Ch. 331..335: A Warrior Luna's Awakening Chapter 331-335
Chapter 331
Third Person’s POV
Freya sat quietly for a long while before finally speaking.
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“It just happened when I was alone with Parker,” she said, her voice low. “I lost control of my
emotions for a moment.”
Kade frowned slightly. “Parker Williams… is that your brother Eric?”
“I don’t know,” Freya replied. “When I spoke to him earlier, I deliberately used a few gestures- subtle ones that only he and I would recognize–but he didn’t react.”
If her brother truly had some unavoidable reason, or was under surveillance and couldn’t speak freely, he would at least have responded to those signals.
But Parker hadn’t.
Not even a flicker of recognition.
“And when I asked him about the events from three years ago, he avoided the question,” she added.
“Then just get his DNA tested,” Kade suggested flatly.
“Blood, or a strand of hair with follicles–unless we drug him, it’s impossible to collect without him noticing,” Silas said calmly. “From what I’ve gathered, Parker rarely shows his strength, but he’s no easy opponent.”
Freya fell silent, her mind turning rapidly.
DNA testing was the most direct way.
But to extract a valid hair sample, she’d have to pluck three to five strands by the root using tweezers, making sure the samples weren’t contaminated.
And blood? That would be far too obvious.
As Silas said–unless Parker allowed it himself, or was rendered unconscious—it would be impossible.
Then suddenly, Freya looked up, eyes gleaming with a sudden idea.
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“There’s another way,” she said.
Kade blinked. “What way?”
“Strip him.”
Kade nearly choked. “What?”
Silas caught on immediately. “You mean to check his shoulder–for the scar.”
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Freya nodded firmly. “Yes. If he’s really my brother, even if he’s lost his memory, the scar will still be there.”
That scar… the one he’d received protecting her.
The one etched into her heart like a burn.
On the other side of the city, Parker sat on the couch in his hotel suite, his gaze lowered to the handkerchief in his hand.
It was the same one he had used to wipe Freya’s tears earlier.
There were faint traces of her scent and the salt of her sorrow clinging to the fabric.
His fingers brushed the tear–stained spot lightly.
For reasons he couldn’t explain, a strange heaviness settled in his chest.
“Parker,” Jenny said from across the room, her tone sharp, “that handkerchief’s filthy now–it touched that woman’s face. You should just throw it away.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Parker said quietly.
“What do you mean, not necessary?” Jenny frowned. “That woman–always throwing herself at men–she’s disgusting. I don’t know what Silas was thinking, letting someone like her be his girlfriend,”
Parker’s voice turned cold. “Jenny, I was the one who wiped her tears. And I told you before- she’s not that kind of woman.”
That woman’s eyes…
They weren’t the eyes of someone trying to flirt or attract him.
They looked at him with something far deeper.
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As if she were gazing at a long–lost family she’d yearned for all her life.
Pure. Pained. Familiar.
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It was as though she wasn’t looking at him, but through him–at someone who looked like him.
The thought triggered a sharp sting behind his temples.
He pressed a hand to his forehead, groaning softly.
“Parker, your head again?” Jenny asked, worried.
“Yeah,” he murmured.
“Then let’s go back to the hotel room. Take your medicine and rest. We’ll be returning to the Capital in a week anyway, and once we’re back, you can have Doctor Reid check on you again,” Jenny said briskly.
Parker nodded faintly.
Later, back in his suite, Jenny handed him two white tablets and a glass of water.
He swallowed them without a word.
“By the way,” he said suddenly, “Jenny… the accident three years ago—are you sure there’s nothing left? No records, no photos, no belongings?”
Jenny froze for a moment before replying, “If there were anything left, I’d have given it to you already. You lost everything in that fire. But it doesn’t matter–you’re Parker Williams now, my brother. And I’m your only sister.”
“Yes… my only sister,” he murmured.
But when he closed his eyes, it wasn’t Jenny’s face that lingered in his mind.
It was Freya’s tear–streaked and trembling.
Night fell.
Parker lay in bed, but his sleep was anything but peaceful.
Flames. Endless, roaring flames.
The heat licked his skin, blistering, suffocating.
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Chapter 331
He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move.
But he couldn’t die.
Not here. Not yet.
There was someone waiting for him.
Someone he had to protect.
He had to survive–no matter what it took.
A sudden, primal instinct jolted him awake.
His muscles tensed; his wolf stirred within him.
Someone was in the room.
The lights were still off.
It wasn’t Jenny–she would have called out.
So who-
Before he could finish the thought, Parker moved, instincts sharper than reason.
In one swift motion, he leapt from the bed and struck at the intruder.
The figure countered, blocking his attack.
“Parker–wait! It’s me, Freya Thorne!” a woman’s voice gasped in the darkness.
He froze, hand stopping mid–strike.
“Freya?” His tone was sharp, wary. “Miss Thorne?”
“Yes.” Her voice was steady now.
The next moment, the light snapped on.
Parker’s eyes narrowed as he took in her figure–standing there, breathless but unafraid.
“Miss Thorne,” he said, his voice low, dangerously calm, “breaking into my room in the middle of the night… don’t you think you owe me an explanation?”
Chapter 332
Freya’s POV
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When he asked me for an explanation, I could still see how pale his face was.
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“Of course,” I said softly, but the moment I looked closer, my voice faltered. “You… what’s wrong with your face? You’re completely white.”
His skin looked drained of life–ashen, almost translucent in the dim hotel light.
“Nothing,” Parker said evenly. “Just a nightmare, that’s all.” His eyes lifted to mine, calm but guarded. “Don’t you think you should tell me why you broke into my room in the middle of the night?”
I bit my lip, gathering my courage. From inside my jacket, I drew a small envelope and placed it in front of him.
“These are photographs,” I said. “Of my brother.”
He raised a brow, confusion flickering across his expression. “Your brother’s photographs? Why are you giving them to me?”
“Just look,” I said quietly.
He hesitated, then took the photos.
The moment his eyes fell on the first one, something changed in his face–a flicker of recognition, or maybe unease.
He went through them one by one, his fingers pausing now and then, his gaze sharpening with every image until he reached the last.
“So,” he finally said, “the man you told me about–the one I resemble–is your brother?”
“Yes,” I answered, my voice trembling slightly. “But to be precise…. I suspect you might be him. Parker, have you ever lost your memory?”
There had been too many people at the banquet earlier, too many ears and eyes. I couldn’t ask then.
That’s why I’d taken the risk–hacking into the hotel’s security system and sneaking into his suite myself.
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Parker regarded me coolly. “And if I say no?”
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The photos lay between us on the table. The man in them–Eric Thorne–was younger, maybe by three years, but the resemblance was uncanny. Same eyes. Same quiet intensity. Same way his mouth tightened when he was thinking.
My stomach clenched.
No memory loss? Then how could there be two people so alike?
He must’ve seen my doubt, because his tone grew firmer. “Miss Thorne, you’re from the Stormveil Pack, aren’t you? And I’m from the C–country. I don’t believe I’m your brother.”
I swallowed hard. “Then, Mr. Williams… would you let me see your shoulder? My brother once saved me during an attack. He took a blade meant for me–there’s a scar on his left shoulder. I just need to see if it’s there.”
“Scar?” he repeated, frowning slightly.
“Yes,” I said, pulling one of the photos from the pile. “Here–look. That mark on his shoulder. That’s what I’m talking about.”
He studied the picture, then shook his head. “Then you’ll be disappointed. I have no such scar.”
My heart sank, a cold weight pressing deeper and deeper in
my
chest.
But I couldn’t just accept that. Not yet.
“I’d still like to see it for myself,” I said, steadying my breath. “Just once. If you feel I’ve offended you, I’ll make it up to you in any way I can.”
“Compensation?” His lips curved, faintly mocking. “And what if my price is for you to kneel before Jenny and apologize? You made my sister rather upset today.”
The words hit me like ice water.
If he really were Eric–my brother–he would never say something like that.
But even so, I couldn’t stop hoping.
“Fine,” I said, exhaling sharply. “If that’s what it takes–if you let me see your shoulder, I’ll do it. I’ll apologize.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, wolfish and assessing. “Why go that far? I’ve told you already—I don’t have amnesia, and I don’t have the scar in your photo. Even then, you still need to see for
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yourself?”
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“Yes,” I said, my voice fierce with conviction. “I have to see. Even if it means humiliating myself, I need to know with my own eyes. If you’re not him, I’ll stop searching. I’ll let it go. But I need the truth.”
He went silent for a long moment. The air between us grew heavy. I could hear my own pulse drumming against my ribs.
Then he asked quietly, “Your brother means that much to you?”
“Yes.” The answer left my lips without hesitation. “He’s the most important person in my world. I would give my life for him.”
His
gaze
flickered–something raw, something uncertain.
He looked at me as if my words struck a chord deep inside him, a place even he didn’t know existed.
“You must have been close,” he murmured. “Your brother’s lucky–to have a sister who’d risk everything for him.”
He said it softly, but his voice carried a strange ache, as if he were speaking not just to me, but to something buried within himself.
Then, without another word, Parker’s hands moved to the buttons of his shirt.
One by one, they came undone.
The soft fabric of his sleepwear slipped off his shoulders, revealing the sculpted lines of his chest and the strength hidden beneath his calm demeanor.
And then–I saw it.
My breath caught.
Chapter 333
Freya’s POV
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What met my eyes were patches of uneven skin.
Burn scars.
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Not just on his shoulder–those marks extended across his chest, abdomen, even his waist, a silent testimony to pain I couldn’t imagine.
“How… how did you get all those burns?” I asked, my voice trembling before I could stop it. My fingers itched to reach out, to touch the roughened skin on his shoulder, as if that could confirm he was real.
But before my hand even brushed him, he pulled his shirt back on. His movements were sharp, precise–like someone used to hiding every weakness.
“You’ve seen it now,” Parker said evenly. “My shoulder bears burn scars. Not the kind of wound you showed me in that photograph.”
Burn scars… My heart twisted.
Could it be… from that fire five years ago?
No. That couldn’t be right. In the footage Jocelyn had shown me, my brother’s shoulder had still carried that mar.
Then who was this man standing before me?
“When did this happen?” I asked quietly.
“Three years ago,” he replied. “A fire. That’s all.” His tone was calm, detached. “Now, Miss Thorne, I’ve answered your questions. I’m not the man you’re looking for. May I go now?”
My throat tightened. “Could we… do a DNA test?”
He fastened the last button of his shirt with cold precision. “After all that, you still believe I might be your brother?”
“I just…” I swallowed hard. “If I’m going to give up, I want to do it completely. No doubts left.”
Because the truth was–something about him felt like my brother.
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Everything but the way he looked at me.
My brother would never look at me like that–cold, distant, unreadable.
He met my gaze with eyes as hard as ice. “And why should I agree to that? Just because of your wild speculation? Miss Thorne, I’ve made myself clear—I’m not your brother.”
For a heartbeat, the air between us froze.
My chest ached, as if my heart had fallen into a frozen lake.
He wasn’t my brother.
He said it plainly.
But why did I still refuse to believe him?
Because if I stopped hoping now… I might never find my brother again.
After leaving Parker’s place, I returned to my hotel room.
The silence of the hallway pressed against me like fog.
No matter how many times I replayed our conversation, I couldn’t let it go.
Even if he claimed he hadn’t lost his memory–those scars could have easily hidden an older wound beneath.
I needed proof.
A DNA test.
Only then could I be sure–whether Parker Williams truly wasn’t my brother Eric.
He had refused me today, but that didn’t matter.
There were other ways to get what I needed.
I was deep in thought when I reached my room.
Then I froze.
Someone was leaning against my door.
Silas.
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He stood there with his arms crossed, head bowed slightly, eyes closed–as if asleep.
Had he really fallen asleep outside my room?
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I hesitated before stepping closer. The Alpha of the Ironclad Coalition–resting against my door? The thought alone made my pulse jump.
His tall frame leaned lazily against the wall. Because of his lowered head, a few strands of dark hair fell across his forehead, making the sharp lines of his face even more striking.
The hallway light spilled softly over him. His lashes were long, brushing faint shadows over his cheekbones. He looked almost peaceful… if not for the faint darkness under his eyes.
I frowned slightly. Was that bruising? No, it didn’t look like he’d been hit.
No one would dare strike Silas Whitmor.
Then it must be lack of sleep.
Without thinking, I reached up and lightly touched beneath his eye. The skin there was warm, not tender.
But before I could pull away, his lashes fluttered.
I froze.
A moment later, his hand came up, wrapping around my wrist–firm, unhurried, unmistakably awake.
His eyes opened slowly, those mesmerizing silver–gray irises meeting mine.
“Freya,” he murmured, my name leaving his lips like a sigh.
“You’re… awake,” I said awkwardly, trying to pull my hand free.
But instead of letting go, he guided my hand, tracing it along the same path I’d just touched on his face. His skin was warm beneath my fingertips.
“I wasn’t asleep,” he said softly.
Heat shot up my neck. Moon above–he’d been awake the entire time?
“So you were just standing here in the middle of the night?” I demanded, trying to sound composed.
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He smiled faintly, though exhaustion dulled the edge of it. “Couldn’t sleep. I thought if I stayed close to you… maybe I could.”
My heart skipped. “What do you mean by that?”
“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “Maybe I just needed to feel your presence.”
He looked genuinely tired. The Alpha who usually commanded every room now seemed… human.
“I
I took a slow breath. “I went to see Parker Williams,” I said finally. “Now–let go of my hand, and let’s talk inside.”
Silas hesitated, then reluctantly released me.
I swiped the WolfComm card through the scanner, the door unlocking with a soft click.
Stepping inside first, I flicked on the lights.
He followed close behind, silent as a shadow.
As the door shut behind us, I caught the faint scent of him–cedarwood and cold iron. Familiar, grounding, and dangerously comforting.
Chapter 334
Freya’s POV
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“Can you find out anything about Parker Williams’s background from three years ago?” I asked directly.
Silas leaned back against the table, his expression shadowed. “We’re digging. But it’s not easy. He’s the illegitimate son of the Williams family. Even in the last few years, he’s kept an extremely low profile. And as for his past from three years ago—it’s like someone deliberately erased it. It’ll take time.”
I nodded slowly, my jaw tightening. “I went to his place tonight. Showed him a picture of my brother…”
I began to recount everything–the way I’d slipped into Parker’s apartment, the cold way he’d spoken, the scars, the denial.
When I finished, Silas’s brow was furrowed deep. “You went there alone?” His voice was low, edged with anger. “What if something had happened to you?”
“Going alone made it easier to get in without being noticed,” I said calmly. “If I brought anyone else, the risk of being caught would’ve doubled. I came back safe, didn’t I?”
“And what if you hadn’t?” he snapped, his tone sharper now.
“I had a contingency,” I said simply. “I sent a timed message to Kade. If I didn’t return by three a.m., the message would’ve gone straight to his WolfComm. He’d know what to do.”
Silas’s
eyes darkened, the muscles in his jaw twitching. “So you did plan ahead.”
“Of course I did.”
Still, I could feel the Alpha energy simmering beneath his calm exterior, barely leashed.
“Even if Parker insists he’s not my brother,” I went on, “I still want to run a DNA test. But when I asked, he refused. Getting a sample from him now… won’t be easy.”
Silas’s
gaze lingered on me. “If I… let’s say, happened to knock him out cold, would you be able to handle the rest?”
I paused, half turning to face him. “You mean… take a sample while he’s unconscious?”
He gave a small shrug, utterly serious. “Or get him drunk. Either way, it’s cleaner than letting
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you sneak into danger again.”
I slipped off my jacket and draped it over a chair. “If we were in the Capital, this wouldn’t be an issue. I could just file a report with the Iron Fang Recon Unit, and the military would compel the test. But we’re not home.”
The room fell quiet for a moment.
Then I frowned. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”
Silas’s voice came suddenly, lower than before. “Why Kade?”
1 blinked. “What?”
“Why was your backup Kade Blackridge?” He stepped closer, shadows swallowing the space between us. “Why him–and not me?”
I stared up at him, momentarily speechless.
“You know damn well I have more ways to protect you here,” he said, his tone rough with restrained frustration. “If anything had happened, I could’ve gotten to you faster than anyone. But you didn’t even think to tell me?” His eyes–those silver eyes–were sharp, accusing, and something else… something wounded.
I exhaled. “Kade and I were partners in the Iron Fang Recon Unit. We’ve been through missions together. There’s a certain rhythm–a trust we don’t need to speak aloud. That’s all it
was.”
“And you think you and I couldn’t have that same trust?” Silas shot back. “You never gave us a chance to find out.”
I met his gaze evenly. “You’ve already done more than enough, Silas. I can’t ask for more.”
He gave a hollow laugh. “You think helping you is a burden?”
1 I looked away. “No. But I know that helping me… isn’t just about me for you.”
He went still.
“I’m not blind,” I said quietly. “You still have feelings for me. And maybe I’m using that—to get what I need. To find Eric.” I swallowed. “That’s not fair to you. I know that. And I’m sorry.”
Silas’s voice softened, but it still carried the Alpha’s edge. “You don’t owe me an apology. Whether you call it using or borrowing my strength–it doesn’t matter. I told you before. I’m doing this because I want to.”
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I lifted my eyes to his. “And if I never come back to you?”
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The words hit harder than I meant them to. “If I can’t return your feelings, Silas… if that part of us really is over?”
“Don’t,” he cut me off, his tone suddenly sharp. “Don’t finish that sentence.”
“Silas-”
He turned away, jaw clenched, the muscles in his forearm flexing where his hand gripped the table edge.
I sighed softly. “I’m sorry. Truly. If you ever need something from me–anything–I’ll do it. I’ll repay what you’ve done for me.”
“Repay?” he repeated, his eyes snapping back to mine. He took a step closer, his presence filling the air, heavy with Alpha dominance. “Then tell me, Freya–if I said I can’t sleep, that my nights are endless and restless, how would you repay that?”
I frowned. “If you’re losing sleep, you should see a healer.”
A faint smirk curved his lips. “Who says I haven’t?”
My gaze flicked to the faint shadows under his eyes, that dark exhaustion I’d noticed before. So it was insomnia.
“Or is your promise of repayment just words?” he said, his tone low, dangerous in the way only he could make it. “If it is, Freya, don’t say it again. Don’t give me hope you’ll only take away.”
The quiet between us stretched until it felt almost unbearable.
Finally, I said, “If being near me really helps you sleep… then while we’re abroad, you can stay here. You can sleep in my room.”
His brows shot up. “You’re serious?”
“Yes” I met his gaze without flinching. “If that’s what you want as repayment, I’ll do it.”
Chapter 335
Silas’s POV
“Starting tonight… is that okay?” I asked, my voice lower than usual, barely above a whisper.
Freya’s eyes lifted, questioning. “Tonight?”
I nodded. “I haven’t had a proper night’s sleep in days.” I bent slightly forward, letting my head rest lightly on her shoulder. My voice was hoarse, weighted with exhaustion. “Freya… I won’t do anything. I just… want to sleep properly for once.”
She hesitated for a heartbeat, then nodded. “Alright. Tonight, then. You can sleep here. But I don’t have your sleepwear–so you’ll have to prepare your own.”
I gave a faint smirk and reached for my phone. With a quick call, I summoned Wren. Within fifteen minutes, he arrived with a suitcase in hand.
“This is some of Master Whitmor’s essentials and clothing,” Wren said, placing the bag down neatly.
As Freya saw him out, Wren handed her a small bottle. “This is Master Whitmor’s medication. If he still cannot sleep here, let him take it—but no more than five pills at a time. Make sure he doesn’t exceed the dosage.”
I caught her gaze lingering on the bottle. “Does he… often take more?”
Wren’s expression tightened. “On nights when insomnia agitates him, he sometimes overindulges. Hence, this precaution.”
I remained silent, only letting a small sigh escape. I’d almost forgotten just how restless I’d become these past few weeks–my nights riddled with shadows and unease, my body craving relief but my mind refusing rest.
After Wren left, Freya carried the bottle back to the bedroom. I had just finished my shower, the warm water lingering on my skin, the sensation of clean, damp hair brushing against my neck. Slipping into my sleepwear, I felt the old familiar pull of routine–a memory I hadn’t realized I’d missed so much. The way Freya would watch, quiet and observant, as I readied for bed. How our shared silence used to fill the room with unspoken comfort.
My eyes flicked to the bottle in her hand. She said. “Wren was worried you still couldn’t sleep here. Thought you might need it, just in case.” She rotated the bottle in her hands, reading the label carefully. I noticed her furrowed brows–the subtle tension of someone who cares.
:
She looked up at me then, concern etched deep in her features. “When did you start taking these?”
I hesitated, then answered, “The third day after you
left.”
The weight of that hung between us. Half a month. That was how long I had been surviving nights without her, relying on chemicals instead of presence, while every hour stretched endlessly.
Freya set the bottle down gently on the nightstand. “This medicine… it can damage your liver, your kidneys if overused. You can’t take it recklessly.”
I let out a tired, humorless laugh. “If my body fails me, do you… mind?” I whispered, almost ashamed.
Her gaze held mine, steady, unflinching. “I do care. Even if we aren’t together… I want you to stay safe.” Her words cut deeper than a thousand apologies, and yet, they warmed something raw in my chest.
She placed the bottle aside and spoke again, softer this time, almost like a confession. “Silas… back when I found out you hid the video of my brother… I was angry. I wondered why you never told me, why you kept it from me, even why you didn’t save him. But… you’ve also helped me so much. These last few days, your assistance hasn’t gone unnoticed.”
Her voice trembled slightly, carrying the weight of both gratitude and unspoken regret.
I exhaled slowly, closing my eyes for a moment. She was right. I had helped her–yes–but’the truth was, in doing so, I was also protecting my own heart. I wanted her safe. I wanted her brother found. I wanted to keep her in the world, not just for duty, but because a part of me had never truly let her go.
“You’ve done enough for me already,” I said quietly. “But if my insomnia is a problem… I’ll need you closer than ever.”
Freya’s lips parted slightly, a breathless hesitation in her eyes. “If being near me can really help… then while we’re here, you can stay in my room. Sleep here.”
I blinked, a flicker of disbelief mingling with relief. “You mean it?”
She met my gaze evenly. “Yes. If this is what you need… it’s what I’ll do.”
I stepped closer, feeling the subtle heat of her presence wrap around me like a shield. The tension of sleepless nights–the nights where the dark clawed at my mind, when the shadows felt alive, pressing against my skull–began to ease.
I lifted my hand to the wooden–jasper bracelet she had given me. My thumb brushed the smooth surface, kissing the wood lightly. Every time I struggled to find sleep, this token became my anchor. Imagining it as a surrogate for her hand, imagining her presence beside me… it allowed me a fraction of peace.