Ch. 176..180: A Warrior Luna's Awakening Chapter 176-180
Chapter 176
Finished
gathering his bearings. Even as Caelum rose, attempting to justify himself, the tension was immediate and primal–the scent of dominance, blood, and challenge rising in the space between us.
“You touched her arm?” Silas asked, his voice low, lethal. The weight of the Ironclad Alpha pressed down like a living thing.
Caelum swallowed, unease prickling the hairs along his spine. “I… I didn’t know. If she’d handed over the WolfComm, none of this would have happened!”
Silas’s gaze never wavered. “Her innocence,” he said, the words cold steel, “does not need proof from you or anyone else.”
The air snapped. A single, crisp sound–the subtle crack of inevitability–echoed through the tension, though the movement had not yet begun.
And then he moved. Silas stepped forward, the sheer weight of his presence crushing the space around Caelum. His wolf surged outward, a storm of shadowed dominance, fangs of instinct and authority glinting in the subtle sunlight.
In an instant, Caelum’s right hand, the one still trembling with the misguided attempt to seize proof, was broken. The crack was audible, resonating like the shattering of bones and the release of primal energy at once.
I stood frozen for a heartbeat, wolf instincts humming, muscles tense. The air was thick with pack dominance, a dangerous, electric charge that only Silas could command so effortlessly. The lesson was clear: he was the apex, the sto
and neither
man nor Beta could challenge him without cost.
Around us, the crowd held their collective breath, the reporters sensing that this was more than a mere scuffle. This was the collision of wolves, bloodlines, and pride, and I, Freya Thorne of Stormveil’s fifth branch, could feel the tremors of power shifting beneath my paws.
Silas’s black eyes met mine for a brief moment. There
re was no anger in his look for me–only a measured acknowledgment of control and principle. He had intervened, yes, but he had allowed me my dominance, my assertion. The law of the pack, silent and absolute, had been enforced.
Caelum crumpled slightly, pain radiating in a way that would not soon be forgotten. Aurora’s eyes flitted between us, doubt and fear warring with her Beta pride. And I? I tightened my grip on the WolfComm, wolf heartbeat syncing with mine, knowing that some truths could not be swayed by fear, coercion, or lies.
Chapter 177
Silas‘ POV
Finished
The air still thrummed with tension when I saw Caelum Grafton collapse to the ground, his scream cutting sharp through the manicured lawn. His right hand hung at an unnatural angle, a crimson ribbon trailing from the twisted joints. Instinctively, my wolf surged. My Alpha senses flared–not for dominance, not for show–but for the protection for Freya.
Aurora rushed forward, her Beta pride faltering as she caught him mid–fall. “Alpha Whitmor!” she hissed, fury spiking her tone. “Even you, feared across the Capital, cannot-” Her words dissolved in disbelief when her eyes met mine. Especially since this was over Freya. My Freya.
I let her words hang in the air, meaningless. To anyone outside the circle, I was merely a man of power. But to my wolf, to my instincts, anyone who threatened Freya was my prey, my adversary. My jaw tightened. I would tolerate no compromises. Not here, not now.
“Anyone with complaints,” I said, voice low and steel–edged, reverberating in the space between the gathered guests, “may address them with my legal counsel. But anyone who dares harm Freya Thorne? I will not let a single one escape.” My words were calm, measured–but every syllable carried the gravity of an Alpha who would tear the world apart for his mate.
I didn’t pause for dramatic effect. My boots pressed the grass as I moved toward her, my arms shifting to cradle her body effortlessly. Freya’s protest was immediate, sharp, though laced with the amusement I had come to know. “I can walk,” she said, voice tinged with embarrassment. Her injured arm, not her legs, made this pose slightly unnecessary–but my wolf would not allow her to risk further harm.
“I do not trust anyone to handle you but me,” I said, voice flat, the wolf in my chest vibrating with protective hunger. Freya’s head tilted back, a faint smile playing across her lips. She always had a way of softening the storm in me, even when the world–or Caelum tried to bring it to a boil.
The staff from the Orphanage and my Whitmore guards fell into place around us, coordinating quietly as I carried her away from the chaos. The press followed, snapping photos, but I was oblivious to the cameras. My focus was entirely on her–the faint pulse of her blood, the shallow rhythm of her breath, the subtle tension in her wounded arm.
Once we were safely in the armored vehicle, I gently rolled up the sleeve of her cream–colored jacket. A thin smear of blood glistened along the torn fabric. My fingers hovered over it, unwilling to touch too soon, fearing her reaction. “Does it hurt?” I asked, my voice tight.
Freya shrugged, her composure unbroken. “It’s fine.” But my wolf did not believe her. I could sense the twinge of pain in her aura, could smell the iron tang of blood, could feel the tremor beneath her calm.
“You are lying,” I murmured, voice almost a growl. I bandaged the shallow gash carefully, my hands moving with both precision and possessive care. Each second I spent tending her wound, my wolf curled closer, protective, territorial. Whoever dared cross her path would feel my wrath–and they would remember it.
Freya’s lips curved into that faint, mischievous smile that never failed to disarm me. “Really, it’s nothing. By the way… did you just… break Caelum’s hand?” Her voice was soft, teasing, though she watched me carefully for my
“Yes,” I admitted, eyes locked on hers, scanning every flicker of expression, every microreaction. “D
you blame me?”
Her lips pressed together, thoughtful. My chest clenched, jealousy and possessiveness gnawing at me. Caelum had once been someone Freya considered–someone she might have trusted with her future. If there were lingering threads of affection, I would cut them all away with teeth and claws if necessary. The wolf inside me snarled at the thought of any other man standing in her path.
Freya’s voice pulled me back, steadying me. “Why would I blame you? I kicked him first, remember? If anyone deserves scorn, it would be me for letting him get that close in the first place.”
Relief and a shiver of pride ran through me. My wolf eased slightly, tail flicking with satisfaction. Yet the tension lingered- the need to ensure no one ever threatened her again, to cement my place as her protector, her Alpha, her shadow.
“What if he tries to sue?” Freya asked, brow furrowing in a rare hint of hesitation.
“Then let him,” I said, voice cold as steel. “It was an accident… my ‘miscalculation. The Whitmore legal team will handle the rest. Caelum will receive no satisfaction beyond his own pain.” I allowed my eyes to flick to hers, letting her see the
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Chapter 177
unwavering resolve in them.
Finished
Inside, my wolf was still restless. Freya’s pulse, her warmth, her very presence set it on edge. Every beat of her heart reminded me that I would guard her with everything I had. No man, no rival, no outsider would ever stake claim to even a fragment of her attention.
Back at the Whitmore estate, I worked with meticulous care to redress her wound. Each motion was deliberate, gentle, protective. “If I had known they would come for you…” I muttered, a rare hint of vulnerability in my tone, “I should never have left.”
Freya smiled, a soft, wry thing that made the storm in me recede, if only slightly. “I am not defenseless,” she said, amusement lacing her voice. “I do not need a bodyguard at every moment. I was careless this time, nothing more.”
Her words soothed the beast inside me, yet my wolf still circled, vigilant, scanning, ready to strike at any who dared draw near. She laughed lightly, eyes crinkling as she recalled a moment from earlier. “I liked watching you play tag with the children,” she said. “It’s… strange, seeing you like that. Almost… human, almost free. I like that side of you.”
I paused, a shiver running through me at her confession. “You like that version of me?” I asked quietly, leaning close, aware of the scent of her hair, the warmth of her skin, the faint iron of her blood.
“Yes,” she whispered, eyes softening. “But I like all of you. I just wish… we had met sooner.”
The words struck me harder than any blow. My wolf stirred restlessly, sensing the layers of regret, longing, and missed time. If we had met earlier, she would have been mine wholly, unchallenged, free from the distractions of other men, free from the shadows of her past,
“Yes,” I murmured, voice husky, almost a growl. “If only we had.”
The thought settled in my chest like molten metal. I would not waste another moment. She would have no other men, no interference. I would guard her, walk beside her through every trial, every danger, every sunrise. My wolf would not yield. My life would belong to her.
And so, I vowed silently: No one touches Freya Thorne. No one threatens her. No one but me will ever share her light.
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Third Person’s POV
Caelum’s right hand was now encased in a stark white cast, the bandages wrapping tightly around it like a cocoon. He held it carefully, his eyes dark and stormy, the physical pain mingling with an anger that simmered far deeper.
Aurora’s violet gaze sharpened, flicking between him and the shadow of Freya she could almost still feel lingering in the room. Her Beta pride flared with indignation. “Freya Thorne–using Silas Whitmor to hurt you? That is beyond malicious!” Her voice rang out, betraying the fury she tried so hard to keep in check. “Caelum, this… this cannot go unpunished! You must do something!”
Caelum’s jaw clenched. He flexed the fingers of his uninjured hand, staring at the casted one as if it alone could explain the tangled web they were caught in. “Do you want to sue Silas Whitmor?” he countered sharply, the edge of disbelief cutting through his words.
Aurora’s indignation only sharpened. “Of course! He injured your hand–your hand, Caelum! Surely you’re not afraid of that man, are you?” Her voice dripped with a mixture of anger and frustration, not at Silas so much as at Freya herself. If it hadn’t been for Freya, Aurora would never have been left humiliated, scrambling, and exposed in front of so many witnesses at the Orphanage event.
Caelum’s glare softened, conflicted. He massaged his casted hand absently, the lingering sting a constant reminder of the chaotic encounter. “If I sue Silas… then I would be setting myself against the entire Whitmore legacy. I am not foolish enough to do that lightly.”
Aurora’s frown deepened, her lips pressing into a thin line. She understood the implications all too well. Caelum might be Alpha of SilverTech Forgeworks, fierce and commanding, but against Silas Whitmor of the Ironclad Coalition? Any legal battle would tilt in Whitmore’s favor long before the first gavel struck. Companies partnered with him could easily withdraw, contracts evaporating like mist at dawn. The cost would outweigh any satisfaction of vengeance.
Yet the sting of injustice refused to abate in Aurora’s chest. “So your injury just goes unnoticed, then?” she asked, the sharpness of her voice carrying a faint tremor of wounded pride.
Caelum forced a bitter smile, twisting the casted fingers as if in silent apology to some unspoken standard. “Consider it… the cost of Freya’s interference,” he muttered. There was truth in the words, a begrudging acceptance of the chaos Freya had brought into their lives. He would never have grasped her wounded arm, never caused this injury, had he known what was at stake.
Aurora’s eyes narrowed. “Are you still… concerned about her?” Her voice was pointed, almost scornful. “Even knowing she might have crossed you, even knowing she tried to humiliate me, you still… care that she got hurt?”
Caelum’s chest tightened. “I do not care about Freya Thorne in that sense,” he began, defensive, “but three years of marriage… I never imagined I would see her injured like that. And, yes, you are certain she sent that WolfComm message to the reporter?”
Aurora’s breath hitched slightly, a flicker of triumph in her eyes. “If it wasn’t her, then who else? The incident with the island electronic billboard, the orphanage event–she was always there. Always. This… this is jealousy, plain and simple. She envies me because I have you, Caelum. She has been plotting all along.”
Caelum fell silent, uncertainty gnawing at him. Could it truly be so calculated? His wolf’s instincts bristled, ears twitching as he sifted through scents and subtle tensions, trying to untangle truth from perception.
Aurora’s voice rose in desperation. “And she has no proof! No evidence of your so–called neglect of colleagues, no truth to her slander. She has nothing–yet she dares to speak as if she owns the facts. Caelum… you trust me, don’t you?”
He met her gaze, unflinching “Of
determination and cunning that belied the hurt pride she tried to mask. Why would he not trust her? She was Bluemoon Pack’s Beta–born, sharp, capable–and undeniably his.
determination and cunning course I trust you,” he said firmly. His wolf sensed the sincerity in her scent, the
Aurora’s lips curved in satisfaction, a calculated smile that mixed affection with ambition. She leaned against him lightly nestling into the warmth of his presence as if to stake claim to both his body and attention. “So now that we are together, when shall we announce it to the world?” Her question was soft, but beneath it, the steel of her intent was unmistakable.
Caelum’s pulse hitched, a flicker of hesitation crossing his features, Announcing their union. less than three months after his
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Chapter 178
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divorce. The thought alone carried weight, consequences tangled with perception, reputation, and pack politics. He could feel his wolf bristle, cautious and protective, warning him of exposure and potential attacks.
Aurora noticed immediately. Her smile faltered for a fraction, frustration prickling at her composure. “You mean to say… you do not want to go public? If that is the case, why not refuse me that night? If you had, I would have accepted it, and we could have stayed apart.” She stepped back, as if to storm away, the curve of her hips and the tilt of her chin a subtle show of control.
Caelum’s strong hands caught her before she could retreat fully. “Aurora,” he said, tone firm but gentle, “I do not refuse you. I want this… us. But I have only recently emerged from my divorce. Public scrutiny… rumors… it could hurt your reputation. It is better to wait, to find the proper time.”
Aurora’s expression softened slightly, though her calculating mind did not cease. “Very well,” she murmured, masking her ambition behind a veil of compliance. “We will wait for the ‘proper time“.”
Inside, she knew better. The so–called protection of her reputation was merely an excuse; Caelum cared more for his empire his company, and the perception of power than for her personal whims. But Aurora had a plan. She would engineer circumstances that forced the timing into her favor, making it impossible for him to refuse public acknowledgment. She would ensure that when the world finally saw them together, it would be on her terms.
And as Caelum held her there, unaware of the silent plotting weaving itself around them, Aurora’s wolf–quiet, calculating, ever–hungry–waited, ready to strike with precision when the moment arrived.
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Third Person’s POV
A few days later, Freya followed Silas into the gleaming towers of Whitsea Group’s headquarters. The building’s steel–and- glass façade reflected the bright morning sun, but inside, tension lingered like an undercurrent. Many of the employees had seen Freya before–after all, she had often accompanied Silas like a shadow, safeguarding the Ironclad Alpha wherever he went. Her reputation as a vigilant protector preceded her, and the incident in the underground garage had only intensified it.
When Freya was hurt at the garage, Silas had replaced the entire security team. Even here, whispers of the upheaval in The garage reached every floor. Senior managers, executives, and any employees connected to the Whitmore family tread lightly, wary of drawing the Alpha’s attention or getting caught in the crossfire.
In recent days, Silas had remained conspicuously absent from the office, which allowed the employees a small measure of relief. Yet today, with Silas and Freya arriving together, the air inside the building seemed suddenly heavier. Subtle looks were exchanged between employees–an unspoken sense that something unusual was about to unfold..
Lily, Silas’s secretary, had taken over responsibilities from the injured Wren and entered the executive office, only to freeze in place.
Silas knelt in front of Freya, one hand gently cradling her right foot, his gaze intent and unyielding, fixed on the swelling redness across the arch of her shoe.
To anyone who had only known him as the untouchable, commanding Alpha of the Ironclad Coalition, this was a sight that defied comprehension. The image of the Alpha, stooping before a woman–bowing almost as if submitting entirely to her presence -was shocking enough to make even hardened executives doubt their senses.
Lily could feel her pulse race; a part of her half–expected Silas to lean forward and place a kiss upon the delicate curve of Freya’s foot. The thought alone sent a shiver down her spine.
Freya glanced toward Leo, checks tinged with pink. “Ah… I accidentally spilled some tea on my shoe,” she said, a faint awkwardness in her tone, “so…”
Lily, realizing the simple explanation, nodded in understanding, trying to suppress the disbelief still fluttering in her chest. Freya attempted to pull her foot back, but Silas’s fingers remained securely entwined with hers. “I’m fine,” she reassured him. “The redness is still visible,” Silas murmured, lifting her with ease. Freya blinked, caught off guard. Lily’s eyes widened in equal astonishment.
In the executive office, there was a small wash basin tucked into the corner. Silas carried Freya to the counter, placing her foot carefully beneath the running cold water. The sight of the Alpha, usually crisp and commanding, tending to the swelling and redness of a woman’s foot, left everyone in the room dumbstruck.
High–ranking employees, following behind Lily, hesitated at the doorway, uncertain whether to enter. Their instincts screamed at them–what danger could befall the Alpha that required such intimacy? But as they stepped inside, the scene confirmed the unexpected: the Alpha was tending to Freya as though she were
le most precious presence in the room. Freya’s face flushed as she held up her hands. “Enough, really. I’m fine now,” she said, concerned about the growing crowd. The more witnesses, the more awkward her situation felt.
Silas, after confirming that the redness had faded under the cold water, paused and took a soft cloth from the counter. He gently dried her foot, then reached for a spare pair of shoes kept in the office, “Here,” he said, sliding them onto her feet with careful precision.
The executives and Lily could only stare, astonishment failing to capture the depth of their reaction. The Alpha, stoic and exacting in all matters of business, now showed a level of personal attentiveness that few could reconcile with the
commanding leader they knew.
Freya, wanting to redirect the attention back to decorum, attempted to move toward the door. “I should step out while you conduct your meeting,” she said lightly.
Silas’s hand caught her wrist. “No need. Stay
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“I’d rather sit outside for a bit,” Freya insisted, her gaze flicking to the executives whose expressions were a mixture of awe and embarrassment. The lobby or the office lounge would afford her more privacy while keeping the situation from escalating.
Silas hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Very well.” He turned to the desk and retrieved two boxes of medicine, checking the time carefully. “In seven minutes, remember to take these. The two doses should be spaced five minutes apart, and the water temperature should be around thirty–eight degrees Celsius.”
Lily and the onlookers were astounded. Silas, usually curt and to the point in meetings, now behaved almost like a caretaker fussing over the timing, dosage, and even the temperature of water.
Freya took the medicines from him and left the office with Lily, a faint smile playing across her lips. She knew Silas’s actions stemmed from genuine care, a rare vulnerability he showed only to her. Even compared to Jocelyn Thorne, the favored first branch of Stormveil Pack, Freya recognized the depth of Silas’s attentiveness. Being with him meant feeling cherished, protected, and–unexpectedly–desired.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the vibrating of her WolfComm. After a brief conversation, she turned to Lily. “Please inform Silas that I need to make a quick stop at the Thorne Group. It’s urgent.”
Freya moved swiftly through the city streets and arrived at the Thorne Group’s headquarters. As she entered, she, immediately spotted Jocelyn. Jocelyn’s brows knitted in irritation. “What are you doing here?” she snapped.
“That’s none of your concern,” Freya replied, her voice cool and measured, already moving to sidestep her.
Before she could pass, a sharp voice rang out behind her.
“Jocelyn, you called me over… why is Freya here too?”
Freya turned, and saw Aurora and Caelum entering the building. Caelum’s presence radiated authority, while Aurora’s Beta instincts flickered in her calculated gaze.
“I didn’t call her,” Jocelyn insisted, rushing toward Aurora. “Finally, you’re here. The helicopter is ready, we need your help to rescue the workers!”
A sudden industrial accident had occurred on one of the offshore sites. Though authorities had been contacted, deploying law enforcement helicopters would take hours. The Thorne Group’s private helicopter was ready, but the timing was critical. Jocelyn’s push for speed in construction had caused lapses in safety inspections, precipitating the accident.
Aurora’s eyes glinted as she looked at Freya. “Before I help, I expect a proper apology from you and Caelum,” she said, a triumphant edge in her tone.
Freya’s gaze narrowed, meeting Aurora’s with equal malice. In that moment, an unspoken challenge passed between them- wolf to wolf, Alpha instincts and Beta cunning clashing in silent, simmering tension.
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Third Person’s POV
Jocelyn Thorne’s brow was furrowed in confusion, her voice carrying sharp authority. “Aurora, what’s going on here? Why do you want Freya to apologize?”
Aurora folded her arms, her gaze sharp and deliberate. “A few days ago, Caelum and I attended a charity event at the Orphanage. I discovered that Freya may have been secretly sending messages to the press to discredit me. When I tried to check her WolfComm, she refused–and on top of that, she treated both Caelum and me with obvious hostility.”
Her words hung in the air like the scent of a storm just before it breaks. Then Aurora paused, her sharp eyes narrowing. “Jocelyn… Caelum’s wrist was broken, and it’s because of Freya. If she hadn’t been involved, Silas Whitmor wouldn’t have intervened in such a way. That’s just how it happened.”
Jocelyn’s face went pale, the realization hitting her like an icy gust. Silas… Silas Whitmor, Alpha of the Ironclad Coalition, had broken Caelum Grafton’s wrist? The thought was almost unimaginable. Silas was never one to act without purpose–but for Freya, he had struck again and again, crossing boundaries he usually respected.
Jocelyn spun toward Freya, her tone sharp and commanding. “Freya! Apologize to Aurora and Caelum immediately!” Freya, standing tall and unflinching, ignored the command. She had no intention of wasting time on these petty accusations. Her Wolf senses were already focused on the offshore site, where Thorne Group employees were trapped. The Wolf in her sensed danger; the call to action pulsed like a drumbeat in her veins. The Wolf in her knew that hesitation could cost lives. “You dare try to stop me from leaving?” Freya’s voice was steady, carrying an edge of amusement that didn’t reach her eyes. Jocelyn, sensing the challenge to her authority, took a step forward. “Freya!”
Aurora, stepping in with the confidence of a Beta used to asserting dominance, added, “You’re a former operative, right? You’ve always liked showing your skills… consider this your chance. If you apologize and I’m satisfied, I will pilot the chopper to rescue the stranded employees. If not… well, your stubbornness could jeopardize the mission. And if anything happens to those people, it’s on you!”
The accusation hung heavy in the air, but Freya’s instincts flared. Threats could not sway her. She scanned the room, sensing the small pack of Thorne Group employees hiding behind security personnel. She could almost smell their fear, the worry for lives caught offshore, the anxious pulse of a pack in crisis.
Caelum’s voice, calm and controlled, cut through the tension. “Freya, you don’t have to apologize to me. But you owe Aurora a courtesy for the false accusation. She is an active hero in her own right.”
Freya’s eyes narrowed slightly at the word “hero.” Aurora acting heroic She had seen enough deception and theatrics in the orphanage to doubt that narrative, “Hero or not, you need evidence to claim I slandered you,” Freya replied, voice edged with steel. “I don’t have time for your theatrics. Lives are at stake.”
Jocelyn’s face hardened. “If you don’t apologize, you won’t leave!” She motioned sharply, and security personnel moved to encircle Freya, the silent assertion of human dominance attempting to mirror pack control,
She could feel the fear and uncertainty in the
Freya’s wolf instincts tensed, ears twitching, sensing the subtle shifts of when no wolf was physically threatening them.
humans around her, the way they paled in the shadow of Alpha presence
“You’re willing to gamble the lives of Thorne Group employees over an apology?” Jocelyn’s voice rose, dripping with moral superiority. “Do you understand that every minute you waste increases the risk for those trapped on the island? If anything happens, I won’t forgive you!”
Freya’s lips curved into a small, wolfish smile. The humans around her could only posture. “You won’t forgive… and yet the real failure is Aurora’s,” she said, her voice low but cutting. “She refuses to go because of personal grudges. That’s the real problem”
Jocelyn sputtered, flustered and outraged. “It’s because you won’t apologize!”
Before the verbal skirmish could escalate further, a low, commanding voice cut through the room. “And why should she apologize?”
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Every head turned as Silas Whitmor, Alpha of the Ironclad Coalition, appeared at the door. His presence alone shifted the room, a tangible pressure that made even the confident Jocelyn flinch. His gaze swept over Jocelyn, icy and precise, and she felt the chill of a pack Alpha’s wrath on her spine.
Aurora, slightly taken aback, tried to recover her composure. “Silas… Freya should apologize for the orphanage incident. Or are you going to apologize on her behalf?”
Silas‘ lips curved into a faint, dangerous smile. “My apology? You could never handle it.”
Aurora bristled, indignation flashing in her eyes. “We don’t care if we can handle it or not. If you want Freya to fly that helicopter, she has to apologize!”
The Alpha’s gaze darkened, carrying the weight of a predator’s judgment. Freya stepped forward, her stance firm, chest lifted, voice carrying the strength of her pack lineage. “Aurora, lives are not leverage for your threats. You may choose not to go, but I will. I’m going to rescue them.”
Jocelyn froze, her authority undermined, while Aurora’s disdain flashed openly. “You? You think you can? Even if you flew helicopters in the army, that was three years ago. The offshore winds are treacherous. Can you even handle it?”
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