Ch. 146..150: A Warrior Luna's Awakening Chapter 146-150
Chapter 146
Freya’s POV
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I watched Silas settle onto the sofa with that easy, unshakable calm of his, pillow tucked beneath his arm like he belonged here. I should have argued longer, but the words dried on my tongue.
“Then, good night?” I said at last, trying to sound casual.
“Good night.” His lips curved in the faintest smile.
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. That smile–subtle, almost boyish–was so different from the cold, untouchable Alpha I had first met. Lately, I had seen it more and more, glimpses of warmth breaking through the iron armor of the Ironclad Coalition’s Alpha. I turned quickly, forcing my eyes shut. I needed rest.
But while sleep pulled at me, I could feel his presence across the room. His wolf’s energy pressed faintly at the edge of mine, steady, watchful.
He probably thought I believed his excuse–that he feared someone might attack him in the night. But my instincts told me otherwise. His fear wasn’t of blades or bullets. His fear was me. That I would slip away, that I would break whatever fragile trust we had forged today.
The realization left a strange ache in my chest.
So this was what it meant to love someone–to carry so many fears. My father, Arthur Thorne, had loved my mother, Myra, with a ferocity that sometimes seemed reckless. I wondered, lying there in the dim lamplight, if his heart had pounded with the same restless dread Silas carried now.
But Silas was not my father. His wolf was tempered with steel. He would not make the same mistakes, would not drive me away with desperation. At least, that’s what I told myself.
Yet in the quiet, I heard his breathing change, heavier with memory. He shifted, and though I kept my eyes shut, I could sense his hand trailing across the scars on his back. I knew them, faint glimpses I had caught when his shirt shifted–pale lines carved by violence and survival.
Once, he had told me he kept those scars as a reminder, a vow to never forget what had shaped him. But now, in his silence, I felt the truth. He feared those scars would repel me, that I might recoil from the flawed flesh of his body.
“Freya,” his voice whispered, low as a wolf’s breath in the trees. “Don’t despise me…‘
The words dissolved into the darkness, too soft for anyone but me and the night itself to hear.
When morning came, it wasn’t his whisper I woke to, but the sudden weight of his hand brushing near. Half–asleep, instincts surged. I roiled, grabbed, and pinned him against the mattress with a move born of years in the Iron Fang Recon Unit.
Only then did my eyes snap fully open.
Silas lay beneath me, wide–eyed, lips curved in something dangerously close to amusement.
Heat flooded my face. I scrambled back. “Sorry, I wasn’t fully awake–I didn’t realize it was you.”
He only shrugged, his voice maddeningly calm. “No harm done. I only meant to wake you. But for the record–if you want to pin me down again, I won’t resist.”
My ears burned. Ancestors, what kind of Alpha spoke words like that with such seriousness?
If it had been any other male, I would have dismissed it as crude teasing. But Silas’s eyes were steady, his wolf calm, as though he truly meant it. His words struck deeper, left dangerous thoughts stirring in my mind.
No wonder the magazines in The Capital had once named him “the male most worth toppling.” For once, I understood the appeal.
I coughed twice, forcing the heat from my face. “Ahem. You should go back to your chamber to wash up. I need to get ready as well. The island’s investment summit starts today.”
He inclined his head. “Yes. Are you interested?”
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Chapter 146
“Me?” I gave a dry laugh. “Not really.”
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Lana’s company, SkyVex Armaments, had no plans to expand here in Ashbourne. My own path lay back in The Capital, working under her. This summit was about territorial development, alliances, trade. None of it concerned me.
Silas, however, would be involved. The Whitmor family had their claws deep in this project, and his presence here was far from casual.
But then his gaze sharpened. “What if I told you that Caelum’s proposal to the Ashbourne government relies on a patent you filed during your marriage? Would you still have no interest?”
My heart slammed against my ribs. “How do you know that?”
“Is such knowledge difficult for me?” His smile was all steel.
I exhaled, almost laughing at myself. Of course. For a wolf like him, information was a weapon, and Ashbourne was his battlefield.
And so, despite my lack of desire, I found myself walking into the grand hall of the summit at his side.
The conference chamber was vast, banners of the Ashbourne council draped across the high ceiling, the scent of ink, parchment, and wolves thick in the air. Alphas, Betas, envoys–they gathered like predators circling the same kill.
I felt Jocelyn’s eyes spear me the moment we entered. My cousin’s lips thinned, displeasure curling her features. “Alpha Silas,” she said sharply, “why bring Freya here? She’s nothing but an ex–soldier. What could she possibly understand at a summit like this?”
Silas’s chuckle was soft but edged like a blade. “If you can follow the proceedings, Jocelyn, then surely Freya can as well.” Jocelyn’s face darkened, her wolf bristling. “Even if you’re infatuated with her now, don’t overestimate her worth.”
“How I view Freya,” Silas replied, his tone a warning growl, “is none of your concern.”
I caught the flicker of fury in Jocelyn’s eyes before she looked away.
Then the air shifted.
Caelum entered, Aurora trailing in his wake, her uniform of the Bluemoon Airborne Wing gleaming beneath the chandeliers. The Silverfang Alpha’s presence rolled through the hall like thunder–commanding, undeniable.
But his gaze caught on me almost instantly.
“Freya,” he said, voice low, dangerous, uncertain. “Why are you here?”
His question coiled between us, heavy with unspoken history, sharp with the scent of regret and challenge.
Chapter 147
Freya’s POV
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I met Caelum’s gaze across the crowded chamber, his silver–grey eyes sharp as forged steel. He had the gall to demand, “Freya, why are you here?”
I laughed softly, though my wolf bristled beneath my skin. “If you can be here, Caelum, why shouldn’t I?”
His jaw clenched. “I’m here as Alpha of Silverfang and head of SilverTech Forgeworks. I carry my Pack’s banner. You–what do you represent? The government’s published list of summit enterprises makes no mention of SkyVex Armaments, nor
Lana Rook’s name.”
My smile cooled. “You plan to wield a patent that I forged with my own blood and hours, and you think I don’t have the right to stand in this hall?”
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The chamber thickened with silence. Caelum’s face hardened, his wolf scent edged with unease. He hadn’t expected me to know.
And I saw where his eyes slid–to Silas Whitmor, looming steady at my side. My anchor, my shield. Caelum realized in that instant that expelling me would not be so simple. No one moved against the Alpha of the Ironclad Coalition without a reckoning.
“That patent,” Caelum said at last, voice tight, “was filed during our marriage. The terms of the Lunar Severance Phase were clear. I have claim to it.”
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Aurora, the Bluemoon Beta’s daughter, stepped forward quickly, her voice slicing through the air like the snap of rotor blades. “Freya, you severed your bond to Caelum willingly. You were eager enough then. Now that he puts the patent to use, do you mean to snatch it back? Typical of a woman like you–quick to promise, quicker to betray.”
Her smirk glittered with malice. She wanted me cornered, wanted me to falter before the watching Alphas and envoys. She imagined me helpless, as though the patent’s brilliance could be twisted into her victory.
I tilted my head, met her eyes, and let my wolf’s disdain bleed into my smile. “I never said you couldn’t use it. But tell me, do you really think you can?”
Caelum blinked, uncertain. Aurora scoffed. “Why couldn’t we? The patent belongs to you both. Caelum’s labor carved out the forge for SilverTech. Do you think you would’ve had time to toy with theories if not for his grind? Without his earnings, would you have had the freedom to draw a single design?”
“Freedom?” The word tore from my throat in a bitter laugh.
Three years of marriage. Three years I buried myself in his vision, his company, his Pack. Every night, while he raged about markets and rivals, I labored over schematics until dawn. If not for that sacrifice, if not for my research, do they think I would have produced only one patent?
I looked at Caelumn, my voice low, steady, cutting. “So you believe SilverTech stands here today solely because of your power? Your money? That all I did was bask in your glory?”
quse of less
Aurora’s chin lifted. “Isn’t that the truth? Military innovation is one thing, but business demands more–vision, ruthlessness, networks. You can’t just build drones and think empires rise from blueprints. Wealth doesn’t fall from the sky.”
I let her words fall, then exhaled, almost pitying her. “You’re right–wealth doesn’t fall from the sky. I remember every step of clawing it from the dirt. I remember spending every drop of my father’s trust and every link of my mother’s connections to open doors for SilverTech. And when Caelum nearly destroyed the company with reckless decisions, I was the one who fought him back from the edge.”
The truth hung there, burning the air,
Aurora’s face flushed, but she snapped, “Then all the more reason the patent belongs to him too! He shed sweat and blood beside you. His power shaped it. It is not yours alone.”
I gave a shrug that cut sharper than a blade. “Fine. Keep telling yourself that. But if you believe in his strength so utterly, then hold onto it when his strength falters. If his empire crumbles, Aurora, stay with him still. Don’t forget these words then
A hush swept the chamber. I could feel the storm building: soon, the summit would start, and my turn to strike would come
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Chapter 147
Let Caelum try to wield my work–he would learn it wasn’t so simple.
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Then Jocelyn sneered with venom. “Freya, you’re jealous, aren’t you? Caelum cast you aside for Aurora, and you lost a prize mate. Admit it—you’re bitter because the Silverfang Alpha chose someone else.”
The words twisted in the air, cutting Caelum too, for they painted him as the triumphant betrayer, the male who discarded his first mate for a shinier bond. I saw his wolf twitch, discomfort flickering.
But before he could form a defense, Silas spoke.
–
“Jealous?” His voice rolled like thunder across the chamber, deep and certain. “Tell me what reason would Freya Thorne have to be jealous?”
Every gaze snapped to us.
That single word–Freya–from his lips carried more than possession. It was claim. It was declaration. In that moment, he bound his presence to mine for all to see. Silas Whitmor, Alpha of the Ironclad Coalition, did not posture. He promised.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Jocelyn paled, nearly biting her tongue. She understood what he meant- understood that I was no discarded mate, no castoff. I stood beside power equal to, no, greater than Caelum’s.
Caelum’s face twisted, humiliation flickering across his proud features. Only yesterday, he had feared whispers–that he was a wolf who abandoned his bond when fortune rose. Now the story shifted, recast by Silas’s presence.
No longer was I the forsaken one. Now it was he who looked like the wolf left behind, replaced by a rival stronger, sharper, more unyielding.
And I, no longer bowed my head.
Send Gifts
Chapter 148
Freya’s POV
+8 Pearls
Caelum looked as though the ground had opened beneath him. For once, it wasn’t me who wore the mark of abandonment. It was him. He was the one stripped bare in front of the packs–pitiful, exposed.
Aurora, ever eager to stitch her dignity back together, forced a brittle smile. “Affection,” she declared, her voice pitched too high, “isn’t measured by a male’s wealth, but by how much of himself he gives you. A man might clutch a hundred coins but offer only one–what value is that bond?”
Her gaze flickered toward me, triumphant, as though she had made some grand revelation.
Before I could answer, Silas looming beside me like the iron spine of a fortress, spoke with cold amusement. “And yet Caelum spends his hoarded coins well enough on you, doesn’t he, Aurora? Jewelry, baubles–gifts from the silver coffers of Silverfang. Tokens of a bond born in another’s ruin.”
The air in the hall shifted, a ripple of wolf–scent and restrained growls. Aurora’s cheeks flamed scarlet.
Those trinkets had painted her in the world’s eyes not as a Beta’s daughter or a promising pilot of the Bluemoon Airborne Wing, but as Caelum’s mistress–the interloper who gnawed at another female’s place. She had flown bold and reckless over the sea isles, stunts meant to repair her image. But Silas’s words dragged her face back into the mud.
He didn’t stop there. His voice rumbled steady, the weight of a Whitmor decree. “As for what I own–if Freya desires it, she will have it. My pack’s hoard, my blade, my blood. All of it.”
Gasps shuddered through the chamber.
Silas Whitmor, Alpha of the Ironclad Coalition, was no minor wolf. His empire’s reach stretched across borders, its wealth a shadowed mountain none could map. The implication was staggering.
Aurora’s chin jutted, sharp and desperate. “Then tell me, Alpha Whitmor–what if Freya demanded Whitmor Industries itself? Would you place it in her hands?”
Silas turned his head slowly, a predator’s smirk tugging at his mouth. He didn’t even glance at her–his gaze found me, steady, unshaken. “If she asked, I would.”
The chamber exhaled as one, a hiss of disbelief and awe.
I froze, caught off guard. I had expected protection, maybe words of defiance on my behalf. But this? Even as jest, it was more than I imagined–he had just placed me on a pedestal in front of half the Capital’s wolves. My cheeks heated, though I forced my spine straight.
“No,” I said at last, voide low but clear. “What I want, I’ll take with my own claws. I don’t need to be given.”
Some around us nodded knowingly, dismissing the exchange as courtly flourish, politicking. But whether they believed or not, they had seen enough. They had seen that in Silas’s eyes, I was not a discarded mate. I was chosen. Elevated.
Silas’s lips curved faintly. “Of course. A wolf like you hunts for herself. Not like some others, who cling to scraps tossed from a stronger’s table.”
Aurora’s flush deepened to crimson, shame burning through her mask. Even Jocelyn at her side shifted uncomfortably, unable to defend her ally. Silas’s words had struck like claws across both their faces.
Before the tension could snap further, the convocation shifted. The summit began in earnest.
Delegates stepped forward, one by one, presenting their Pack’s projects for the isle’s development. Each spoke of vision and industry, each defended their proposal before the panel of government officials and the twin colossi of Whitmor and Thorne,
Then it was Caelum’s turn.
I saw him hunched over his papers, knuckles white against the parchment. His wolf’s scent was soured with unease He hadn’t expected me to remain, hadn’t expected to present with my eyes on him.
Because he knew.
Chapter 148
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That proposal in his hands? It was mine. I had drafted it in the final weeks before leaving SilverTech Forgeworks. Every line of it had bled from my mind, my sleepless nights. He had done nothing but swap the word riverfront for isle.
And now he would parade it as his triumph.
Aurora leaned close to him, whispering something, her brows knitted in concern. “Caelum, are you well? You look pale.”
“Nothing,” he muttered, but when he raised his eyes, they met mine across the chamber. His gaze flinched. His wolf recoiled.
The announcer’s voice rang out, merciless: “Now, the Alpha of Silverfang and head of SilverTech Forgeworks–Caelum Grafton. Present your project.”
The applause that followed was polite, expectant. But I felt the tremor ripple through him. His heart stuttered, his pride choking him as he mounted the dais.
He began to speak, words clipped, forced.
I had seen him sell before, striding with confidence before investors and officials, weaving visions with his silver tongue. But today? Today the words snagged. He stammered. Even when he read straight from the page, the cadence faltered, unsteady.
Because he knew every syllable had my scent on it.
A fog of shame swelled in the hall, wrapping tight around him. My gaze did not leave him, and under it, his wolf cowered.
At last he finished, lips dry, voice cracking.
For a moment, silence. Then one of the government men–Director Leo, if I recalled right–nodded approvingly. “I find this project promising. The application of unmanned craft in isle development is keenly suited. Efficiency, reduced labor, accelerated construction. And SilverTech’s patent, in particular, is valuable–its innovation would serve Ashbourne’s coast well.”
I nearly laughed, though it caught sharp in my throat. The patent. Mine. They lauded him for my claws‘ work, my sleepless hours.
He stood there, basking in the official’s praise, and I wondered if he felt it burning through him–how easily his triumph would unravel the moment I chose to speak.
I said nothing. Not yet.
But my wolf stirred restlessly, knowing the reckoning was close.
Chapter 149
Caelum’s POV
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The applause that followed my presentation rang hollow in my ears. For a moment, I thought I had survived it–the quiver in my voice, the crack in my delivery. The officials clapped, and Director Leo’s words had sounded like salvation.
Then Freya’s voice cut through the air.
Cold. Sharp. Inescapable.
“Caelum Grafton,” she called me by name, not title, not Alpha, but with a blade on her tongue. “I never thought you’d stoop so low–not just clinging to my patent, but stealing the proposal I wrote before I left your Forgeworks.”
The hall went still. The weight of her words crashed over me, drowning the scraps of approval I had just managed to clutch.
My lips pressed tight, but instinct forced me to speak, to salvage what pride I could. “This,” I said, holding up the document in my hand like a shield, “is a SilverTech proposal. Freya, you may have left, but what you created while under my banner belongs to the company.”
Even as I said it, the lie scalded my tongue.
Her laughter was not laughter at all–it was venom. “So that’s what you’ve become. A male who doesn’t even bother with honor anymore.”
Heat clawed up my neck, burning across my face. “Careful,” I snapped, voice shaking though I tried to force steel into it. “If you keep slandering me like this, don’t blame me for discarding every shred of history we shared.”
Her eyes, those storm–born eyes, only mocked me. “History?” she said. “Caelum, you never once gave me loyalty in all those years. If you were capable of honor, would our bond have rotted the way it did? The only one you’ve ever shown care for is Aurora.”
My throat seized. The hall turned, eyes shifting again to Aurora–my fragile shield, my chosen distraction–and she wilted under the weight of their judgment.
Freya pressed on, relentless. “And besides,” she said, lifting her chin, “this proposal? It was unfinished when I left.”
The words pierced through me like a spear.
“Unfinished?” I repeated, stunned. I had studied every line of that document, lived with it for weeks. To me it had been complete–more than complete. The blueprint of our next conquest.
But Freya only nodded, cold and merciless. “Yes. The patent mentioned there–my patent–is three years old. Useful, yes, but outdated. Technology evolves. So too do the claws raised against it. The interference systems now prowling the skies can cripple those drones. Without a countermeasure, without the new layer of anti–disruption protocols I had already begun, your machines are nothing more than iron carcasses waiting to fall.”
I couldn’t breathe.
The applause that had carried me seconds ago withered into silence. My heart pounded in my chest like a drum of doom. I had gambled everything on this–everything.
heart as silver Str yoll
If she spoke truth–and my wolf knew she did–then the very weapon Lhad paraded as Silverfang’s edge was no more than dull steel.
Her voice pressed the weight harder. “Had our bond not broken, I would have finished the work, strengthened the pack’s weapon, sealed its dominance. But you tore us apart, Caelum. You took what was mine, and so now you may choke on it.”
My blood iced. I could feel the eyes upon me–wolves, humans, Alphas, and officials alike. The scent of disbelief rippled through the chamber.
“That’s her work?” someone muttered near the front.
“So SilverTech’s Alpha built his fortune on his ex–mate’s claws?” another whispered.
“Three years he’s stood in the Capital’s market, and not one of those ideas was his own?”
Chapter 149
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Each whisper was a fang in my hide. I wanted to bare my teeth, to silence them with a growl that would split the air, but I could not–not with Freya watching, not with the truth already bleeding out around me.
And then Silas Whitmor’s voice, slow and deliberate, drove the blade deeper. “So tell us, Director Leo–do we still waste time discussing SilverTech’s bid? Or do we pass to the next, one worth the ink?”
The official hesitated, gave a brittle smile, and cleared his throat. “Yes… perhaps we move along.”
The words felled me more thoroughly than claws ever could.
The host gestured, and I realized too late that I was still standing at the podium, frozen, shamed. My legs felt like stone, but I forced them to move, each step dragging as though the eyes of every wolf in the chamber were weights tied around my limbs.
I descended, one step, another, and reached the floor.
Aurora was there instantly, her voice soft, desperate. “Caelum, don’t despair. We can craft another proposal, something stronger. I believe in you.”
But her comfort was a noose. Each word reminded me of the truth I could not speak aloud: that if I had been capable of better, I would never have used Freya’s plan in the first place. My wolves had offered me drafts–weak, useless. My own mind had turned in circles, desperate. And in the end, I had stolen.
And now, worse, I had been caught.
My vision blurred at the edges. If Freya was right–if the patent was already obsolete, if the drones could be gutted by a stronger interference–then everything I had woven, all the empire I promised Silverfang, would crumble.
Not just this project. Not just the isle. SilverTech itself could bleed out in the dirt. My rivals would smell weakness, the Consortium would abandon me, the funding chain would snap. From Alpha of the Forgeworks to beggar in the ashes–it would all unravel.
No. I couldn’t allow it. I wouldn’t.
My wolf roared inside me, clawing at my ribs, demanding I fight, demanding I tear the smug triumph from Freya’s throat. But I couldn’t–not here, not before this many eyes.
So I forced my rage down, forced my breathing–steady.
I lifted my gaze and fixed it on her–Freya Thorne, the mate I had cast aside, the female who had just gutted me with truth in front of every pack and every man of power.
Her shoulders squared, her expression unreadable, but I knew her well enough to see it–the glimmer of fire, the satisfaction she took in my fall.
The convocation droned on around us, other voices, other projects. I heard none of it.
Because already, my mind was spinning. Already, I was searching for a way to claw my fortune back from the pit she had
thrown it into.
Tonight, the summit would end with a banquet, with donations and dances before the wolves departed the isle.
And I would find her there.
One way or another, I would not let Freya Thorne be the death of me.
Chapter 150
Freya’s POV
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The banquet hall gleamed with polished silver and crystal, the kind of splendor meant to dazzle donors and soften their purses. But beneath the glitter, I could feel the restless shift of wolves, the crackle of politics and posturing. Tonight’s charity was for the orphans of the Isles–a noble cause, and one few dared to ignore. Even the pups themselves had been brought to the hall, dressed in fresh clothes, eyes wide at the splendor.
Among them, I saw a boy I recognized–the same child who had tumbled into the sea days ago. His cheeks still held a touch of pallor, but his spirit was brighter. When he caught me watching, I gave him a smile and a small wave. Relief coursed through me when his lips curved upward in return.
At least some wounds could heal quickly.
When the donations began, the wealthiest stepped forward one by one, their pledges echoing like drums of war. This was as much about reputation as generosity; to give was to prove strength.
Jocelyn was one of the first to rise. She moved with the practiced poise of the Metropolitan Pack, her voice ringing clear as Jshe pledged thirty million credits on behalf of our family. Her smile was sharp when she descended from the stage, but her
words found their mark at me like claws.
“Freya,” she said, low enough to sound casual, loud enough for others to hear, “Great–Grandfather praises you endlessly. He says the Fifth Branch is the pride of Stormveil, a house of martyrs. And yet, with all that inheritance resting solely in your hands now… you couldn’t find it in you to give?”
The smirk she wore was the kind only a rival cousin could muster, equal parts scorn and bait.
I met her eyes evenly. “The thirty million you just gave–was that not under the banner of the Thorne name? Or are you saying the Fifth Branch no longer counts among Stormveil?”
Her breath hitched. A small stutter in the rhythm of her mockery. She couldn’t answer–wouldn’t. To deny the Fifth Branch here, before these packs, would bring Ken Thorne’s wrath down upon her. Even James, our great–uncle, would never forgive such an insult to the fallen. My branch might be reduced to one, but I carried the bloodline of wolves who had given everything on the frontlines. That could not be erased.
“Of course not,” she managed finally, her smile stretched thin as old parchment.
I let the silence press against her until she turned away.
But then, the hall shuddered with a ripple of surprise. The great screen behind the dais flickered, the gentle film of orphans laughing and learning replaced by flames.
Flames.
The crowd gasped. My heart lurched as I recognized the footage: five years ago, the borderlands near Ashbourne. A blaze so fierce it swallowed the forests, devouring everything for miles.
And with it–my brother.
I went rigid. My wolf pressed against my ribs, restless, grieving all over again. I had pored over those reports, clawed through every name, every list of the fallen. Eric had not been among them. No hospital bore his name, no survivor remembered him. Yet still… he had vanished there, at the edge of the burning line.
To this day, I could not decide which truth cut deeper–that he had died unmarked in the fire, or that he had lived and
chosen not to return.
Why hadn’t he come back? What could keep him from me for so long?
As I struggled to keep my breathing steady, I noticed movement–Aurora, standing near Caelum. Her face had gone utterly white, her body trembling as though pierced by a ghost. Beads of sweat broke upon her brow though the hall was temperate, her eyes fixed on the screen with naked dread.
Strange. The fire had shaken many of us, but to quake like this…..
“Aurora,” Caelum’s voice rang out suddenly, too loud, too sharp, “what’s wrong? Are you unwell?”
11:32 AM P P.
Chapter 150
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Heads turned. The Bluemoon Beta’s daughter found herself exposed in an instant, every gaze upon her pale form
I studied her. She looked not merely unwell, but terrified. But terrified of what–of memories? Or of secrets?
Aurora forced a shaky breath. “I—it’s nothing. Just tired.”
Her words did little to cover the fear still writ across her face.
My cousin Jocelyn seized her chance to play the snake. “Aurora,” she said brightly, “wasn’t this the very blaze you fought in? The border inferno?”
Aurora froze, her spine stiff as if caught in a trap.
Jocelyn’s smile widened as she turned to the hall, her voice carrying with a performative lilt. “Yes, I remember now. Five years ago, during her training with the Bluemoon Airborne Wing, she saw the flames, and rather than fleeing like most would, she ran toward them. She saved lives, called in reinforcements, fought alongside the human brigades. A true act of courage!”
As she spoke, she flicked me a glance–a gleam of spite and triumph. Jocelyn never missed a chance to put me down by raising someone else up.
The wolves around us murmured, admiration rising in a chorus.
“Such bravery.”
“Few males would dare, let alone a young she–wolf.”
“Worthy of a toast!”
Crystal glasses lifted. The hall clinked with praise.
Aurora’s face remained pale, lips tight in a brittle smile that did not reach her eyes. She looked cornered, yet she endured the flood of adulation.
But I… I saw the cracks.
The fire was not just memory to her–it was something else. Something that had shaken her bones even now, years later.
And for the first time, I wondered if Aurora’s tale of heroism was not the whole story.
Because the flames that had stolen my brother still licked at her shadow.
Chapter 151
Freya’s POV
Praise poured over Aurora like rain, yet she did not bask in it. Instead of triumph, sorrow softened her face, her lips trembling as she whispered:
“Please… can we stop playing this broadcast? That fire took lives–so many, even among the human firefighters who fought beside us. Every time I see it, it feels like I’m standing in the ash again. It’s not glory to me–it’s grief.”
The workers scrambled to cut the feed, frowning in confusion at how a five–year–old broadcast had made its way onto the screens in the first place. The tension in the hall shifted like wolves scenting blood.
But Jocelyn, of course, wasn’t finished. My cousin never could resist sharpening her tongue at my expense.
“Now that’s a true hero,” she said, her gaze cutting sideways toward me. “Not like some people–who speak noble words but, when danger truly comes, would tuck tail and hide.”
She didn’t name me. She didn’t need to. Every sharp–eyed wolf in the hall understood where her claws pointed.
I held her stare, my voice calm, but iron edged. “So what you’re saying, Jocelyn, is that if fire roared in your path, you’d run forward without hesitation? That would be remarkable indeed. Stormveil should be proud to have you, cousin. Just make sure you aren’t the very kind of wolf you just described–one who boasts of courage but, when tested, flees.”
Her jaw clenched. She had walked herself into a trap. My words tied her pride to an impossible standard. If ever she stood before flames and did not leap forward, she’d be revealed as the coward she accused me of being. Jocelyn’s kind preferred duels of words, not battles of fire and bone. She had no stomach for the reality she mocked.
Aurora’s voice then broke the standoff. “Caelum,” she murmured, so faintly I almost missed it, “I… I don’t feel well. I need to leave.”
Caelum straightened immediately, concern flashing across his features. “Then I’ll come with you.”
She shook her head too quickly, the movement betraying her desperation. “No. I’ll only rest in the hotel. That’s all.” And without waiting for his answer, she turned and slipped away, her steps unsteady as if the fire on the screen had burned her from the inside.
I watched her go, unease gnawing at my chest. For a wolf who normally thrived on admiration, Aurora fled from it now as though it were poison. Why recoil from praise unless it scraped against a lie?
A voice like steel rasped near my ear. “What are you thinking, Freya?”
M
I turned slightly. Silas stood at my side, his gaze heavy, always too sharp–as if he weighed every thought I carried.
“She reacted strangely!” I said plainly.
“You care about her reaction?”
“Not care. Curious.” My voice dipped, my wolf restless beneath my skin. “I once suspected that fire at Ashbourne was tied to my brother’s disappearance. I searched every record, every fragment of video, hoping for a glimpse of him. But his name never appeared among the dead. Not in hospital registries. Not in lists of survivors. He was simply… gone.”
I swallowed hard. The memories still scraped my bones raw. “What I never expected was that Aurora would have been there. Fighting the same flames.”
Silas’s eyes lowered, unreadable. “Curious indeed.”
He said no more, but I caught the flick of calculation in his gaze. Silas rarely revealed what he thought–yet I knew the tire had sparked something in him, too.
Back in the hall, I stepped out from the washroom, only to find Caelum blocking my path. His presence was like iron walls. his dark eyes storm–tossed.
“Freya,” he said, voice low but firm, “I need to speak with you.”
“I’ve nothing to say to you.” My tone carried frost enough to sting