Ch. 31..35: A Warrior Luna's Awakening Chapter 31-35

Chapter 31

Freya’s POV

I’d been meaning to return the clothes Silas Whitmor had given me that day at the mall–the ones he’d used to replace my blood–soaked garments.

My plan was simple: go to the Whitmore estate, hand them over to one of the pack’s house staff, and leave without crossing paths with him. Clean. Simple. No unnecessary contact.

But fate, as always, had other ideas.

The Whitmore butler himself came to the door, his expression polite but unreadable. “Alpha Whitmor is not in the Capital at the moment. However, he instructed me that if Miss Thorne truly wishes to return the garments, she should hand them back to him personally.”

My brows pulled together. “And when will he be back?”

“Two days, perhaps more,” the butler said.

That was that.

Leaving the Whitmore gates behind, I made my way to SkyVex Armaments.

Lana was the first to spot me, her sharp eyes dropping to the sleek garment bag in my hand. “Oh, that piece? That’s not just high–end–that’s a VIP–exclusive release. Practically impossible to get your paws on. Since when do you go for that sort of thing? You’ve always preferred clean cuts, no frills, nothing that gets in the way if you need to move fast.”

She knew me well. My wardrobe was built for practicality, not preening.

“It’s not mine,” I said flatly. “It belongs to Silas Whitmor. I meant to return it, but he insists I give it back in person.”

I told her about my trip to the Whitmore

est and the deliberate roadblock the Alpha had put in place.

Lana’s mouth curved, her eyes glinting with mischief. “You think maybe Alpha Whitmor’s interested in you? Why else would he insist on a face–to–face? Sounds like he wants an excuse to see you again.”

I shot her a look sharp enough to cut hide. “And you think catching the eye of Silas Whitmor is some kind of blessing?”

The glint in her gaze flickered, and she shivered. We both knew the stories–how the Ironclad Coalition’s Alpha could be as cold as the steel his pack forged, how his wrath was the kind that maimed, the kind that left scars no healer could mend.

“Fine,” she muttered, shaking off the thought. “Still, three nights from now, there’s a gathering. Big names. Silas will be there, and I’ve got an invite. Why don’t..

you come with me and give it back then? That way, you can cut the tie clean.”

I thought about it for only a moment before nodding. “All the better. The sooner I hand this back, the sooner I’m free of any…

connection.”

The wolf in me was restless, sending warning shivers down my spine. Every instinct said the same: don’t linger near that man. Don’t give him a reason to look twice.

Three days later, the night of the gathering arrived.

Lana, of course, had other ideas about my presentation. She insisted I change into a deep sapphire gown, the kind that clung in places I usually preferred to hide.

“I’m just returning clothes, not hunting for a mate,” I protested.

And you don’t even know how dangerous you look like this,” she shot back, tugging at my hair until the long waves spilled over my shoulders. “Caelum Grafton must be the blindest Alpha in the Silverfang Pack–ignoring a wife like you for Aurora of the Bluemoon Pack.”

Her words shouldn’t have stung, but they did. Still, she wasn’t wrong. The gown set off my pale skin; the cut sharpened my shoulders while the silk softened my lines. The contradiction–Alpha’s steel and she–wolf’s grace–was dangerous even to my

own eyes.

1/2

Lana gave a low whistle. “Moon’s mercy, if you were a man, I’d mate–mark you right now.”

I laughed despite myself. “Enough. Let’s go before I change my mind.”

We arrived at the hotel where the gathering was being held. The moment I stepped out of the car, my breath caught.

Across the drive, another sleek black vehicle had just pulled up.

From it stepped Caelum Grafton–and Aurora.

Both of them carried invitations in hand. Clearly, they were here for the same event.

Caelum’s gaze found me almost instantly. I saw the flicker in his eyes–just a heartbeat’s worth of stillness, like a wolf catching a scent it couldn’t ignore. For a moment, he looked almost… uncertain, as if the sight of me in silk and moonlight blurred something he thought he knew.

Chapter 32

Third Person’s POV

Caelum Grafton had never known his mate could look like this.

That flash of raw, unguarded awe in his eyes was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, but Aurora–standing beside him- caught it as well. Her lips curved in the faintest shadow of a snarl. “Caelum.”

The Alpha of the Silverfang Pack blinked, as if shaking off a trance, then stalked toward Freya Thorne. “You followed me here? What is it

3 Ou think you’re doing?”

a look

Freya gave of flat disbelief. “Caelum, I have no interest in following you.”

“Then why are you here?” His voice dripped with suspicion, as if the only reason she could possibly attend an event like this was to shame him for arriving with Aurora.

“Freya’s an executive with SkyVex Armaments,” Lana Rook cut in, her tone laced with contempt. “She’s my guest tonight. Don’t flatter yourself–do you think every she–wolf in the Capital runs on your scent trail?”

His expression tightened. His gaze flicked back to Freya, cold and warning. “If you’re only here for the gathering, fine. But if you stir up trouble, Freya… don’t think I won’t act.”

The tension rolling off him was sharp enough to taste–whatever deals he hoped to strike tonight, they were important enough for him to stake his temper on them. He turned away with Aurora, heading for the entrance.

That was when Freya’s phone rang. Eleanor.

The older she–wolf’s voice was sharp and commanding over the line. “You will come to the Royal Court Hotel, Room 1205. We’ll discuss the severance terms. If you don’t come, you can forget about the hundred million.”

Freya’s eyes lifted to the gilt letters over the main doors. Royal Court Hotel. How convenient.

“What is it?” Lana asked.

“Eleanor wants to talk about the divorce settlement,” Freya said evenly. “Same hotel. You go ahead to the banquet hall. I’ll join you after.”

Lana frowned. “That she–wolf’s not a friend to you, Freya. Meeting her in a hotel room? Watch yourself.”

“I know,” Freya murmured. Her phone pinged again–Eleanor’s message, instructing her to collect a room key from the front desk. How thoughtful.

Inside the banquet hall, Aurora was already smiling when she noticed Lana arrive alone. She didn’t have to move her lips for Freya to know what she was thinking. Eleanor and Giselle must have pulled Freya away just as planned.

In Aurora’s mind, if Freya wanted the hundred million, she’d have to prove she could take it. More likely, she expected Freya to walk out of this night in ruins–moneyless, honor shredded–forcing even a reluctant Caelum to sever the bond.

Up on the twelfth floor, Eleanor and Giselle waited in the shadows.

“Why isn’t she here yet? It’s been half an hour,” Giselle hissed, restless.

“She’ll come,” Eleanor said, certain as stone. “A she–wolf like her? She smells coin, she’ll follow the trail.”

Freya appeared at the end of the hall, and both their faces brightened. Giselle’s expression soured again when her gaze slid over the other she–wolf’s gown.

Elegant. Cold–edged. The kind of beauty that belonged in a highborn’s court–not in their trap.

Hmph. Giselle thought the fall would taste sweeter if the climb was high.

She watched with anticipation as Freya used the keycard, pushing into the room.

The door clicked shut behind her.

1/2

The scent flame.

t first–sweet, cloying, wrong. Freya’s muscles turned sluggish, her wolf’s strength folding inward like a snuffed

When Eleanor and Giselle finally swept in, she was half–collapsed against the bedframe, her limbs heavy with whatever they’d pumped into the air. Two enforcers loomed nearby, the kind of brick–shouldered males who thrived on orders from petty alphas.

“She walked right in,” one of them reported with a grin. “Didn’t even have time to fight it before the smoke took hold.”

Gisellestepped Giselle stepped close, looking down at Freya as if she’d already won the kill. “What, you thought you’d walk away from Caelum with a hundred million? Keep dreaming, Freya.”

Freya drew in a slow, ragged breath, fixing them both with a stare cold enough to freeze marrow. “This… is your idea of negotiation?”

Eleanor’s lip curled, showing a hint of tooth. “That money is my son’s. Every coin earned by his hands. You won’t take a singl piece.”

Chapter 33

Third Person’s POV

Freya could only feel the bitter sting of irony.

Three years as Caelum’s mate–three years of giving everything she had for him and his kin–yet they saw none of it.

Foolish, that she had once believed they were family. Foolish, that she had poured herself out for them without keeping anything back.

“Alright,” Giselle sneered, her voice dripping with malice. “You can do whatever you want with this she–wolf. The worse, the better.”

The two brick–shouldered males exchanged lascivious grins and stepped toward her.

Freya’s eyes locked on Eleanor and Giselle. “Have you even thought about Caelum? No matter what else, I am still his mate. He will not allow this.”

Even as she spoke, her right hand–hidden beneath the fall of her gown–clutched her phone.

The screen was facedown, her fingertips gliding across it in quick, precise taps.

She didn’t need to look; muscle memory, forged in the Iron Fang Recon Unit, let her hit every command without hesitation.

Caelum was here in the Royal Court Hotel. If he answered, he could be here in moments–enough to stop this before it began.

3

“My brother already has Aurora,” Giselle laughed, derision curling her lips. “Do you think he cares? Even if he knew, he wouldn’t lift a claw for you.”

Freya’s lips pressed into a thin line. The call had gone through, the phone volume turned so low only her ears could catch the Freya’s lips pressed into a thin line. The call had gone thre faintest hum.

Downstairs in the banquet hall, Caelum glanced at his phone. Freya’s name lit the screen.

Before he could answer, Aurora’s voice chimed in sweetly, “It’s from Freya? If she’s upset that I’m here with you tonight, perhaps I should leave and let her attend instead.”

“Don’t bother with her, Caelum replied, dismissing it with a flick of his thumb as he cut the call. To him, her calls only ever brought complaints and needless entanglement. He had more important business tonight. They could talk later–after the banquet.

A stir rippled through the hall. Aurora’s gaze sharpened toward the entrance. “Silas Whitmor is here. We should greet him.”

Caelum looked up as the Alpha of the Ironclad Coalition entered. Silas’s aristocratic bearing was cold enough to frost steel; the sharp planes of his face and the command in his black eyes made him seem born above the rest of the room.

That was the kind of wolf who ruled from the heights.

Caelum almost laughed at himself for ever thinking such a male could truly be interested in Freya. Silas must have only been acting out of courtesy when he had returned her to the Grafton estate. The two of them were from utterly different worlds.

Back in Room 1205, the moment Caelum severed the call, the weight in Freya’s chest sank like stone.

Cold. So cold.

She had given him chances–more than once. Each one had only left her more frozen inside.

Her gaze lifted to Eleanor and Giselle. “We were family for three years. If this ends now, I will let it go.”

Giselle’s laugh was sharp as broken glass. “You think you can let it go? Even if I agreed, these two won’t. I picked them for you–strong, eager–because we’re ‘family.“”

Freya lowered her lashes, her fingers moving over her hidden phone again. None of them noticed the tiny camera fixed in the far corner, its red light the size of a pinprick.

She had placed it the moment she entered and caught the sickly–sweet scent of knockout fumes, masking her breath as she set the device in place.

They thought this was about a hundred million.

She would make it about exposure.

Her phone slid into the Royal Court Hotel’s network like a wolf slipping through an unguarded fence. If Caelum was downstairs at the banquet, then he–and every wolf there–would see his family’s true faces.

In the grand hall below, Caelum and Aurora stood before Silas Whitmor.

“Lord Whitmor, an honor,” Caelum began. “At the Runestone Grounds last time, I didn’t get the chance to properly—”

A voice from the crowd interrupted. “What’s going on with the screen?”

Then a second voice rang out, unmistakable to Caelum–his mother’s, sharp and venomous:

“Hurry up. I want her gone with nothing. Not a single coin.”

Caelum froze.

Caelum

He turned toward the great display at the front of the hall. Where moments ago it had shown the banquet’s welcome crest, it now streamed a live feed–his mother, his sister, Freya, and two unfamiliar males in a hotel room.

Freya was slumped against the bedframe, the two males closing in with predatory intent.

Chapter 34

Third Person’s POV

On the banquet hall’s towering screen, Caelum Grafton’s mother stood, her face twisted with venom as she spat her words.

For a heartbeat, the Alpha of the Silverfang Pack could only stare, mind blank. His wolf prowled uneasily beneath his skin, hackles lifting.

Beside him, Aurora went pale.

What in the Moon’s name…? She knew Eleanor and Giselle had plotted against Freya Thorne, but why was this playing on the banquet’s main display for the entire room to see? And who had orchestrated it?

While Aurora’s mind raced, the image shifted. Onscreen, Freya was breathing hard, her voice edged with steel.

“You do this, and you’re not afraid of facing the law?”

“Law?” Giselle’s laughter was a cold slash in the air. “Who’s watching? You used your own keycard to enter this room. The booking was under your name. By the time the story spreads, everyone will believe you invited these two males yourself–for

little heat.”

a

Caelum’s eyes widened, shock crashing through him. His sister–sweet–faced, soft–voiced in his memory–was grinning as she spewed poison.

Impossible. My sister would never…

“Your whole cursed pack is rotten!” Lana Rook’s voice cut through the murmurs. She was suddenly in front of him, fists tangled in the collar of his formal jacket, her eyes bloodshot with fury. “Where did your mother and sister take Freya? If those two so much as lay a paw on her, I’ll see every one of them pay in blood!”

“What? They’re here?

“Eleanor called on this hotel?” Caelum’s pulse spiked.

“Eleanor called her to meet here,” Lana snarled, her voice thick with self–reproach. “I told her to be careful–I should never have let her come alone. If something happens to her-

“Find out which room,” Lana barked to a nearby hotel staffer when Caelum hesitated.

“Y–yes, Beta,” the staffer stammered, already relaying orders through a comm–link to the rest of the security team.

Caelum’s jaw worked, grasping for some thread of reason. “This… it might be a misunderstanding. There could be-”

The next sound silenced him–a fresh, venomous laugh from Giselle, pouring from the screen’s speakers into every corner

of the hall.

“Oh, and I’ll be taking plenty of pictures. If you dare call the enforcers, your… private moments will be all over the pack–net for every unmated male to enjoy.”

Fr.

H

“Misunderstanding?!” Lana’s voice was pure fire. “Caelum Grafton, Freya’s curse was binding herself to you and your cursed

bloodline!”

Heat flooded Caelum’s face. For the first time in years, words failed him.

Onscreen, Freya’s voice came again, steady despite the danger.

“You think Caelum will forgive you for this?”

Giselle’s laugh was like claws down glass, “Forgive me? He’ll thank me. Once you’re caught rutting with these males, he’ll have every right to sever the bond. Then he can claim Aurora openly. He’s always loved her, after all. You? You’re just dead weight

a useless, broken mate ready to be discarded.”

The crowd in the hall shifted, murmurs rising. Many knew Caelum and Aurora–one, a rising Alpha tech magnate; the other, the newly appointed Airborne Wing pilot. To the outside world, they had looked like a perfect pairing. But now-

“Caelum’s already mated?”

1/2

“He’s hiding a wife just to court Aurora?”

“Didn’t he start with nothing? She probably bankrolled him–what’s the phrase–‘hidden mate‘?”

“So Aurora’s the other woman?”

The whispers were sharp as fangs, and they tore through the hall. Aurora’s complexion blanched, then hardened. “This is some twisted joke. Staff! Shut down that screen now!”

Caelum was already calling his mother, his sister. No answer. His chest tightened with each failed attempt.

“Still no room number?” His voice snapped like a whip at the staff.

“Still… still tracing, Alpha!”

Caelum’s eyes locked on the screen. His wolf strained against his skin, desperate to break free. If Freya was touched–if they laid so much as a finger on her–he didn’t know if he’d stop at just tearing the males apart.

Onscreen, Eleanor watched coldly, arms folded, while Giselle giggled, raising her phone to frame the scene.

The two brute males gripped Freya’s arms, dragging her toward the bed.

In the room, Freya lifted her chin, her gaze like frost as it speared Eleanor and Giselle. “Do you not regret this?”

“I regret not doing it sooner. My son should have been rid of you long ago,” Eleanor spat, lips curling.

“Take your time with her,” Giselle told the males, her voice honeyed with malice. “I want plenty of detail shots. Wouldn’t want anyone to mistake who she is when the footage goes out.”

Chapter 35

Third Person’s POV

The filth spilling from Giselle’s lips only darkened Caelum Grafton’s expression. His wolf was already pacing inside him, claws raking against his skin.

“Fine,” Freya Thorne’s voice was low, edged with ice, “If you feel no regret, then I won’t either.”

Giselle sneered, fangs glinting faintly under the hotel room’s light. “No regret? And what exactly will you do about it?” She turned to the two brute males by the wall. “Well? Strip her.”

In the banquet hall, several guests averted their eyes, unwilling to watch the inevitable humiliation.

But before the hands could touch her, one of the hulking males crumpled to the ground with a strangled grunt. Most watching–even through the feed on the massive banquet screen–couldn’t track how she’d moved.

The hall froze. In the hotel room, Eleanor and Giselle froze with it.

“She’s under the haze–spell,” Giselle barked, though her voice wavered. “She’s no strength left–pin her down!”

The second male lunged, the first dragging himself upright, fury twisting his face. “You made me look like a fool, bitch. Wait until I show you what happens when you cross me.”

They came at her together.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The sound of flesh meeting flesh, each strike clean and decisive–no wasted movement, no ornamental flourish. Only lethal efficiency.

But the gown changed the rhythm–deep blue silk spinning with every twist, the slit sweeping like a crescent blade. The fight was less a brawl than a feral dance, the kind born from years of killing with grace.

Within moments, both males were sprawled on the floor, groaning. Freya stood over them, long dark hair in wild disarray, her amber eyes–usually warm–now honed to a predator’s edge. In that instant, she was a drawn blade, gleaming and dangerous.

In the banquet hall, jaws slackened. Even Caelum was struck silent. Shock. Confusion. Awe.

He had known she’d served in the Iron Fang Recon Unit. But he assumed she was just a logistics Omega. He’d assumed it meant drills and staged demonstrations–nothing more than a soldier’s veneer. But she had just taken down two fully grown, combat–trained males/without a breath out of place.

Across the hall, Silas Whitmor’s lips curved faintly. Of course. The woman was interesting. The fact that the feed was linked to the banquet’s screens? That had Freya’s scent all over it.

Clever. Unorthodox. Dangerous.

If she couldn’t handle this kind of threat, she wouldn’t be worthy of having once led the Iron Fang.

Wren, his ever–watchful secretary, caught the smile and knew exactly what it meant–Whitmor’s interest in the Silverfang Alpha’s hidden mate had just sharpened.

*Room 1205!” a hotel staffer finally called. “They’re in 1205!”

Caelum didn’t wait. He was already gone, a blur of dark suit and Alpha speed. Lana Rook was on his heels, her wolf close to breaking free.

Aurora’s

gaze flicked up to the screen, her eyes hardening as Freya’s image shifted. Things had gone too far. She’d thought the other woman would be ruined beyond recovery. Instead, Freya had not only escaped the trap–she’d turned it against them. And now, with Caelum’s hidden marriage exposed, Aurora stood in the crowd as the obvious interloper.

Her teeth clenched with the taste of humiliation.

In the hotel room, Giselle’s voice cracked. “You… you weren’t under the haze–spell?”

1/2

Freya’s eyes were cold. “What you should be worrying about isn’t that–it’s the fact that everything in this room has been transmitted straight to the banquet’s main display.”

Eleanor’s and Giselle’s faces drained of color.

“Everyone there heard it. Saw it,” Freya went on. “Your little plan, your every word. I was half an hour late for a reason.”

They stared at her in dawning horror.

“Oh, and Caelum is attending the banquet tonight,” she added.

Giselle’s breath stuttered. If it was true, then every poison–laced sentence, every humiliating threat, had just been laid bare before the Capital’s most influential wolves. She could already imagine their whispers, the judgment in their eyes. In the upper circles, her name would be ash.

“You… you’re bluffing,” Giselle choked.

Freya’s smile did

reach her eyes. “You can ask your brother when he gets here.” She could almost hear the pounding of his footsteps by now–an Alpha’s run, closing in fast.