Ch. 171..175: A Warrior Luna's Awakening Chapter 171-175
Chapter 171
Freya’s POV
Finished
After leaving the hospital, I found myself back at Silas Whitmor’s sprawling estate. The air was thick with the scent of pines. and polished stone, a faint reminder of the Ironclad Coalition’s power and control. The halls seemed quieter now, almost serene, yet I could feel the tension humming just beneath the surface–Silas’s presence was enough to keep even the walls. alert.
adjusted my jacket and looked at him. He sat casually on the edge of the marble staircase, hands folded, eyes scanning the estate grounds as though he could sense any threat before it even materialized. The faint scuff of my boots against the polished floor drew his gaze, and I felt that odd mix of comfort and apprehension that always came with him being near.
“I guess this means I don’t need to serve as your bodyguard anymore?” I asked, watching him closely.
His eyes, dark as onyx, met mine. There was no mockery, no hesitation. Only certainty. “No,” he said. “It’s no longer necessary
I raised an eyebrow. “Because I got hurt this time?”
No,” he corrected softly, yet firmly. “Because there’s no reason for you to protect me anymore. When the Iron Fang Recon Unit assigned you to me, it wasn’t just about my safety. There were people in the Whitmor family opposed to my sitting at this position. They feared it would disrupt Coalition projects. But now, there’s no opposition left. No threat. I won’t be in danger, Freya.”
I studied him, my wolf instincts sniffing out the subtle undercurrent of truth in his words. There was more than just professional reasoning here, but I didn’t push. I had learned long ago that when Silas spoke with such calm certainty, it was unwise to doubt him.
“You forget,” he added, his voice softening, “I promised you once, I would never lie to you. I never will.”
Before I could respond, my WolfComm buzzed in my hand. The screen lit up, displaying the name of Aldred–the old commander, my mentor, my anchor in the chaos of my past missions.
“Aldred!” I answered, a touch of relief threading through my voice.
“Freya, I heard you were hurt,” his tone immediately thick with guilt and concern. “You’ve already retired from active duty, and yet I pulled you back into this… I should never have asked it of you. I’m responsible for this injury.”
“It’s a minor wound,” I replied, brushing off his words. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Regardless,” Aldred said firmly, “you must take care of yourself. And starting now, your bodyguard duty is over. You won’t need to watch over Silas Whitmor anymore.”
I froze. That was an official order, unmistakable and decisive. The old commander’s voice had no room for negotiation. When the call ended, Iturned to Silas, eyebrows raised.
“You went to the Unit about this?” I asked.
“Yes,” he admitted simply. “Orders carry more weight when they come from the Chain of Command than from me. But Freya…” He took a step closer, his gaze steady and unwavering, “you don’t need to protect me anymore. From now on, I will protect you.”
The words stirred something primal in me–the deep, instinctual relief of a wolf who no longer has to shoulder danger alone. He would rather bear any risk himself than see me fall. I felt that old, steady thrum of something beyond loyalty, beyond mere duty.
Before I could respond, my WolfComm buzzed again. This time, the name flashing on the screen was Kade. My stomach tightened, a subtle warning rolling through my wolf senses.
As I reached for the phone, Silas’s hand moved over mine, gentle but firm, a silent command not to answer.
“What is it?” I asked, curiosity tinged with concern.
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Chapter 171
Finished
He pressed his lips together, then withdrew his hand. “Nothing,” he said casually, though I could feel the tension radiating off him. His wolf instincts had already sensed the danger Kade posed–more than Caelum Grafton ever could. Even though Silas had used every tactic in his arsenal to keep Kade away from The Capital, the sudden call had sent a ripple of unease through
him.
I answered the call anyway. “Hello?”
“Freya, your bodyguard duty… it’s finished?” Kade’s voice was smooth, tinged with that familiar edge of amusement and challenge.
How did you find out?” I asked, brow furrowed.
“I happened to be at the military compound,” he said casually. “Heard the news.” There was a pause, and then his voice shifted, almost eager. “Now that your assignment is over, when are you coming back to The Capital?”
I hesitated. Of course. My mission here was complete. My next move would be to return.
“Not just yet,” I said. “There are still matters here I need to wrap up. When I return, I’ll let you know.”
There was a faint sigh on the other end, almost human in its disappointment. “Fine. I’ll wait for your message. When you come back, we’ll meet properly. I have a lot to say to you.”
“Understood,” I replied, keeping my tone neutral.
As I ended the call, Silas’s gaze met mine. “You’ll be heading back to The Capital soon?” His voice carried that rare softness, the kind that made the air itself feel heavy with unspoken promises.
I nodded slowly. “Yes. Once everything here is settled.”
Chapter 172
Silas‘ POV
Finished
I watched her from across the estate terrace, the evening sun casting long shadows over the manicured hedges and stone pathways of my Whitmor estate.
Freya’s hands flexed unconsciously at her sides as she spoke, lips pressed together with that stubborn set I knew all too well. My alpha senses hummed with tension; the faint scent of her nerves mingled with the faint musk of her wolf aura, an intoxicating mixture that both unsettled and drew me closer.
“Since my mission is over,” she said, her voice low but clear, “I need to settle a few personal matters before returning to The, Capital. There’s work I still have to handle there.”
I could feel the subtle pulse of her wolf, restrained yet restless. She was already planning her return to The Capital, already calculating the days, the schedule, the logistics. My instincts bristled at the thought. Every mile between us was a potential threat, every passing day a chance for danger–or for someone like Kade Blackridge to insert himself between us.
“How long will you stay in Ashbourne?” I asked, striving to keep my tone casual, though the tension in my chest tightened.
About ten days,” she said. Her scent carried a soft hint of the freedom she’d cherish once the final goodbyes were said. Ten days. That was far too short, far too fleeting.
I stepped closer, letting the air between us thicken with the unspoken. “Couldn’t you stay a few more days here?” I asked, my voice low, almost a growl of desire and possessiveness. I didn’t want her back in The Capital yet, not while Kade’s presence lingered like a shadow over her. Not before she was more… certain. More tethered to me.
Freya’s eyes flickered briefly, and her lips pressed together. She was thinking, calculating, considering, as always. Finally, she spoke, her voice careful but firm. “I can stay a few more days for you,” she said, “but I won’t linger too long in Ashbourne. And
when I return to The Capital, I won’t stay there for too long either. I need to go to the
go to the borderlands, search for any trace of my
brother. We may be apart at times. If that’s unacceptable to you, you should tell me now.”
Her words struck me like a blow. She was offering me a choice but the very idea of choice filled me with a primal rage. Choice meant she could walk away. Choice meant that if her affection was not absolute, she could withdraw, retreat, vanish from my life. And I… I would never allow that.
“Freya,” I said, my voice low and guttural, a predator’s growl lacing the words, “I’ve fought tooth and claw to be with you. I will not let the distance between us, the need to find your brother, or anything else, drive you away from me. You will not speak of walking away. Don’t even think it.”
I lowered my head, brushing my lips lightly over the bandaged skin of her forearm, feeling the delicate warmth of her flesh beneath the cloth. That injury was mine as much as it was hers; she had taken the risk, bared herself to the world, to protect me. My wolf rumbled in my chest with the possessive need to shield her, to mark her as mine in every way possible.
“And besides,” I murmured, letting the words curl around her senses like smoke, “if you’re going to the borderlands, I’ll go with you.”
She froze, eyes widening slightly. “You… you would accompany me there?”
“Yes,” I said, dark certainty threading every syllable.
Her brow furrowed. “But your work?”
I smiled faintly, the kind of smile that had silenced more than one rival or challenger. “Freya, in this age, work follows us anywhere. The Whitmor holdings, the Coalition projects… none of it binds me to one place. And the staff, the resources, the support? You think I’d let you risk a step alone?” My wolf growled, low and protective, at the mere thought of her walking that treacherous border without me..
Her mind raced, I could smell it–calculations, plans, memories of the past five years spent searching for her brother. She’d already been to the borderlines multiple times, scrutinized every lead, followed every faint trace, yet she still believed he was out there, alive. Her wolf pulsed with the stubborn tenacity I had come to respect and fear.
You understand, don’t you?” I said, a hand brushing against hers, resting over the delicate curve of her fingers. “I’ll go anywhere with you. I’ll fight, survive, and endure any threat. Because you are mine, Freya. And I will never let the world take
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Chapter 172
you from me.”
Finished
Her gaze softened for just a moment, the scent of relief mingled with caution drifting from her. Yet she remained vigilant, wolf and human both, the duality I had come to know like a second heartbeat. “I appreciate that,” she said softly, “and I trust you. But the search… it won’t be easy. The borderlands are unforgiving, and we may face challenges even together. I want you prepared.”
I chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that carried the weight of an alpha’s confidence. “Prepared?” I said.
“I’ll go with you,” I repeated, voice low, but carrying an unmistakable promise. “But know this–wherever you go, whatever danger lies ahead, I will always be closer than it seems. I will always be the shadow at your back, the shield at your side. You are mine to protect, Freya Thorne. Do not doubt it for one second.”
Her lips pressed together, her wolf scent mingling with mine in the evening air, a blend of challenge and acknowledgment. “Then we’ll face it together,” she said. “And… Silas, I trust you.”
Her trust ignited something deep in me, a fire older than reason, older than loyalty. My wolf growled low in my chest, a protective, possessive sound meant only for her ears. I would endure, survive, and overcome every obstacle for her. Distance, time, enemies, the unforgiving terrain of the borderlands–none of it mattered.
Because she was mine.
And the borderlands, the world beyond these estate walls, was ours to conquer together.
Chapter 173
Freya’s POV
Finished
The next few days passed in a strange, quiet rhythm. I stayed at Sila’s villa, letting the wound on my arm knit back together.
To me, it was a shallow cut, hardly worth noticing compared to the scars the borderlands had carved into me. But Silas treated it as though I’d been struck down by silver. He had the kitchen overhaul every meal into some carefully balanced, nutrient–dense feast. He insisted on handling the dressing of my wound himself–his large hands surprisingly gentle as they unraveled bandages and pressed clean cloth against my skin. And when it came to work? He dragged every Ironclad Coalition file, every contract, and every envoy into his home office, refusing to step foot away from me.
It was overbearing. Maddening. And yet… warming. My wolf sensed it every time he leaned close, every time his scent brushed mine. He cared. He cared more than I expected him to.
A week later, the scab on my arm was hard and dry. I could move my hand normally again, though Silas still shot me that dangerous alpha glare whenever I reached too far or lifted something heavier than a book.
That was when the WolfComm message arrived. An invitation from the Ashbourne Orphanage, thanking me for my support Jand asking me to attend their performance. The words were written neatly by the staff–except at the bottom, clumsy,
childish letters were scrawled across the paper:
“Auntie Freya, please come watch me on stage. Dreamer.”
Dreamer. The little pup I’d dragged from the waves on the island mission. My throat tightened as I traced the crooked letters with my fingertip.
“You’re going?” Silas’s voice rumbled behind me.
“Of course I’m going.” I looked up at him, my wolf bristling with determination. “I want to see how he’s doing.”
“Then I’ll go too,” he said without hesitation, as if it were law written in stone.
I gave him a look, but he only smiled that infuriatingly calm alpha smile. Wherever I went, he would follow.
The orphanage was buzzing with excitement that weekend, laughter and music spilling from its old stone hall. Children in patched costumes darted about, their wolves too young to stir but their spirits radiant. Donors from the last island charity event filled the front rows, their polished shoes and jeweled cuffs glinting under the stage lights.
Silas walked beside me tall and commanding, drawing glances and hushed whispers even here. My wolf preened at his presence, though I would never admit it aloud.
And then my eyes snagged on two figures I wished I hadn’t seen.
Aurora. Caelum Grafton.
Aurora in her immaculate uniform, head held high. And Caelum stiffened the moment his gaze met mine,
“Freya,” he said, his brows knitting. “What are you doing here?”
A laugh slipped from me, sharp and cutting. “You’re here, Caelum. Why shouldn’t I be?”
His jaw worked as if he wanted to argue. And then the words came, venom–tipped. “I’ve confirmed the truth. The one who saved me that day wasn’t you–it was Aurora. Stop spreading ridiculous lies. You only make yourself look more pathetic.”
My wolf bristled, lips curling in a silent snarl.
He turned to Silas then, bold but trembling under the Ironclad Alpha’s gaze. “Whitmor, you should be careful. Don’t be deceived by this woman.”
Silas’s expression darkened into something lethal. “I always knew you were arrogant, Grafton,” he said, his tone low, smooth, and dangerous. “But I didn’t know you were this stupid. Speak one more insult about Freya, and I’ll tear your tongue from your mouth myself.”
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Chapter 173
The color drained from Caelum’s face. I caught the flicker of fear in his eyes, the scent of it spiking sharp and sour.
Finished
I turned my gaze on Aurora, who remained silent at his side, her lips pressed thin. Then back to Caelum. “I already told you once–believe what you want. If you want to pretend Aurora saved you, then fine. But don’t ever presume to judge me. You’ve lost that right.”
His mouth opened, ready to snap back, but Silas shifted a fraction closer to me, and Caelum’s wolf recoiled. He swallowed his words.
The performances began soon after. The children danced, sang, and recited with trembling voices but glowing eyes. The donors clapped politely, and flashes from the reporters‘ cameras sparked across the hall.
At the end, a boy barely sixteen, his voice still awkwardly changing, stepped forward as host. “Thank you, brothers and sisters, uncles and aunties, for coming today. And thank you for your donations after the island tragedy. We’re so grateful. And today, we’re honored to have Aurora here–our very own pilot of the Bluemoon Airborne Wing. And did you know? She was once a hero who braved the fire five years ago! Please welcome her to the stage!”
Murmurs rippled through the hall. Aurora froze for half a second before she pasted on a smile and walked up under the spotlights.
I’m no hero,” she began, her voice modest, almost humble. “I only did what any decent wolf would do. Faced with a fire, who wouldn’t try to save lives? It was never about bravery. It was simply the right thing to do.”
The hall erupted with applause. Cameras flashed. For a moment, the narrative was hers, every eye drinking in her image.
Then a voice cut through the clapping. Sharp. Cold. A reporter near the front raised his recorder. “Aurora,” he said, “is it true you actually abandoned your comrade in that fire? That you stood by while he burned?”
The hall gasped, air sucked from the room in an instant.
Aurora’s face snapped pale. “That’s a lie,” she spat, her voice suddenly hard. “You accuse me without evidence? I could sue you for slander.”
The reporter lifted a trembling hand. “It isn’t my accusation. Before I came, I received an anonymous message. It said you watched as your fellow soldier burned alive… and you turned away.”
The silence that followed was suffocating. My wolf’s hackles rose, the scent of fear pouring off Aurora, bitter and acrid.
And I stood there, at Silas’s side, watching as the facade Aurora had so carefully constructed began to crack under the weight of truth.
Share to your
Chapter 174
Finished
Third Person’s POV
“Miss Aurora,” he said, holding up a WolfComm device, its screen still glowing, “I received this message this morning. I believe the audience has the right to see it.”–
Murmurs rippled through the hall. The man swiped the screen open, projecting the message so that the nearby journalists and charity patrons could glimpse the jagged words. The reporter then walked forward, extending the device toward Aurora
Aurora’s face drained of color. Her fingers tightened at her sides, though she forced herself to take the WolfComm with calculated composure. Her eyes flicked down, skimming the text, and the icy calm she wore cracked for the briefest of heartbeats. Beneath the mask of poise, terror flared.
Who? The question screamed in her head. Who could possibly know what happened that night?
Her wolf stirred uneasily beneath her skin, hackles lifting, throat taut with a snarl she dared not release.
“This number is untraceable,” the reporter added, tone neutral but edged with sharp intent. “A virtual reroute. But the content is… alarming. Miss Aurora, would you care to clarify the truth of the matter?”
Every eye in the hall was upon her. Around the stage sat not only journalists, but benefactors of the Stormveil Orphanage, and even nobles of the wider werewolf coalitions. If she faltered, even for an instant, suspicion would sink its claws into her reputation.
Aurora inhaled deeply, drawing wolf–strength into her lungs. When she lifted her chin again, her expression was smooth, proud, untrembling.
༄ ཟ ། ག ཆ ་ ་ ་ ་ ག ་ ག ་ ་
“Yes,” she said evenly. “There was a fire. And yes, one of my fellow pilots fell to it. But it was an accident–tragic, unforeseen. I was not at his side in the moment of disaster. By the time I reached him, the blaze had already taken him. All I could do was raise the alarm and fight the flames with what little I had.”
Her voice carried, strong and unwavering, echoing across the vaulted hall. The crowd hushed, listening.
“The official investigation confirmed it,” she continued. “The cause was negligence. A discarded ember, a cigarette left to smolder. That was the verdict. Not murder. Not betrayal. If anything, it was a warning to us all. Fire is not merciful, and every wolf—every human, for that matter–must respect it.”
The weight of her words settled like iron. And then, as if on cue, polite applause stirred from the audience, building into something more forceful, more convincing. Aurora’s pale cheeks regained their color as she pressed on, her wolf aura lacing each syllable with commanding conviction.
“I don’t know who has stooped to such vile games as sending anonymous messages,” she declared, her eyes sweeping the sea of faces before her. “But if they think lies will undo my work, they are mistaken. Justice has already spoken. If I were guilty of such horrors, would the government of the Capital have honored me? Would I have received medals, recognition, and the trust of my Pack?”
Her words grew hotter, her wolf spirit bristling just beneath her skin. “To the coward behind this–if you are even in this room–I say this: shadows and whispers will never undo the truth, Those who strike from the dark will never prevail!”
The crowd erupted into thunderous applause this time, louder and longer, Aurora tipped her chin higher, her pride restored, and descended gracefully from the stage.
She slid back into her seat beside Caelum. He leaned toward her, his steel–blue eyes softened with concern.
“Are you all right?” he murmured.
“I’m fine,” she answered quickly, her sinile composed. But only she knew the slick cold sweat that clung to her palms, the Tremor she concealed beneath the tablecloth.
Who sent it? Her mind churned, frantic beneath the still surface. Who knows what happened that night?
No one should have known. No one could have known. She had been there with And he had perished in the blaze, his body consumed. The dead did not speak.
co–pilot–the only witness to his death.
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And she… she had never breathed a word of that night to another soul.
Then how?
Finished
Her stomach knotted, her wolf pacing like a caged beast. Could it be the same shadowy hand that had sent the message to her own private WolfComm weeks ago?
“Perhaps we should leave early,” Caelum said softly, protective instinct flaring in the Alpha’s aura.
Aurora shook her head, sharp and decisive. “No. To leave now would look like fear. I will stay. The Bluemoon Pack does not bow to shadows.”
Her words rang brave, but inside her wolf trembled.
The event gradually returned to its usual rhythm–speeches, pledges of aid, the laughter of children echoing in the wings of the orphanage hall. To most, the incident had passed like a brief storm cloud drifting over the moon.
But not to Freya.
She sat a few rows behind, her Stormveil Pack blood keen to scents others ignored. The faint bitterness of Aurora’s fear still clung to the air, sharp as burnt ash. Freya’s amber eyes narrowed as she studied the Beta’s daughter, her wolf prickling.
Silasleaned toward her. “What troubles you?”
Freya lowered her gaze, pretending thoughtfulness. “Aurora’s face. Her words said one thing, but her wolf told another.”
“You think the message is true?” Silas asked, his voice low.
“Maybe not entirely. But she’s hiding something.” Freya’s tone was flat, thoughtful. “An innocent wolf accused falsely would rage, protest, howl their denial. But Aurora? She was too smooth. Too… rehearsed.”
Silas grunted in agreement, his wolf aura flickering with distrust.
Before Freya could add more, a small weight collided with her legs. She looked down in surprise as a young girl, barely ten, threw her arms around her waist.
“Freya!” the child beamed up at her, eyes bright as moonlight. “Did you see me perform?”
A smile cracked through Freya’s stern façade. She crouched, ruffling the girl’s hair. “I did. And you were brilliant.”
The pup’s grin widened. “Then come play with us! We’re playing Hawk and Hens, You can be the Mother Hen!”
Freya’s lips parted to agree, but Silas’s hand caught her arm. His gaze flicked to the bandaged gash across her forearm.
“Your wound isn’t healed,” he warned. His voice carried the edge of an Alpha’s command, protective and unyielding.
“It’s nothing,” Freya replied, brushing him off with a half–smile. “Mother Hens don’t need their arms to shield their chicks.”
But Silas’s wolf bristled. He shook his head. “No. I won’t risk you for a game.”
Freya’s wolf ached at the disappointment flickering in the children’s faces, their eager eyes fixed on her. The pull between instinct and duty warred within her–between the fierce protector who longed to bring joy to the pups and the cold truth of her injuries.
She let out a soft sigh, gaze lingering on the little girl’s hopeful face.
Chapter 175
Freya’s POV
Silas pressed his lips together, his expression unreadable, then said in his deep voice, “I’ll go.”
I blinked. “You? You’ll be the Mother Hen?”
“Mm.” He nodded as though the decision were final.
Finished
I couldn’t help the stunned silence that followed. My mind balked at the image–Silas Whitmor, Alpha of the Ironclad Coalition, the wolf most of the Capital feared, playing children’s games on a lawn. It didn’t fit. He was forged of iron, not laughter. Yet he was completely serious, and before I could stop him, he bent toward the little girl who had begged me.
“Freya’s arm is injured,” he said kindly, his tone gentled in a way that startled me. “So I will play instead.”
Dreamer’s eyes lit with excitement, her squeal ringing like a bell. Silas shrugged off his tailored jacket, unfastened his tie, rolled his sleeves to the elbow. Then, to my utter disbelief, he strode onto the grass.
Moments later, I watched him–him, the wolf with a reputation black as night–sprint across the green with a chain of squealing pups trailing behind, his arms stretched wide in mock defense as he guarded them from the “hawk.” The sight knocked the breath from me. This was no Alpha feared by the Capital; this was a man unarmored, a wolf freed of the weight of politics and war, laughing with children as though he had been born to it.
The dignitaries and reporters lining the orphanage lawn froze. Every single one who knew his name stared, mouths parted, as though they’d stumbled into a dream.
That’s Silas Whitmor? The iron–fisted Alpha of the Coalition? The wolf whispered to be untouchable, lethal, merciless? And here he was, playing Hawk and Hens with orphans.
My lips curved without my permission. The longer I stayed near him, the more I saw pieces that defied the legend. And those pieces unsettled me far more than his fearsome reputation ever had.
I tugged out my WolfComm, capturing a few frames of the impossible moment–Silas barreling across the lawn, laughter sparking in his eyes. But before sliding the device back into my pocket, my thoughts snagged on something darker.
The fire.
The message that had shaken Aurora earlier still echoed in my mind. My thumb lingered over the WolfComm screen before, almost without realizing, I pulled up the web archives. My search turned toward the past–the Bluemoon Airborne Wing’s co–pilot who had died five years ago. The report hadn’t softened with time. Negligence, they’d called it. A cigarette carelessly left burning, a fire sparked in the wrong place.
The man had burned, yes, but worse–his family had burned with him, not by flame but by words. Wolves and humans alike had torn them apart in the public square, branding him reckless even in death. Bluemoon Pack had spent fortunes to smother the flames of scandal.
Yet… if his death had been his fault, why did Aurora’s wolf tremble with guilt today?
My eyes narrowed as I scrolled, unease rippling beneath my skin. My wolf lifted its head, scenting lies buried beneath ash.
And then-
“Freya.”
The voice snapped behind me, sharp and accusing.
1 I spun, instincts flaring, only to find Aurora standing several paces away. Her chin was high, but the flush beneath her skin betrayed agitation.
“Were you the one?” she demanded suddenly, her words laced with Beta fury. “The one sending those vile messages to reporters? To me?”
1 barked out a laugh, sharp as breaking glass. “What inadness are you spouting now?”
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Chapter 175
Finished
“You were rattled,” she pressed, stepping closer, eyes glittering with triumph. “I saw your WolfComm. You were searching for records of the fire. For my fallen wingmate. Who else but you would feed such poison to the press?”
She lunged, hand outstretched for my device.
But I was not prey. I twisted smoothly aside, my wolf’s reflexes effortless. Her fingers swiped only air.
“So that’s your logic?” I sneered. “That because I read the archives, I must be your phantom accuser? Do you even hear how absurd you sound?”
“It’s you!” Aurora snapped, her voice rising. “Who else? You’ve hated me ever since I won Caelum’s side. Jealousy drives you, Freya. Admit it–you knew I’d stand here today, so you schemed to slander me through the mouths of journalists!”
The growl that broke from my chest silenced the air between us. My wolf pressed forward, dominance radiating. “Aurora,” I said, my voice low and edged with threat, “if you imagine I’d soil my claws with your little games over a male like Caelum Grafton, then you are more foolish than I thought. Take him. I don’t want him. But if you shriek so loudly, others will begin to wonder if that message carved closer to the truth than your speech did.”
Her face blanched, then darkened. She trembled, but stubborn pride forced her chin up. “If you’re innocent, then hand me your WolfComm. Let me search it.”
Naughed again, colder this time. “And why, by the Moon, should I hand my device to you? You’ve no authority over me.”
“You refuse because you’re guilty!” she snarled. Her wolf bristled, claws itching.
I turned away, done with her theatrics. But she lunged–reckless, blind, her hand clawing once more for the WolfComm at my belt.
My wolf answered before thought could. I pivoted, hooked her ankle, and let her own momentum do the work. She crashed to the ground with a cry, sprawled in the grass, dignity shattered.
“Aurora!”
The roar ripped across the lawn. Caelum Grafton stormed forward, his Alpha presence flaring like a blade unsheathed. He gathered Aurora up, his arm locking around her shoulders, his storm–gray eyes fixed on me with fury.
“Freya Thorne,” he thundered, “you’ve gone too far!”
Chapter 176
Freya’s POV
Finished
I almost laughed at the absurdity. “Too far?” I murmured under my breath, the memory of Aurora sprawling on the grass still sharp in my mind. Too far? Compared to the lies she’d tried to spread about me, the mockery she aimed to cast over the tragedy, she had no right to utter those words.
Caelum’s storm–gray eyes burned into me. “Freya, I just saw you trip Aurora!” His tone was sharp, edged with both incredulity and controlled anger. “Why do you hold such malice toward her? Why harm her like this?”
I could almost feel my wolf curl its lips at him. His question, his disbelief–it was almost funny. “You saw me trip her?” I said coolly, letting the edges of sarcasm cut through the tension. “Did you not see her reach for my WolfComm? Did you not see that she lunged at me?”
Caelum’s jaw tightened. Aurora’s lips trembled, her Beta pride chafing against the sharp truth in my voice. But even I could see that their minds struggled to piece together what was really happening. They had both seen what my body could do.
I had put Caelum flat on his back once during a sparring session, easy as a wolf stretching its limbs. I could crush Aurora if I wanted–and she knew it, too. She stumbled, yes, but she was alive, unbroken, and if I had truly intended to harm her, she would not have risen with her dignity intact, much less just skidded across the grass in a graceless fall.
“You see,” I said, letting the words roll off my tongue like steel, “if I wanted to hurt her, this wouldn’t be the result. A scratch, a bruise, a trip? Hardly enough. My body doesn’t work like that by accident.”
Their expressions shifted, the tension around them thickening like smoke. Caelum’s Alpha instincts flared beneath the surface, but his gaze flickered, betraying hesitation. Aurora’s eyes widened, doubt breaking her composure, even if only for a fraction of a second.
“Freya-” Aurora hissed, “if you hadn’t handed over your WolfComm, how else would I
prove-?”
I cut her off with a laugh, sharp and cold. “Prove what? That you’re the victim? That some text message from a coward behind the scenes defines my actions? That’s what you’re basing your life around?”
Caelum’s lips parted slightly, but before he could speak, I stepped closer, letting my wolf’s aura expand, heavy and low, brushing against his senses. It was a silent warning, a reminder that I was not prey, nor was I someone to misjudge.
And then Caelum moved. His hand shot for my injured arm, instinctively protective, maybe a little overbearing. The WolfComm in my hand made me pause. My arm was slow–damaged from an earlier spar–but instinct, reflex, survival, all sharpened my response.
“Let go!” I snapped, my wolf flaring.
But he gripped harder, thinking he could assert dominance through concern. “Give me the WolfComm. Let us check it, or I’ll
His words faltered beneath the force radiating from me.
I lifted my leg without hesitation. My wolf responded instantly, muscles coiling like a predator about to pounce. One swift kick, precise, controlled, and Caelum was thrown back, sprawling on the manicured grass.
Shock radiated across the lawn like ripples in water. Guests, reporters, and onlookers turned their eyes toward the commotion, and I could sense their minds scrambling to comprehend the audacity of what had just occurred.
“Freya, what’s going on?” Silas’s voice rumbled like distant thunder. I looked up to see the Ironclad Alpha striding toward us,
as he took in the scene.
his black eyes narrowis
“Nothing,” I replied, voice calm but firm, letting my wolf’s posture speak for the restrained storm within me.
His gaze dropped to my right arm. The cream–colored sleeve bore a darkening streak of red.
“You’ve
reopened the wound?” he asked, concern cutting through the ice in his voice.
Just a scratch from when Caelum grabbed me,” I said. “I’ll re–dress it later. Nothing serious,”
Silas’s eyes, however, were storm clouds ready to break. He turned, slow and deliberate, and faced Caelum, who was still