Freya’s POV
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Finished
The Stormveil Pack never forgot my parents. That’s why they negotiated tirelessly with the Bloodmoon Pack and beyond, pulling every string to bring my parents‘ ashes back <i>to </i>Ashbourne.
And today… they could finally rest in the soil of thend they died to protect.
“We’ll take your parents to the Ashbourne Legion’s Hall of Martyrs,” one of the officials said, his tone steady with solemn respect.
I gave a small nod.
My hands tightened around the urns.
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When I climbed into the armored car, my parents‘ oldrades from the Iron Fang Recon Unit joined me. They had traveled across the country just to stand guard onest time. Kade was there, Lana too.
And then–through the tinted ss, my gaze caught him.
Alpha Ss.
The Alpha of the Irond Coalition stood among the crowd, his frame wrapped in a ck suit, his expression carved in somber stone. Our eyes locked across the distance, through the window, through the noise, until it felt as though no one else existed.
He had kept his word. He came to see my parents off.
A storm churned in my chest.
When I first met Ss, I thought of him as an enigma carved from shadows–an Alpha whose mood was as mercurial as the moon, whose aura reeked of blood and death. But around my parents, he had shown nothing but reverence.
It was that reverence that cracked something open inside me, revealing a man who wasn’t all steel and silence.
The engine rumbled. The vehicle rolled away from the Stormveil Primal Hall.
Through the window, I saw vigers stop in their tracks, heads bowed, hands pressed to hearts. They knew what this procession meant. They knew who my parents were.
Tears blurred my vision, hot and merciless. These people… they were sending my parents home. With respect. With honor.
By the time we reached the Hall of Martyrs, the ceremonial guards were already waiting. The burial rite unfolded with a reverence that wed at my chest. Four soldiers bore the urns, lowering them with ritual precision into the cold earth.
I clutched my parents‘ portraits and followed, my legs moving as though bound by grief.
Behind me, my kin of the Thorne line and Stormveil’s officials trailed in silence. Lana, Kade, and Ss
12
remained further back, but I felt Ss’s gaze burning into me like a brand.
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Finished
Lana’s nce darted his way more than once, her expression betraying surprise. Everyone in Ashbourne whispered of Ss’s ruthlessness, of the way he tore through alliances and enemies alike. For a wolf of his rank toe… and to stand humbly at the back, not seeking recognition, not staking dominance-
No. He was here for my parents.
And for me.
The thought rattled me.
Lana’s sharp intake of breath told me she’d noticed it too–the way his deadened, abyss–dark eyes softened when they fell on me. The way his focus never wavered.
Could Ss Whitmor truly… care for me?
If he did–then Goddess help me. Because I didn’t know if that was salvation, or ruin.
The ceremony pressed on. A crimson g was draped across the urns, gleaming with the sigil of our Legion. Beside them, I ced a silver bullet charm–a relic my father never parted with.
That bullet had nearly imed his life once. He survived only because my mother refused to let him go, cutting it from his body with her own hands under battlefield fire. From that day forward, he swore that his life belonged not only to the Pack and the nation, but to her.
And when they fell together–when the cannons rained down and my father wrapped himself around my mother, refusing to let go–it was a vow fulfilled. His life was hers. And theirs belonged to the cause.
The rifles of the honor guard lifted.
Seven shots split the sky.
Each one a wolf’s howl of farewell.
Each one a call: “Heroes, return to the Pack.”
My tears spilled freely then.
Mother. Father. You can finally rest.
When it was over, I forced myself to stand tall. To breathe. To speak with the Ashbourne officials, to thank my parents‘ brothers–in–arms, to wear dignity even while my heart bled. Because that’s what being a Thorne
meant.
Even if my wolf wanted to copse and howl to the moon.