Third Person’s POV
Finished
Aurora staggered, her body trembling as though her legs could no longer carry the weight of the hall’s eyes. With a strangled sound, she covered her face and bolted toward the backstage exit.
“Aurora!” Caelum’s voice rang out, sharp and frantic. The Alpha of the Silverfang Pack shot to his feet, his silver gaze zing, and hurried after her.
On stage, Freya sat unmoving, her eyes cold as she watched them disappear through the doors. Her wolf pressed close to the surface, hungry tosh out, but she forced it down and turned back to the hall.
The audience, the cameras, even the host–all seemed caught in the tension. Then Freya leaned forward, her voice calm, steady, each syble edged with the authority of wolf–blooded truth.
“Tonight, the real heroes have already been named,” she said. Her gaze swept over the audience, the ground rescue wolves scated among the crowd. “It isn’t those who make speeches. It’s the ones who dive into me and rubble, risking their lives for strangers. Their courage is what we should honor. Their sacrifice is what we should learn from.”
The words struck like a vow spoken beneath the moon. Slowly, the murmurs softened. The host, seizing on the moment, guided the conversation back toward the night’s program.
Backstage, chaos festered.
Aurora had copsed into the greenroom, her voice shrill with rage.
“Freya nned this! She wanted me humiliated in front of the packs!”
Caelum tried to soothe her, his tone low, steady. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it. The show is recorded, not live. A few favors, the right price–your shame will never see daylight.”
Hope flickered across Aurora’s pale face, and she clutched his sleeve like a drowning wolf clinging to driftwood. “You… you can do that?<b>” </b>
“Of course,” Caelum said, arrogancecing every word. “The Silverfang name opens doors. Trust me.”
Relief bled into her expression–until her WolfComm vibrated.
The voice on the other end was not Caelum’s. It was distorted, metallic, cruel.
“Murderer… Aurora. You’re a murderer. Did you think your sins would stay buried? I have proof. I’ll ce it where the whole hall can see. Then they’ll know you’re no hero.”
Aurora’s hands shook so violently she almost dropped the device. “Who are you? I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
The voice only chuckled.
“It doesn’t matter if you deny it. What matters is that soon, the world will know. You’re no savior. You’re bloodstained.”
The line went dead.
Panic red inside her! <b>If </b>evidence truly existed… if the crowd saw it… her entire life would unravel. She stormed from the greenroom, desperate to stop it—
-and walked straight into shadow.
A figure waited in the dim corridor, grotesque mask grinning with jagged red. The iron–wrapped bat swung without warning. The blow cracked against her skull. Aurora crumpled, a strangled cry escaping as the world tilted.
Thest thing she saw before darkness imed her was that mask’s hollow eyes, staring into hers.
Onstage, the program shifted into a recess. Freya finally exhaled, shoulders loosening when Ss appeared at her side. The Alpha of the Irond Coalition carried the storm in his stance, his presence grounding her like steel.
303Pup <b>p </b>
酸雞
Finished
“Freya,” he said quietly, his voice almost too low for the cameras still lingering nearby. “When this airs, every pack will know we’re together. Are you certain you won’t regret it?”
Freya turned her head toward him, studying his sharp features. His question was not political–it was personal, almost pleading.
“Regret?” she echoed with a faintugh, edged like a de. “What is there to regret? I chose you. Why would I hide it?”
Some of the tension bled from his shoulders, though not all. “I thought you might prefer to keep it private. To protect yourself. To… keep your options.”
Her lips curved, her gaze unwavering. “Are you the one who dislikes the world knowing, Ss<b>?</b><b>” </b>
“Of course not.” His reply was fierce, immediate. “The opposite. I want every wolf in every pack to know you are mine. Especially him.”
There was no need to name Kade ckridge. The soldier’s shadow lingered always at the edge of Ss’s gaze. The man who had once carried Freya from battlefield mes.
Ss’s hand brushed her bandaged arm, fingers reverent. His lips ghosted over the cloth, eyes burning with a raw, unshakable im.
“I won’t let distance, or rivals, or fate itself take you from me. You are mine, Freya. No matter how far you run.”
The vow hung between them, heavy as a brand beneath the moon.
Freya’s wolf bristled, not in defiance, but in recognition. He was staking his im, and a part of her wanted the world to see it.