Third Person’s POV


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    Aurora’s voice trembled, but her words carried a desperate sharpness that filled the sterile air of the infirmary.


    “Caelum, you have to believe me,” she insisted, struggling upright against the crisp white sheets. “Everything I said during that broadcast-it wasn’t the truth. I only said those things to appease the kidnapper, to survive!”


    Caelum stood at the foot of her bed, silent. The Alpha of the Silverfang Pack had faced insurgents across borders, negotiated with hostile coalitions, and crushed dissent in boardrooms at SilverTech Forgeworks. Yet in this moment, confronted with the woman who clung to him as if he were herst tether, he felt only a grim heaviness settling into his bones.


    Because he knew she was lying.


    Her words during the live stream had not sounded like a performance. They had not borne the cadence of a woman trying to coax her way free. No-the way her voice cracked, the way herposure shattered, the slip of her tongue that had cut too clean… it had been the truth breaking loose.


    For a long stretch of silence, his gaze rested on her pale face. He could see the flicker of panic tightening her jaw the longer he withheld his answer.


    Aurora’s eyes narrowed, her tone sharpening. “You don’t believe me, do you?”


    Caelum exhaled slowly, pressing his lips into a tight line. His wolf stirred uneasily, torn between logic and loyalty. “Aurora,” he said atst, his voice low, heavy, “even if you did… even if you once failed, I have no right to condemn you. You saved me once. That debt remains. And I will help you.”


    It was not absolution, but it was a vow.


    For she had once dragged him, bloodied and half-conscious, out of a wreckage when no one else dared. She had been his salvation, his anchor in that chaos. That memory chained him to her, whether he liked it


    or not.


    Yet instead of relief, Aurora shoved him away with a sudden burst of strength. Her fingers clenched the sheets, her chest rising and falling with raw fury.


    “You don’t believe me!” she cried, eyes shing with the feverish glow of her wolf. “Caelum, I thought even if the whole world turned against me, you would stand by my side. But now-you doubt me too!”


    Her words pierced deeper than she knew. Caelum gave a bitter smile, one corner of his mouth twisting. Believe you? How can I, when the truth already wed its way out?


    But he said nothing of it.


    Instead, he spoke with the weary pragmatism of an Alpha who had seen the court of public opinion devour many before her. “Even if I believe you, will others? You’ve seen it yourself-thements, the outery. The packs are baying for blood.”


    Aurora’s face drained of color. Her hands tightened on the nket until her knuckles nched. Then, with


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    stubborn defiance, she lifted her chin. “Let them curse me. Let them spit my name into the dirt. I don’t care what they think. As long as you believe me, Caelum, nothing else matters.”


    Her voice cracked, but her eyes gleamed with a strange light. She had gambled and lost in front of the world, and now her wolf knew only one path forward: cling to her strongest card. Cling to him.


    “If you don’t believe me…” Her voice dropped, soft and trembling, but edged with calction. “Then sever us. Pretend we never stood together. Let me fall alone. I won’t beg you again.”


    Caelum’s chest tightened. The words cut deep, dragging guilt into his marrow. He saw the shimmer of moisture in her eyes, the vulnerable curve of her lips trembling as if she were already preparing for abandonment.


    And he broke.


    “Forgive me, Aurora,” he murmured, voice rough, pained. He stepped forward, taking her hand once more, holding it tightly as though that grip could anchor them both. “I do believe you. I should never have doubted. I trust you.”


    Whether or not it was true no longer mattered. His wolf, bound by instinct and memory, had made its choice.


    Aurora’s tears dried instantly, reced with a smile that bloomed fragile and radiant across her face. She leaned into his hand, her wolf purring with triumph. “I knew I didn’t choose wrong. With you beside me, I can face anything.”


    Caelum forced a smile, though unease coiled like smoke in his chest. The storm brewing beyond these walls would not relent because of his faith. And he could not shake the creeping doubt: Would his presence truly be enough to shield her from the tide of truth?


    Night deepened over the Capital.


    Freya sat curled on the leather couch of her apartment, her WolfComm glowing in her hand. Her eyes racked the flood of news spreading like wildfire across theworks.


    Aurora’s kidnapping had climbed to the top of the global feed. The Fire Commission had released a formal statement: they would reopen investigation into the Border Fire. Deepmoor City-the very


    tronghold that had once honored Aurora with the title of “Hero of the mes”-now announced an inquiry into whether that honor had been built on falsehood.


    Bluemoon Airborne Wing had already acted. Aurora was suspended from duty as vice-captain. Her future with the unit would hinge on the oue of the investigation.


    And worse-audience-shot footage from the talk show carlier that evening had begun to spread.


    One clip showed Aurora, radiant under the studio lights, announcing before the world that she was bound to Caelum Grafton as his chosen mate, his future Luna.


    Another captured her being cornered by the host, fumbling to exin her so-called heroics in the Border Fire, only to be confronted by other rescuers who had been there. The revtion that she had never even reached the site of the trapped civilians had drawn audible gasps.


    The interner tore her apart.


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    “Fraud.”


    “Not a hero. A coward.”


    “If Bluemoon lets her keep that post, I’ll never fly their wings again.”


    “She should feel the same fire she let others die in.”


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    Freya scrolled through them silently. A mixture of cold satisfaction and lingering bitterness swirled in her chest. Once, Aurora had basked in untouchable glory, upheld by every pack’s praise. Now, in a single night, she had plummeted from the sky she imed as her own.


    “Still awake?”


    A deep, rough voice brushed against her ear.


    Arms slipped around her waist from behind, drawing her back into a chest broad and solid as iron. Ss’s presence filled the room like stormclouds, his scent dark and grounding, his breath warm against the curve of her neck.


    Freya stiffened slightly, only for her wolf to betray her by leaning into thefort. The Alpha of the Irond Coalition had always been like this-unyielding steel wrapped in quiet heat, relentless in the way he anchored her.


    The word rose unbidden in her mind: intimate.


    The WolfComm rang sharply, fracturing the moment. The caller’s name lit the screen.


    Kade ckridge.


    Her younger brother in arms, the one who had always hovered on the edges of her life like a restless shadow.


    Freya reached to answer, but Ss’s hand caught hers, his thumb pressing lightly against her wrist. “Don’t.” His voice rasped, thick with possessive warning.


    She huffed out augh, soft and incredulous, shaking her head as she pressed the call through anyway.


    “Freya.” Kade’s voice carried across the line, taut with concern. “Tell me straight. Are you really… involved with Ss Whitmor?”


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