Ch. 6..10: A Warrior Luna's Awakening Chapter 6-10
Chapter 6
Freya’s POV
She went pale.
“One hundred million it is,” she snapped. “You better not back out.”
The moment Lady Eleanor left, slamming the door behind her, I stood alone in the cold silence of Caelum’s estate.
My wolf stirred beneath my skin—not in grief this time, but in stillness. In clarity.
I hadn’t just signed a contract.
I had signed the death warrant for every illusion I once clung to.
There would be no turning back. No more patience. No more quiet dignity.
Only truth. Only freedom. And vengeance served cold under a highland moon.
Later that day, I met my best friend, Lana, at the Moonshadow Market.
She squeezed my arm. “Took you long enough. The whole pack’s been watching Caelum and Aurora flaunt their little soap opera in public. You were too good for him.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m free soon.”
“What about the ashes?”
“Once the dissolution is official, I’m taking them home. To the highlands. Where they were born.”
By dinner, we’d ended up at a quiet dining hall in Upper Crescent.
Just as we sat down, I heard laughter from the next booth—followed by a voice that curled bile up my throat.
“Caelum, when’s the Luna ceremony with Aurora? Don’t forget to invite us.”
Another chuckled. “Freya? She was nothing. Probably some back-alley educated Omega. If Caelum hadn’t tossed her scraps, she’d be howling in the gutters.”
“Aurora’s a real catch. Royal training. First female flight commander. Her name’s already in the Council records.”
The divider between us muffled their voices, but not enough.
Lana growled beside me, claws twitching. “I’ll tear their throats out.”
“No,” I said quietly. “They’re talking about me. I’ll handle it.”
I rose, walked around the divider—and smiled.
“Why wait for the Luna ceremony? Allow me to offer a toast now.”
Every male at the table froze.
Caelum looked up, guilt flickering behind his eyes.
Too late.
The wolf in me was done waiting.
I was reclaiming my name—starting now.
I narrowed my eyes at Caelum. “Don’t tell me to calm down. They slandered me to my face—and you stood there and let them.”
Caelum’s brows drew together. “Freya, don’t make a scene. They were just joking around. No harm meant.”
No harm meant? I stared at him, a cold laugh slipping from my lips. “So what, I should kneel, slap myself, and apologize for ever marrying you? Would that finally count as ‘harm’ to you?”
He stiffened at the mockery, and I didn’t miss the flicker of unease in his so-called friends. Even Aurora looked like she’d swallowed a lemon.
Caelum reached for my wrist. “Let’s talk in private. Not here.”
“No. We’ll talk here, in front of everyone you’re so desperate to impress.” I jerked free from his grip. “You and Aurora deserve each other. One’s a lying cheater, the other’s proud to be the mistress. I hope the Moon Goddess grants you two a blessed mating bond—preferably one that burns.”
His face darkened like a storm front. Aurora blanched.
Then Ryker spoke up, tone thick with disdain. “Freya, who the hell do you think you are to talk to Aurora like that? What do you have that she doesn’t? You’re a no-name orphan who probably barely clawed her way into a backwater training academy. Caelum doesn’t love Aurora, but he sure as hell doesn’t love a mutt like you.”
“Watch your mouth!” Lana, bless her, shot up like a wildfire, ready to fight. “Freya graduated top of her class from the Halston Combat Academy.”
A wave of snickers followed. “Please. That’s the best lie yet. Like anyone from Halston would end up playing Luna to a pack who doesn’t even respect her.”
Halston. The name alone should have silenced them. It wasn’t just any academy—it was the most prestigious combat institution in the werewolf realm. The place where only the fiercest, fastest, and most disciplined wolves were forged. Most came out warriors. A few came out legends.
“Lana, don’t. They’re not worth it,” I said, stopping her. Then I turned my gaze on Aurora, the corners of my lips lifting. “You don’t need to lie, Aurora. My credentials don’t require your approval.”
Aurora’s eyes narrowed. She was flustered—and that told me I was winning. She expected me to crumble under the pressure, to falter. I didn’t.
Then her eyes flicked to the restaurant entrance. Someone had just walked in.
“Professor Hawthorne!” Aurora called, beaming like a pup. “What a coincidence!”
The older man paused, then nodded politely. “Aurora. It’s been a while.”
Aurora’s smile widened. “You’re still teaching at Halston, right? We have someone here who claims to be one of your graduates. Perhaps you can help us clear up the truth.”
All eyes turned toward me, most gleaming with the anticipation of a lie exposed.
I stepped forward, calm and poised. “Professor Hawthorne. It’s good to see you again.”
He blinked, then grinned, stepping forward to clap a hand on my shoulder. “Well, this is a surprise. It’s been years, Freya. I heard about Arthur and Myra. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you,” I said softly.
The table went silent.
Aurora’s mouth dropped open. “Y-you know her?”
“Of course. She was my student. Top of her year. When she joined, she broke the academy’s entrance records. Even the Elders took notice.”
Murmurs spread through the room like wildfire.
Aurora sat frozen, all her earlier smugness draining from her face. Her fingers trembled around her wine glass.
Chapter 7
Freya’s POV
Caelum looked stunned. I could see the questions building behind his eyes. He turned to me, voice tight. “Why didn’t you ever tell me? About Halston? About your accolades?”
“You never asked,” I said simply.
Before he could respond, a new presence shifted the air.
“She was your student?” A low, cold voice cut through the tension. All eyes turned toward the tall man standing beside Hawthorne.
“Yes,” the professor said with a smile. “Freya, this is Alpha Silas Whitmore.”
The name fell like thunder.
Heir to the Whitmore Estate. The current Alpha-in-waiting of the Ironclad Coalition. A man whispered to command not just wolves—but armies.
Silas offered his hand. “An honor, Miss Thorne.”
I hesitated for a beat before taking it.
His grip was firm. Controlled. Dangerous.
And familiar.
He was the one I’d seen few days ago. The man who stood in the rain, watching in silence.
Now, without the veil of weather, his face was striking—sharp features, midnight eyes, a predator’s stillness cloaked in civility.
“Likewise,” I murmured.
Then, just as quickly, he turned away with Professor Hawthorne. The moment passed.
Caelum stepped closer, his expression unreadable. “You really graduated from Halston? You were top of your class? Why keep that from me?”
I faced him without flinching. “Does it matter now?”
Before he could answer, a sharp roar cracked through the air.
Not gunfire.
A feral snarl, followed by the unmistakable crash of claw meeting wood. The restaurant plunged into chaos.
Wolves shifted—tables overturned, cutlery clattered to the ground as diners ducked or prepared to defend.
From the far side of the room, a rogue had burst through the terrace window, his coat matted with blood and madness in his eyes.
Then—impact. A shove against my chest.
I stumbled backward, catching myself against a chair. I looked up—just in time to see Caelum shielding Aurora behind a divider.
He had pushed me—away from him, away from safety.
I could’ve been slashed.
And still, he chose her.
Again.
He looked at me. Our eyes met.
He had the gall to look guilty.
Don’t bother, I thought.
I steadied myself, raised my chin, and mouthed the words slowly, so he wouldn’t miss them:
“Caelum Vale, I don’t want you anymore.”
In that instant, I saw Caelum flinch, his chest tightening like something had struck him deep inside.
“What’s wrong?” Aurora asked, sensing the tremor in his body as he shielded her protectively in his arms.
“Nothing…” he said hoarsely, licking his dry lips. “It’s nothing.”
But I saw the look in his eyes—haunted, confused. As if something inside him had just shattered. Maybe it was seeing me rush into danger. Maybe he thought I had given up on him.
The chaos that had erupted just moments before—the Rogues’ snarls, the shattered windows, the screams—had finally begun to quiet. Blood and wreckage stained the once-elegant dining hall. The elite security force of the Whitmore family surged in like a silver tide, swiftly surrounding a blood-smeared Rogue in human form. He was older, his body heaving, amber eyes burning with hatred.
But it wasn’t over. The Rogue’s claws were extended, fangs bared—aimed straight at Alpha Silas Whitmor of the Ironclad Coalition.
“I lost everything because of your family!” the man snarled, voice filled with venom. “My brother’s dead. My pack gone. You will pay with your life!”
Silas didn’t even flinch. Even with claws inches from his heart, his chiseled face was unreadable. Cold. Dangerous. He took a step forward—deliberate and calm.
“There are many who want me dead,” he said, voice low, almost bored. “You think you’re capable of being the one who actually does it?”
“Stay back!” the Rogue shrieked, panic beginning to override his rage. “I swear—I’ll kill you!”
But Silas didn’t stop. He moved faster.
So fast that by the time the Rogue lunged, Silas had already twisted his arm, shattering the joint. A sickening crunch echoed, and the claws swiped harmlessly past.
“You…you…” the man gasped, horror dawning in his eyes as Silas wrenched the weapon from his hand and forced him down, the Rogue’s own fang-shaped blade now pressed against his throat.
Silas pressed the Rogue down, the fang-shaped blade biting into his throat. His voice was cold steel.
“Ever consider the consequences before you attacked me?”
The Rogue’s amber eyes widened with terror. “You can’t—! You’re an Alpha. If you kill me here, the Council—”
“Let’s see if I care,” Silas murmured, the blade angling deeper. His shadow stretched over the Rogue’s broken body, every line of him coiled for the strike. The predator in him demanded blood.
The room held its breath, every wolf frozen, waiting for the kill.
That was when I moved.
Silent, sure. My hand slid beneath my cloak, fingers wrapping around the compact training crossbow I carried out of habit. One soft click, and the steel tip kissed flesh—this time not the Rogue’s, but Silas Whitmor’s ribs.
I stepped into the storm of his aura, close enough to breathe the scent of iron and rain clinging to him. My voice cut low, for him alone.
“You can’t,” I whispered. “Not here. Not now. The old Ironclad Alpha’s bones aren’t even cold. Your Coalition is watching. If you spill blood before witnesses, the Council won’t call it justice—they’ll call it tyranny. And you’ll hand your rivals the blade to gut your claim.”
The fang-blade froze against the Rogue’s throat. A muscle twitched along Silas’s jaw.
I pressed the crossbow harder into him, steady as stone. “Your enemies are already counting the ways to break you. Dead wolves are nothing but wasted blood. Live ones? Leverage.”
For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the two of us—his midnight eyes locking onto mine, dark and fathomless, measuring whether I was bold or foolish enough to pull the trigger. The tension crackled like a drawn bowstring.
Then—slowly, deliberately—he eased the blade back. With a brutal yank, he hauled the Rogue upright and shoved him into the arms of the Whitmor guards.
“Chain him,” Silas ordered, voice cutting like frost. “Deliver him to the Council tribunal.”
Relief broke through the hall in a wave. Wolves exhaled. The storm passed.
But Alpha Silas didn’t look relieved. He looked at me. Long. Unblinking. The faintest curl of a smile ghosted across his mouth—dark, dangerous, unreadable.
“You play the game well, Freya Thorne,” he said softly. “Well enough to aim a bolt at my heart and walk away breathing.”
The words should have felt like praise. Instead, they sank like claws beneath my skin. A shiver rippled through me—not fear exactly. Something colder.
He wasn’t finished with me.
Chapter 8
Freya’s POV
Because of the attack, everyone involved was taken back to the Coalition’s central precinct to give statements.
After I finished mine, I walked out of the questioning room and saw Caelum in the main hall. He was surrounded by his usual circle–Ryker, Giselle, and of course, Aurora.
As soon as he saw me, he stepped forward, face tense.
“What were you thinking?!” he snapped. “You pointed a weapon–replica or not–at Silas Whitmor! Do you have any idea who he is? The Silverfang Pack has an alliance with the Ironclad Coalition. You provoke him, you provoke us all!”
“Alliance?” I scoffed. “If I truly meant anything to you, Caelum, then when the Rogues attacked, you wouldn’t have shoved me aside just to protect Aurora.”
His expression faltered. A flicker of guilt crossed his face.
Ryker rolled his eyes. “Aurora’s the daughter of Bluemoon’s Beta. She’s part of the Airborne Wing now. Of course she needed protection! You think you’re more important than her?”
I laughed coldly. “That’s funny. I thought Aurora was a top pilot–‘doesn’t lose to male wolves, right? But now she’s a fragile flower that needs rescuing?”
Ryker flushed red, unable to respond.
Aurora stepped forward, her face serene. “Freya, Caelum was just doing the right thing. You’re really overreacting. This is exactly why people say women are too emotional.”
“Emotional?!” Lana’s voice cracked through the air as she came storming out of the briefing room. “He shoved his mate into danger to save his favorite playmate, and she’s the emotional one? Aurora, you’ve got nerve–I’ll give you that.”
Gasps rippled through the hall. Heads turned.
Caelum’s face turned to stone.
Aurora’s composure finally cracked. “Don’t call ine a-”
“What, a homewrecker?” Lana snapped. “If it walks like one and talks like one…”
She stepped closer. “Caelum pushes Freya–his Luna–into the line of fire to protect you. You let him. And now you stand here, smug as ever, blaming her?”
People started whispering. The whole precinct was watching now.
And me? I stood tall, unshaken.
Because this time, I didn’t need to say a word.
Lana had already said it all.
Aurora’s expression stiffened. She wanted to snap back, I could feel it–but for once, she couldn’t find the words. Not when the entire precinct was watching.
Caelum, ever prideful, turned his frustration on me.
“Freya, was this your plan? Get your friend to make a spectacle and humiliate me in front of everyone?”
Lana let out a scornful snort. “Oh, please. I speak for myself. Don’t blame Freya just because you can’t defend your precious little side piece.”
But Caelum didn’t look at Lana. His eyes were locked on mine, his voice sharp with accusation. “What do you want, huh? Is this your revenge? You want to see me cornered? Embarrassed? Fine. What’s the price for your silence? You want compensation?”
I looked at him–truly looked at him.
This was the male I once thought I could change. The Alpha I gave up everything for. The one I defended before my own pack, my own blood.
How could I have been so blind?
“I don’t want your compensation,” I said quietly, the storm in my chest turning cold. “I want to resign.”
That got his attention. His brows furrowed, confusion flickering in his golden eyes.
“What?”
Even Ryker looked up, startled. “You’re serious?”
“I’ll hand in my resignation tomorrow. I’ll hand over every project. From now on, Silverfang’s business, its operations, its future… none of it has anything to do with me.”
Because if I was leaving this mate bond, I was leaving it clean. No ties. No dependency. No looking back.
“You’re threatening me?” Caelum growled. “Over what? Because I didn’t shield you during an attack? You’re quitting for that?”
“No,” I replied coolly. “I’m giving you what you want. You want Aurora beside you? Fine. Have her. I’m not clinging to a position just to stay by your side. This is a choice, not a threat. I’m cutting the last chain between us, Caelum. From now on, you and Aurora–whatever you two do–it’s none of my concern.”
Around us, the whispers were growing again. Too many ears. Too many eyes. But I didn’t care anymore.
Caelum rubbed his temples, annoyed. “Fine. Do whatever you want. Take a break. Clear your head. I don’t have time for your drama.”
Without another word, I turned and left the precinct, Lana close behind.
As the door closed behind me, I felt the weight of three years fall away like a broken shackle.
As I walked out, my wolf–like keen hearing still allowed me to hear their whispers.
Ryker let out a low whistle. “No way… she’s actually quitting? She really thinks she can get a better position out there?”
Caelum’s lips curled into a humorless smirk. “Let her. She’ll come crawling back soon enough.”
“She’s always been dramatic,” Aurora chimed in with a flick of her silvery braid. “The kind to throw away everything just to make a point. Honestly, it’s pathetic. All that training at Halston Combat Academy… wasted.”
“She’s smart, sure, but out there?” Ryker snorted. “Without your protection, Alpha, she’ll be lucky if someone hires her to serve drinks.”
Aurora smiled faintly, satisfied. “Exactly. What is she, really, without a male to cling to? She lived off your name in the pack for years. She was never made for the battlefield or the boardroom.”
She didn’t say it outright, but I knew what she was thinking.
That without Caelum, I was nothing.
And maybe that’s what they all thought.
But that’s where they were wrong.
It is time to show them who I am.
Chapter 9
Freya’s POV
The next morning, I returned to Silverfang headquarters–for the last time.
As soon as I stepped onto the project floor, I felt it. Tension thick as fog. Like the entire building sensed the shift in me, in the air, in the pack order.
“Freya, you’re… resigning?” one of the analysts blurted out, stunned.
“You’re leaving the project? But without you, it’ll crash!”
They didn’t know who I truly was. To them, I was just the relentless lead who stayed long after others left, the one who made sure the UAV prototypes didn’t fall out of the sky. They never knew I was Caelum’s Luna–not officially. Not publicly. Not ever fully accepted.
And now?
Now,
Now, I didn’t want to be.
I gave a faint nod. “Alpha Caelum will assign a new lead.”
No goodbyes. No explanations. I left them with their gasps and concern, and headed straight to Caelum’s office, the resignation letter clenched in my hand like a weapon.
I pushed open the door.
Caelum was seated behind his desk. Across from him lounged Giselle, his sister, her legs crossed, smugness practically dripping from her fangs.
She saw me and smirked, as if she already knew why I was there.
Caelum’s eyes flicked to the paper. “You’re really doing this?”
“I thought I was clear yesterday,” I replied, my tone cold and even.
He leaned back in his chair. “If this is your attempt at leverage, Freya, you’re only proving how little you understand me.”
I almost laughed.
“No. It’s not leverage, Caelum. I’m done trying to understand a mate who, when danger strikes, chooses to shield another woman while pushing/his Luna aside.”
He stiffened, jaw tightening.
“Fine,” he bit out. “Then don’t expect sympathy later.”
He signed the resignation with a flourish and tossed the paper onto the table. “Giselle will take over. Finish the handoff and get out.”
Giselle beamed. “Don’t worry, brother. I’ll do better than she ever did.”
I said nothing.
But I could feel the wolf in me stir. It didn’t snarl. It didn’t bark. It watched, patient and sharp. Like it was waiting for the last thread of loyalty to finally snap.
During the handoff, she strutted–around like she owned the place.
This is it?” she said, flipping through one of the schematics I’d refined for months. “Wow. No wonder you had time to paint your nails.”
She tossed the binder onto the table like trash.
“Whatever. I’ve seen enough. You can go now. And don’t come back. My brother’s company isn’t some dumping ground for
1/3
discarded females.”
I tilted my head, studying her like prey.
“Don’t worry.” I said softly. “I have no interest in coming back.”
I stepped closer, letting my presence darken, sharpening the edges of my voice like claws. “But you? You might find this ‘dumping ground‘ suits you perfectly.”
Her expression twisted. She raised a hand, as if daring to slap me.
I caught her wrist mid–air.
Her gasp was delicious.
“I tolerated you,” I said, my voice low, controlled. “Because you were his sister. But I owe neither of you anything now.”
My grip tightened just enough for her bones to remember the strength behind my calm.
“Let go!” she shrieked.
I did.
She stumbled backward, clutching her arm, eyes wide.
And then… she saw it.
The wolf in my gaze. The part of me that didn’t need titles or a mate to be dangerous.
She didn’t speak again.
I turned and walked out of Silverfang HQ.
For the first time in three years… free.
I spent the next few days in quiet.
I didn’t rush to job listings or hunt down recruiters. I let myself breathe. Let my senses sharpen again. I ran through the forest at night, letting the wind tear through my hair, letting the wolf within me stretch in ways I hadn’t allowed in years.
No more suppressing her for the sake of appearances. No more tucking myself into Caelum’s shadow just to be “palatable.”
I let myself remember who I’d been before him.
Before I became “the wife.”
A fighter. A strategist. A soldier.
It was on the third evening, while I sat in Lana’s high–rise apartment overlooking the city skyline, that I finally told her.
She froze, wine glass mid–air. “Wait–back up. You resigned? From Silverfang Tech?”
I nodded.
She stared at me like I’d just shifted mid–sentence.
“Holy hell, Freya. Why didn’t you call me the second you walked out?”
I shrugged. “I needed a few days to remember how to howl.”
She blinked, then burst out laughing. “Gods, that’s the most you thing you’ve said in years.”
Then her eyes turned sharp. “Honestly, though–you should’ve quit a long time ago. You built that damn company with your bare hands and blood. Caelum just gave it the face. You were the bones.”
I let her rant. She needed it. So did I.
2/3
Then she grew serious. “So what’s next? Where does the she–wolf. now?”
go
I hesitated. “I’m considering going back to the Iron Fang Recon Unit.”
“Or,” she said brightly, “you could finally come to my company like I’ve begged you to since the day you left Halston.”
She leaned in, eager. “Freya, your UAV research was years ahead of the curve. You were a pioneer in tactical aerial tech before Caelum ever had a clue what a drone even was. If you come to me, I’ll give you your own department. Your own lab. You won’t just be building something–you’ll lead it.”
I was quiet.
But something inside me pulsed at the idea.
Not just surviving–but leading. Commanding. Unleashing my mind the same way I once unleashed my claws.
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
She grinned. “Which means yes.”
For the first time in years, I let myself smile without weight behind it.
Then, as if the moon sensed I was too close to peace, my phone buzzed.
Giselle.
I answered.
Her shrill voice crackled through the line. “Freya, you’re not dead yet, are you? You forgot today’s appointment–Mom’s check–up at the pack clinic. Or are you so full of yourself now that you think you’re above basic Luna duties?”
Chapter 10
Freya’s POV
“I don’t have time for this. Your mother’s appointment is today. You and your brother can go with her,” I said coldly, cutting the call before Giselle could get a word in. Then I blocked her number–no packmate should waste my scent or my patience.
Three years. Three long years I ran endless errands for Caelum’s mother–hospital visits, paperwork, midnight pharmacy runs. All without thanks or even a glance. They treated my loyalty like air–essential, invisible, and taken for granted.
Today was supposed to be another routine eye check for Eleanor.
Lana watched me, her gaze heavy with concern. “Who was that?”
“Caelum’s sister. A spoiled she–wolf who’s forgotten what respect means,” I growled low, the bitter scent of old pack politics. rising in my throat.
Half an hour later, Caelum’s call shattered the fragile silence.
“Freya. You’d better get to the hospital now. If anything happens to my mother, I won’t forgive you.”
I narrowed my eyes. We weren’t legally severed yet, but the pack’s poison was already dripping between us. Still, I would go- no need to rip the wounds wider before the moon had fully turned.
At the hospital, Giselle confronted me like a cornered wolf, baring teeth.
“You blocked me. I couldn’t reach you all morning!” she spat.
“Yes, I did.”
Her snarling face twisted with rage. “How dare you?!”
She’d just been thrown out of the doctor’s office–no registration, no slot–exposed like prey under the harsh pack gaze. She’d hammered my line like claws scraping bark, all unanswered. Humiliation clung to her scent like a death knot.
I met her fury with cold steel. “Do you think you’re some highborn Alpha? That I owe you my time and blood?”
Giselle faltered, the fight draining from her eyes.
Caelum stepped between us, voice low but firm, thick with Alpha command. “This is between us, but you don’t use my mother’s illness as a weapon.”
I scoffed, lips curling into a warning snarl. “Weapon? I was the one standing guard at her side all these years. Now I step back, and suddenly I’m the enemy?”
His jaw clenched tight. “You know your place. She raised you and your sister. If anyone should be there, it’s you two. Me? I owe her nothing.“.
I stepped forward, voice cold as winter wind. “You’re wrong. I owe my loyalty to those who gave me life and honor–not to a pack that never truly claimed me. Accompanying your mother was a grace, not a chain.”
Caelum’s eyes flickered–anger, doubt, something unspoken.
“Then how did she get an appointment if you didn’t arrange it?” he challenged.
I let the truth hang in the air like a scent marking territory. “Old Dr. Smith only sees a handful of patients a week. His slots are fought over like prime hunting ground. You don’t just take one.”
He didn’t reply. I knew his mind was tangled–thinking I jumped the line.‘ But Dr. Smith reserved that place out of respect for my parents–martyrs whose blood waters this land.
No explanation was needed.
“The cataract surgery is done. If you can’t see Dr. Smith, other healers in the ward will suffice,” I said flatly.
That’s when Eleanor lunged, fingers like claws.
1
“You want me to settle for a lesser healer? To go blind?!” she snarled, venom thick
I dodged, eyes sharp. The pack knew I wasn’t prey.
in
her voice.
The chaos drew Dr. Smith from his room. His gaze softened when it landed on me.
“What’s all this? Freya?”
Before I could answer, Eleanor’s voice cut through like poisoned fangs.
“Freya is poison. She wants me to see a regular healer. But I trust only Dr. Smith. Soon she’ll be out of Caelum’s life, and he’ll marry someone worthy.”
Caelum’s hand gripped his mother’s shoulder. “She’s just a friend, Mom.”
“Friend? Ha! You’re still tethered to Aurora’s scent. Freya’s just an orphan, no bloodline, no strength to match the first female pilot of Bluemoon.”
Dr. Smith’s face darkened, stormy like thunder before the fall.
“You will find no healing here if you disrespect the daughter of martyrs,” he said firmly. “I treated your mother out of honor for Freya’s family. If you scorn her, leave.”
The SilverSmith pack froze, shocked.
“Her parents died for this pack!” Dr. Smith’s voice thundered. “How dare you speak so?”
Eleanor shrank back, silent, but her eyes burned with spite.
I caught the scent of disbelief lingering on them–thinking my parents were just ordinary soldiers, nothing more. A couple of nameless wolves lost to war. Their words, laced with contempt, spoke volumes.
They didn’t understand. My parents were legends, guardians of the pack’s future. Not just meat for the battlefield.
And Eleanor–her bones brittle with age, her healing slowed by years and pack scars that no wolf can fully mend–still clung to the illusion of superiority. She forgot that strength fades, but legacy burns eternal.
Caelum stepped forward, voice soft but unwavering. “Mother wants only you.”
Giselle scoffed. “My brother’s pockets are deep. Name your price!”
Dr. Smith’s gaze hardened. “When you secure an appointment, I will see her.”
He turned and led me inside.
“Divorce?” he asked softly.
I nodded.
“Good,” he said. “That man is not your mate. You deserve a wolf who honors you, born of your bloodline and strength. Your parents‘ legacy is your armor.”
Tears threatened, but I/held them back.
“Have you laid your parents to rest yet?” he asked gently.
“Not yet. After the Moon Break, I will bring their ashes home.”
“Tell me when you leave. I will honor them with you.”
I nodded.
The Moon Break–the sacred time of severance, when bonds unravel and bloodlines are cleansed,
Thirty nights of silence, the severing of old scents.
2/3
When it ends, I will carry their ashes to the land they bled to protect.
And I will bury not just my parents, but the chains of the past.