Freya’s POV


    Finished


    If Aurora had actually gone through with opening my parents‘ urn, I knew she wouldn’t just be in detention -she’d be facing three years in prison under the Pack ords.


    Even if the Iron Fang Recon Unit hadn’t intervened that night, once I had settled my parents‘ remains, I would have made sure she paid. I could never forgive someone who tried to desecrate the ashes of Arthur and Myra Brown. Aurora had chosen her path, and she would suffer the consequences.


    As for Caelum Grafton… that man was nothing more than a stranger to me now. Our paths had diverged the moment he defended Aurora’s insult.


    Lana’s voice buzzed through my WolfComm, pulling me back.


    “Where are you staying now, Freya? The old house in Ashbourne?”


    “No,” I shook my head, though she couldn’t see it. “The ce has been abandoned for too long. It’s falling apart, not fit for living. Maybe someday I’ll restore it, but for now… I’m staying at Ss Whitmor’s estate.”


    There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end, followed by a near–screech.


    “You’re what? You’re living in Ss Whitmor’s mansion? You mean–you’re cohabiting? When did that happen?”


    I pinched the bridge of my nose, sighing. “It’s not what you think. I’m his bodyguard–just for three months. After that, we’ll go our separate ways.”


    “You? A bodyguard for him?” Lana sounded incredulous.


    “It’splicated,” I muttered. “Let’s just say the Iron Fang Recon Unit asked it of me. Some things, I can’t exin.”


    “Fine, I get it.” She dropped the subject immediately—after all, Lana knew me well enough to recognize when I couldn’t speak freely.


    But she still couldn’t help herself. “Freya, be careful. Everyone knows the Alpha of the Irond Coalition is unpredictable. They say he’s ruthless–kill–on–a–whim ruthless. Don’t get caught in his moods.”


    Her warning sent images shing in my mind: Ss bowing deeply before my parents‘ urn in The Capital’s hall of remembrance, his quiet figure standing vigil outside the Stormveil Primal Hall, his solemn promise to apany my parents to their final rest in the Ashbourne Legion’s Hall of Martyrs. And… the moment I glimpsedst night, when his walls crumbled, and he looked less like a monster and more like a broken child.


    “He’s not always what people say,” I admitted softly. “There’s another side to him–one most never see.”


    “Oh, Moon above,” Lana groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re falling for him?”


    “I am not,” I shot back instantly, rolling my eyes though my cheeks warmed. “I just buried a marriage during the Lunar Severance Phase–I’m not about to fall headfirst for another man. I’d have to be an idiot.”


    76%


    Finished


    “Hmm,” she hummed in a way that meant she didn’t believe me. “Well, fine. But when you’re back in The Capital, I’ll introduce you to someone who’s actually safe to fall for.”


    I was about tough when silence pressed between us.


    “Freya?” Lana’s voice softened. “What’s wrong?”


    “Nothing… I just–something came up. I’ll call youter.” I hung up before she could press further.


    Because when I lifted my gaze, I found Ss Whitmor himself leaning against my doorway, watching me with those storm–gray eyes–expression unreadable. How much had he heard?


    We locked eyes. The air thickened. Then he crossed the threshold, closing the distance between us until I could feel the weight of his presence.


    “Tell me,” he said atst, voice low and sharp as a de’s edge, “since when is falling for me the mark of a fool?<b>” </b>


    My heart lurched. So he had heard.


    I stared, unable to speak.


    He leaned down, his lips brushing dangerously close, his wolf–amber eyes rippling with something unfamiliar–something almost tender. “Or is it that you hate me, Freya?”


    “I don’t hate you.” I forced my chin up, meeting his gaze head–on. “But you know where I stand. I just came out of the Lunar Severance Phase. I don’t n on giving my heart to anyone. And you–you don’t care about me like that.”


    His lips curved, but it wasn’t amusement–it was something darker, deeper. “And if I did? If I wanted you?”


    My throat went dry. “It wouldn’t matter. I wouldn’t return it. Not now.”


    “Not now,” he repeated softly, studying me. Then his smile widened, a wolfish curl of lips that both unsettled and entranced me. “Butter…ter is a different story.”


    I had no reply.


    That night, I tossed restlessly in bed, the events of the day pressing heavily on me. Sleep refused toe. And just when my body finally began to drift, I heard it–faint movement from the room next door.


    I stiffened. My instincts snapped awake. I slid from the bed and crept into the hall.


    And there he was. Ss, already descending the stairs, his tall frame cloaked in shadow.


    When his eyes caught mine, a flicker of surprise crossed his face. “You really are a good bodyguard,” he said evenly.


    And I couldn’t tell if it was approval… or a challenge.