Ch. 221..225: A Warrior Luna's Awakening Chapter 221-225
Chapter 221
Freya’s POV
In his muttering I heard it: his father’s voice, cruel and sharp. No use. A worthless tool has no right to exist. The words he must have carried all his life.
I stared up at him, at the face contorted by despair, and fury kindled in me–not at him, but at those who had made him this way.
“Silas Whitmor,” I said firmly, fighting his spiraling madness with my own vow. “I won’t leave you. Do you hear me? I will never leave you.”
Over and over I repeated it, pouring every shred of will into my words until his lashes trembled. Focus bled back into his eyes. Slowly, agonizingly, he returned from that abyss.
“Freya…” His voice cracked, and the iron grip on my wrists trembled.
“You didn’t hurt me,” I told him quickly, sensing his horror rising. “You only held me. Nothing more.”
His gaze flicked to where his hands still shackled me. Logic told him to release me–but I saw the fear there, the unwillingness to let go.
So I leaned closer, my voice gentler. “I won’t abandon you. Not now, not ever. You’re my mate, Silas. Mine.”
He flinched, and finally–reluctantly–his fingers uncurled. My wrists were free, but I didn’t shove him away. Instead, I wrapped my arms around his tense frame, drawing him down against me.
“You dreamed of darkness and blood, didn’t you?” I murmured. “Next time, you don’t face it alone. I’ll be there. And if I ever cross paths with your father again, I’ll break him until he can’t breathe.”
For a moment he was still. Then, like a dam breaking, his body sagged. His head dropped into the hollow of my shoulder, his lips brushing my skin as he whispered, “As long as you’re here.. I can face anything.”
His voice softened into a vow that shivered through me: “Just don’t leave me.”
I tightened my hold. Never.
The next morning, Silas walked free of the hospital. His command to Wren was absolute:
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Chapter 221
turice COMS
“Find the source of Jocelyn’s perfume. Destroy it. If the Stormveil Pack shelters her in their company, the Whitmors will sever every tic.”
It was a death sentence to Jocelyn’s standing. No pack would trade her favor for the wrath of the Ironclad Alpha.
Later, as we spoke in private, he tried to mask his shame. “I thought the healers had cured me. I thought I was stronger than this. You must have seen how ugly I looked, Freya.”
“Not ugly,” I answered simply. “Haunted. But I’ll be here when the ghosts rise. They don’t get to win.”
His reply was a quiet, “Good,” but the way his shoulders ceased told me my words mattered more than he could ever admit.
On the third day, I boarded the flight back to the Capital with Silas and Kade at my side. At the arrival gate, Lana leaned against a pillar, watching us approach.
She whistled low under her breath. “Well, damn. Freya Thorne walks off a plane with not one, but two Alphas at her flank. You trying to start a riot, girl?”
Heat flared in my cheeks, though I masked it with a glare. Silas only smirked faintly, while Kade rolled his eyes at the attention their presence stirred among the crowd.
We ended up at a restaurant together, the four of us drawing stares like moths to flame. Silas and Kade carried the kind of raw magnetism that made every she–wolf in the room lean closer.
I barely tasted the food, distracted by the sharp eyes fixed on us. Then I swallowed a bite of fish, and nausea rolled through me like a wave. My hand shot to my mouth.
“What’s wrong?” Lana asked immediately, brows arched.
“Just an old stomach problem,” I managed.
But she tilted her head, lips quirking. “Stomach problem? Or… could it be you’re pregnant?”
The word hit the table like thunder.
Kade’s chopsticks clattered from his hand. His face froze in shock.
And Silas–Silas’s gaze whipped to me, pupils dilating, a hundred emotions warring in his expression.
I swallowed hard, my pulse a drumbeat in my ears.
Chapter 222
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Freya’s temples throbbed. She shoved herself between the two men, palms pressing against their chests with Alpha–born strength. “Enough!” Her command was more than human–it carried the bite of her bloodline, a warning neither dared ignore.
The two men froze mid–strike, their fists still trembling but halted, afraid their blows might graze her.
Her chest rose and fell as she glared between them. “I am not pregnant.” Her words fell like steel. “This is the same stomach trouble I’ve had since I was young. A couple of pills will fix it. You two nearly tore cach other apart over nothing.”
She narrowed her eyes, her voice slicing like cold moonlight. “And even if I were pregnant, do you think I could be forced into it? I am not weak. No one–no Alpha, no pack–forces me to carry what I do not choose.”
Both Silas and Kade flinched as if her words were claws raking down their pride.
“If I ever carry a pup,” Freya continued, her tone unwavering, “it will be because I want it.”
Her declaration silenced the room. The two wolves shifted back, shame and stubbornness flickering across their expressions, each unwilling to meet her gaze.
Lana gave an awkward little laugh and clapped her hands. “Well then. Since no one’s pregnant, maybe we can actually eat before the food goes cold?”
The tension loosened, if only slightly, and the four sat down again. Yet the air remained thick, every glance between Silas and Kade like a spark threatening to ignite the tinder again.
Dinner ended in uneasy silence, broken only when Silas turned to Freya. His gaze lingered on her face, softer now, almost protective. “We’re going to the healer after this,” he said firmly.
Freya blinked. “You’re not feeling well?” Her mind flashed to the lingering effect of the cursed perfume Jocelyn Thorne had used against him days earlier.
“Not me,” Silas replied. “You. Your stomach. I want a healer to look at you properly.”
She shook her head. “I don’t need a healer for something this small. I know my own body. A couple of herbs and rest will do-”
“You’re going,” Silas interrupted, his tone brooking no argument. His Alpha authority brushed against her senses, demanding compliance, but Freya’s wolf bristled at the command.
Before she could bite back, Lana leaned in with a smile. “Freya, just go. It’ll give everyone peace of mind. Better than choking down random herbs from the apothecary, right?”
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Freya hesitated, then sighed. “Fine. I’ll go.”
“I’ll come too-” Kade began, only to be interrupted when Lana’s hand clamped firmly on his
arm.
“Actually, I need to talk with you about some legal issues at SkyVex Armaments,” she said smoothly. “Company trouble. Needs your sharp mind.”
Kade narrowed his eyes. “You don’t have legal trouble, Lana.”
She smiled sweetly. “Of course not. But you’re clever enough to know when you’re being asked not to play third wheel. Why torture yourself?”
Kade’s jaw tightened. His wolf growled low, but he forced himself back into his seat.
When Silas and Freya left the restaurant, the younger wolf turned to Lana with eyes like storm clouds. “How long have you known?”
“Known what?” she asked lightly.
“That they’re together.” His voice was sharp, demanding.
Lana tilted her head, considering. “A while now. A month, maybe. Freya talks to me. I noticed things.”
Kade’s face darkened. “And you didn’t tell me?”
Her lips quirked in a sad smile. “It wasn’t my place to announce your sister’s heart. She chose him, Kade.”
He stiffened, then gave a hollow laugh. “So I was too late again.”
For a moment, the infamous troublemaker of the Capital–the wolf feared and admired by so many–looked nothing more than a young man, broken by something he could never claim.
Lana’s heart softened. “Love isn’t about timing or control,” she said gently. “Sometimes it’s just… fate.”
Kade lowered his eyes to his empty hands. “Fate, huh? Then why does it always feel like it mocks me?”
Meanwhile, Freya and Silas walked side by side beneath the night sky, the city lights of the Capital burning like distant stars. At the healer’s hall, she received a simple pouch of herbs for her stomach and stern warnings to rest. Silas stood silently through it all, his hand brushing hers once, a fleeting gesture of possession–and perhaps of fear that she might slip from him
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Freya stepped out of the healer’s hall, the cool night air brushing against her skin. Silas’s expression was tense, eyes dark as he looked at her.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me you had this old stomach problem?” he asked, voice low but threaded with worry.
Freya gave a small shrug, the edges of her lips curling in a faint, wry smile. “It’s nothing serious. Serving in the Iron Fang Recon Unit, you learn to expect your body will sometimes rebel. Bruises, upset stomachs, minor illnesses–they come with the territory. Do you… mind?”
“Mind?” Silas repeated, his jaw tightening. His hand gripped hers with surprising firmness, thumb brushing over her knuckles in a gesture of possessive care. “Yes, I mind. I don’t want you to suffer, not even for a moment. I want you healthy, Freya. From now on, I’ll make sure you eat properly, I’ll make sure your stomach is cared for. I won’t allow you to hurt yourself like this again.”
Freya’s chest warmed at his words. She remembered nights when she had pushed herself to the brink, working alongside Caelum Grafton for his ventures in the Bloodmoon Pack, enduring stomach cramps and severe pain without complaint. She had even visited emergency halls at midnight, yet Caelum had never looked up from contracts or strategic plans, never spared a thought for her suffering. He had always claimed it was for her future, for a better life, but love–or the lack thereof–was as clear as day when compared to Silas now.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the Capital, Lana had taken Kade to a nearby lounge. Kade’s wolf prowled restlessly beneath the surface of his human form, a storm of emotion raging behind his storm–grey eyes. Lana didn’t trust him to drink alone, so she stayed, keeping her own wolf tethered, guiding him when the alcohol began to dull his sharper senses.
He slumped into the seat, the glass in his hand trembling slightly. “I’ll… I’ll call someone to pick me up,” he muttered, fumbling for his WolfComm. “I’m too… too drunk. Just… come get me at the lounge next to your office.”
Lana watched as he managed to complete the call, then poured himself another shot. Her wolf growled internally at his stubbornness. “Stop. If you drink any more, you’ll end up in the healer’s hall next.”
Kade’s stomach turned violently, and he doubled over, spewing into the ornate rug at his feet. Lana recoiled just in time, catching the smell but avoiding the mess. His wolf whimpered, ashamed, as he collapsed against the sofa, drenched in the evidence of his own recklessness.
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The lounge was quiet except for Kade’s labored breathing. Lana sighed, bracing herself. Carefully, she shifted him to the far side of the sofa, protecting him from further exposure to his own mess. With precision borne of years of wolf instincts and experience handling injured comrades, she unbuttoned his outer jacket and peeled it off, tossing it aside.
Next came his shirt. She moved to undo the first few buttons to help him breathe, working slowly to avoid waking his restless wolf. Just as she reached the second button, the lounge door opened abruptly.
A cold, controlled voice sliced through the room. “So, you’re tending to Kade now? Planning to strip him down just like you tried with me back then?”
Lana froze, every nerve alight with alarm. The voice… it could only belong to one person.
A tall, commanding figure stepped into view, draped in a black suit that hugged his lean frame perfectly, aura of dominance and poise radiating like a wolf marking territory. His eyes, narrow and piercing, scanned the room with surgical precision. Lana’s heart sank. It was none other than Victor Ashford—her ex, whose Alpha influence in the Capital was near–legendary.
“Quite the coincidence,” she managed, forcing a smile, though her wolf growled low, warning her of the tension.
“Indeed,” Victor Ashford said smoothly, advancing into the room. His gaze fell on Kade sprawled drunkenly on the sofa. “If I hadn’t come, would you have really stripped my nephew? Just like back then?”
Lana’s cheeks burned red. “I wasn’t–he was vomiting. I was just helping him get out of the mess. That’s all.”
Victor’s eyes narrowed, steel–sharp. “Then why undo his shirt buttons?”
“To help him breathe!” Lana’s voice was sincere, bolstered by her own wolf’s protective instinct. Her gaze met his unflinching, ice–cold eyes. The subtle intimidation of his stare alone made her wolf crouch, defensive but restrained.
He studied her for a long moment. Lana pressed on, voice calm but firm. “I have no ulterior motive. Kade isn’t someone I’m interested in. Even if he were standing there half–naked, I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t think anything.”
Victor’s eyebrow arched slightly, and then he moved with decisive efficiency, lifting Kade onto his side of the sofa. “How much has he had to drink?”
“Less than three bottles,” Lana replied, leaning back slightly to watch him, aware of the commanding presence beside her. Victor’s wolf trailed Kade’s movements, a subtle undercurrent of dominance ensuring the younger wolf’s safety.
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Lana’s heart was still racing. Victor’s gaze lingered on her briefly, a silent warning and a reminder of their shared past—a past where wolves had fought, marked, and bled alongside humans, bound by territory, loyalty, and unspoken rules of
Chapter 224
Lana froze mid–step, her wolf stiffening in her chest. Victor’s offer to escort her home felt less like protection and more like a subtle reminder of past dominance.
“I’ll send you back,” he added, glancing at Kade sprawled drunkenly across the lounge sofa.
Lana’s pulse spiked violently. She wasn’t about to let her former mate drive her home. “No- no, you just take care of him. I’ll… I’ll find a driver myself,” she said quickly, fidgeting as her wolf bristled at the proximity of danger, sensing Victor’s presence as a predator still very much aware of the terrain.
Victor’s dark eyes narrowed, almost imperceptibly, but the intensity was enough to make Lana’s wolf crouch in caution. His thin lips parted, words deliberate and cold: “Follow.”
She exhaled sharply, realizing resistance was futile. Victor’s control radiated like an invisible chain, strong enough to tether even a wolf as stubborn as hers. Reluctantly, she moved to the passenger side, climbing in with a mix of frustration and submission.
Victor settled behind the wheel, the vehicle’s sleek black body reflecting the dim neon lights outside the Ashbourne lounge. Lana gave the address, her tone clipped, unyielding, though her pulse raced as her wolf instinctively watched his every movement. The car slid smoothly into motion, the engine’s low growl echoing her racing heartbeat.
Inside, the air was tense. Silence draped over the car like a heavy cloak. Lana’s eyes kept flicking toward Victor, whose gaze remained fixed on the road ahead. Time seemed to stretch. Victor had grown since their last encounter–no longer the boyish figure of years ago. His posture was rigid, yet refined; his presence exuded a quiet, intoxicating authority, like the moonlight illuminating the alpha in his prime. The wolf in her chest growled softly, unnerved yet inexplicably drawn to the aura of power radiating from him.
The car slowed near her building. Lana quickly unbuckled her seatbelt, preparing to escape into the safety of her apartment complex. Her wolf bristled, alert to every sound, every movement outside. But before she could step out, Victor’s voice cut through the quiet, low and deliberate:
“After we parted ways… have you ever regretted it?”
Her body stiffened. “No. I’m relieved we broke up,” she said firmly, trying to mask the tremor in her chest, trying to hide the residual fear her wolf instinctively sensed.
Victor’s hand shot out, seizing her wrist with a strength that was firm, measured, and
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unnervingly intimate. His eyes bore into hers, dark and unreadable. “Relieved? You truly hated being with me?”
Even as his grip held her wrist, there was restraint–a wolf marking its territory without inflicting harm, keeping control while allowing freedom to exist in theory.
“I didn’t hate being with you… I was just… like a wolf fed too much rich meat,” Lana replied with a faint laugh, her wolf lowering its head slightly in submission, trying to hide her internal conflict. “Eventually, it grows tiresome.”
Victor’s piercing gaze remained unblinking, and for a long moment, the only sound was the hum of the car engine and the distant city noises outside.
“Victor… can you release me now?” Lana asked, forcing calm into her voice, though her chest tightened from the latent tension.
He finally released her wrist. Lana slid out of the car with a deliberate grace, wolf instincts still coiled beneath her calm exterior. She offered a teasing remark as she closed the door behind her. “If ever you miss the past, Victor… don’t think I wouldn’t consider revisiting it. Even something once tiresome can be appetizing again, occasionally.”
She caught the glint of cold amusement–or perhaps irritation–in his eyes before turning, walking away with deliberate independence. Wolves might be drawn to their territory, but some prey preferred to choose their own path.
Lana’s wolf relaxed fractionally, though it remained alert, scanning the city streets for potential threats. In the grand scheme of things, Victor Ashford was no longer a wolf she needed to hunt–he was a challenge she could safely disengage from.
The next day, Lana accompanied Freya Thorne on a shopping trip. The Capital’s SkyVex Armaments district buzzed with energy as urban wolves and humans moved through the markets, carrying bags brimming with goods.
“By the way,” Lana said, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, “you didn’t come back to my place last night. Were you at Silas’s instead?”
Freya’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. “Yes. I wanted to, but Silas… insisted I stay. He claimed it was because of the scent. That the perfume incident earlier had triggered memories, and he feared another night of restless dreams.”
Lana raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “So… are you planning to cohabit with him?”
“Seems like it,” Freya admitted without hesitation. Her wolf twitched at the thought, protective yet intrigued by the presence of another alpha in close proximity.
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Lana’s smirk turned mischievous. “Just make sure you take precautions. Unless, of course, you’re ready for a child.”
Freya laughed, shaking her head, her wolf’s fur bristling at the teasing. “Even if we’re cohabiting, it hasn’t come to that step yet.”
“Yet,” Lana said knowingly. “And don’t tell me you haven’t ever felt the desire to… consume him entirely.”
Freya’s ears twitched. Perhaps a little, but she refused to answer directly, letting the subtle tension hang between them like the scent of musk and pine after a storm.
Their conversation paused abruptly as Freya’s gaze hardened. Across the plaza, near the gleaming towers of SilverTech Forgeworks, Caelum Grafton’s mother, Eleanor, and sister Giselle, carrying large shopping bags, were walking alongside Aurora, the newly appointed female pilot of the Bluemoon Airborne Wing.
Freya’s wolf growled low in warning. The Capital was sprawling, yet here they were–enemies of the past, manifesting in the present, crossing paths like the inevitable collision of predator
and prey.
“Trouble,” Freya muttered under her breath. Lana followed her gaze, understanding
immediately. Fate, it seemed, had a penchant for sharpening the claws of wolf packs, even in the most mundane settings.
Chapter 225
Chapter 225
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Giselle, ever the brat of the Siverfang Pack and the sister of Caelum Grafton, was the first to approach, her posture haughty and her wolf pulsing with a sharp, entitled energy. She fixed Freya with a sharp, predatory grin. “Freya Thorne. How is it that no matter where I go, I keep running into you?”
Freya’s gaze was icy, her wolf tightening like a coiled spring beneath her skin. “I’m just as curious,” she said coolly, her voice steady as she met Giselle’s insolent stare. “I didn’t know you had the leisure to stroll through the city. Though, I suppose after your court hearings, you won’t have much time for shopping anymore.”
Giselle’s smirk widened, venomous. “You must be hoping to see me and my mother behind bars. Too bad for you, your calculations are off. My brother hired a top–tier lawyer. Neither my mother nor I will suffer any consequences.”
Lana’s wolf snorted under her breath, her voice sharp with scorn. “Only a fool thinks they can escape justice. You and your mother tricked Freya into that hotel room, tried to drug her— everybody saw it on the hotel’s giant screen! Tell me, which third–rate lawyer gave you the idea that you’d walk away unscathed?”
Giselle was momentarily silenced. Eleanor stepped forward, indignation burning in her eyes. “How dare you speak like that? My son is wealthy–how could he possibly hire a third–rate lawyer?”
Lana’s laugh was low and bitter, wolfish, sharp enough to cut through the tension like a fang. “Wealthy? Everyone in the industry knows Siverfang Pack has been bleeding funds. Your son’s ‘wealth‘ exists only because Freya made it possible. Without her, how much could he truly earn?”
Eleanor’s lips curled in anger. “Freya? What could she possibly do? My son built everything himself. Thankfully, he divorced that woman, and now with Aurora as his co–pilot, only a pilot of her caliber deserves to be my daughter–in–law.”
Lana’s laughter was sharp as the bite of frost in winter air. “A pilot? We’ll see how long Aurora lasts in that role!” Her wolf snapped, tail flicking as if ready to pounce.
Aurora’s expression stiffened, her pride pricked. “Freya, no matter what, you shouldn’t allow your friend to speak this way about me,” she said, her voice carrying the faint but unmistakable tremor of nervousness. Wolves don’t always admit fear aloud–but Freya could smell it on her.
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“I don’t see it as defamation,” Freya replied calmly, wolf coiled beneath her skin, ready to strike. “The City Fire Department’s report should be out soon. How about we make a little wager? Let’s see if you can continue as a co–pilot once that investigation is public.”
Aurora’s eyes flickered with something like guilt–or perhaps fear–but Giselle and Eleanor looked utterly baffled. “What investigation?” they asked in unison.
Aurora’s gaze darted nervously, a flicker of shadow passing over her wolf. “Nothing. Ignore her.”
Freya’s wolf growled softly, sensing the lie, the subtle scent of evasion. Giselle and Eleanor were entirely unaware of the scandal–Aurora’s failure to rescue a fellow pilot during a live- streamed emergency had become headline news, yet the two women had never bothered to follow it. Giselle was too occupied with shopping, beauty products, and luxury bags; Eleanor with calls to the old country and television dramas.
Lana stepped closer, her wolf bristling as she mirrored Freya’s silent warning. “Aurora, you witnessed a colleague ignite and didn’t save them. You admitted it on the live stream. Do you really think you can remain co–pilot after that?”
Aurora’s face paled, her pulse quickening. Her wolf wanted to flee, but social instincts rooted her in place.
Before tension could escalate, a new voice cut through the air–rich, measured, and carrying the authority of an alpha. “Even if Aurora didn’t act, in critical moments, one might prioritize personal survival,” Caelum Grafton interjected, stepping forward. His wolf’s scent was calm, a controlled predator measuring the pack dynamics around him. “The colleague’s death could be unfortunate. There’s no need to smear Aurora.”
Freya’s gaze sharpened, wolf instincts snorting in warning. “Really?” she said icily, staring at Aurora. “Was it really just unfortunate? Or was it negligence? Did your inaction cost that life?”
Aurora’s chest tightened, her wolf shrinking back under the predatory focus of Freya Thorne. “What… what are you implying?” she stammered. “Are you accusing me of guilt? If I were truly guilty, wouldn’t the authorities have arrested me?”
“Perhaps they will,” Freya said softly, wolf senses picking up the slightest tremor in Aurora’s pulse. Her words were calm, but the weight behind them carried the bite of inevitability.
Aurora shivered. The world seemed to constrict around her, her wolf curling defensively. There had been no one else around during the incident–how could Freya possibly know? She shook the thought away, trying to maintain composure. “Freya, your accusations only reveal your envy. I am righteous. The law will not apprehend a good person without reason.”
“Good?” Freya’s laughter was sharp, wolfish, a low growl under the surface. “Are you even a
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Caelum frowned, stepping closer, wolf protective yet restrained. “Freya, how can you speak this way about Aurora?”
Eleanor’s expression darkened, disgust evident in every line of her body. “It’s fortunate my son divorced you!”
“Indeed,” Giselle added, voice dripping with superficiality, “Aurora even treats us to luxury shopping trips–designer clothes, bags. Not like you, Freya. Three years of marriage, and the gifts were insignificant trinkets you praised as treasures.”
Freya’s grin sharpened, wolf tail flicking with disdain. “Yes, and he used a two–hundred–dollar ring as a wedding token. Did he think that was enough?”
Caelum’s expression shifted, uncomfortable under the weight of public scrutiny and Freya’s biting words. Eleanor’s hand shot forward, striking toward Freya. “You little–how dare you speak of my son like that!”
Freya’s reflexes were fast as lightning, wolf instincts guiding her movement. She caught Eleanor’s hand mid–swing and spun it aside effortlessly. Eleanor stumbled back, clutching her wrist, hissing in indignation. “You–Freya Thorne! I’ll call the authorities for assaulting an elder!”
Freya’s eyes glinted, wolf senses flaring. “Go ahead. I’ve nothing to fear from lies or threats.”