Freya’s POV


    I turned my focus back to Grandfather Ken, who sat propped against his pillows, frail yet steady. I pulled out the old photographs of my brother Eric and ced them into his trembling hands.


    One by one, he studied them, his cloudy eyes sharpening with recognition and longing. I told him stories as he looked, memories of Eric’sughter, his stubborn streak, the way his wolf had always carried itself with quiet strength.


    “When I find him,” I whispered, hope hardening into a vow, “I’ll bring him here myself. You’ll see him with your own eyes.”


    Grandfather’s breath shuddered. He looked at Eric’s face in the photo as though willing it into flesh and blood. “I don’t know if I’llst long enough.”


    “You will,” I said quickly, gripping his hand. “It won’t be long. I’ll bring him back soon. You’ll meet him again—I swear it.”


    A faint smile curved his lips, his voice low but firm. “Then I’ll hold on until that day.”


    For a few quiet moments, there was peace in his aura. But then his gaze flicked to me, sharper, older than the body it inhabited.


    “Freya,” he rasped, “you’re with Alpha Ss now, aren’t you?”


    I hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”


    “Be cautious.” His tone was grave. “Men like him think in depths you cannot always see. He carries the blood of Whitmore. His father… I remember him well. A man who wed at what he wanted with ruthless hands. He tore apart a rival, destroyed a lover, to win his mate.”


    My wolf bristled. I cut him off sharply. “Grandfather! Ss is not his father. Don’tpare them.”


    Ken’s eyes softened, regret flickering there. “Perhaps I judge too harshly. The boy does look at you differently than his father ever looked at anyone. Maybe this time, history won’t repeat itself.”


    I clung to that thought. Because I wanted to believe it.


    By the time I left his chamber, nearly an hour had passed. My thoughts churned, heavy with


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    both hope and unease. Would Ss be growing impatient in the great hall, waiting? I hurried


    my steps-


    And froze.


    The manor corridors pulsed with rm. Servants rushed past, their voices a frantic buzz.


    “Something’s happened in the great hall!”


    “Alpha Ss–he’s with Lady Jocelyn-”


    My stomach plunged. Ss? With Jocelyn?


    Fear spiked, sharp as silver through my chest. I broke into a run, my boots hammering against the stone floor.


    When I burst into the hall, the air stank of chaos. Servants sprawled across the floor, groaning, clutching at bruises. Their scents were sharp with fear.


    And at the center of it-


    Ss.


    My mate stood wild–eyed, chest heaving, his aura a storm gone feral. His hand was wrapped around Jocelyn’s throat, lifting her clear off the ground, mming her against the wall. Her legs kicked helplessly, her face bleaching to ash as her lips mouthed soundless pleas.


    “Ss!” My voice cracked the air like a whip.


    But he didn’t hear me. His eyes–those dark, steady eyes–were unfocused, pupils blown wide. Jocelyn’s struggles weakened, her wolf’s aura sputtering. She was seconds from copse.


    I lunged forward. “Ss, let go! Now!”


    No response. His wolf was in control, and it wasn’t recognizing friend from foe.


    My pulse roared in my ears as I grabbed his arm, trying to wrench his hand free. For one terrible second, it worked–Jocelyn dropped like a rag doll, gasping for breath.


    But then his wolf snapped to me.


    And attacked.


    “Ss!” I stumbled back, blocking his blow with my forearm. His strength crashed into me, jarring bone. He came at me again, like a beast driven mad, each strike aimed to tear, not to


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    spar.


    “Ss, look at me!” I shouted, ducking, dodging, my wolf ring beneath my skin. “It’s Freya! Stop!”


    But he didn’t stop. His wolf only snarled and pressed harder.


    Gritting my teeth, I shifted my stance. At thest second, I spun, seized his momentum, and mmed him against the wall. The impact shuddered through us both. I pinned him there, my breath ragged, my muscles screaming.


    And then–finally–something flickered.


    His


    eyes wavered, the madness thinning. “Freya…?<b>” </b>


    “Yes!” Relief burst through me. “It’s me. I’m here.”


    He blinked, his pupils narrowing back to normal. His chest heaved, his aura spasming between fury and control. “The… scent…” His voice rasped, desperate. “Bind me. Bind my hands. Before I hurt you-”


    His body trembled violently, fighting to keep himself from lunging again.


    That was when I noticed it. The cloying, unnatural perfume that clung to the air. Not mine. Not Ss’s. Jocelyn’s.


    A bitter, sweetened scent–an aphrodisiac oil twisted for wolves, designed to unbnce even an Alpha.


    Snarling, I ripped Ss’s tie from his neck and bound his wrists tight. He didn’t resist, only sagged into me, still trembling, but yielding.


    Once I was sure he couldn’tsh out, I rounded on Jocelyn. She was on the floor, coughing violently, her face mottled red and white.


    I stalked toward her, fury snapping in my aura, my wolf’s growl rumbling beneath my skin.


    “What did you do to him?” My voice cut like fangs. “That stench–you reek of it. What did you use on Ss?<b>“</b><b>. </b>


    Her eyes darted away, panic shing before she smothered it. “I… I didn’t do anything! Freya, don’t me me without proof!”


    “Liar!” I snarled, my wolf rising, ws itching beneath my skin. “You doused yourself in poison and thought you could bind him with it. You almost killed him!”