Chapter <b>27 </b>
Freya’s POV
He said <b>yes.. </b>
That <b>was </b>all I <b>needed </b>to hear.
If Kade ckridge had <b>agreed </b>to step in, the Runestone Market would be evacuated–quietly, efficiently, without panic. That meant I could focus on what came next.
Finding <b>Ss </b>Whitmor.
I bolted toward the elevator, mming the call button with blood–slick fingers.
Nothing,
No response. Just a dead panel staring back at me.
Damn it.
Had they sabotaged this too?
A low snarl rippled from my chest before I could stop it. My wolf pushed hard under my skin, impatient and coiled tight. She wanted out. She wanted to run.
So I gave in.
The shift tore through me in a sh of pain and power–fur bursting over my limbs, bones warping, lungs expanding. Within seconds, my two–legged form was gone, reced by sinew and fang and frost–white fur.
The white wolf–the Ghost of the Iron Fang Recon–was loose.
I sprang into the emergency stairwell and tore up the concrete steps four at a time. ws clicked against the stone, muscles burning in the best way. My eyes, keener in this form, caught every movement in the shadows. Ears twitched, locked onto sound.
Sixth floor.
I needed the tenth.
Four levels stood between me and Ss.
As I hit the eighth floornding, thems crackled to life above me..
.
“This <b>is </b>a routine emergency drill for fire and quake safety. Please exit calmly via the marked stairwells<b>.” </b>
A lie.
But a good one. Kade had already begun the sweep.
The civilians <b>were </b>being evacuated.
I let out a huff, tongue lolling in brief relief<b>. </b>
Good.
Now I just needed to <b>reach </b>Ss<b>–</b>and pray I wasn’t toote.
When <b>I </b>leapt through the tenth floor doorway, the lights cut.
Total ckout.
My paws slowed, pads silent as death across the tile. The scent hit me first–blood, fresh and copper<b>–</b>sweet, thick in the air
like <b>a </b>mist<b>. </b>
Then the sounds:
Thuds, Growls<b>. </b>Bone striking bone.
<b>A </b>scream. A snarl. And then–rage<b>. </b>
“<b>Ss </b>Whitmor! I’ll tear your throat out!”
The words <b>were </b>soaked in fury, the kind that only came from betrayal.
I shifted mid–run, bones snapping, fur sinking back beneath my skin. My human form returned just as I rounded the corner. to the upper terrace-
And froze.
Carnage<b>. </b>
Bodiesy sprawled across the floor like fallen leaves, limbs bent in ways they weren’t meant to bend. Blood painted the walls in arcs. Some groaned. Most didn’t move.
And at the center of it all…
Ss.
Standing.
Drenched in red.
101
Blood clung to his hands, sttered across his bare forearms and throat. His shirt was torn open, exposing old scars and fresh gore. His eyes–dark, bottomless–locked on me with quiet calction.
Dead calm.
But his lips curled faintly. “You’rete,” he said, voice smooth as wet stone. “A pity. You missed the best parts.”
I didn’t flinch.
4
I’d seen blood. I’d made others bleed. But something about him–the ease with which he stood among the dead–wasn’t just terrifying.
It was real.
He didn’t pretend to <i>be </i>anything he wasn’t.
He just… was,
I stepped closer. “Are you hurt?”
Svev
His brows lifted, amused. “I expected you to be more concerned about the ones on the floor.”
“I’m not that selfless<b>,</b>” I replied tightly. “If you’re still upright and sarcastic, I’ll take that <b>as </b>a good sign. But this ce isn’t safe. We need to move<b>–</b>now.”
I grabbed his wrist<b>, </b><b>fingers </b>curling around warm skin slick with someone else’s blood, and pulled him toward the exit.
Then-
Tick. Tick, Tick.
sound, sharp and steady, cut through <b>the </b>silence.
Not water.
A timer<b>. </b>
I froze.
<b>No </b><b>way </b>I missed that <b>on </b>the way in. The fight must have muffled it–but now it echoed, loud and mocking.
My body moved on instinct. <b>“</b>Down!”
<b>I </b><b>tackled </b><b>Ss</b><b>, </b>shoving him to the floor<b>, </b>shielding his body with mine just as the timer’s ticking shifted into a strange electric hum<b>. </b>
But…
No explosion.
No st wave.
No shrapnel.
Just… silence.
His voice came cool beneath me. “There won’t be an explosion.”
I blinked. “What?”
“The payload was altered,” he said calmly. “Trigger’s dead. Even at zero, it’s inert.”
I stared <i>at </i>him, still straddling his chest. “You knew about the bomb?”
“Yes,” he said simply. “This was the second attempt.”
I frowned. “Second?<b>” </b>
“The second time you’ve thrown yourself between me and death.”
His
eyes anyone?”
searched mine–dark, unwavering. “Why, Freya? Because you were Iron Fang? Because you’d do the same for
I exhaled. “Isn’t that reason enough?”
The pause between us was taut, humming like a drawn bowstring. Not panic. Not adrenaline.
Recognition.
Then I stood, just as his enforcers stormed the terrace.
They moved quickly–retrieving the disabled bomb, restraining thest of the would–be assassins, and clearing the mess like professionals. Efficient. Trained.
One of them approached with a ck towel and folded clothes. “Alpha.”
Ss epted the towel, wiping the blood from his hands like it was ash, like it meant nothing. Then he unfastened his shirt and let it <b>fall</b>–calm, uncaring.
I turned <b>fast</b><b>, </b>cheeks flushing. “You’re clearly in one piece. I’ll go.”
“You should change first,” he said, voice smooth behind me. “You’re covered in blood. Would be hard to exin that in the lobby.”
I looked down.
Red.
Right. I hadn’t noticed–too focused on staying alive.
Another enforcer <b>offered </b>a set of women’s clothing. I epted it without a word and retreated to the employee changing room tucked off <b>the </b>stairwell.
Once clean and dressed, I stepped into the elevator with Ss. It whirred to life beneath us, descending.
<i>Silent</i>.
<i>Until- </i>
“<i>I </i><i>still </i><i>want </i><i>you</i><i>,</i><i>” </i><i>he </i><i>said</i><i>. </i>