Freya’s POV


    The words weren’t only for me.


    They were for every wolf seated in the Stormveil Primal Hall.


    As Ken Thorne spoke with that gravelly, iron-bound voice, I could feel the weight of his deration ripple across the hall like a howl across the mountains. His loyalty to me was carved in stone, an oath stronger than blood.


    And everyone here needed to hear it.


    Every cousin who thought I was an easy target.


    Every uncle who whispered that the fifth branch of the Stormveil Pack was nothing but dead weight.


    Every rival who looked at me as though I didn’t belong in this hall of predators.


    They all needed to be reminded:


    As long as Ken Thorne drew breath, Freya Thorne would never stand alone.


    I bowed my head. “Thank you, Great-Grandfather.”


    The words were steady, but inside, my chest ached with the burn of both pride and


    pressure.


    Across the circle of firelight, Jocelyn Thorne’s eyes glittered with venom. My cousin had always despised me. She leaned close to our aunt, who was better known as Aurora’s mother, and hissed loud enough for all to hear.


    “Second Aunt,” Jocelyn said sweetly, “Aurora is lying in the infirmary today because of Freya. Don’t you remember? Aurora only left that mission flight midway because Freya humiliated her on the live broadcast. She walked out early, and that’s when she was ambushed and taken. If not for Freya, my cousin wouldn’t be disgraced like this.”


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    The firelight snapped in the hearth, but the real heat came from the stares of every elder turning toward me.


    Aurora’s mother-Emilia red at me as though she could w my throat out on the spot. Her daughter had been her pride: Bluemoon’s first female pilot, handpicked for their airborne wing. And now Aurora’s name was dragged through every den, smeared in every pack council.


    “You’re Freya, aren’t you?” she demanded, her voice sharp as a whip. “Do you even understand what you’ve done? Aurora is your blood. A cousin. And you tore her down for the amusement of outsiders?”


    My lips curled into something between a sneer and a snarl. “I only told the truth. If Aurora was humiliated, it was because she chose cowardice over duty. And if she was kidnapped… perhaps you should ask why your daughter abandoned the wolves she was supposed to rescue.”


    A stunned silence swept the chamber.


    Her face went red with rage, then pale with disbelief. “Even if she walked away, she broke now. The Council never said a wolf must risk her life to save another.” She jabbed a wed finger toward me. “But you-her kin-you stood in front of the entirework and shredded her reputation. Do you feel no duty to defend your cousin? To shield her from the pack’s condemnation?”


    “No,” I said coldly. “That is not my duty.”


    Gasps rippled across the room. Even the mes in the iron braziers seemed to gutter at my words.


    Aurora’s mother’s face twisted. “Ken Thorne,” she cried, turning on my great- grandfather. “My daughter is half your bloodline! She lies broken because of this girl. And now Freya refuses even the smallest act of reparation? Will you truly let her walk free of all responsibility?”


    The truth was clear to everyone: she wanted me to take the fall, to use Stormveil’s influence to bury Aurora’s scandals.


    The Bluemoon Pack had tried to smother the story. Even Silverfang had extended


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    its shadow to cover it. But Aurora’s betrayal of duty had caught fire in the public eye, and no amount of pack gold or media control could extinguish it.


    Her “hero” title was already slipping through her ws. The Airborne Wing whispered about expelling her. Every hour, the shame grew worse.


    And now they wanted me-backed by Ss Whitmor’s iron authority-to clean their mess.


    Jocelyn seized her chance, her voice dripping false innocence. “Great-Grandfather, Aurora had a brilliant future. A future Freya destroyed. Shouldn’t she bear some consequence? Or…” Her eyes flicked to Ss, lounging at the edge of the hall like a predator biding his time. “…or are we saying that as long as Freya hides behind her Alpha, she can do whatever she pleases?”


    The words were poison. She wanted to turn the entire hall against me.


    Ken Thorne’s gaze snapped toward her, sharp enough to cut bone. “Jocelyn,” he said, each syble like the crack of thunder, “I did not know you had grown so… eloquent in your usations.”


    But Jocelyn didn’t flinch. She lifted her chin, eyes gleaming with spite. “I only speak because Aurora’s suffering is real. She bled for her wings. She earned her ce. And Freya, with one careless act, destroyed her.”


    My blood burned. I could almost feel my wolf pressing against my skin, snarling to be released.


    “Destroyed her?” My voice was ice. “No, cousin. Aurora destroyed herself.”


    The hall shivered.


    Even Ken Thorne said nothing, letting the weight of my words hang. He knew the truth-everyone did. Aurora had abandoned wolves in need, and in doing so, abandoned the very spirit of our kind.


    But Jocelyn wasn’t finished. “So Freya carries no me? She ripped into her cousin in front of the entire broadcast. That act alone drove Aurora to leave her post! Had she not, she would never have fallen into enemy hands!” Jocelyn’s lip curled. “Or is


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    the Stormveil Pack a ce where the favored can spit on blood ties as long as their backers are strong enough?”


    Her eyes flicked again toward Ss.


    And that was her mistake.


    Because it was not Ken Thorne who answered her.


    It was Ss.


    His voice was deep, smooth, and cold as steel. “So, by your words, as long as I am her backing, Freya can do as she pleases in this hall?”


    Every wolf froze.


    The Irond Coalition’s Alpha had spoken. His presence filled the hall, shadows bending toward him as though the fire itself obeyed hismand.


    Jocelyn stiffened, but forced herself to meet his eyes. “Isn’t that what she does? She hides behind you, Ss. She even dared strike my father-her elder. She uses you as nothing more than a weapon. Can’t you see she treats you as a tool to be used?”


    Ss tilted his head, the faintest smile curving his lips, though it carried no warmth. “Is that what you think?” His eyes flicked to me, and I felt the unspoken bond of his wolf brush against mine, possessive and unwavering.


    “If she truly uses me as a weapon,” Ss said, his voice soft and lethal, “then I am d to be wielded.”


    The hall went utterly silent.


    Even Jocelyn faltered, the venom on her tongue drying to ash.