Ss’ POV
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The moment my eyes caught Freya standing at the staircase, my blood ran cold.
Her silhouette was sharp against the dim glow of thending lights, every line of her figure etched in my vision like a scar. She’d heard. The words Kade had spit in venom—about thew firm, about my interference-those words had reached her
ears.
My gut twisted. My wolf snarled inside me, ready tosh out, but another instinct -deeper, more terrifying-rose up: fear. Not fear of Kade, not of exposure, not of what the packs might say. But of her. Of that steady, storm-grey gaze turning on me with disappointment.
The world could call me a conniving Alpha, a Whitmor with dirty hands, and I wouldn’t flinch. But if she looked at me with disgust, with loss… it would break something inside me that no fight, no victory, no blood could ever mend.
Yet Freya’s face betrayed nothing. No fury, no shock. She walked toward us with the sameposure she’d worn into battles. That unreadable calm made my chest ache more than open anger ever could.
“Release him, Kade,” she said evenly.
Her voice cut through the tension like Alphamand. Kade’s grip on my cor faltered, then fell away. His lips twitched in defiance, but he stepped back. “I listen to my sister,” he muttered, as though he’d scored some victory.
Freya’s eyes flicked to him, cool but polite. “How’s the situation with your mother’sw firm?”
The words struck me like ws across the chest. She had heard. Every muscle in
me went taut.
Kade straightened, voice clipped. “Already handled. No major problem now. But, Sister, some people are good at setting traps. You should be careful.” His gaze cut toward me, sharp with usation.
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Freya smiled faintly, but her tone was mild, almost dismissive. “Let’s change the subject. The umbre you lent me-today’s a good day to return it.”
She ced it in his hands. A simple gesture, but the weight of it pressed heavily on the air. “Umbre”-the word carried meanings I doubted she missed. Shelter. Farewell. Separation.
Kade stared at it as if it were a de buried in his chest. I could read it on his face: regret, longing, fury. He finally managed a bitter smile, took the umbre, and bowed his head slightly. “Then I’ll head back to my hotel. I’lle see you again tomorrow.”
“Travel safely,” she replied softly.
I stayed silent, watching as he left, my wolf still pacing beneath my skin. Every instinct screamed to drive him from our territory, to rip his throat out for speaking her name with such familiarity. But Freya’s presence bound me tighter than any chain.
When the door closed behind him, she turned.
Her gaze locked on me.
“Ss Whitmor,” she said, and my name on her tongue made my stomach knot,
‘was it you who orchestrated what happened to Kade’s mother’s firm?”
Myshes trembled. For the first time in years, I couldn’t meet someone’s eyes. My head dipped, not out of guilt-Alphas don’t confess to guilt-but because the bond, the fragile thread she and I were weaving, threatened to snap if I faced her
now.
“You promised me,” she continued, her voice low but steady, “that if I ever asked, you would never lie to me.”
Her words were iron, chains I had forged myself. That vow had been mine. I had bound myself to it freely.
And now it was a de pressed against my throat.
12.05 Tue, Sep 9
My hands curled into fists at my sides, nails biting into my palms. My wolf whimpered inside me. “Yes,” I whispered. “It was me.”
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Her eyes narrowed, but her expression didn’t shatter into anger as I feared. “Why?”
The question cut deeper than ws.
“Because…” My voice cracked before I forced it steady. “Because I feared him. Not as a rival Alpha, but as yourrade. Your bond with him was forged in blood and war. He is someone you trusted with your life. And I… I feared that trust would eclipse me.”
Her silence pressed harder than a physical blow.
“So?” she prompted.
“So I thought…” My chest heaved. I lifted my gaze atst, and her eyes were a mirror of light, clear, relentless, unshadowed. Next to her, I was filth-schemes and darkness stitched into flesh. “So I thought you would always prefer him to me.”
The admission ripped out of me like entrails in a fight.
Freya studied me, unblinking. “I do like Kade,” she said finally.
My heart stopped.
“But only as a brother. As arade-in-arms. If I ever intended more than that, his presence or absence in Ashbourne would never have mattered. Do you truly think my heart is so fickle? That if he left, I would so easily turn to love another?”
Her words thundered through me, shame and awe colliding in my chest.
“If I choose someone,” she continued, her voice irond, “then distance, time, or obstacles don’t matter. Ss, if you think my feelings can be reced so easily, then what happens if one day you leave me for a while? Should I assume you’ll give your heart to someone else?”
“No!” The roar tore from my throat before I could stop it. I stepped forward, seizing her hands as though anchoring her to me. “Never, Freya! Don’t-don’t even
:
speak of loving another. I couldn’t bear it.”
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Her lips pressed into a line, crimson against pale skin. “I chose you, Ss. And once chosen, I don’t change easily. But I can’t ept you dragging down those close to me with schemes and sabotage. Don’t touch my friends. Don’t harm those who’ve stood by me.”
For the first time in years, the word wed its way out of me, raw and unfamiliar. “I’m sorry.”
An Alpha of the Irond Coalition doesn’t apologize. My pack would never believe it if they saw me like this-head bowed, shoulders hunched like a boy afraid of losing his ce at the fire. But for her, for one tremor of disapproval in her gaze, I would crawl.
Freya looked at me, and I could see the conflict in her eyes-the sternness of a warrior and the ache of a woman who cared too much. My shame twisted into something worse: that even when I wronged her, she still hurt for me.
She sighed softly, and her hand rose, fingers cool and gentle against my cheek. My wolf leaned into her touch despite myself.
“Never again, Ss,” she murmured. “Not Kade, not anyone else close to me. If you use such tricks again, I truly will-”
I silenced her the only way I knew how.
My hand caught hers, pressing her fingers to my lips before the final words could escape. I couldn’t let her say them-couldn’t let her threaten to leave, even if she meant it only in warning. My wolf thrashed at the thought, and so did I.
“Don’t,” I whispered against her skin. My voice was rough, desperate. “Don’t finish that sentence. Please.”
Her eyes softened, just slightly. But I felt the weight of her warning settle between
us like a scar.
And I knew: if I crossed that line again, even my wolf wouldn’t be able to drag her back to me.