Third Person’s POV


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    The enforcers left after taking Aurora’s statement, their boots echoing down the sterile hall. The room fell quiet, heavy with the tang of antiseptic and the faint musk of fear.


    The door opened. Caelum stepped inside.


    Aurora stirred immediately, struggling upright despite the bruises painting her arms. “Caelum!” Her voice cracked, desperate. “I never thought I’d live through something like that. He was feralpletely deranged. If the enforcers hadn’t arrived when they did, I’d… I’d never have seen you again.”


    Her words trembled, rehearsed yet frantic, her wolf curling submissively toward him as though clinging to protection.


    Caelum’s eyes lingered on her, unreadable, his silver irises clouded with something she couldn’t name. “How’s your body?” he asked atst. His tone was t, more Alpha protocol than tenderness.


    “The healer says it’s only surface wounds,” Aurora answered quickly. Then her expression hardened, the sweetness burning off in a sh of bitterness. “But I will prosecute him, Caelum. That boy will rot in a cell. I’ll make sure of it. He dared to humiliate me, toy hands on me. He’ll pay for every scar he’s left on me.”


    The venom in her words startled even him. Her wolf’s snarl was not born of fear-it was born of


    vengeance.


    Caelum studied her, the woman he had once seen as light itself. Now her voice sounded unfamiliar, edged in cruelty.


    “You can take him to trial,” Caelum said slowly. “But you should know… the one who attacked you may be the son of your fallenrade. He only wanted the truth for his father. Because-Aurora-you did abandon him to the fire, didn’t you?”


    Aurora froze. For a heartbeat her mask cracked. Then she forced augh, brittle as ss. “What are you talking about? How would you even know that?”


    “I heard it myself.” His jaw tightened. “Freya called the enforcers. Sheid out the truth. And while you were bound to that chair, you admitted it-to his face.”


    Aurora’s skin went pale as ash. “Admitted…?”


    Carlum’s voice dropped. “The boy had you live-streamed. Every word you spoke was seen across the Capital. The audience. The crews. Everyone.”


    Her mouth fell open. The world seemed to tilt beneath her. “Live? You’re saying… I was being broadcast?”


    “Yes” His wolf aura pressed against her, heavy with grim certainty.


    “No. No, that’s impossible.” Aurora shook her head violently. “I didn’t see any equipment, no transmitters, nothing” But memory surged in, every desperate plea, every broken admission she had made, believing they would vanish in smoke. Her breath came ragged. “My WolfComm. Where is it? Give it to me. I need


    10 sec.”


    Caelum handed her the device recovered at the scene. Her hands shook as she pulled up the feeds. Though the stream itself had been shut down, dozens of clips already flooded thes, each one a shard of humiliation.


    On the screen she saw herself-tear-streaked, pleading, then crumbling as she confessed. Yes, I left him. I couldn’t save him. The words echoed, merciless, her own voice damning her.


    Aurora’s face nched, her pulse thundering in her ears.


    No. No, this couldn’t be her life. She had been the hero, the savior, the pilot the packs adored. Nowment afterment scrolled beneath the clips:


    “What hero? She’s a coward.”


    “A murderer, not a savior.”


    “Bluemoon should ground her permanently.”


    “If the fire had taken her instead, it would’ve been justice.”


    Her hands shook so violently she dropped the device. It ttered across the floor, the feed still running, her name drowned in curses.


    Her wolf whimpered in panic. She had lived her life basking in praise, in deference. Never had she tasted public scorn. Now the same voices that once worshipped her were howling for her downfall.


    “No…” she rasped, stumbling back against the pillows. “No, this isn’t how it ends. I won’t—”


    Her breath broke into sobs. She reached blindly for Caelum, clutching his sleeve. “Delete it. Please. All of it. You have influence-Silverfang still answers to you. Bury this for me, Caelum. I can’t—”


    Caelum’s features hardened. “The storm is too high. Even I can’t silence every voice. In time the mes will cool, but for now, nothing can erase it.”


    Her lips moved soundlessly, then she whispered like a chant, “It will fade… it has to fade. When the heat dies down, they’ll forget. I’ll still be their pilot. I’ll still be admired.”


    She spoke as if trying to weave a spell, to convince herself.


    “Rest, Aurora,” Caelum said, pulling his arm free. “The healers need you calm. I must return to the enforcers and give my ount.”


    He turned, but she caught his hand again, her nails digging into his skin. “Caelum-listen to me. What they saw, what I said… it wasn’t the truth. I lied. I only said those things to pacify him. You believe me, don’t you?”


    Her eyes gleamed with a desperate, feral edge. She clung to him like a drowning wolf to driftwood, her voice fevered.


    Caelum looked down at her, torn. His wolf stirred uneasily. He wanted to believe, wanted to hold onto the image of the woman he had once defended against all odds. But the echo of her confession, the raw terror in her voice when she spoke it, weighed heavy in his cars.