Ch. 191..195: A Warrior Luna's Awakening Chapter 191-195
Chapter 191
Finished
Third Person’s POV
The studio lights burned like moons overhead, bright and merciless. Freya felt every stare as though it were a claw scraping across her skin. Her heart had already been unsteady when Silas leaned down, his lips grazing the sensitive curve of her ear, his voice pitched low enough to rattle through her bones.
“Freya,” he murmured, the sound more growl than whisper, “you made our bond public. I can’t tell you how that makes me
feel.”
Her breath caught. Heat raced up the side of her neck, her ears prickling beneath the scrutiny of dozens of curious gazes. The Alpha of the Ironclad Coalition had never been subtle, but this was something else–claiming her, here, before the eyes of the packs
Before Freya could recover, the sharp, unrestrained scent of Silverfang fury cut through the air. Caelum Grafton shouldered past the startled crowd, his amber gaze blazing like a wolf caught in bloodlust. His voice carried, harsh and commanding, echoing through the cavernous hall.
“Where did you take Aurora?”
Freya froze. “What?”
The air shifted at once. Silas rose to his full height, his presence radiating a dangerous chill. His eyes, usually storm–gray, turned almost obsidian, a predator’s promise glinting within.
Caelum stepped closer, jaw tight, but before he could close the distance, Silas’s hand shot out, barring his path. His claws had extended, just enough to flash in the light, just enough to make a point.
“You want the other hand broken too?” Silas asked, voice pitched soft but lethal.
The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. Caelum faltered for a breath, the memory of his past wound flickering across his face. His wolf bristled but forced him to retreat half a step. Still, his gaze cut daggers toward Freya, as though she alone bore the weight of his rage.
“You’d better bring her back,” Caelum snarled, his voice cracking with the edge of desperation. “Aurora’s gone missing, and you’re the only one who would dare-”
Freya’s eyes flashed, the Bloodmoon fire in her blood surging. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve been recording this entire time. I don’t
the gift of splitting myself in two.” Her tone was sharp, edged with insult.
“That’s rich,” Caelurn spat. He lifted a WolfComm, the sleek device glowing with the faint sheen of pack–tech. “Aurora’s phone. Found outside the rest chamber. But she–she’s gone. And the last call she received came from a strange number, one that goes dead every time I ring it.” His chest heaved, his fury barely contained. “Don’t play innocent, Freya. We all know you despise her. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t hire someone to finish what you started.”
The hall buzzed, wolves shifting uneasily, the scent of suspicion thickening in the air.
Freya’s lips curled, the Alpha–born daughter who had been scorned too long refusing to bow. “Then take your suspicions to the enforcers. File your complaints. But if you dare accuse me of abduction without proof, I’ll make sure your precious SilverTech Forgeworks is dragged through the mud in the courts for defamation.” Her voice rose, sharp as a blade. “And while we’re clarifying–what exactly do you believe I ‘resent‘ her for?”
The Alpha faltered.
Freya pressed forward, her words tumbling out like claws raking across flesh. “For being the mistress you paraded in broad daylight? For worming her way into a marriage vow you treated like a contract to shred? Or perhaps I should resent the fact that while you bought me a trinket of rusted steel for a wedding band, you were slipping Aurora jewels worth more than five million into her palm.”
The hall erupted in murmurs, heads snapping toward Caelum. Those who had known him as Silverfang’s charismatic Alpha now stared with narrowed eyes. Betrayal, dishonor, infidelity–such things stank worse than rot among wolves. The once- lauded savior of the packs suddenly looked like carrion.
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Freya’s voice cut cleanly through the chaos. “No. I don’t resent Aurora. She isn’t worth the heat of that emotion. What I do is thank her. Because she tore away the veil from my eyes and showed me exactly what you were, Caelum. A man who never deserved three years of my loyalty.”
Caelum’s face twisted, his breath hissing like an animal cornered. “Then who else would want her gone? Who else, if not you?”
His suspicion clung like tar, thick and suffocating. His gaze darted toward Silas, the implication hanging sharp between them. Everyone could see the thought forming: Freya wanted vengeance, Silas had the power to deliver it.
Freya’s expression iced over. “Why don’t you find out, Alpha? Call your patrols. Alert your enforcers. Perhaps they’ll track her. better than your nose can.”
And then, as though summoned by the very gods, the hall’s massive screen flickered. The audience turned as one. The image changed from idle blue to the grainy feed of a hidden camera.
A derelict space filled the frame–an abandoned factory, littered with rusted pipes and dust.
Gasps rippled through the crowd as the figure on the floor came into focus. Aurora. Bound, gagged, her wings clipped by coarse rope.
Her body jerked when a shadowed hand slapped her awake. The sound cracked through the speakers, harsh and jarring. Aurora blinked, disoriented, then screamed. “Who are you? Why am I here? Let me go!”
The camera shifted. The captor entered the frame–a lean male, his face hidden behind a crude mask. His voice slithered out, distorted and dripping venom.
“Who am I? The one here to balance the scales. You think you’re a hero? A savior? You’re nothing but a murderer cloaked in glory.”
The room stilled. Aurora struggled, shaking her head frantically. “No! I’m not–please, you’ve made a mistake!”
The masked wolf laughed, a chilling sound. Then, from a speaker off–screen, a recording crackled to life.
“Don’t… don’t go… Aurora… the extinguisher… I’m burning–please-!”
A dying man’s plea, raw and ragged, filled the hall. Every wolf’s ears pinned back at the sound. Aurora’s eyes went wide, her skin blanching until she looked like death itself.
Freya stood frozen, her wolf straining against her ribs. Beside her, Silas’s growl thundered low, his aura wrapping around her like iron chains. Across the hall, Caelum’s face drained of blood, his fury cracking into something else–fear.
And the hall of wolves once skeptical, now boiled with unease. The so–called “hero” of the Bluemoon Airborne Wing was bound before their eyes, exposed by a phantom who claimed to know her darkest sin.
Chapter 192
Third Person’s POV
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The entire hall of broadcast chamber had gone utterly still. Dozens of wolves-elders, pack members, and human stall alike-stared at the massive screen in disbelief.
A supposed “hero” of the Bluemoon Airborne Wing, a figure the packs had praised for valor, was being revealed as something else entirely. A killer who had let another wolf burn alive.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Whispers sharpened into shocked growls.
Could it be true?
Had Aurora, the so-called savior, really stood by and watched another wolf die screaming?
The scent of outrage began to fill the air-sharp, acrid, and dangerous.
Questions rose like howls from every corner: Who had switched the broadcast feed? Who had control over the pack hall’s screens? And where, spirits above, were Aurora and her masked captor now?
Caelum was the first to break free of the stunned silence. His Alpha aura slammed outward in a blast of fury, rattling chairs and making younger wolves flinch back. His hand shot into his coat, pulling free his WolfComm. With a snarl that echoed across the chamber, he barked into the device, “This is Alpha Grafton. I’m reporting a kidnapping. An active hostage situation. Track the signal-now!”
The hall erupted further when, from the audience, a young wolf cried out, “Moon above-it’s a live stream! That feed’s not recorded-it’s broadcasting in real time!”
At once, dozens of wolves yanked out their WolfComms. Fingers flew, searching the underground net. Within moments, snarls of confirmation broke out.
“They’re right-this is live.”
“There’s a channel. The bastard’s streaming it to anyone who can watch!”
“Look at the viewer count. Thousands are piling in!”
Freya stood rigid, her gaze fixed on the masked figure on the screen. Her wolf prowled beneath her skin, hackles rising with unease. Something about that lean frame, the way the shadow moved-her instincts. clawed at her mind. Recognition teased her, infuriatingly just out of reach.
Her eyes narrowed.
Beside her, Silas leaned close, his breath a low rumble against her ear. “You recognize him, don’t you?”
Freya shook her head once. “Not fully. But his movements… they’re familiar. I’ve seen him somewhere before.”
Silas’s mouth curved into something cold and knowing. “Then the rumors weren’t smoke after all. The message your journalist friend received at the orphanage-it was real. Someone has been warning of Aurora’s secret. Perhaps the same shadow decided it was time to expose her.”
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Freya’s pulse stuttered. She remembered it now-the orphanage event. A blur of a figure just beyond her sight, slipping into the edges of memory. The outline overlapped too perfectly with the man on the
screen.
Her lips pressed tight. She unlocked her own WolfComm with swift, precise movements, her mind racing as she pulled up searches, digging for threads she should have tugged on long ago.
Meanwhile, on the screen, Aurora had gone pale beneath the harsh factory lights. Her eyes darted wildly, terror clouding her expression.
“Why…” she stammered, her voice breaking. “Why do you have that recording? Who are you?”
The masked wolf chuckled, a sound as chilling as claws scraping stone. He pressed a button, and the hall filled once more with the hideous screams of a dying wolf.
“Don’t-don’t go! Aurora, help-fire, it’s burning me-ahhh!”
The voice was hoarse, drenched in agony. The sound of flames devouring flesh was all too clear, the stench of imagined smoke filling the minds of every wolf present. The cries stretched on, dragging claws across every listener’s spine, until at last the wails cracked, withered, and went silent.
The hall of Stormveil smelled of bile, dread, and cold sweat. Wolves shifted restlessly, ears pinned, eyes wide with horror.
That voice-the wolf had called Aurora’s name. He had begged her for help. And he had burned alive without her lifting a claw to stop it.
“No!” Aurora’s shrill denial broke through the broadcast, her face twisting. “No, that’s false! It’s fabricated! Lies!”*
Her denial reeked of desperation. Her wolf, even through the grainy footage, seemed to shrink back, pressed into a corner.
The masked wolf tilted his head. His voice oozed mockery. “Fabricated? You mean to tell me you don’t recognize the voice of your own mentor? The wolf who took you under his wing when you first joined Bluemoon Airborne? The one who fought to secure you a position, vouched for you again and again? He burned alive that day, screaming your name, and this is how you repay him?”
Aurora’s eyes went wider still. Her lips trembled, her breath hitching into short, panicked gasps.
The masked wolf pressed on, his tone merciless. “This isn’t some trick. Run it through a voice match if you like. The truth will hold. That recording was captured on the borderlands during the great fire. At that moment, your mentor was calling his son. His body ignited mid-call. The device fell, but it kept recording until he died”
Gasps echoed again through the chamber. Wolves muttered, horrified. Some bared their teeth outright, glaring at the screen as though Aurora herself stood before them.
Onscreen, Aurora’s entire body shook. “N-no there must be a mistake. A misunderstanding…”
She clung to the thought of Caelum. He had seen the broadcast. He would bring Silverfang’s enforcers. He would save her. If she could just endure long enough-if she could stall until the packs broke through- she might still walk out alive.
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“Misunderstanding?” The masked wolf’s laughter curdled the air. In a flash, his hand clamped into Aurora’s hair, jerking her head back until her throat strained. His palm cracked across her face, once, twice, again and again.
The sound of flesh meeting flesh thundered through the chamber. Wolves flinched, some growled. Blood blossomed across Aurora’s lips, her cheeks swelling, crimson dripping from the corner of her mouth.
“You dare speak of misunderstanding?” the captor roared. “Do you know what it was like for his son, listening helplessly on the line, hearing his father burn alive? Hearing him call your name, begging, while you stood by and did nothing? You had an extinguisher. You could have acted. But you chose not to!”
Aurora sobbed, shaking her head violently. “No! I wasn’t there-I was separated from him! I didn’t even know he was calling me-he must have been hallucinating from the flames-”
But her words rang hollow, and the wolves of the hall knew it. Instincts never lied. And in that moment, Aurora smelled of fear, deceit, and cornered prey.
The broadcast carried on, merciless, while the packs looked on in shock.
And Freya, standing tall at Silas’s side, narrowed her eyes until they gleamed like a wolf catching the scent of prey. Somewhere deep inside, her instincts whispered the truth: this wasn’t merely an exposure. It was the beginning of something larger, darker. And the packs would never look at Aurora the same way again.
Chapter 193
Chapter 193
Third Person’s POV
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The moment the kidnapper’s hand released her hair, Aurora collapsed to the ground with a hollow thud. Before she could draw a steady breath, the man hefted a white plastic container and upended its contents across her body. A recking liquid splashed over her uniform and skin, soaking her instantly.
Aurora shrieked, thrashing against the ropes that bound her wrists. “No! Don’t-what are you doing?”
The kidnapper’s laugh was guttural, feral. “Doing? I’m giving you the same mercy you showed my father. Let’s see if you hallucinate while you burn alive.” He tipped another container, the pungent fumes stinging the air even through the live broadcast.
In the studio, a horrified gasp rose from the audience. “Spirits above-this isn’t water. It’s oil! It’s fuel!”
Caelum’s chest constricted as his gaze locked on the massive screen. His wolf strained inside him, ready to tear down walls, but he was caged by distance and circumstance. His claws dug crescents into Aurora’s discarded WolfComm device in his hand. His voice, raw with anguish, tore from his throat. “Why, Aurora? Why are you in this nightmare?”
But no amount of dominance, no command from the Alpha of the Silverfang Pack, could alter what the cameras showed. All he could do was trust that the City Guard or his pack’s trackers would find her before it was too late.
He turned suddenly, fury sparking, eyes blazing like molten steel as they fell on Freya. “This is your fault!” His voice cracked like a whip across the hushed studio. “If Aurora suffers even a scratch, if she burns alive -her blood is on your hands!”
Freya’s amber eyes narrowed. Her wolf stirred, cold and indignant. “On my hands?” Her voice was low, dangerous. “Caelum, have you lost your mind?”
“You schemed against her!” he roared, advancing, every step echoing with Alpha force. “You set her up during the interview, played that cursed recording to humiliate her. If not for you, she never would have stormed back to the resting chambers, never would have been caught alone. You drove her straight into a predator’s jaws!”
Freya’s lips curved into a sharp, bitter smile. The audience flinched at the sound-it was not the laugh of a frightened she-wolf but of one who had long learned to bleed without breaking. “You’re still the same, Carlum. Always so eager to cast your guilt on others. If Aurora is your precious fiancée, where were you? Why weren’t you at her side when she left?”
“You-“Caelum faltered, rage colliding with shame. His wolf snarled, but his human tongue stumbled. “Don’t twist this, Freya! If Aurora dies, I will never forgive you.”
He had barely finished before Silas moved.
With a blur of motion, the Ironclad Alpha drove his boot squarely into Caelum’s chest. The Silverfang Alpha crashed to the ground, air bursting from his lungs. His right hand, still bandaged from his last battle, buckled uselessly beneath him. He tried to rise with his left, but Silas was relentless. Another brutal kick struck him down, sending him sprawling again on the polished floor.
“You dare threaten Freya?” Silas’s voice was thunder, his aura flooding the studio like a crushing tide. His
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wolf bared its fangs through him, promising blood. “Then hear me now, Caelum Grafton: if you so much as touch her, I will hunt you until one of us is ash and bone.”
The words rang out like a blood oath, a vow of eternal vendetta. Not until death. Beyond death.
Gasps rippled through those who stood nearest the stage. Though the wider audience could not hear over the roar of the broadcast, every wolf close enough felt the oath’s weight. The Ironclad Alpha had spoken, and his vow was poison and iron: Not even the grave will save you.
Caelum’s eyes widened, shock battling with fear. The oath speared him through the gut, the venom of it lodging deep. His wolf trembled under the raw dominance, drenched in sweat though his body had barely moved.
Freya stared at Silas, her chest tightening. She had known, of course-how could she not? Silas’s loyalty had always been obvious in the way his gaze lingered, in the battles he had fought at her side. But this? A vow like that was more than devotion. It was obsession. It was the kind of love wolves carved into their bones and bled with until their last breath.
For a heartbeat, warmth flooded her chest, unbidden, unsettling. Her wolf shifted, restless with recognition. If the room had been empty, if the pack eyes had not been burning into her back, she might have done something reckless-like answer that devotion with her lips.
But the studio was not empty.
And Caelum, bloodied but defiant, staggered upright once more. His glare burned with desperation. “Freya Thorne,” he spat, “you’re nothing without Silas Whitmor shielding you. You hide behind him like a pup. If Aurora dies in flames, you’ll answer for it. Her innocence will weigh on your soul.”
Freya turned slowly, her voice cutting like ice. “Innocent?” She lifted her chin toward the screen, where Aurora’s soaked body trembled under the kidnapper’s hand. “We don’t yet know if she is truly innocent.”
“She is!” Caelum snapped. “Aurora is kind, selfless. She risked herself for others. She would never let someone burn alive!” His chest heaved with righteous fury, his words ringing with conviction. “There must be a reason-something we don’t understand!”
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Freya’s lips curved into a cold, cutting smile.
“So that’s it?” she murmured with quiet derision.
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On the massive screen, Aurora trembled violently as the kidnapper’s voice snarled from the shadows. The momentary flicker of guilt that had crossed the Bluemoon she-wolf’s face when the recording had first played was proof enough. To wolves, instinct rarely lied.
The recording was real.
Aurora had let someone burn alive.
But was the kidnapper truly intent on torching her body with the gasoline he had poured across her skin? Or did he have another purpose?
The audience held its collective breath. Aurora writhed, her oil-soaked clothes clinging to her, her panicked screams spilling into the live feed.
“No, please don’t do this! Tell me who sent you! I can pay you. I’m Aurora, daughter of the Bluemoon Beta. My fiancé is Caelum Grafton, Alpha of the Silverfangs. He is rich, powerful—his company, SilverTech Forgeworks, just went public! Whatever you want, he can give it to you. Just name your price!”
The kidnapper laughed-a hollow, jagged sound that reeked of grief and madness. “Price? I don’t want your money. You claim your colleague only screamed your name because he was burning, delirious, hallucinating. Very well. Then I’ll burn you too. Let’s see if you hallucinate.”
With that, he lifted a lighter.
Snap!
A flame bloomed, wicked and alive.
Aurora shrieked again, body convulsing. The liquid soaking her clothes caught the light, a field of kindling ready to explode into inferno with the barest spark.
Memories flashed across her wide eyes: the co-pilot she had abandoned, writhing, engulfed, screaming her name until his throat tore apart. She had watched him burn alive. The smell of charred flesh, the sound of cracking bones-they surged back like a tide.
Her terror reached a breaking point.
“What’s wrong?” the kidnapper sneered. “Even a murderer can still fear fire?”
Aurora shook her head violently, tears spilling. “I… I’m not a killer. It wasn’t me-”
“Not you?” The lighter inched closer, its heat brushing her skin. The man’s voice grew darker, dripping with rage. “You dare say you weren’t there? That you didn’t stand by his side as he screamed for help? You let him burn. You left him to die in agony.”
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“No! No, it wasn’t like that!” Aurora broke, voice cracking. “The flames-they were too strong. Even if I had grabbed the extinguisher, it would’ve been useless. I couldn’t-”
The studio went utterly silent.
Every wolf froze, hearing the confession for what it was. Aurora realized it too late; panic tightened her
throat.
A low, terrible laugh filled the broadcast. “So it’s true. You were right there. You could have saved him, and you chose not to. You stood still and watched him burn alive. Why, Aurora? Why?”
The kidnapper’s accusations struck like claws. Aurora crumbled, sobbing, her pleas spilling like blood. “I was scared! The fire was everywhere-I couldn’t go near him. I didn’t mean to, I just… I couldn’t. Please, forgive me! Please don’t kill me!”
The live-stream chat detonated.
“Spirits damn her-she let her own comrade burn?”
“She admitted it herself! She had an extinguisher within reach!”
“Liar. She built her reputation as a hero, but she’s a coward! She’s no savior-she’s a fraud.”
“She watched him die and then accepted medals for it? Disgusting!”
Unseen in the studio, thousands of wolves across the packs spat curses at the screen.
In the front row, Caelum felt the ground crumble beneath his feet. His wolf thrashed inside him, howling denial. The woman he had worshiped—the pilot he had painted in his mind as a fearless savior, the she- wolf who once pulled him from drowning waters with iron will-was unraveling before his eyes.
She was not a hero.
She was a coward who had chosen self-preservation while her comrade burned to ash.
“No,” Caelum whispered hoarsely, his face drained of color. “No, this isn’t true. Aurora wouldn’t…” But her desperate pleas on the screen left no room for doubt. Every word was a dagger, carving through the trust he had built, through the devotion he had bled for her.
The pack hall was silent, save for Aurora’s sobbing and the kidnapper’s laughter. Then, with sudden finality, the feed cut to black.
Not system interference. The kidnapper had ended it himself.
Freya narrowed her eyes. Something in her gut twisted-not sympathy, not pity, but a sharp awareness of the kidnapper’s intent. If his goal had been Aurora’s death, he would have struck already. No, he wanted the truth laid bare, stripped before every eye in the Capital.
Aurora’s survival was not the point. Her destruction in the court of public opinion was.
Freya lowered her gaze to the WolfComm in her hand, scrolling through the fragments of intelligence she had gathered in the last twenty-four hours. Her instincts aligned, her wolf bristling with clarity. The identity of the kidnapper was no longer a mystery. The man wasn’t driven by coin or random vengeance, He was bound to the Iron Fang Recon Unit, to the ghost of the one Aurora had abandoned.
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Her lips tightened. So it was revenge-pure, unrelenting, the kind that fire alone could not quench.
Around her, the Stormveil and Ironclad wolves muttered, their emotions sharp with anger and disbelief. Yet Freya stood still, her posture unyielding. While others drowned in outrage, she was already calculating the storm that would follow. Aurora had fallen from her pedestal. The packs had seen her true face.
And Caelum Grafton’s desperate defense of his fiancée had just shattered in front of them all.
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The image on Freya’s WolfComm glowed faintly in the dim backstage light.
A photograph-grainy, taken days ago at the orphanage.
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In the picture, Aurora had been called on stage to speak, a teenage boy standing beside her as the young host. His frame-slender, sharp-edged-was painfully familiar. The same height, the same set of shoulders, the same restless energy as the masked kidnapper she had just seen on the broadcast.
Freya’s mind tightened like a snare.
The boy from the orphanage… and the one who had dragged Aurora into the firelit trap on camera… they were the same.
Which meant the orphan was their suspect.
Her wolf bristled as she pieced it together. Every thread led back to that orphanage-five years ago, the sland news leak, the staged ambush with reporters, and now this. Even the message to the media before onight’s broadcast. The stage was always the same. The orphanage.
And there was more.
She had researched the officer who perished in the Border Fire-Bluemoon Wing’s vice-captain. The man had been a widower, raising his only son alone. When he died screaming beneath the flames, his boy had been just eleven years old.
Eleven years old… which would place the youth on that stage, and the kidnapper’s age now lined up perfectly.
Her chest grew tight.
The boy hadn’t vanished-he had grown up, carrying the fire of vengeance in his lungs.
Freya didn’t hesitate. She dialed the local enforcers, her tone clipped as she relayed her findings.
When she ended the call, Caelum’s voice cut across the space between them. His silver-grey eyes burned with confusion.
“Why help Aurora?” His words ground like stone. “You despise her. Why risk yourself?”
Freya turned her head, her stare glacial.
“I don’t like Aurora,” she said, her voice low, her wolf’s growl simmering beneath each syllable. “But I was a soldier once. And soldiers don’t choose who deserves protection. They act because it is their duty.”
The blunt conviction hir Caelum like a blow.
His heart stammered, and for a moment, he couldn’t look away from her.
Soldier.
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He had dismissed it before. To him, her years in the Iron Fang Recon Unit were nothing more than a footnote, a rugged past that gave her scars and grit, but no power Because she’s just a low-level Omega soldier. He had thought her talents ended there-that she was simply a woman who knew how to take orders, endure pain, and march.
He had even looked down on her once.
When they married, it wasn’t for her worth. It was because in his lowest moment-when Silverfang Pack had been crumbling, when his life felt like ash-Freya’s quiet steadiness made him believe he wasn’t entirely lost. She, an orphan of war herself, had seemed to him like a mirror of survival. They had both been broken. With her, he felt less ruined.
So he had married her. He had sworn he would treat her well, honor her as his mate, be faithful.
But things had shifted, hadn’t they? He couldn’t say when. Perhaps it was when work swallowed him. Perhaps when he first heard whispers Aurora would return from Bluemoon skies. Or perhaps the precise moment was when he saw Aurora in her pilot’s uniform, striding through the terminal, sharp-eyed and untouchable, while Freya stood small and ordinary at his side.
He had chosen wrong. That was what he had told himself.
And during the Lunar Severance Phase, he hadn’t regretted the divorce. He had told himself Freya would regret it instead-because he had the future, the empire, the rising power of SilverTech. And she was just a discarded soldier.
Yet now, standing in her presence, feeling the raw edge of her integrity cut through the air like a blade, Caelum’s wolf stirred uneasily. He felt stripped, small, almost ashamed.
The crew ushered him away before the cameras, trying to soothe his frayed emotions. The broadcast had cut abruptly when the kidnapper had shut it down, and the show’s interviews carried on with forced normalcy. No one was listening anymore.
Later, when the lights dimmed and the hall emptied, Freya’s WolfComm chimed. It was the enforcers.
We have the suspect.”
Freya stiffened. “Already?”
He was waiting for us,” came the reply. “Just as you suggested-he’s the son of the fallen vice-captain. He offered no resistance. The liquid he poured on Aurora wasn’t gasoline-it was a simulated compound. If ignited, it would have produced only low-heat flames. Frightening, but not lethal.”
Freya’s throat tightened. “May I speak to him?”
“I’m afraid not. He’s under protective custody. Only legal counsel can see him. He has no lawyer at
present,”
The line went dead.
Freya turned, her gaze falling on Silas. She hadn’t yet asked the question when he spoke.
“I’ll send a lawyer,” Silas said simply. “The boy will not face this alone.”
Her lips parted. “Thank you.”
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He met her eyes steadily. “You don’t owe me thanks. Whoever you choose to protect, I will protect too. Whatever you ask, Freya Thorne, I will see it done.”
Her chest ached. The boy hadn’t truly meant to kill Aurora. He only wanted the truth carved into the open, to force Aurora to confess what she had buried-that she had left his father to burn. He had chosen a cruel way, but his intent was never blood.
At last, the tangled strands aligned in her mind.
Meanwhile, Caelum rushed to the infirmary the moment he heard Aurora had been rescued.
She was there, washed clean of soot, lying in the hospital bed dressed in a pale gown. Her body bore scratches and bruises, but no mortal harm.
She looked small, fragile. But in Caelum’s chest, there was only the heavy weight of what he had witnessed -that her pleading, her confession, her cowardice had been broadcast before every pack, every Alpha, every soldier of the realm.
The mate he had once defended… the hero he had sworn could never be a liar… had been stripped bare before his eyes.
And the woman he had abandoned-Freya-stood unyielding, soldier to the bone, unafraid of the truth.