Ss‘ POV


    Finished


    Freya’s face flushed at my words, though she.tried to hide it. The apple knife spun lightly in my fingers as I handed the peeled fruit to her. She epted it with her uninjured hand, trying to keep herposure. I had seen warriors stare down death with steadier eyes, yet somehow the small crack in her armor made my chest tighten.


    Her voice broke the silence. “How’s Wren?”


    “He’ll live,” I said, tone clipped, forcing myself to steady the tremor in my wolf. “He needs time to heal, but nothing permanent.”


    Relief softened her shoulders, and for a heartbeat I wished I could freeze her like that–unguarded, safe.


    But the moment my gaze drifted back to the stark white bandage wrapped around her arm, guilt surged hot through my veins. My ws threatened to unsheathe beneath my skin.


    “Freya…” My voice dropped low. “Don’t ever throw yourself in front of me like that again.”


    She paused mid–bite, confusion flickering across her face. “What do you mean?”


    “I mean I won’t allow it. I can’t watch you bleed for me again.”


    Her brows drew together, defiance shing in her wolf–gold eyes. “But I’m your protector. It’s my duty. And it’s just a small wound. I’ll heal.”


    The word small tore something raw inside me. My wolf lunged against my ribs, growling at her reckless dismissal. “I don’t care if it’s small or mortal, I won’t allow it. From this moment, you’re released from the duty of guarding me. I’ll make it official with the Iron Fang Recon Unit myself.”


    Her jaw parted in shock, words caught in her throat. She didn’t expect my tone to be that final.


    “What about your safety?” she challenged.


    <b>“</b>I’ll handle it,” I answered, voice iron–hard. My wolf surged, a tide of violence and certainty. “And soon there will be no threats left to guard against.”


    The silence that followed pressed heavy between us. She ate the apple quietly, and soon the medicine pulled her into slumber. Her breathing evened, hershes soft against her cheeks.


    I sat beside her a long while, just watching. The way her chest rose and fell, the way her hair spilled across the pillow like a dark river. I reached out, brushing a stray lock from her face, my touch feather–light. In that stillness, my wolf went silent,


    content.


    But the moment I rose the moment I stepped into the corridor beyond her door, the softness shattered.


    Two rows of my guards straightened immediately. The scent of iron discipline filled the hall.


    “You’ll guard Freya Thorne with your lives,” I said, my voice carrying the weight of Alphamand. “If anything happens to her, if she draws even a single drop of blood without me knowing… you know the price.”


    “Yes, Alpha!” they chorused, the words vibrating in the sterile hospital air


    I turned toward the elevator, each step echoing with purpose. By the time the doors closed, the tenderness in my chest <b>was </b>gone, reced by a searing rage. My wolf prowled inside me, demanding retribution. Tonight, the Whitmore bloodlines that had conspired with Rogues would learn what it meant to provoke me.


    By the next dawn, the pack whispered of ruin. The Whitmore cousins who had eyed my Alpha seaty broken–some stripped of wealth overnight, their assets burned to ash by Ironhold Consortium pressure, others fleeing with nothing but their skin, chased by the scent of their own debts.


    And in the ancestral chamber of Whitmore Manor–a ce heavy with the ghosts of former Alphas–I stood before the kneeling remnants. The air reeked of fear and sweat, their wolves subdued beneath my dominance.


    12:25 AM


    Finished


    “It wasn’t us!” one whimpered, forehead pressed to the cold stone floor. “We didn’t know anything about the Rogues-”


    “Didn’t know?” My voice cut sharp, my wolf’s growl bleeding through. I flung the stack of files onto the ground, the papers scattering like snow. “Then exin these–every transaction, every whisper to the Rogues you hired to take my life.”


    Their


    eyes widened, blood draining from their faces. I didn’t need their confessions; their fear was enough.


    “I already dealt with the rest of your mercenaries before I came here tonight,” I said, my voice a low snarl. “The only reason you still breathe is because I haven’t decided whether you’re worth the trouble of killing myself.”


    They knew it was true. Once, I hadn’t cared. Once, I’d looked at death as a release, even toyed with it–whether my wolf fell on the battlefield or in the shadows didn’t matter. But Freya had bled for me. She had stood against Rogues with her body in front of mine. And because of that, everything had changed.


    Now my life mattered. Because without it, I couldn’t protect her.


    “Enough groveling,<b>” </b>I snapped, turning my gaze to the far corner where shadows clung too heavily. “Come out. I know you’re there.<b>” </b>


    A deep, mockingugh rolled out before the figure emerged. Cassian Whitmor–my father.


    The sight of him sent bile rising in my throat.


    “I thought you’d drag this game out longer,” he said, his smile sharp as a de.


    “You want me dead that badly, Father?” My voice was t, though my wolf bristled, hackles raised.


    Cassian shrugged with feigned ease. “Dead? Not necessarily. But untested, unproven? That, I could not allow. An Alpha of the Whitmores must earn the seat. Consider this a trial by fire.”


    The sneer on my lips came without thought. “A trial that involved allying with Rogues? Sending them after your own son?” “You’re still breathing, aren’t you?” His eyes gleamed. “That means you passed.”


    “Do you fear I’ll hand you to the Coalition Tribunal?” I asked, voice low, deadly. “Irond and the military both keep records. If 1 fall, every project tied to Whitmore blood halts. You think they wouldn’te for you?”


    Cassian chuckled, arrogant. “And yet, you have no evidence. I was careful. You can’t touch me, not in any court.”


    I clenched my fists until ws threatened to break skin. He was right. He had covered his tracks.


    Then his <b>gaze </b>shifted, sly. “You didn’t care before. But now… now you’re desperate to end this farce. Because of her, isn’t it? Freya Thorne. That little warrior who bled for you. She changed you.”


    The growl ripped from my chest before I could stop it, my wolf surging forward, a snarl curling my lips. The guards stiffened, the air thick with killing intent.


    “Yes,” I thought <b>savagely</b><b>. </b><b>Because </b>of her.