Third Person’s POV
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Ss’s grip on Lennon Thorne’s throat was unyielding, fingers coiled like forged steel. Lennon wed at him, struggling to wrench free, but it was futile-Ss’s strength was a predator’s, honed through decades ofmanding the Irond Coalition. His eyes bulged, face flushing crimson, but Ss didn’t relent.
The room seemed to catch its breath. Only then did everyone else seem to return to reality.
“Ss! Let him go! My father can’t-he can’t breathe!” Jocelyn rushed forward, voice sharp with panic. “Even if you’re defending Freya, this is… this is too far!”
Defending? The word barely grazed Ss. He lowered his gaze slowly, deliberately, and the faintest curve of a wolfish smirk tugged at his lips. He didn’t need to fight for Freya; he merely wanted to ensure her hands remained clean. If anyone was going to teach Lennon a lesson, it would be him-and not Freya.
Jocelyn turned sharply to Freya, frustration and usation bleeding from her voice. “Freya! This is too much! You’re using Ss to do… this?”
Abel Thorne, ever the mediator, interjected with a calm edge. “Freya, no matter what, tell Ss to release your uncle. This has gone far enough.”
Ss finally lifted his piercing gaze and met Freya’s eyes. The unspoken question hung between them: Do you want him dead, or alive?
A tense silence gripped the room. Every pair of eyes fixed on Freya, waiting for her decision. Ss, Alpha of the Irond Coalition, could easily end Lennon here and now, and thew-human or wolf-would scarcely contain the aftermath. Yet he deferred to her, offering her the reins of judgment.
Freya inhaled, chest rising and falling with measured intensity. Her wolf stirred within, ws of fire and pride raking at restraint, but she steadied herself. Her voice, though soft, carried authority.
“Release him,” she said.
Ss’s grip loosened, steel fingers retracting from Lennon’s windpipe. Lennon stumbled backward, gasping, pointing a trembling finger at Freya. “You… you shameless little she-wolf! You let Ss humiliate me, and now you think you can get away without apologizing to me?!”
Before he could finish, a solid force struck him. Freya’s fist connected with Lennon’s jaw with precision honed by years of training in the Iron Fang Recon Unit. He fell to the ground, sprawling, humiliation etched across his face.
“Freya! How dare you strike my father?!” Jocelyn shrieked, shock and anger warring in her voice.
“Why shouldn’t I?” Freya’s eyes zed, wolf aura simmering just beneath the surface. Her voice rang like thunder through the stormy hall. “Even if he is my uncle, if anyone dares insult my father or my brother, I will strike them without hesitation. My father did not die prematurely-he gave his life serving the nation. And my brother… he did not die; he is on a mission, defending our pack and country. Until his body is found, he is alive. And anyone who questions that will answer to me.”
Her words reverberated, each syble carrying the weight of a wolf Alpha’s authority. The room fell silent. Even those who bore grudges against her could not muster the courage to contradict her.
12:51 pm P p pp.
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Abel Thorne’s voice cut through the tension, steady but firm. “Lennon, apologize to Freya,”
“What?” Lennon sputtered, disbelief and indignation flooding his expression. “You want me to apologize?”
“Yes. Apologize,” Abel said, his tone irond. “Enough. That attitude is uneptable. They will not tolerate
it
Lennon’s protest came swift, defensive, venomced. “And what did I say wrong? Their parents are gone. I wouldn’t touch the Fifth Branch estate if they were alive! Stormveil’s legacy cannot fall into the hands of a she-wolf. Freya is grasping at shadows, iming her brother is alive just to seize what rightfully belongs to the Thorne lineage!”
“Enough!” Themand came like a thunderp. From the doorway, the unmistakable sound of a cane striking stone floor echoed, deliberate, demanding attention. Every throat went dry.
Ken Thorne, the family patriarch, appeared, his gait deliberate yet unyielding despite the weight of age. The room instinctively bowed, a wave of respect and fear rolling through them.
“Grandfather!” Abel eximed, hurrying forward. “You were supposed to be resting. Why are you here?”
Ken’s gaze swept over the room like a predator evaluating prey. “If I didn’te, would you even understand what you’ve done?” His voice carried centuries of authority and a lifetime of pack leadership. “The Fifth Branch estate… you dare covet it? You’ve gone too far!”
Abel shifted ufortably, realizing the full scope of Lennon’s audacity. He had delegated the estate matters, assuming Lennon would act judiciously-but clearly, Lennon had acted for personal gain.
Ken’s gaze snapped to Lennon. “Exin yourself. You im the estate is safe in your hands because it ‘belongs to the lineage,’ yet you disregard the daughter of that branch? What nonsense is this?”
Lennon’s arrogance faltered slightly. “The estate… the Fifth Branch has no male heir. Freya has no im. I
Ken’s cane struck sharply against the floor again, the motion swift and decisive. The resounding smacknded on Lennon’s cheek. Pain red, and a sharp sting seared his pride.
“What do you mean, no one left in the Fifth Branch?” Ken’s voice boomed, a predator’s wrath echoing through the chamber. “Freya is of the Fifth Branch blood. That estate is hers! Touch it again, and you are out of this family forever!”
Lennon’s face paled. The fire in Ken’s words, the aura of an Alpha elder, silenced him utterly.
Ken then turned his piercing gaze to Freya. “Freya, my child… forgive me. This old patriarch has failed in guiding your uncles, letting them bring such indignity upon you. But know this: what is yours by right, by blood, no one will touch. Should they dare, I will strip them of their name and pack, as if they were never
Thorne”
The tension in the room finally cased, though the echoes of wolfish dominance and familial wrath still lingered like smoke after a fire Freya exhaled, her wolf retreating just enough to allow calm to settle, though her amber eyes still shimmered with unspent fury.