Ch. 286..290: A Warrior Luna's Awakening Chapter 286-290
Chapter 286
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Yet even now, she forced her wolf down, forced the anguish into stillness. Her voice was ice when she finally spoke. “We’re leaving.”
She walked straight past Jocelyn, ignoring her cousin’s laughter, ignoring Silas’s pale, stricken form. With steady steps, she returned to him and held out her hand.
Silas’s breath shuddered. For a moment he stood paralyzed, then she seized his wrist herself, pulling him toward the door.
He stumbled after her, dazed, his mind blank until the hotel room was behind them.
“Freya, I…” His lips parted, words falling broken from his tongue. He wanted to beg, to explain, to tell her everything and nothing at once.
“Later,” she said coldly, never slowing her pace.
Her grip dragged him down the corridor, out the elevator, into the night air where their driver already stood by the vehicle.
The door swung open. They slipped inside, Freya first, Silas sliding in beside her.
The ride to her apartment was thick with silence. Freya stared out the window, her WolfComm resting loosely in her lap. Not a word left her mouth.
Beside her, Silas’s body coiled like a predator cornered. His mind clawed for a solution, any explanation that might hold her, but nothing came. The truth he had fought to bury for five years had risen, and it had torn her trust open like a wound.
Fear–real, raw Alpha fear–gnawed at him. Not fear of enemies, not of war, but of losing her.
When the car pulled into the complex and halted before her building, Freya pushed the door open without a glance. She walked swiftly, her boots striking the pavement like drumbeats of judgment.
Silas followed at her heels, each step heavier than the last. Inside the apartment, the silence grew oppressive, thick as fog.
Freya stood at the center of the room, her back to him. For a long moment, the only sound was the rasp of her breathing.
Finally, her voice broke through, sharp and unwavering. “Five years ago, you saw my brother. Didn’t you?”
The words sliced the air, heavy with truth and accusation.
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Chapter 286
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Silas froze, his throat working but producing no sound. He wanted to deny, but every part of him knew denial was worthless now. He wanted to confess, but the words curdled in his chest.
So he stood in silence.
Chapter 287
Freya’s POV
:
I clenched my fists at my sides, my voice low but sharp as a blade.
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“Don’t lie to me, Silas. Don’t forget–you once promised me that as long as I asked, you would always tell me the truth. No deceit. No concealment.”
His lips pressed into a thin line, his jaw working as if the words were stones caught in his throat. For a long, suffocating moment, silence stretched between us. Then, finally, he rasped, “Yes.”
The single syllable burned in my chest, confirmation of everything I dreaded.
“So when my brother Eric was crying for help that night…” My voice came out steady–too steady, the kind of calm that was more dangerous than fury. “You were really sitting in the back seat, weren’t you?”
He stared at my back as though the distance between us were oceans instead of a few mere steps. I could feel his gaze drilling into me, heavy, desperate. And yet, in that heartbeat, he felt so far away that I could not reach him even if I wanted to.
“…Yes.” The word tore out of him, raw, jagged. “Freya, forgive me. If I had known then that it was your brother, I swear I would never have stood by!”
My body jolted, the truth slamming into me like claws across my ribs. Slowly, painfully, I turned to face him.
“Stood by?” My lips curved in a bitter parody of a smile. “You call that standing by?”
The laugh that left me was hollow, cut through with the same kind of ridicule I had always reserved for Aurora–the Bluemoon Beta’s daughter–whose cowardice had once cost lives. I had loathed her for abandoning others to their fate.
And now, the man I had loved… had done the same. To my own blood.
“Why didn’t you tell me before?” My voice cracked, equal parts fury and anguish. “You knew I was searching for my brother. You saw his face in the pictures I showed you. Don’t tell me you forgot about that night five years ago. Don’t you dare. Was it negligence? Or was it deliberate?”
If even Jocelyn–my cousin, who lived far from the blood and pain of my family–could piece together that the man I sought was Eric, then how could Silas not?
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Chapter 287
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“Answer me,” I demanded, my nails biting into my palms. “I want the truth. Not another convenient lie.”
“I’m sorry.” His voice was hoarse, defeated. Just two words.
But those two words shattered everything.
My heart plummeted into the abyss.
With a strangled breath, I crossed the space between us in three strides, fury propelling me. My fist shot upward and collided hard with his face.
The sound cracked through the room like thunder.
He didn’t dodge. Didn’t even raise a hand to block me. He took the blow head–on, his head snapping to the side, the smell of blood cutting through the air sharp and metallic.
“Why?!” My voice broke, my chest heaving. “Why would you lie to me? Why would you hide something this important? You saw my brother in D country–you knew it was him—and you said nothing!”
Tears blurred my vision, but rage kept me steady.
“I’m sorry, Freya. I was afraid… afraid that if I told you the truth, you would never forgive me. That you would leave me.” His words stumbled out, frantic. “I sent people to search for him. I swear it. In D country, I deployed scouts. I thought–when they found him–I’d confess everything. I just… I wanted to protect us.”
My laugh was a broken, guttural sound. “Protect us? So your truth depends on conditions now? You’d only confess if you had good news to soften the blow?” My fists shook as I raised them again. “Do you know how much I trusted you? Do you know how I believed, blindly, that you would never betray me?”
My knuckles smashed against him again. And again.
He staggered back, blood streaking his face, his handsome features twisted in pain. Still, he whispered nothing but, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
I didn’t stop until his body reeled, unsteady, until he stumbled two paces backward, clutching the wall for balance. Only then did my rage drain enough for me to lower my hand.
My chest heaved. My vision blurred. My heart splintered.
Never–not once–had I imagined my fists would ever land on the man I had once thought was my future. Yet here he stood, Silas Whitmor, Alpha of the Ironclad Coalition, brought low
not by an enemy pack, but by the truth I had dragged out of him.
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Blood trailed from the corner of his lips. The sight twisted something inside me, tearing me
open.
“Tell me, then,” I whispered, my voice raw. “What did Eric say when he begged you for help?”
Silas’s eyes clouded with torment. “He… only said he needed saving. He was hurt, bleeding. He spoke in your tongue, in the old Stormveil dialect–that’s why I remember. But at the time…” He swallowed hard. “At the time, I was cold to everything. I told my men to drag him away, to keep him from blocking the car. I didn’t want to get involved with the chaos of D country.”
I laughed then, sharp and hysterical. The sound scraped my throat raw. My brother had begged, and the man I loved had turned his back.
“What was Eric facing that night?” My voice trembled. “Was someone hunting him?”
“I didn’t see. There were industrial yards nearby, warehouses, smuggling routes. Later, when I recognized his face on the photograph you showed me in the diner, I sent my hunters back to search those grounds. But he was gone.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Vanished.”
Gone.
I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood. Gone meant escaped… or dead.
But no. No, I refused to believe it. Eric Thorne was Stormveil. He was my brother. He would not die so easily. Even in the worst hellhole of D country, even hunted, he would survive. He had to.
“One last question,” I whispered, meeting Silas’s gaze with eyes burning red. “When did you realize the man you had abandoned was my brother?”
His throat bobbed. “The night you took me to the diner in town. I saw the photo on the wall- your face beside his. That was when I knew.”
The diner. That was months ago. Which meant from that moment onward, he had been lying. Every smile, every vow, every touch of his hand had been built on concealment.
“You swore to me,” I said, my voice breaking, “that if I asked, you would never lie. Was that your plan all along? That if I never asked the right question, you could live with yourself, keep me in the dark, pretend your silence wasn’t betrayal?”
“Never again, Freya. I swear it.” His desperation bled through the words. “There will be no more secrets between us. Not anymore.”
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Chapter 287
I stared at him, empty.
Not anymore.
But could there still be an us?
I didn’t know.
For the first time, I truly didn’t know.
Chapter 288
Freya’s POV
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I let out a hollow laugh, the kind that tasted of ashes, and my lips twisted into a bitter curl. My eyes lowered, lashes shielding the storm in them.
“I’ll move out of here,” I said quietly. “The hundred million I borrowed is in Jocelyn’s private account. I’ll submit the account details to you. The interest–I’ll transfer it straight to your name. As for Jocelyn, hand her to the authorities if you wish. I’ll provide every piece of transaction evidence between her and me.”
My voice was steady, stripped of the fury that had burned only moments ago. It sounded detached, like I was merely cataloging business matters. Yet the words made Silas flinch as though I’d driven a blade into his ribs.
“You don’t need to move out,” he blurted, panic crackling in the air like lightning before a storm. “I’ll move. This can still be your place. Stay as long as you want–forever, if you wish.”
I shook my head. “This is your apartment, Silas. I was only a guest here. It’s me who should leave.”
“Freya, please,” he begged, his voice rough with desperation. “Don’t go.”
Every instinct in him screamed it–he knew as well as I did. The moment I left this place, there would be no coming back. It would be the end.
“I’m leaving,” I said again, firmer this time. My gaze rose, locking with his. “And one more thing-”
I paused, steadying the tremor in my chest, before I delivered the final blow. “We’re done.”
His pupils constricted, shock rippling through him like an earthquake. “Done? You mean…” His throat worked. “…you want to break up with me?”
“Yes.” My lips curved, but the smile was a fragile, broken thing. “I want to break up.”
The words tasted like venom on my tongue, but they were the only truth left between us.
I had once dreamed of a future with him–hand in hand, white–haired, a bond that nothing could sever. I had even planned that after my journey to the borderlands in search of Eric- whether I returned victorious or empty–handed–I would marry Silas. I had trusted in that future.
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Chapter 288
But that future had died the moment he chose silence over truth.
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“I won’t accept it!” Silas’s growl tore through the air, wolf–raw and feral. “I know I wronged you by hiding what happened with your brother. I know you’re angry. I’ll stay away. I won’t disturb you. Just… just give me time. When your fury burns out, we can speak again.”
I shook my head. “Whether my anger fades or not doesn’t matter. I can’t do this anymore.”
His face contorted in disbelief. “You’d end everything… just because of one lie?”
“One lie is enough.” My voice cracked, my heart splitting open with the words. “You know what I’ve always wanted in love. Absolute trust. Complete honesty. And now… how could I ever believe you again?”
He surged forward, closing the space between us in a heartbeat, and crushed me against him in a desperate embrace.
That warmth–his arms, his scent, once my sanctuary–now strangled me. Because in his embrace, all I could see was Eric. My brother, bloodied and desperate, dragged mercilessly aside by Silas’s men while Silas himself sat motionless in the back seat.
“Freya,” Silas whispered against my hair, his voice breaking. “I know I wasn’t obligated to save your brother. But I cannot bear that you hate me for it. If only… if only I had told you sooner, instead of letting you find out like this, maybe–maybe things would be different. Maybe you wouldn’t look at me with such loathing.”
I shoved him back, my palms pressing hard against his chest. He stumbled, desperation flashing across his face.
I turned and strode to the bedroom, yanking a suitcase from the closet. My hands moved fast, too fast, shoving my belongings inside as though packing them away could ease the anguish burning my veins.
Silas followed me, his voice ragged. “If I had told you from the start–would you have forgiven me? Would you have spared me this hatred?”
I froze, my hands fisting in the fabric of a sweater. The truth? I didn’t know. Even now, I couldn’t find the answer. But I knew one thing for certain–if he had confessed back then, the betrayal would not cut so deep.
When Jocelyn’s poisonous words reached my ears earlier today, it had been like a sword hacking into me over and over again. That pain… that sense of betrayal… would scar me for life.
“Don’t leave me.” Silas’s voice cracked, scraping raw. He moved closer, his presence trembling with barely restrained panic. “Freya, I beg you. I hid it because I love you too much. Because I
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Chapter 288
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cared too much. I didn’t dare gamble. I couldn’t risk losing you if you knew I had once stood by while your brother bled. You’re too righteous, too uncompromising. Eric means the world to you. How could I chance it? If I told you then, you might have walked away before you’d even truly chosen me.”
He swallowed hard, his words tumbling, pleading. “So I told myself I’d wait. That I’d keep it buried until I found him, until I could hand him back to you with both hands. Only then would I confess. I thought… I thought that was the only way to keep you.”
I turned my face away, refusing to look at him. Because every time I looked at him, my heart screamed in agony.
“I’ve already decided,” I whispered, folding another garment and laying it into the suitcase.
He lunged forward and seized my wrist, his grip trembling. “But you promised me. You swore, Freya. You told me that no matter what I did—so long as it wasn’t crime or treason—you would forgive me.”
His words twisted the knife deeper.
I stared down at his hand on my wrist, his knuckles white with desperation, and I thought of the vow I had once made, back when I still believed in him. Back when I thought our love was unshakable.
Now, the vow lay shattered, scattered in the ashes of broken trust.
Chapter 289
Third Person’s POV
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Silas stared at her as if he were drowning, his hand clamped desperately around Freya’s wrist. His voice cracked, raw with desperation.
“You promised me, Freya. You said you’d forgive me–no matter what. You can’t take that back now. You can’t!”
Freya froze, startled by the sheer panic in his tone. Her lips curved into a bitter laugh, sharp and trembling, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears.
“Forgive you?” she echoed, almost choking on the word. “Of course. The great Alpha of the Ironclad Coalition, so cunning, always thinking ten steps ahead. And to think–I never realized you calculated even this. That’s why you pushed me into making that promise, isn’t it? Insurance for when your lies finally came crashing down?”
“I-” His lips pressed tight, pale and dry. Shame scalded his throat. He knew it was true. He knew he was despicable. But the thought of losing her ripped through him like a blade.
He shook his head, voice breaking. “Don’t go. Please.”
“Let me go, Silas.” Her tone was iron, her gaze fixed on his hand still clamped around her wrist.
“And if I refuse?” His voice was hoarse, trembling, but stubborn. His fingers tightened, wolf instincts clinging with primal possessiveness.
She didn’t argue further. She simply moved. Her free hand wrapped around his, prying, forcing. But he wouldn’t release her–his grip only grew stronger, the cords in his arm standing out, veins pulsing.
Her eyes hardened.
Crack!
Silas gasped, his face draining of color as the sound of bone splintering filled the room. His forefinger bent grotesquely, but he didn’t let go.
“If this is the price,” he panted through the pain, “then break them all, Freya. Ten fingers, every last one–if it means you’ll stay.”
Her stomach twisted with fury and grief. “Does this amuse you, Silas? Do you think this pathetic display can change anything?”
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“It’s meaningless,” he admitted, his breath ragged. “But I can’t release you.”
Her jaw clenched. “Then I’ll say it once more. Let go.”
He said nothing. His silence was answer enough.
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Another finger snapped, followed by another. The sound echoed like gunfire in the room, and with each break, it was as if something inside Freya’s chest splintered too. Pain ripped through her heart as though her own bones were being crushed.
Finally, his grip faltered. She tore her wrist free from his ruined hand.
But Silas only stared at her, his hand twisted and broken, his face pale with agony–and yet, his eyes never left hers. His voice was low, pleading. “Don’t leave me. You can do anything to me, Freya. Anything. Just… don’t walk away.”
“Anything?” Her laughter was brittle, hollow. “Can your pain bring back my brother, Silas? Can shattered bones erase your deception? Can your suffering undo your lies?”
Her gaze flicked to his mangled hand, her expression cold. She had never once imagined she would do this to him, never thought she could be this merciless. But he had forced her hand.
“If you don’t want this to get uglier, then stop standing in my way.”
Silas’s body went rigid. He didn’t move. Couldn’t. He could only watch, stricken, as she turned from him. Freya dragged out her luggage, filling the suitcase with the few possessions she still had in this apartment. Each item folded away was a piece of herself severed from him.
When she pulled the suitcase to the door, brushing past him without so much as a glance, he found his voice again.
“Freya!” His cry cracked like a whip, desperate and raw. “I was wrong. I know I was wrong. But please don’t abandon me. Don’t cut me out of your life.”
Her grip tightened around the suitcase handle. She drew in a sharp breath, her voice trembling but firm. “Silas, there is no ‘us‘ anymore. Between us–it’s over.”
She never got to finish.
A dull thud split the silence.
She spun around, eyes wide, only to see him collapse onto his knees, his body hitting the floor with brutal force.
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“You-” She faltered, stunned. She had never imagined him kneeling. The Ironclad Alpha, feared by enemies and respected by allies, reduced to this.
“You said you wanted me,” Silas rasped, his voice shaking. “Then want me still. Want me forever. Don’t walk away like this. I can’t take it. I was wrong, but only once. Is there truly no forgiveness for a single mistake?”
Freya’s breath hitched, her chest constricting painfully. Her hand tightened on the suitcase handle until her knuckles whitened.
“Some mistakes,” she whispered, “allow no second chances. You should have saved him, Silas. You should have saved Eric. I swore to you once that nothing–short of crime–could break my promise of forgiveness. But this…” Her voice fractured, her eyes burning. “This I can’t forgive.”
She turned her back on him, the finality of her decision cutting deeper than any blade.
The door slammed behind her, the echo reverberating through the apartment like a death knell.
For Silas, the world collapsed into shadow.
Just one mistake. Just once. And yet she had left him as though every moment they had shared had meant nothing.
Regret ripped him apart. Why hadn’t he saved Eric that night? Why hadn’t fate brought him to Freya sooner, years earlier, when he might have known her brother’s face, his scent, his bloodline? If only he had recognized him then. If only he had acted.
Then Freya might not hate him. Then she might still be here, in his arms, where she belonged.
But now she was gone.
He remained on his knees long after she left, his broken hand dangling uselessly at his side. Time passed unnoticed. The daylight outside dimmed into twilight, shadows stretching across the Ironclad Alpha’s home.
At last, he staggered to his feet, swaying, disoriented. His injured hand hung limp, three fingers grotesquely twisted, but he felt nothing. Not the pain, not the blood, not the throbbing in his bones. Only the hollow ache inside him.
His eyes scoured the apartment like a feral beast searching for prey. She had taken everything -every belonging, every trace of herself. As if she had never lived here at all.
No–there was something.
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He stopped before the nightstand in their bedroom. His chest heaved as he opened the drawer with trembling hands.
There it was. A small box, untouched.
He remembered–the gift she had once said she would give him for his birthday. She had taken everything else but left this behind.
His breath hitched, chest seizing as he stared at the box. It was not mercy. It was not love.
It was the cruelest wound she could have given him.
Because leaving the gift behind meant only one thing.
Freya was never coming back.
Chapter 290
Third Person’s POV
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Silas lifted his left hand, trembling as he pulled a small box from the nightstand drawer. His movements were hesitant, almost reverent, as though the box itself carried the weight of everything he had lost.
Slowly, he opened it.
Inside lay a prayer bead bracelet, carved from dark rosewood and strung with jade pieces that caught the dim light. Resting on top of it was a card–her handwriting unmistakable, strong yet delicate, the loops of her letters curling with warmth he could almost hear in her voice.
May you live each year in peace. May we walk side by side until we are old.
At the bottom, signed with the name that tore his heart in two–Freya Thorne.
Silas stared at it, dazed, the world tilting around him. Tears spilled silently down his face, falling onto the card and blurring the ink.
Peace.
Side by side until old age.
But without her, what meaning did those words hold? Without her, who would walk with him. into old age?
For all his foresight, for all the reputation he carried as the Ironclad Alpha who planned three steps
ahead in every negotiation, every battle, every deal–he had not foreseen this. Some things could not be calculated. Some sins could not be erased.
And some mistakes… could never be forgiven.
A voice, haunting and bitter, echoed through his mind–the voice of his father.
“Silas, you are my son. And like me, you will never know love returned. You will be denied, tormented, left to rot with regret. That is your fate.”
“No!” Silas’s whisper cracked, raw with defiance. His breath shook as he pressed the card to his chest, against his pounding heart, as though clutching her close. “I’m not you. I’ll never be you. I won’t lose her the way you lost everything.”
He rocked forward, the small card clutched tight as if it were her hand, her warmth, her
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heartbeat. In his mind’s eye he could see her still, luminous and furious, walking out the door without looking back.
His wolf howled inside him, clawing at his ribs, aching for the bond she had torn apart.
Meanwhile, across the city, Freya dragged her suitcase up a narrow flight of stairs to a modest apartment building. The door swung open, revealing Lana.
Lana’s eyes
widened. “Freya? Spirits above–what are you doing here with that suitcase?”
Freya’s voice was low, her expression calm, but her eyes betrayed exhaustion. “Can I stay with you for a few days? I’ll find another place soon.”
Lana stepped aside instantly. “You can stay here as long as you want. But… wait. Why are you leaving Silas’s place? Don’t tell me-”
“I’m not living with him anymore,” Freya said quietly.
Lana frowned, confused. “What happened? Did you two fight?”
Freya exhaled, steady but cold. “We broke up.”
Lana froze. Her mouth fell open. “What?”
Of all the things she expected, that was not it. Silas’s obsession with Freya had been obvious to anyone with eyes. The Ironclad Alpha didn’t bend, didn’t beg–but for Freya, he had done both.
“You–broke up? With him?”
“Yes,” Freya said. Her tone left no room for doubt.
“Wait, but… he agreed to it? Silas Whitmor just let you go?” Lana’s voice pitched in disbelief.
“There’s no agreement to be had,” Freya answered simply, her voice a blade of truth. “When one decides it’s over, it’s over.”
Lana’s chest tightened. She searched Freya’s face, saw the redness rimmed around her eyes despite her calm demeanor. She had known Freya too long to be fooled.
“I don’t understand,” Lana whispered. “You just bought him a gift not long ago. I thought—”
“Our values don’t align,” Freya cut her off. “So we end it.”
Lana bit her lip, studying her friend, knowing there was far more beneath the surface. But she
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didn’t press. Instead, she forced a smile and gestured toward the back rooms. “Fine. Then take your old room. I never really touched it since you left. You’ll need to clean it a little, but it’s yours. As for finding another house… don’t worry about that yet. Wait until after you’ve tracked down Eric. Once you bring your brother back from the borderlands, then think about settling somewhere else.”
Freya nodded. “Thank you. I’ll give you three thousand a month, as rent.”
“Don’t even start,” Lana scoffed, waving a hand. “You’re practically the crown jewel of my company right now–you’re making me more money than half my staff combined. Consider this the least I can do as your boss. Think of it as… employee housing.”
For the first time that night, the corner of Freya’s lips softened. “Thank you, Lana.”
She carried her suitcase into the familiar room, set it down, and closed the door.
The next morning, Freya drove to the military district. Within the reinforced halls of the Iron Fang Recon Unit headquarters, she handed over an encrypted drive containing a video–five years old, but priceless. Evidence of her brother Eric, proof that he had once been alive, that he had not simply vanished into the void of war.
“I want an official search request issued to the D–territories,” she told the officer on duty. Her voice didn’t waver, though her heart pounded. “He was my brother. He was part of us. Find him.”
The officer nodded grimly, promising to escalate the request.
Freya stepped back into the daylight, the cold air hitting her lungs like steel. She had already decided: if the military could not bring her brother home, she would cross into D–territory herself. She would find the truth.
As she left the district gates, her WolfComm buzzed.
The name flashing across the screen made her hesitate–Wren, Silas’s private secretary.
Her stomach turned. Against her better judgment, she answered.
“Miss Thorne,” Wren’s voice came quickly, tight with worry. “Could you… please come see the Alpha? His fingers were broken last night. He refuses to go to the medics, refuses any treatment. I’ve tried everything, but he won’t listen to me.”
Freya closed her eyes, her wolf stirring uneasily at the words. The image of Silas’s pale face, his bones snapping beneath her hand, rose unbidden.
She gripped the steering wheel tighter, the echo of his broken voice haunting her.