Ch. 381..385: A Warrior Luna's Awakening Chapter 381-385

Chapter 381

Freya’s Perspective

“What martyrs?” Jenny spat, her voice sharp and grating, echoing harshly through the cavernous lobby of Ironhold Tower. “Don’t tell me your parents were some kind of noble heroes. If they were, they probably weren’t anything special. That so-called ‘martyr’ title? Who even knows if it’s real—”

Before she could finish, a sharp slap sliced through the air.

But this time, it wasn’t me.

It was Silas.

The Ironclad Alpha himself had closed the distance in a single, decisive step. His gloved hand landed with brutal precision across Jenny’s cheek, leaving a vivid red mark. The impact spun her halfway around, her heels scraping loudly against the gleaming marble floor as she nearly lost her balance. She caught herself just in time, bracing against a nearby column. A thin line of blood dripped from the corner of her mouth, stark and undeniable.

For a suspended moment, time seemed to freeze. Even the security guards stood motionless, breaths caught mid-air. I felt my heart seize in my chest, stunned alongside everyone else. Silas—the man who never raised his voice, who treated every encounter like a calculated negotiation—had just struck someone openly, in public.

Jenny clutched her cheek, trembling. “You—you hit me?” Her arrogance dissolved, replaced by raw disbelief.

Silas didn’t shout. He didn’t need to. His voice dropped to a low, deadly calm.

“Looks like the Williams Pack never taught you how to survive beyond your own walls,” he said coldly. “Out here, you learn to watch your words.”

Wren, Silas’s assistant, immediately stepped forward with a handkerchief. Silas accepted it with a detached grace, wiping his hand as if erasing something filthy. There was no sign of regret or hesitation—only the cold, measured precision that reminded everyone why the Ironclad Coalition both feared and respected him.

Jenny’s face flushed a deep crimson, a mix of fury and humiliation. “Mr. Whitmor,” she stammered, “you said earlier you had no connection to Freya Thorne!”

Silas’s eyes flicked toward me briefly—a sharp, icy glance full of that mercury-grey chill—then shifted away. “That’s true,” he said evenly. “But that doesn’t give you the right to insult the dead of my homeland.”

His words hit harder than his hand ever could.

Jenny’s face drained of color. “You—you can’t be serious! I’m part of the Williams Family! I’m a guest of the Ironclad Coalition! You can’t just hand me over to the authorities—”

Silas’s gaze remained unwavering. “Unless the Williams Pack formally disowns you,” he said with frost in his tone, “the Coalition will sever all ties. From this day forward, any Pack or business that associates with the Williams will be blacklisted by the Ironclad.”

“What?” Parker’s voice cracked through the stunned silence, his composure visibly shaken. Even he hadn’t anticipated this.

Jenny looked as if the ground had opened beneath her feet. “You’re—doing this because of her?” she screamed, pointing a trembling finger at me. “You’re in love with that Thorne bitch, aren’t you? You’d destroy an entire family for her!”

A heavy silence fell like a blade cutting through the room. Every wolf froze.

Silas’s lashes flickered, his face as cold as ever. “No,” he said quietly. “I don’t love her.” His voice was calm, detached. “But I do despise you.”

Without another word, he turned and strode into Ironhold Tower, his long coat trailing behind him like a shadow.

Wren hesitated for a heartbeat before following, but I caught a flicker of surprise in his eyes. He had served Silas for years and knew better than anyone that the Ironclad Alpha never acted on emotion. Yet here he was, breaking his own rules for someone he claimed not to care about.

My heart tightened painfully.

I hadn’t expected him to defend me—especially not after how things ended between us on that cursed island. After all the harsh words we exchanged. And yet… he had stepped in, not for me, but for what my parents represented.

My parents—wolves of the Stormveil Pack, soldiers of the Iron Fang Recon Unit, their names forever etched in the Ashbourne Legion’s Hall of Martyrs.

He had stood up to protect their legacy.

Just as he had once bowed his head before their ashes. That reverence wasn’t for me—it was in his blood, that old Ironclad honor, that unyielding loyalty to the fallen. For a fleeting moment, I almost forgot how to breathe.

Lana exhaled softly beside me, her voice barely a whisper. “Well damn. Didn’t see that coming. The man says he’s done with you, then goes full-on Alpha Fury over your parents.”

A humorless smile tugged at my lips. “He’s always respected the dead,” I murmured. “Especially those who gave their lives for the Packs.”

Even as his heart had grown cold toward me, his respect for the fallen never wavered. That was Silas—unyielding steel and principle until the very end.

Lana nudged me gently. “You should still head inside, Freya. The bidding’s about to start. You don’t want SkyVex to lose the contract because of this chaos.”

“I know.” My voice came out softer than I intended. “I’ll stay until the enforcers arrive. After all, I was the one who threw the first punch.”

She frowned. “You sure? I can stay—”

“I’m not a pup,” I interrupted gently. “I can handle this.”

After a beat, Lana gave a reluctant nod and strode toward the glass doors of the tower, muttering curses under her breath about entitled noble-born wolves.

I remained rooted in place, surrounded by the heavy silence that settled after Silas’s departure. The air still held a faint trace of his scent—cold metal, cedar, and the promise of a brewing storm.

Jenny clung to Parker’s sleeve, panic unraveling her voice. “You have to help me,” she hissed desperately. “You can’t let him do this. If the Coalition blacklists the Williams, your father will destroy us both!”

Chapter 382

From a Third-Person Perspective

Parker’s lips pressed together tightly, forming a thin, pale line that betrayed the turmoil roiling beneath his calm exterior.

Silas’s ultimatum lingered in the air like a death sentence—unwavering, final, and utterly unchallengeable. The Ironclad Alpha’s words still echoed in Parker’s mind with chilling clarity: “Unless the Williams Pack disowns her completely, the Coalition will sever every connection.”

For the Williams family, who had long harbored ambitions to extend their influence into the Capital’s territories and secure vital trade relations with Whitmor’s Ironclad Coalition, this was no mere threat—it was a declaration of annihilation.

There was a time when Parker would have welcomed Jenny’s exile, letting her drown in the consequences of her recklessness without a second thought. But that time had passed. Now, he needed her alive.

Only Jenny had the power to save Lina’s life.

He turned toward Freya, studying her serene expression—too serene, perhaps—those golden-hazel eyes steady and unflinching, like a wolf bracing itself against an approaching storm. “Miss Thorne,” Parker began, his voice laced with quiet desperation, “Jenny barely said a word. She didn’t mean to—surely this punishment is too harsh. If you would speak on her behalf to Silas Whitmor, the Williams family would—”

Freya’s voice cut through his plea like a razor slicing through silk, cold and unyielding.

“If you don’t want me to hit you again, Parker, stop talking.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, thick with tension and unspoken threats.

She stepped closer, tilting her head to look up at him, her tone dropping to a quieter, more measured timbre—too steady to be anything but sincere. “I’d hate for you to one day remember who you really are… and realize how deeply you’d regret uttering these words.”

Her gaze locked onto his, sharp and unwavering. “Because the man I once knew—the man you used to be—would sooner die than stand silently while someone insulted our parents.”

For a fleeting moment, Parker’s breath caught in his throat.

Something ancient, fierce, and buried deep within his blood awakened—a fierce pride that pulsed beneath his ribs, aching to break free.

But just as suddenly as it came, that feeling shattered like ice cracking against stone, leaving behind only a hollow chill.

He turned away, jaw clenched tightly, as if afraid to confront the memories stirring within him.

—

Not long after, the enforcers arrived, their sleek black vehicles gleaming under the harsh glow of the Ironhold Tower’s lights.

Freya surrendered without resistance—there was no point in fighting; by law, she was the one who had thrown the first punch. Parker and Jenny accompanied her to the local precinct, each prepared to give their statements.

Inside the sterile, dimly lit office, Freya sat across from a uniformed officer, calmly recounting the events of the confrontation. She seemed almost too composed, as if she had grown accustomed to conflict. The faint scent of iron and ozone clung to her skin—a lingering trace of adrenaline.

Midway through her statement, the door opened.

A tall man in a charcoal suit stepped inside, his badge catching the light briefly. “I’m Victor Ashford,” he announced smoothly. “Here to represent Miss Freya Thorne as her legal counsel.”

Freya blinked, surprised. “Victor? What are you doing here?”

His fees alone could bankrupt a small pack. There was no way she could have afforded him.

“Lana called me,” Victor explained evenly. “Said you were in trouble.”

Freya frowned. “You didn’t have to come yourself. You could have sent one of your firm’s lawyers.”

“She asked me personally. And I don’t delegate matters that concern her,” he said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Freya tilted her head, studying him with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism. “I can’t afford you, Victor.”

He smiled faintly, though there was something unreadable in his eyes. “Consider it a favor. You’re her friend.”

She crossed her arms. “You and Lana have a professional relationship. You don’t owe her that much. Why go so far?”

Victor’s expression hardened. “She told you?”

“She did,” Freya replied simply. “I don’t know what’s really between you two, but don’t hurt her. And when your year is over—if she wants to leave—let her go.”

For a moment, Victor’s eyes darkened with something deeper. His lips curled into a humorless smile. “Freya, you’re assuming she’s the one who might get hurt. But maybe,” his voice dropped to a low murmur, “it’ll be me.”

And as for letting go—though he didn’t say it aloud, Freya could feel the refusal in the quiet tension radiating from his wolf. He had no intention of releasing Lana when the time came.

Before she could respond, Parker and Jenny emerged from another room, having finished their statements.

Jenny’s eyes blazed with venom the moment she spotted Freya. “You—”

“Don’t,” Parker snapped sharply, catching Jenny’s wrist before she could step forward. “Do you want to spend the night in custody? The man standing beside her,” he nodded toward Victor, “is Victor Ashford—the top legal counsel in the Capital. He could bury you under legal paperwork before dawn.”

Jenny froze, her fury crumbling into stunned disbelief. “Victor… Ashford?”

Freya said nothing, simply watching as jealousy twisted the girl’s expression.

It was almost amusing. Jenny couldn’t fathom why powerful men like Silas or Victor would stand by Freya’s side, even briefly. She couldn’t grasp that it wasn’t charm or beauty that earned their loyalty—it was something older, quieter: strength, dignity, bloodline.

Parker stepped toward Freya, his voice low and sincere. “Today… I’m sorry.”

Freya met his gaze. “You’re not apologizing to me,” she said softly. “You’re apologizing to our parents.”

He flinched at her words, as if they had struck a deep chord within him—something like guilt, or perhaps a grief long buried. He said nothing more, turning away and leading Jenny out of the precinct.

Victor waited until they were gone before breaking the silence. “He’s your brother, isn’t he?”

Freya nodded once. “He is. He just doesn’t want to remember.”

Victor’s brow furrowed slightly. “I’ve heard the story. You found him weeks ago. You’re sure?”

“I’d stake my life on it,” Freya said, her voice trembling with quiet determination. “Whether he accepts Eric Thorne or not, I will bring him to the Hall of Martyrs. He will stand before our parents’ names—and he will remember.”

Outside, Parker’s car idled beneath flickering streetlamps.

The moment they climbed inside, his WolfComm device buzzed. He glanced at the caller ID. Everett Williams.

“Father,” Parker answered, his voice taut with tension.

“Is Jenny with you?” Everett’s tone was measured, cold.

“She is.”

“Bring her to me.”

There was no explanation, no warmth—only command.

Parker hesitated. “Understood.”

Once the call ended, Jenny turned toward him, panic flashing in her eyes. “He wants to see me? He knows what happened today, doesn’t he?”

Parker’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

She gripped her skirt so tightly her nails turned white. “I can’t be cast out, Parker. I just can’t!”

He said nothing, focusing on the road as he drove them through the night toward the Williams estate.

When they arrived, the grand stone manor loomed before them, its windows glowing faintly in the darkness. Inside, Everett Williams sat on a leather sofa, head bowed, prayer beads slipping through his fingers.

Neither Parker nor Jenny dared to break the heavy silence.

The stillness stretched long enough to feel suffocating. Parker’s gaze drifted to the beads—he remembered them from childhood. They were a relic Everett had brought back from a mountain monastery decades ago, after his sister disappeared. He had never once taken them off.

Finally, Everett’s eyes opened—sharp, amber, like a predator who had already decided the fate of his prey.

His voice was calm, but carried the crushing weight of judgment.

“Prepare a statement for the press in the C-Region,” Everett commanded. “Effective immediately, Jenny Williams is struck from the family registry. From this day forward, all her actions bear no connection to the Williams Pack.”

Jenny’s breath caught in her throat, her face draining of color until it was as pale as paper. “No… please—Alpha Everett, you can’t—”

Chapter 383

Everett sat motionless for a long, heavy moment, his face as unyielding as carved granite. When he finally broke the silence, his tone was eerily calm—so calm, in fact, that it sent a colder shiver through the room than any outburst might have.

“So, what you’re saying is,” he began, prayer beads slipping slowly through his fingers in a deliberate rhythm, “that because of your mistake, you expect the Williams Family to turn against the Whitmore Coalition and abandon our investments in the Capital markets?”

Jenny’s breath hitched sharply.

She had always known her worth wasn’t measured in power, influence, or political leverage. Still, hearing Everett speak so bluntly struck her like a whip across the back.

“That Silas is targeting us intentionally!” Jenny burst out, her voice trembling with frustration. “If he wasn’t, why would he make such a big deal? I only cursed Freya’s parents a little. How could that possibly justify this kind of retaliation?”

Everett emitted a cold, humorless sound—something between a scoff and a suppressed laugh.

“I’ve already had Victor verify it,” he said quietly. “Freya’s parents were revered martyrs of Ashbourne. And you insulted the martyrs of this land. Tell me, Jenny—did you really expect the entire Williams Family to suffer the consequences for your actions?”

His gaze sharpened, hard and unforgiving like a wolf’s.

“You don’t need to stay here any longer. Go back to C-Country.”

Back to C-Country?

Jenny froze, her heart pounding.

Returning now would mean losing everything—her status, her reputation, her place within the Williams Family. Once cast out, she would be scorned by the elite circles of C-Country. Even her own parents wouldn’t be able to shield a daughter who had become political poison.

Her voice wavered as she spoke.

“Uncle Everett, I—”

“Go.” His eyes closed, signaling the end of the conversation. The only sound left was the slow, steady turning of the prayer beads in his hand, echoing in the vast presidential suite.

Jenny bit her lip hard, swallowing the lump in her throat as she turned stiffly and walked away, Parker trailing behind her.

The moment the doors clicked shut, she whirled around, eyes blazing with desperation.

“I can’t be cast out! I just won’t! You have to make Silas take back what he said. No matter what, you have to fix this for me!”

Parker looked at her with a mixture of disbelief and exhaustion etched on his face.

“And what power do you think I have to make Silas take anything back?” he asked quietly.

Jenny clenched her fists tightly. “Silas is doing this because of Freya! You should talk to her—you’re her brother, aren’t you? She listens to you!”

Parker exhaled a short, humorless breath, not quite a laugh.

“Aren’t you the one who kept insisting I wasn’t her brother? That I was yours instead?”

Jenny went pale instantly.

She had said that. Too many times.

Not out of affection for Parker—no. She wanted him firmly anchored within the Williams Family. As long as he held influence here, she could manipulate and rely on him. And if her timing was right, she could even bear his child, using their offspring to seize even more power.

After all, even though she came from a minor branch, she still carried the Williams bloodline. Parker had none of that lineage, making him far easier to control.

Her voice dropped to a cold, reckless whisper.

“If I’m cast out of the Williams Family… then Lina can forget about surviving.” A cruel gleam lit her eyes. “That woman you’re so loyal to—she saved your life back in D-Country, didn’t she? Without her, you would have died. You owe her everything.”

Parker’s lips pressed into a thin, pale line.

Lina…

When he had woken in a strange land with no memory, no past—only pain—Lina was the one who stayed by his side. She fed him, protected him, and guided him through the fog of nightmares that haunted him.

She was the first person he remembered.

The one person he could never, would never abandon.

“I’ll talk to Freya,” he said at last, his voice low and steady. “But you will make sure Lina survives. No matter what.”

Without waiting for her reply, Parker turned and walked away, leaving Jenny trembling, her breath uneven with a mixture of fury and fear.

How had everything fallen apart in just one day?

How had her position in the Family crumbled so violently?

It was all because of Freya.

If Freya hadn’t existed, Jenny wouldn’t be facing expulsion, humiliation, or ruin.

She dug her nails into her palms until the pain was sharp and real.

—

At SkyVex Armaments Headquarters

When Lana returned to the company’s towering operations center, Freya was already back from the Iron Fang Recon Unit precinct.

“How are you?” Lana asked immediately, concern clear in her voice. “What did the precinct say?”

“With Victor there?” Freya replied with a small shrug. “Nothing serious. They admitted I had good reason to strike first. At worst, I’ll have to pay medical compensation. It’s Jenny who should be worried.”

“That’s true,” Lana said, exhaling slowly. “With what she pulled today, the local authorities will definitely come after her—and the Williams Family can’t afford that kind of scandal. If they want to keep their foothold in the Capital, they’ll have no choice but to expel her.”

She paused, glancing sideways at Freya.

“Freya… did you really break up with Silas?”

“Do you think I’d lie about that?” Freya answered quietly. “You heard him yourself today. Silas said he doesn’t love me anymore.”

“But if he truly didn’t love you,” Lana countered, “would he really go this far? He openly challenged the Williams Family for your sake. If they refuse to back down, this could spiral into a full-scale conflict between two major alliances. Even if the Whitmore Coalition wins, they’ll suffer losses.”

Freya’s gaze dropped to the floor.

Lana wasn’t wrong.

She knew that.

But knowing it didn’t make things any easier.

She no longer had the confidence to walk that path with Silas—to trust him, to trust their bond, to trust the future. Not after everything that had happened. Not after seeing the way he looked at her today—distant, unreadable, as if he had finally let go.

Conclusion

The chapter closes on a poignant note, capturing the heavy toll of fractured alliances and shattered trust. Jenny’s desperate struggle to hold onto her place within the Williams Family reveals the fragile balance of power and loyalty that governs their world, while Everett’s cold dismissal underscores the unforgiving nature of their society. Meanwhile, Parker’s quiet resolve to protect Lina amidst the chaos adds a layer of quiet strength and complexity to the unfolding drama, hinting at the costs of loyalty in a world riddled with betrayal.

At the same time, Freya’s somber reflection on her broken relationship with Silas deepens the emotional gravity of the story. Her internal conflict between hope and resignation mirrors the wider tensions threatening to erupt into open conflict, reminding us that love and loyalty are often entwined with sacrifice and uncertainty. The chapter leaves us suspended in this delicate moment, where trust is fragile and the future uncertain, yet the characters’ choices continue to shape the shadows of their intertwined fates.

What to Expect in Next Chapter?

Tensions are escalating, and the fragile alliances that once seemed unbreakable now teeter on the edge of collapse. Jenny’s desperate struggle to hold onto her place within the Williams Family reveals just how high the stakes have become—not only for her but for everyone connected to these powerful factions. As Everett’s cold dismissal echoes in her mind, the looming threat of exile brings a new intensity to her ambitions and fears, leaving readers to wonder how far she will go to reclaim her standing and what sacrifices that will demand.

Meanwhile, the emotional rifts deepen as Freya grapples with the fallout from her broken relationship with Silas. His withdrawal and the icy distance between them cast a shadow over their intertwined futures, hinting at conflicts that could reshape alliances and loyalties. With Lana’s insight highlighting the potential for a broader conflict, the next chapter promises to delve into the complexities of trust, betrayal, and the costs of power. Readers will be drawn into the unfolding drama, eager to see how these fractured bonds will influence the fate of the Williams Family and the Whitmore Coalition.

Florence

Florence is a passionate reader who finds joy in long drives on rainy days. She’s also a fan of Italian makeup tutorials, blending beauty and elegance into her everyday life.

Chapter 384

Freya’s Perspective

Lana gently placed her hand over mine, the familiar warmth of her wolf’s scent offering a comforting anchor amidst the swirling tension. “Whatever decision you make,” she said softly, “know that I’m with you, no matter what.”

I let out a slow breath, feeling the tightness in my chest ease just a fraction.

Changing the subject, I asked, “By the way, when will the results for the Whitmore Industries procurement bid be announced?”

“In three days,” Lana replied. “If SkyVex wins, we’ll also get invites to the Whitmore Annual Summit.”

That Summit wasn’t just a typical corporate event.

It was the gathering place for every major supplier, influential figure, and allied company within the Ironclad Coalition. For anyone in business, it was the prime opportunity—both figuratively and literally—to forge new partnerships and alliances.

“I’m confident in our design,” Lana continued, her tone steady. “Especially since we incorporated your updated model. The cost dropped by five percent. If Whitmore isn’t completely blind, they’ll choose us.”

Five percent might sound insignificant, but in large-scale production, that margin could shift entire markets.

“I hope you’re right,” I murmured, trusting the work I’d poured my heart into. Still, the final call rested with Silas—the Ironclad Alpha I had just severed ties with.

Before I could let my thoughts spiral further, the door to the outer office creaked open. My secretary stepped inside, her expression professional yet cautious.

“Manager Freya,” she announced, “someone’s here to see you. He says his name is Parker Williams.”

My entire body froze.

Lana nearly choked on her coffee, eyes wide. “Your brother?” she whispered in disbelief. “Parker’s looking for you?”

“Send him to the conference room,” I instructed Wren.

After she left, Lana leaned in close, a shadow of worry crossing her face. “Why now? Don’t tell me he’s here to plead for Jenny.”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” I said quietly.

When I entered the conference room, Parker was already standing by the window, his tall frame rigid. He looked the same as always—cold-eyed, unreadable—but there was something different in his scent, a tension that made my wolf bristle.

“You’re here for Jenny,” I stated without sitting down.

“Yes,” he answered, voice steady but strained. “I hope you can forgive her this once. And I hope you’ll convince Silas not to expel her from the Williams Family.”

My wolf’s hackles rose instantly.

“So she means that much to you?” I challenged. “Even after she insulted our parents—Arthur and Myra—you still want to protect her? Is that how little their memory matters to you?”

A flicker of emotion crossed his eyes—gone in an instant.

“She… can’t afford anything to happen right now,” he said quietly.

“Why not?” I pressed, demanding answers.

He fell silent, jaw clenched tight.

Of course. More secrets.

“If you want me to recognize you as my brother,” I said coldly, “then you’re coming with me.”

“Where?” he asked, frowning.

“To Ashbourne. To the Legion’s Hall of Martyrs,” I replied firmly. “That’s where our parents rest.”

I grabbed my keys and bag.

“You lost your memories—fine. But do you at least remember how to drive?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “I can drive. Memory loss doesn’t affect that.”

“Good. We’ll switch driving shifts. WolfComm navigation will guide us. If we leave now, we’ll be in Ashbourne by tomorrow morning.”

He didn’t respond, but he followed me out, which said enough.

Before heading out, I stopped by Lana’s desk. “I have to go to Ashbourne with Parker.”

Her jaw dropped. “You’re driving overnight across three territories with him?”

“Arthur and Myra worried about him their whole lives. Even if he’s forgotten us, he should at least stand before their headstones and let them rest.”

“But just the two of you? Aren’t you worried about exhaustion?”

“It’s nothing,” I assured her. “I’ve pulled forty-eight-hour shifts on Iron Fang missions without sleep.”

She wisely chose not to argue.

Outside, my car waited under the soft glow of the evening streetlights.

I slid into the driver’s seat. Parker took the passenger side silently, a shadow slipping in beside me.

For several minutes, he said nothing. His aura was unreadable, which was strange for someone with a wolf’s senses.

“Ashbourne is our hometown,” I said at last.

His eyes flickered downward. “Is it?”

“Yes.” My grip tightened on the steering wheel as I merged onto the highway. “It was just the three of us and our parents. We lived there when we were young. Later, because of their work, we moved to The Capital—but we still came back to Ashbourne from time to time.”

I shared everything with him—small details, warm memories, bitter moments.

The memories flowed from me like water carving a path through rock.

Parker listened without interrupting, his posture stiff, eyes flickering with emotions I couldn’t quite read.

“Because of our parents,” I said softly, “you decided early on to join the Iron Fang or serve in the Army. You always wanted to protect people. To protect us.”

“And I…” My voice softened. “You were my role model. So after graduation, I enrolled in Halston Combat Academy and became a soldier too.”

He stared at me for a long moment.

“Then why aren’t you in the military anymore?” he finally asked.

The question hung between us, heavy and unspoken.

I inhaled deeply.

“That,” I said quietly, “is a story for another time.”

Chapter 385

Freya’s Perspective

“Because you disappeared,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper. “Our parents died, and I was left all alone.”

Even now, uttering those words caused a tightness to grip my throat, making it hard to breathe.

Arthur and Myra had carried so many dreams for us—hopes we never quite fulfilled. Their deepest regret, before their final mission with the Iron Fang Recon Unit, was that neither their son nor daughter had found a partner or started a family. When they were gone… I made a decision. I left active duty and got married.

Just not to the right man.

Parker spun toward me abruptly. “Your mate wasn’t Silas?”

“No.” I exhaled slowly, trying to steady myself. “His name was Caelum. He was the Alpha of the Silverfang Pack and the head of SilverTech Forgeworks. We severed our bond five months ago.”

Parker hesitated, his voice thick with unspoken questions. “Did he… treat you badly?”

I let out a bitter, humorless laugh. “I was only his second choice—the fallback when what he truly wanted slipped away. He wanted too much, and the things I needed… he could never provide. Three years of marriage, but it was nothing more than my own private illusion. So I ended it.”

Parker’s jaw clenched tightly. “A man like that… doesn’t deserve you.”

A faint smile tugged at my lips. “If you were the brother I remember—the Eric who never let anyone hurt me—you’d be threatening to break Caelum’s jaw about now.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and his shoulders stiffened. “Freya… what if I never recover my memories? Will you still call me your brother?”

I looked at him—not Parker, the stranger wearing my brother’s face, but the man who, piece by piece, instinct by instinct, still felt like Eric.

“My brother,” I whispered, “was the one person in this world—besides our parents—who loved me unconditionally. From the moment I was born, he protected me. He would have traded his life for mine without hesitation. And I would do the same for him.”

A sharp ache settled in my throat.

“A man like that—if he ever regains his memories—should never wake up one day regretting the choices he made while he was lost.”

I held his gaze firmly.

“So instead of asking whether I’ll still recognize you… maybe you should ask yourself whether you want to be Eric, or if you want to remain Parker Williams forever.”

A heavy silence filled the car.

When we pulled into a quiet service station on the road to Ashbourne, I stepped out to refuel. The cold night air bit into my skin—crisp, sharp, and clean. Sliding back into the car, I tossed Parker the keys.

“You’re driving the next two hours,” I said.

He nodded. “Okay.”

We swapped seats.

The moment his hands gripped the wheel, a painful twist curled in my chest.

Even without his memories, the way he held the steering wheel, the subtle tilt of his wrist, the way he leaned into each turn—it was all exactly the same. Eric had been the one to teach me how to drive. I still remembered his hands guiding mine—steady, confident, patient.

Now those very hands were in front of me again, belonging to a man who didn’t know me.

By the time we arrived in Ashbourne, the moon was sinking low, casting a soft silver glow over the quiet world.

“Let’s find an inn for the night,” I said as I opened the car door. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll go to the Ashbourne Legion’s Hall of Martyrs.”

My foot barely touched the ground before Parker spoke.

“How did they die?”

He wasn’t asking as Parker.

He was asking as Eric.

I turned back toward him.

“Three years ago,” I began slowly, “they were deployed overseas with the Iron Fang Recon Unit. Their convoy was ambushed. They died protecting each other. When their bodies were recovered, they were still locked together. The medics couldn’t separate them.”

My breath hitched.

“But the Legion honored them. They were cremated together abroad and flown home.”

Parker’s voice wavered. “Did… did anyone go with you to receive their ashes?”

I clenched my fingers at my sides.

“There was no one.”

The memory of that day cut through me like cold steel—the silent airfield, the weight of the urns in my arms, the officer’s voice breaking as he offered his condolences.

Parker’s voice cracked. “Freya… I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t alone,” I said softly. “The Iron Fang Recon Unit stood with me when the plane arrived in the Capital. And when we brought our parents home to Ashbourne, the Legion honored them. So many people came to pay their respects.”

My eyes lifted to meet his.

“But when I stood before their memorial stone that day, I made a vow. As long as I live, I will find you. I will bring you home. I will take you to see them—so they can finally rest.”

Parker’s lips trembled. He opened his mouth, but no words came.

“Your disappearance,” I continued, my voice low and steady, “was the one regret they carried into death. They planned to search for you after that mission. But fate never gave them the chance.”

“Freya…” The name caught in his throat.

“You are Eric. Son of Arthur and Myra. Scion of Stormveil’s fifth branch. A warrior of Iron Fang. My brother.”

I leaned forward.

“You have always been principled. You have always stood between our family and harm. If anyone insulted our parents, you would never tolerate it.”

I held his gaze.

“So tell me—does a man like that really want to beg mercy for someone like Jenny?”

The words hit him like a blow.

I could feel it—the sharp intake of breath, the tremor in his aura, the way his wolf recoiled.

He pressed a fist to his forehead, jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might crack.

“I—” His voice broke. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“Unless,” I said quietly, “Jenny is holding something over you. Unless she’s using you. Unless there’s a reason you feel forced to protect her.”

His eyes snapped up to mine.

For the first time since I found him, I saw fear.

Not fear for himself—

But fear that he might have betrayed everything he once believed in.

“Parker,” I whispered, “look at me.”

He did.

“What did she do to you?”