Ch. 351..355: A Warrior Luna's Awakening Chapter 351-355
Chapter 351
Third Person’s POV
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By the time Lana realized Freya had gone missing, night had already fallen over the Capital.
She had been waiting at the apartment for hours, pacing restlessly across the living room floor. Freya’s things were still where she’d left them–the half–folded jacket, the datapad glowing faintly on the table–but there was no trace of her scent. No message. No call.
Lana dialed her WolfComm again. No answer.
Her chest tightened. Something was wrong.
Without hesitation, she pulled up Kade’s number. When he picked up, his voice was clipped with fatigue.
“Lana? What happened?”
“Do you know where Freya is?” Lana asked, trying to keep her voice steady. “She hasn’t come back. I can’t reach her.”
Silence stretched on the other end, the faint hum of his pack’s radio static filling the gap.
Then Kade said, low and grim, “I’ll find her.”
“Good,” Lana breathed out. “Please do.”
If anyone could track Freya down, it was Kade. His instincts were razor–sharp, his training from the Iron Fang Recon Unit unmatched.
An hour later, Lana arrived at the Capital Police Department. Kade was already there—lean, broad–shouldered, jaw set with the kind of cold fury only an Alpha–born could carry. Standing beside him was Victor.
Lana rushed over. “You said on the phone–Freya was taken by Silas Whitmor? What do you mean?”
Kade’s lips pressed into a tight line, his amber eyes dark with frustration. Before he could answer, one of the officers stepped forward.
“Miss Rook, we’ve reviewed the city surveillance feeds,” the officer said carefully. “Earlier today, Miss Thorne was seen entering Alpha Whitmor’s vehicle.”
“She met with Silas?” Lana blurted out, disbelief cutting through her worry.
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Chapter 351
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That didn’t make sense. Even if Freya had agreed to meet him, she would never vanish without a word.
Even if her WolfComm had run out of power, Freya was the type to borrow someone else’s or use a public terminal to let them know she’d be late.
“We also contacted Alpha Silas,” the officer continued. “He stated that Miss Thorne is safe and currently resting. He assured us she will reach out to you in the morning.”
Lana froze.
Resting?
At his place?
Her stomach twisted. The Freya she knew had no intention of getting back together with him— and Silas hadn’t so much as visited her once when she was injured and hospitalized.
Something didn’t add up.
“Give me Silas’s number,” Lana demanded. “I’ll call him myself.”
The officer shook his head apologetically. “I’m afraid we can’t disclose personal contact information, Miss Rook. It’s against regulation.”
Lana’s gaze darted to Victor Ashford, who had been quietly watching the exchange with his usual half–smile. She strode right up to him.
“You know him. You have his number.”
“I do,” Victor said, unbothered.
“Then give it to me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Why should I?”
Her temper snapped. “Because I’m your girlfriend,” she said sharply. “Or have you forgotten that?”
Technically, she was–a temporary arrangement, one year, mutually beneficial. But it still counted.
Victor’s smile widened faintly, amusement flickering in his eyes. “All right,” he said, pulling out his device. He scrolled through his contacts, found Silas’s number, and handed her the screen. “Be my guest.”
For a moment, Lana just stared at him, torn between gratitude and suspicion. He was too calm,
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9:57 Tue, Oct 28 T
Chapter 351
too willing.
But there was no time to think. She took the device and hit dial.
The line rang once before a low, smooth voice answered, “Victor?”
“It’s Lana,” she snapped. “Silas Whitmor, what the hell did you do to Freya?”
A pause–then his tone came, infuriatingly calm.
“Nothing. She’s simply exhausted. She’s asleep. I’ll have her contact you tomorrow.”
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“Tomorrow?” Lana’s voice rose. “No, tell me where she is right now. I’ll go get her myself.”
“I don’t believe I’m obligated to tell you that,” Silas replied, polite but firm.
“Silas, you-”
“It’s late,” he interrupted. “Let’s talk tomorrow.”
The call ended.
Lana stood there, staring at the darkened screen, her fingers trembling with anger. Then, with a growl of frustration, she nearly hurled the device across the room.
“Can’t we arrest him?” she demanded, spinning toward the officers. “He’s holding her against her will–this is abduction!”
The officers exchanged uneasy glances. One finally spoke. “The surveillance shows Miss Thorne entered Alpha Whitmor’s vehicle voluntarily. And… she’s an adult. There’s no legal basis for an abduction report at this time. Perhaps wait until morning–see if she contacts you.”
Meaning: there was nothing they could do. Not yet.
Kade’s jaw flexed, the muscles in his neck tense as iron. He knew the law as well as they did, but the wolf inside him was close to snapping. His voice was low, deadly.
“Fine. We wait. But if Freya doesn’t reach out by dawn, I don’t care who I have to go through— I’ll tear down the Whitmor estate myself.”
He turned and stalked out of the precinct, his boots echoing sharply against the floor.
Lana exhaled shakily, then turned toward Victor. “Have you and Kade found out where Silas took her?”
Victor slid his hands into his coat pockets. “No. We traced the vehicle through city cameras until it reached Silas’s apartment complex in the central district. After that… nothing.”
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“Nothing?” she repeated.
“The rest of the footage was wiped,” he said calmly. “Cleanly. No trace of tampering. Whoever did it knew exactly what they were doing. Neither Silas nor Freya have been seen since.”
Lana’s blood ran cold. “Then she’s gone.”
“Not gone,” Victor murmured, eyes glinting with something unreadable. “Just hidden.”
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Chapter 352
Third Person’s POV
“What is Silas Whitmor really after?” she muttered, worry shadowing her usually sharp eyes.
Victor leaned against the patrol car beside her, his voice calm and low.
“We’ll find out tomorrow. He said Freya would be in touch, didn’t he?”
Lana nodded, but the tension in her shoulders didn’t ease.
Victor glanced at her again. “It’s getting late. Let me drive you home.”
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. They stepped out of the precinct together.
Victor held out his hand. “Your car keys.”
“You’re driving?” Lana raised an eyebrow. “What about your car?”
“I’ll have my driver pick it up.” His tone was casual, almost indifferent.
Lana gave a short laugh, tossing him the keys. “Right. I forgot. The Ashfords aren’t like the rest of us–of course you’d have a driver waiting.”
They got into her car. The engine purred softly as the city lights slid past the windshield, washing over Victor’s sharp profile. For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then Lana turned toward him. “What’s your relationship with Silas Whitmor like?”
Victor’s fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel. “We’ve had some dealings. Nothing close.”
“So if Silas really did something to hurt Freya, and Kade went up against him… who would you help?” she asked quietly, eyes narrowing.
Victor’s lips curved into a faint smile, one without warmth. “Who do you think I’d help?”
“Don’t tell me you wouldn’t take Kade’s side–he’s family, isn’t he?”
“I wouldn’t help Kade,” Victor said evenly, “but that doesn’t mean I’d help Silas either. The Whitmors have deep roots in the Ironclad Coalition. If the Ashfords went head–to–head with them, there’d be a price to pay.”
Lana’s mouth twisted. “Typical lawyer. Always weighing consequences.”
Victor’s eyes flicked toward her, a glint of something unreadable in their depths. “But if Kade were truly cornered, if things reached the point of no return, the Ashfords would stand with him. Always.”
Lana sighed and looked away, pretending not to care. But inside, she knew that was his way- measured, strategic, never reckless.
If he wouldn’t even risk himself for his own nephew, what chance did she have?
“Tell me,” Victor said suddenly, voice breaking the silence, “if Silas really did something to hurt Freya… would you want me to step in?”
Lana’s laugh was dry. “I know you won’t. So I won’t ask.”
Relying on others was a luxury she’d long since given up. Years of clawing her way up from nothing had taught her that much–when the world turned cold, you survived by your own teeth and blood.
Victor’s gaze lingered on her. “Lana, you didn’t even ask me. So how do you know I wouldn’t?”
She froze, eyes flicking toward him. “What do
you mean?”
He kept his eyes on the road. “I said I wouldn’t help for Freya’s sake. But maybe… I would for yours.”
For a moment, the sound of the tires against asphalt was the only thing between them. Then Lana gave a short, incredulous laugh.
“You’re joking. You’d go against the Whitmors–for me?”
“No,” Victor said quietly. “I don’t speak for the Ashfords. But I can speak for myself.”
His words were quiet, almost careless–but something in his tone felt like a vow. A promise whispered from deep within his wolf.
Lana stared at him, momentarily speechless. “Victor… are you saying you’d go against Silas because of me?”
He looked straight ahead. “You’re my girlfriend.”
Something stirred in her chest–an ache she couldn’t quite name.
Because she was his girlfriend?
If this had been years ago–before everything, before their past—she might’ve melted at those words. Might’ve believed them.
But she remembered too well. The first time they dated, he’d looked her straight in the eye and told her she was just a way to pass the time. Nothing more.
To him, she had never been more than convenient. A fleeting distraction.
“Victor,” she said quietly, eyes fixed on the passing lights, “what does being someone’s girlfriend mean to you?”
He frowned, glancing at her. “What’s wrong? Did I say something I shouldn’t have?”
She turned her head away, her voice flat but trembling beneath the surface. “You didn’t say anything wrong. But I’m just your temporary girlfriend, aren’t I? Asking you to go against the Whitmors for someone temporary–that’s too much. I couldn’t bear that.”
Her words cut deeper than she intended. Two wolves from different worlds–they should never have crossed paths again.
Once, he had been the prince in her fairytale.
Now, he was the dragon guarding the ruins of what used to be her heart.
When Freya awoke, the world around her was blurred, the ceiling unfamiliar and pale under the dim light.
Where… am I?
Her pulse quickened. A faint warmth pressed against her from behind—an arm draped across her waist, a steady breath brushing against her neck. Her wolf stirred, every instinct snapping awake.
In a heartbeat, she rolled over, muscles tense, pinning the figure beneath her. Pain shot through her left shoulder, but her right arm moved on instinct–strong, precise, trained.
Her forearm pressed against the stranger’s throat.
And then–her breath hitched.
The face staring back at her was one she knew too well.
Chapter 353
Freya’s POV
Silas Whitmor.
The realization hit like a jolt of lightning.
He didn’t even flinch under my weight. His lips curved, soft and unhurried. “You’re awake.”
My breath caught in my throat. He was lying in bed, wearing only a dark–grey sleep shirt, his silver hair a little tousled against the pillow. I stared, unable to process what I was seeing.
Why–why was I in bed with him? The last thing I remembered was being in his apartment… he’d offered me tea… and then-
“You drugged me,” I said coldly, my hand tightening against his throat.
He didn’t deny it. “Yes.”
I blinked, momentarily stunned by his bluntness.
“It won’t harm you,” he added smoothly. “It just made you sleep for a while.”
My pulse spiked. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I didn’t want you to go to C–Nation,” he said simply, as if that explained everything.
I stared at him, disbelief flooding through me. “You didn’t want me to go, so you–what- poisoned me?”
His expression didn’t waver. “You wouldn’t have stayed otherwise.”
“That’s your logic?” My voice rose, sharp with anger. “You think I can’t go just because you put something in my drink?”
“At least not until your shoulder heals.” His voice was calm, almost maddeningly gentle. “Before that, you’re not going anywhere.”
I pushed off of him, disgust and confusion tangling in my chest. My feet hit the cold floor. “I’m leaving.”
Silas sat up slowly, his posture composed as ever, eyes following me without a flicker of panic.
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My bag was resting on a nearby couch. I snatched it up, unzipped it–passport, WolfComm, everything still there. At least he hadn’t taken those.
Fine. I could call for help, get out of here, and never see him again.
I turned toward the door and stepped out–only to stop dead.
It wasn’t a hallway I stepped into, but a wide corridor filled with sunlight. And at the far end- glass doors opened to a vast balcony, where an endless blue stretched beyond.
The ocean.
I froze. What?
The Capital had no coastlines–no sea breeze, no waves. Yet here it was, the air filled with salt and the cry of distant gulls. I rushed to the balcony, my bare feet hitting the stone tiles.
And there it was–white sand, turquoise waves, and a fringe of dark–green jungle beyond.
No roads. No people. No movement, except the slow pulse of the tide.
A cold realization crawled up my spine.
“What is this place?” I whispered.
Behind me, footsteps approached–slow, deliberate, the quiet confidence of an Alpha who knew exactly what he was doing.
“This is an island,” Silas said, his voice smooth and measured. “Surrounded by sea on all sides. No way off except by ship or aircraft.”
I turned to face him. He was barefoot now, a loose shirt hanging open at the throat, his silver eyes gleaming faintly in the morning light.
“Take me back,” I demanded.
“Impossible,” he replied. “There are no ships docked here. No aircraft ready for flight.”
I stared, trying to read the truth in his calm expression. “You’re keeping me here?”
“Call it what you will.”
My heartbeat thundered in my chest. “You can’t-”
“I can,” he cut in softly. “Every three days, a helicopter drops supplies. If you need anything, I’ll
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have it sent.”
I took a step back, realization dawning like a storm. “You planned this.”
He didn’t deny it.
“Right now,” he continued, “this entire island belongs to me. Which means–for the moment- there’s no one here but us.”
His words landed like a blow.
Just the two of us.
I backed away, my wolf snarling beneath my skin. “What do you want from me?”
“I told you,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “I want you to heal. That’s all.”
Then, before I could react, his arms came around me–firm, steady, his scent enveloping me like smoke and storm metal.
“Freya,” he murmured, his voice low against my ear. “Once you’ve recovered, I’ll take you back to the Capital.”
I shoved at him, fury breaking through the daze. “So you’re imprisoning me until then?”
“Imprisoning‘?” He tilted his head slightly, his breath brushing my skin. “If that’s how you want to see it… then yes.”
The sound of my hand connecting with his cheek cracked through the air.
Silas didn’t move. The faint red mark bloomed against his skin, but his gaze didn’t waver.
“Freya,” he said softly, “does it hurt? Your hand, I mean.”
My chest heaved. “You-”
He caught my wrist before I could strike again. His fingers, warm and sure, closed around my palm, rubbing gently over my skin.
“If you want to hit me again,” he said, “use the other side.”
“Silas, you’re insane,” I spat, jerking free.
He gave a hollow laugh, the sound low and bitter. “I know. You’ve always known.”
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He looked at me then, his eyes strangely empty–and yet full of something I couldn’t name. Obsession, maybe. Regret. Desperation.
A man lost to his own madness.
“Freya,” he said softly, “just heal. When you’re better, I’ll let you go. If you never want to see me again, I won’t chase you.”
I stared at him, breath trembling.
A part of me wanted to believe him. The other part–the wolf inside me–knew better.
Because Silas Whitmor wasn’t just an Alpha of the Ironclad Coalition.
He was the kind of man who would chain the moon if it meant keeping it close.
Editorial Board
Chapter 354
Freya’s POV
I stared at him, my pulse thrumming in disbelief.
No longer chase me?
Did Silas really mean it–was he finally ready to let go of whatever bound him to me so fiercely?
“How long do you plan to keep me trapped on this island?” I asked, my voice quiet but edged with something sharp.
His gaze drifted to my left shoulder–the one that still ached when I moved too fast. “At your current rate of healing, about two weeks,” he said. “Maybe less, if you rest properly. I brought everything you’ll need. The medicines, the supplies… everything.”
Two weeks.
I swallowed hard, realizing that he had planned every detail of this–down to my recovery time. I could feel the weight of his obsession in every calm, deliberate word. Silas Whitmor, Alpha of the Ironclad Coalition, had always been the kind of man who saw obstacles as things to be controlled, not overcome.
Fighting him now would only drag us both deeper into chaos.
“Fine,” I said after a moment. “Two weeks. But I expect you to keep your word this time.”
His lips curved faintly. “I always do.”
I didn’t bother answering. Instead, I reached for my WolfComm on the side table and powered it on. The moment the signal returned, the screen lit up with a flood of missed calls and messages. Dozens of them. Most from Lana and Kade.
A small pang of guilt twisted inside me. They must have been frantic.
I tapped Lana’s name first.
“Freya? Freya, is that you?” Her voice burst through the speaker, high–pitched and trembling. “Oh, thank the Goddess–you’re alive! Where the hell are you? Did that bastard hurt you?”
Her questions came like a hailstorm, rapid and breathless. I had to pull the phone slightly away from my ear.
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“I’m fine,” I said, keeping my tone as steady as I could. “Really. Silas didn’t hurt me. He just… brought me to an island so I could recover.”
“An island?” Lana repeated, disbelief thick in her voice. “What island? Freya, what are you talking about?”
I glanced sideways. Silas stood a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest, watching me with that unnervingly calm expression. He didn’t interrupt, but I knew he could hear every word.
“I don’t know,” I admitted quietly. “But he’s not going to hurt me, Lana. I promise.”
Silence hummed through the line for a moment, then Lana’s tone softened. “Are you free to communicate?”
“Yes,” I said truthfully. Silas hadn’t taken my phone. He hadn’t even stopped me from calling. Whatever twisted version of control he was exercising, it didn’t seem to include cutting me off from the world.
“Then listen to me,” she said firmly. “You text or call me every single day, no matter what. And if anything feels wrong–anything–you tell me. Do you understand?”
I couldn’t help a faint smile. “I understand.”
“One more thing,” Lana added, lowering her voice. “You’d better call Kade soon. He’s losing his mind. He nearly went to the Whitmor estate last night. Said he was ready to tear the place apart if he didn’t hear from you.”
A sigh escaped me. “I’ll call him now.”
When I ended the call, I barely had time to dial before Kade’s voice erupted through the line.
“Freya? Goddess, where are you? Are you safe?”
“I’m safe,” I said, leaning against the wall. “I’ll be back in the Capital in two weeks.”
“Silas took you, didn’t he?” His voice was tight with restrained fury. “Tell me what he did. Did he threaten you? Hurt you?”
“No,” I said quickly. “He didn’t. He just… wants me to rest, that’s all.”
“Rest?” Kade’s growl vibrated through the receiver. “He drugged you, Freya. He vanished with you. That’s not concern–that’s abduction!”
I closed my eyes, wishing I could reach through the line and calm him. “Kade, please. I don’t want you doing anything reckless. I’ll be fine.”
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“Where are you?” he demanded. “I’ll come get you myself.”
“I” I hesitated, glancing at Silas again. Before I could answer, he crossed the space between us and gently took the phone from my hand.
“Kade Blackridge,” Silas said evenly, his deep voice vibrating through the small device. “You can try to find her. But I’ll bet everything you have that, for the next two weeks, you won’t.”
“Silas Whitmor!” Kade’s snarl was sharp enough to pierce through the static. “If you hurt her- if you even lay a hand on her–I don’t care who stands behind you, not your Coalition, not your title–I’ll come for you myself.”
Silas’s gaze never left mine as he spoke again. “Hurt her?” His tone dropped to something dark, almost reverent. “Even if I die, I would never hurt her.”
The words hit me like a punch to the chest. My heartbeat stuttered painfully, and for a brief moment, the air between us felt impossibly still.
I reached out, taking the phone back from him with shaking fingers. “Kade,” I said softly, “I’m okay. Please don’t worry. Just…. keep an eye on the Williams family and my brother, will you? I’ll handle things once I’m back.”
There was a pause. Then his voice came quieter, laced with anger he was barely holding back. “Fine. But if you go silent again, I’m coming.”
“I understand.”
When the call ended, silence fell heavy in the villa. The ocean roared softly beyond the balcony, waves licking the shore like restless wolves.
Silas watched me for a long moment before speaking. “He cares about you.”
I didn’t respond. The truth in his words hurt too much to acknowledge.
“He’s protective,” Silas continued. “But he doesn’t know how to keep you safe.”
“And you do?” I asked quietly.
His eyes softened, and for the first time since I’d woken up here, I saw a flicker of genuine pain. behind them. “No,” he murmured. “But I’m trying to learn.”
For a second, I almost believed him.
I turned away, staring out at the horizon. The sea shimmered beneath the afternoon sun–so deceptively calm, hiding depths that could swallow anything whole.
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Two weeks. That was what he’d said.
Two weeks to heal.
Two weeks trapped on an island with the Alpha who once swore he’d never let me go.
Editorial Board
Chapter 355
Third Person’s POV
After Freya ended the call, Kade stared at the WolfComm in his hand. His fingers curled into a fist, and without thinking, he slammed it onto the desk with a force that rattled the surface.
Kade had always been a force of nature. Nothing had ever seemed capable of defeating him. Even when his father had thrown him into the military, where he had faced harsh trials and countless obstacles, he had never felt truly powerless. If someone struck him, he struck back- always.
Except three years ago. The memory of that powerless moment when he learned that Freya had married someone else still lingered, raw and bitter. He had thought that sensation, that deep, gnawing helplessness, would never return.
But now… it had returned, slithering through him with an intensity he had thought long buried.
He knew Freya had been taken by Silas Whitmor, yet the Alpha’s cunning had erased every trace of her whereabouts. He didn’t know where to start looking. Not the Ironclad Coalition estate, not the remote operations sites, nothing. Every lead dissolved into nothing.
Whitmore… Silas Whitmor…
Even though Silas claimed he would not harm Freya, the unease coiled in Kade’s chest like a wolf in a trap. The thought of waiting for two weeks while Freya recovered, vulnerable and isolated, was unbearable.
No. He would not wait. He would find her. He would bring her home.
Meanwhile, on the island, Freya had accepted that confrontation with Silas would not serve her. The Alpha had taken extreme measures to secure the island, but she was not entirely helpless. Her WolfComm and satellite links were still functional, though her location had been masked
as’s manipulations.
b
Aside from that, the island was eerily empty–just Silas and Freya, with automated systems taking care of cleaning and basic maintenance. The perimeter was clear of any boats or aircraft, as Silas had shown her during a guided tour. Unless someone arrived from outside, or she attempted the impossible by swimming across open sea, she was stranded.
Her shoulder injury made self–care difficult, and Silas insisted on assisting. The wound, a gunshot grazed into her back shoulder, was awkward to reach. Freya had reluctantly allowed him to tend to it.
In the living quarters, Freya lowered the strap of her shirt, exposing the raw, reddened skin of her left shoulder. Silas’s long, elegant fingers traced the wound with the precision of someone
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who had handled the injured countless times before.
“Does it hurt?” he asked softly, his voice a low murmur that seemed to wrap around her senses. “Not much,” she replied. “Just… if you’re going to apply the ointment, do it quickly
Her words faltered abruptly. Something soft pressed against the wound–something warmer than her own skin. It took a second for her to process that Silas was kissing the injury.
“Silas Whitmor, what are you doing?!” Her instinct was to push him away, to assert control over her own body, but his hands held her firmly, unyielding.
His lips lingered on the wound, gentle yet deliberate, as if he were touching a delicate relic, something fragile that could break under a careless hand. Freya narrowed her eyes, her wolfish instincts bristling.
“We–this isn’t right,” she hissed. “Don’t force me.”
Her shoulder ached, but if a fight had erupted between them, Freya knew she would not necessarily lose. She felt her heartbeat accelerate, her fangs unconsciously pressing against her bottom lip.
“Sorry,” he whispered, almost reverently.
Her body froze, but his voice continued in her ear, soft and remorseful:
“I’m sorry… I was late. I couldn’t protect you in time… I’m sorry… sorry…”
Freya pursed her lips, steadying her emotions. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. This wound… it isn’t your fault.”
las’s ber eyes darkened with unspoken emotion. “If I had reached you sooner, you
have been hurt. I would have-”
Ou
She didn’t know the depth of his anguish, the terror that had clawed at him when he saw her collapse in Kade’s arms, blood soaking through her white shirt. For a fleeting, infinite moment, the world had seemed to vanish for Silas. He had feared she would die before he could even touch her again, feared he would never hear her voice, feel her warmth, or meet those eyes that always saw through him.
And yet, here she was.
“Thank you,” Freya said suddenly, surprising herself. “Thank you for everything you did in Deepmoor City. But… we are no longer together. You have no obligation to protect me. My injuries… you don’t need to apologize for them.”
For a heartbeat, his gaze softened, and he released her. Relief surged through her as she
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exhaled quietly, ready to move.
“Wait,” Silas said, holding up a hand. “Don’t move. The ointment isn’t applied yet. Let me finish.”
This time, he approached with solemn purpose. His hands worked carefully over the wound, applying the salve, wrapping gauze, and securing it with gentle precision. Once finished, he adjusted her clothing, fastening buttons with meticulous care..
Freya watched him, noticing the subtle tension easing from his fingers. She couldn’t help but ask, “How… how are your fingers?”
Three of his fingers had been brutally broken the day they ended their relationship. She had seen the damage, had seen the pain in his face.
“They’re healing,” he said, his voice quiet but confident. “In a few more days, they’ll be fully functional. The doctors said there won’t be any lasting damage.”
She nodded, relief washing over her. The faint glimmer in his eyes told her that, despite everything, he appreciated her concern.
“Then that’s good,” she murmured.
Silas’s amber gaze flickered with something almost imperceptible–a flash of happiness, perhaps, that she cared enough to ask.
“What would you like for dinner tonight?” he asked, his tone casual, though the intensity in his eyes suggested he cared more than she could imagine.
Freya tilted her head slightly, watching him, realizing the strange, precarious balance between their roles on the island. The Alpha, the captor, the man who had terrified her and saved her in
e same heartbeat… was also the only one she could rely on right now.
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