kept women at a distance, but he bore guilt toward you. He gave Stormveil favors, in business and war. But now…” He shook his head. “Now, the path is closed.”
jocelyn followed his eyes–straight to Freya, standing tall beside Silas, no longer the cast–off, no longer the broken mate. Her aura burned sharp, defiant, as if the Bloodmoon wolf within her had risen at last.
And Jocelyn knew.
The crowd knew.
Freya Thorne was not prey. She was not abandoned. She was dangerous.
The sea wind howled through the banners, carrying with it the scent of change.
Chapter 135
Third Person’s POV
Jocelyn had once believed herself the woman closest to Silas.
+8 Pearls
For years, she had convinced herself that his aloofness toward females was simply his nature–that the Ironclad Alpha’s blood ran too cold for passion, too controlled for affection. He was a man of power, forged of iron and shadow, who could look at queens and warriors alike and see nothing but background noise.
But what Jocelyn had witnessed at the shoreline shattered that illusion. She had seen him move–truly move–not for the defense of territory or pack, but for Freya.
The way he had stepped forward, his aura rising like a steel storm, his dominance breaking through the air–Silas had chosen to act for her.
It was not nothing.
717
And Jocelyn, sharp–eyed and politically bred, knew exactly what that meant. When an Alpha like Silas bent his will to shield a woman, when the wolf stirred from within to claim rather than dismiss–that was not strategy. That was instinct. That was heart.
Her stomach coiled in resentment.
She turned to her uncle, Abel Thorne, who stood with the calm detachment of one who had seen storms come and go. “So, Uncle,” she said, voice laced with a bitter laugh, “you’ve decided that Freya is the better bet for Stormveil’s fortune? That because Silas favors her, I am suddenly… dispensable?”
Abel’s sigh came heavy, weighted with the tired patience of an elder. “Jocelyn, I say this for your good.”
“For my good?” Jocelyn’s eyes gleamed with venomous light. “You mean to tell me that all these years I clawed my way into Stormveil’s recognition, that I sacrificed more than any of your pure–blooded heirs, only for you to toss me aside the moment Freya appears? Don’t forget–Stormveil stands where it does today because I paid the price. Because I lost an eye to ensure our Pack a foothold in the Ashboone.”
Her words hissed like a wounded wolf’s snarl.
But Abel’s gaze hardened, and for once, he did not soften his tone. “Do not forget, child, that sacrifice gave you entry. You were born outside Stormveil’s core bloodline. Without that act, you would have been kept at arm’s length. You call yourself savior, yet it was the opening that allowed you through the gates. Do not mistake circumstance for merit.”
His meaning pierced her like a claw.
It was true. The scars she carried, the missing eye she flaunted as proof of loyalty–they had allowed her to climb into the halls of Stormveil Primal Hall and sit among heirs who bore Ken Thorne’s blood. But she had not risen by strength or cunning. She had risen on debt, on pity, and on Silas Whitmor’s occasional indulgence of her presence.
And now, with Freya Thorne at Silas’s side, even that thin thread unraveled.
Abel had spoken enough. He let the matter die, folding his arms as though her bitterness were beneath further comment. Jocelyn could only seethe in silence, her wolf bristling beneath her skin.
The ceremony stretched into its latter hours, the cornerstones of steel and stone already blessed with the oaths of leaders and signed by mortal dignitaries. At the tail end of the event, a sudden roar split the sky.
The crowd turned as one. Reporters surged forward, cameras flashing in a frenzy, voices rising into a tide of awe
Freya lifted her head, her instincts sharpening. Above the cleared strip of runway, five figures strode in formation–wolves cloaked in human guise, wearing the crisp uniforms of aviators. Their boots struck the tarmac like war drums as they approached five sleek aircraft, Zivko Edge 540s, their wings gleaming like knives beneath the sun.
At their center walked Aurora.
Chin high, shoulders squared, the Bluemoon Beta’s daughter radiated triumph. She was the only female in the formation, yet
Chapter 135
+8 Pearls
she walked as though the sky itself bent for her. The crowd devoured her presence, the journalists feeding her the attention she craved.
Her lips curved into a satisfied smile.
Aurora had been suspended from active duty; whispers of disgrace had gnawed at her reputation. But this–the flying display tied to the island’s cornerstone charity gala–was her stage for rebirth. With orphans from the Ashbourne shelters watching, and donors prepared for the post–performance auction, she would shine brighter than ever. A dazzling flight, a calculated donation, and her name would climb again, back into respect.
She would not settle for second–in–command. Not after all she had bled for. Not when she had tasted the sky and wanted it all.
Her eyes flickered, catching Freya in the crowd. A smirk twisted her lips.
Freya had humiliated her before, but the sky was Aurora’s domain. Here, she would prove their difference–one belonged to the earth, scarred soldier with nothing but fists; the other belonged to the air, celebrated, praised, untouchable.
Engines roared. One by one, the planes thundered down the strip and clawed into the heavens. Aurora’s aircraft led the formation, the tip of the spear. The five Zivkos carved through the sky in spirals, dives, and barrel rolls, painting trails of white smoke like banners of conquest. The crowd below erupted with gasps and cheers.
Among them, Jocelyn spotted Silas standing beside Freya. Her pulse tightened.
She drifted closer, her tone sweetened with false innocence. “Silas,” she said lightly, “how do you find the display? The lead pilot is my cousin Aurora–first female captain in the Bluemoon Airborne Wing.”
Silas’s gaze slid toward her, a blade of steel cutting through pretense. The curve of his mouth held something between mockery and indifference. Jocelyn felt skinned under that stare, as if he peeled away her words until nothing remained but the hunger beneath.
But she pushed forward, voice carrying venom wrapped in silk. “No wonder Caelum Grafton cast Freya aside for her. Freya cannot compare. She has no place in high skies, no gift for strategy or invention. She is strong, yes, brutishly so, but that is all. Fists are cheap. Wealth buys strength. Guards can be hired. But brilliance? That belongs to women like Aurora.”
The words were meant to bite, meant to show Freya’s unworthiness.
Silas’s reply was a growl, quiet but sharp enough to chill the marrow. “Your tongue must be terribly idle, Jocelyn, if it spends itself on such useless things.”
Her pride flared, but before she could retreat, Freya herself turned, her voice cutting like a hawk’s cry. “And you? Do you fly, Jocelyn?”
Caught, Jocelyn sneered. “I don’t need to. I hold a seat in Stormveil’s council. Without me, the Thorne fortunes would not stand where they do today. That is power Freya will never hold. Compared to me, she is still nothing.”
She lifted her chin high, the arrogance of survival worn as armor. But deep inside, Jocelyn felt the press of shadows, the sense that she had already lost something more valuable than a council seat: Silas’s gaze.
And wolves lived and died by the eyes of their Alphas.