Third Person’s POV


    Ss ignored Kade’s sharp–edged taunts, his gaze fixed solely on Freya. His voice was low, but it carried the weight of iron–d resolve.


    “This life.” Ss said, eyes never wavering from her face, “the only one I want to grow old with is Freya. There has never been another, and there never will be.”


    Kade gave a derisive snort, wolf aura flickering around him with contempt. “Bold words. Hearts change. You’ve only known my sister for a handful of months, yet you im that for the rest of your life there will be no one else? What happens if the two of you split? Are you saying you’ll never take another woman into your bed?”


    The air between them bristled with challenge, dominance sparking like flint striking steel. But Ss remained unshaken. His expression stayed calm, voice steady, yet there was a flinty sharpness in it that spoke of oath more than boast.


    “There will never be another,” he said. Then, with sudden finality, he added, “And Freya and I will never split.”


    Thest words rang with the force of a vow, hard and irrevocable. To Ss, the thought of separation wasn’t just painful–it was annihtion. If he lost her, he knew he would be nothing more than a walking husk, a shadow stripped of purpose.


    Kade opened his mouth to retort, but Freya cut him off before the sparks could be fire. “That’s enough. We’ve seen enough for one day. Let’s go back.” Her tone softened as she nced at her younger pack–brother. “Kade, I’ll be returning to the Capital in a few days. If you want to stay in Ashbourne, that’s up to you, but-”


    “You’re going back to the Capital?” Kade’s wolf aura faltered for a moment, the words striking him harder than Ss’s deration.


    Freya nodded. “Yes. The affairs here are finished. Tomorrow I’ll stop by Stormveil Primal Hall to pay respects to Grandfather Ken, and then I’ll make preparations to leave.”


    “Then I’ll go with you,” Kade said at once, determination sparking in his tone.


    Later that evening, when they were alone, Ss spoke with the same fierce determination. “I’ll go with


    you as well.”


    Freya frowned slightly. “But your work-”


    “Ashbourne’s coastal development has been negotiated. What remains can be managed by the Irond branch leaders,” Ss said. His jaw tightened. “I won’t risk being separated from you, not now. Distance invites danger. And besides…” He hesitated, then allowed his voice to soften, “…you only like me now, Freya. That’s not enough. I want you to love me. The longer I’m with you, the sooner that will happen.”


    Freya’s lips curved faintly, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she mentioned quietly, “Tomorrow I’ll see Grandfather Ken. He wanted to glimpse Eric’s face at least once more. I’ll bring the photos you gave me of my brother.”


    Ss inclined his head. “I’ll make sure they’re ready.”


    The following morning, Ss apanied Freya back to the Thorne estate on the outskirts of Ashbourne. The ancestral manor, once the Stormveil Pack’s proudest seat, bore the weight of centuries and countless scars.


    Because Ken Thorne’s health was failing, Ss remained in the reception hall, allowing Freya to visit her grandfather’s chamber alone.


    When Freya entered, she found Jocelyn already at the old Alpha’s bedside, fussing with a tray of medicine and water. Jocelyn’s eyes narrowed the instant she saw Freya, irritation shing across her face.


    “Freya, you’re here,” Ken rasped from the bed. Though his frame had grown frail and his skin pallid, his eyes held the same sharpness that had oncemanded Stormveil’s armies.


    “Grandfather, how are you feeling today?” Freya asked, her voice gentle.


    Ken chuckled softly. “The same as any old wolf near hisst winter. Time weighs heavy, child. Bute, let me look at you.”


    Then he turned to Jocelyn. “Jocelyn, leave us. I want a moment alone with Freya.”


    For a flicker, Jocelyn’s eyes burned with naked resentment. She had been at Ken’s side for years, but no matter how dutiful she was, the old Alpha still favored Freya–the daughter of fallen warriors Arthur and Myra Thorne. That bloodline, that sacrifice, it would always outshine her.


    Suppressing her bitterness, Jocelyn forced a smile. “Yes, Grandfather.” She gathered the tray and departed.


    But as she stepped into the corridor, she overheard a servant whispering that Alpha Ss was waiting in the reception hall. Jocelyn’s pulse quickened.


    Her life had grown unbearable since losing the Whitmore backing. The same friends who once


    fawned over her now mocked and shunned her. The only way to restore her ce, her luxury, was to make Ss turn back to her.


    Desperation spurred her forward. She smoothed her dress, inhaled, and entered the hall.


    Ss stood near the hearth, broad shoulders tense, his aura restrained but still unmistakably Alpha.


    “Alpha Ss,” Jocelyn called softly, her voice trembling with practiced remorse. “I’ve wanted to see you. About that night at the restaurant… I was wrong. I shouldn’t have said those things. Please, forgive me.”


    His gaze shifted to her, cold and distant as winter steel. “There’s nothing left between us, Jocelyn. Nothing to forgive.”


    The words were t, final.


    Jocelyn’s throat tightened. No–she couldn’t let it end there.


    “Is it because of that night long ago?” she pressed, her tone almost frantic. “Because I ran? I was just a child, Ss. Afraid. My instincts made me flee, that’s all! I didn’t mean to abandon you.”


    But his eyes remained as cold as a frozenke. Whatever she said, it bounced off armor that would never yield.


    “Freya,” Jocelyn spat suddenly, venom seeping into her tone. “You think she wouldn’t abandon you if danger came? Do you think she’s any different from me?”


    For the first time, a flicker of warmth entered Ss’s gaze. “Yes,” he said, voice steady as stone. “She wouldn’t.”


    The tenderness in his eyes as he spoke Freya’s name made Jocelyn’s stomach twist with rage.


    “You trust her that much?” she demanded, almost a scream.


    “I do.” His voice turned to ice again, sharp enough to cut. “And hear me, Jocelyn–unless absolutely necessary, do not show yourself before me again. Your debt has been paid in blood. The Whitmores covered for your cowardice for nearly twenty years. That is more than enough.”


    His words struck like ws to her chest. Jocelyn staggered, eyes burning with unshed tears and venomous fury. Yet even through her hatred, she could see the truth: Ss’s loyalty, his bond, his heart–were already bound elsewhere.


    Bound to Freya Thorne.