Third Person’s POV


    s


    Caelum sat in strained silence as the words of Aurora’s parents-the proud elders of the Bluemoon Pack- washed over him. Every sentence that left their mouths seemed to demand more: new clothes, new luxuries, new provisions. And in the spaces between demands, came barbed criticisms aimed at him, as though he were failing their daughter simply by existing.


    His chest tightened with irritation. What gnawed at him more, however, was Aurora’s silence. She sat right beside him, listening, nodding faintly, yet not offering a single word in his defense.


    Once, when he had been with Freya, it had been different-or at least, so he thought. The Freya had not crowded him with usations or suffocating expectations. Instead, it had been his own mother, Eleanor, and his younger sister, Giselle, who had taken every opportunity to disparage Freya, assigning her endless. humiliating tasks as though testing her worth.


    Caelum’s heart gave a sudden, heavy throb. Had he ever defended Freya back then? Or had he, much like Aurora now, simply remained silent?


    Memory stabbed him with rity: he had stood mute, and worse, when Freya had resisted unreasonable demands, he had used her of being cold, ungrateful. “She’s already my mate,” he had once thought, “why not show devotion to my family?”


    The recollection pressed against his chest like a boulder, making his breath shallow, painful.


    By the time they arrived at the hotel, Caelum’s head was pounding. He dismissed Aurora’s parents to their chamber, then escorted Aurora herself into their private quarters. The moment the door shut, she hurled herself at him, clutching his arms with trembling hands.


    “Caelum! What are we going to do?” Her voice was shrill, trembling with panic. “I’m ruined. Those reporters-they’ll twist everything. They’ll drag my name through mud again! This is all the fault of that rogue kidnapper… and Freya. They must have conspired together, nned this to destroy me!”


    “There’s no proof,” Caelum answered tly. His tone was calm, but his jaw was tight. “The rogue was acting alone. In time, the storm will pass. Scandals fade, and eyes turn elsewhere.”


    Aurora’s nails bit into his sleeves as she shook her head violently. “And what about my position, Caelum? If the Capital’s Council strips me of my ‘Savior of the mes’mendation, Wing will sever my contract. Years of service, my whole career in the Bluemoon Airborne Wing-gone, all because of this!” Her words dripped with fury, her lips curling back like a wolf cornered.


    Caelum hesitated. “If you had spoken the truth back then… about what happened to your wingmate in that fire… perhaps things wouldn’t have reached this point. People could have understood the danger, even if


    Aurora shoved him hard, eyes zing. “So now you’re defending him? That charred corpse of arade? You think I should’ve admitted weakness, shown I abandoned someone? Is that what you want to say?”


    Caelum lifted his hands quickly, shaking his head. “No. That’s not what I meant. I only thought… if you had told the truth, perhaps you wouldn’t be celebrated as a hero, but neither would you be dragged through the mud like this.”


    1:16 pm


    s


    “I did nothing wrong!” Aurora’s voice rose to a near-hysterical pitch. “I saved myself, I survived. That makes me worthy of the title! As for him-he was weak, unlucky. The mes consumed him, and I couldn’t waste my life for his. That is not a crime! I am not guilty!”


    Her words echoed in the chamber like the growl of a wolf that refused to submit.


    Caelum’s gaze darkened. Somewhere deep inside, disappointment sank its ws into him. The image of the noble, fearless she-wolf he once admired was crumbling. She was no hero carved of iron and me. She was fragile, selfish-something far different from the woman he had wanted to believe in.


    “Caelum!” Aurora lunged forward again, clutching his wrists so tightly it felt as though iron manacles bound him. “Promise me. Promise you’ll stand by me, always. No matter what.”


    His eyes lowered. Her grip was suffocating, like shackles biting into flesh. Atst, he murmured, “Yes. I will stand by you. You tore me from death’s jaws once. For that, I owe you my loyalty. How could I not stand beside you?”


    Aurora froze for a heartbeat, then her lips curved into a trembling smile. “Yes… yes, that’s right. I saved you. You’re not the kind of wolf who forgets debts. That’s why I love you, Caelum.”


    His silence in reply felt heavier than words. Deep in his chest, something shifted, as though the ground beneath him was slowly crumbling,


    Far across the city, within the fortified Whitmor estate, Ss sat in the solitude of his study. The Irond Alpha leaned back as his bodyguard ced a thick folder of documents before him.


    “Alpha Ss,” the guard said with a bow. “The information you requested.”


    “Leave me,” Ss ordered, his tone quiet but edged with steel.


    When the door clicked shut, he spread the files across his desk. Paper crackled beneath his long, scarred fingers. Interspersed among the dossiers were photographs. If Freya had been present, she would have recognized them at once-for every image captured the face of her lost brother, Eric Thorne.


    Ss studied them in silence, his expression unreadable. But then his gaze caught on one particr photograph. His hand trembled as he lifted it.


    The image showed Eric bare-shouldered, his back turned slightly. Across his skin stretched a jagged scar, ugly and deep. Ss’s breath hitched sharply. The mark was unmistakable.


    That scar… It was the same scar he had seen once before, years ago, in a ce where no one should have survived.


    If the one he had met then-the ghost of that battlefield-was truly Eric Thorne, Freya’s long-lost brother…


    The thought coiled through his chest like a serpent, suffocating him. If Freya discovered the truth, what


    would she do?


    Would she hate him? me him for silence? Would she abandon him entirely?


    No. He couldn’t bear the thought. He would not allow it. The mere idea of Freya leaving him was unthinkable.


    1:16 pm P p p


    The soft rap of knuckles startled him. “Who’s there?” His voice snapped like a whip.


    “It’s me,” came the gentle reply.


    The door creaked open, and Freya stepped into the study.


    s


    Color drained from Ss’s face. Instinctively, he tried to sweep the photographs and files into a drawer. But his fingers, betraying him, fumbled. The pile slipped and scattered.


    Papers fluttered across the carpet. Photographs spilled like fallen leaves, spreading in every direction.


    1:16 pm P p p 5