Third Person’s POV


    s


    Freya stepped out of the healer’s hall, the cool night air brushing against her skin. Ss’s expression was tense, eyes dark as he looked at her.


    “Why didn’t you ever tell me you had this old stomach problem?” he asked, voice low but threaded with worry.


    Freya gave a small shrug, the edges of her lips curling in a faint, wry smile. “It’s nothing serious. Serving in the Iron Fang Recon Unit, you learn to expect your body will sometimes rebel. Bruises, upset stomachs, minor illnesses–theye with the territory. Do you… mind?”


    “Mind?” Ss repeated, his jaw tightening. His hand gripped hers with surprising firmness, thumb brushing over her knuckles in a gesture of possessive care. “Yes, I mind. I don’t want you to suffer, not even for a moment. I want you healthy, Freya. From now on, I’ll make sure you eat properly, I’ll make sure your stomach is cared for. I won’t allow you to hurt yourself like this again.”


    Freya’s chest warmed at his words. She remembered nights when she had pushed herself to the brink, working alongside Caelum Grafton for his ventures in the Bloodmoon Pack, enduring stomach cramps and severe pain withoutint. She had even visited emergency halls at midnight, yet Caelum had never looked up from contracts or strategic ns, never spared a thought for her suffering. He had always imed it was for her future, for a better life, but love–or theck thereof–was as clear as day whenpared to Ss now.


    Meanwhile, elsewhere in the Capital, Lana had taken Kade to a nearby lounge. Kade’s wolf prowled restlessly beneath the surface of his human form, a storm of emotion raging behind his storm–grey eyes. Lana didn’t trust him to drink alone, so she stayed, keeping her own wolf tethered, guiding him when the alcohol began to dull his sharper senses.


    He slumped into the seat, the ss in his hand trembling slightly. “I’ll… I’ll call someone to pick me up,” he muttered, fumbling for his WolfComm. “I’m too… too drunk. Just…e get me at the lounge next to your office.”


    Lana watched as he managed toplete the call, then poured himself another shot. Her wolf growled internally at his stubbornness. “Stop. If you drink any more, you’ll end up in the healer’s hall next.”


    Kade’s stomach turned violently, and he doubled over, spewing into the ornate rug at his feet. Lana recoiled just in time, catching the smell but avoiding the mess. His wolf whimpered, ashamed, as he copsed against the sofa, drenched in the evidence of his own recklessness.


    9:44 Fri<b>, </b><b>Sep </b>12


    :


    <b>81 </b>


    s


    The lounge was quiet except for Kade’sbored breathing. Lana sighed, bracing herself. Carefully, she shifted him to the far side of the sofa, protecting him from further exposure to his own mess. With precision borne of years of wolf instincts and experience handling injuredrades, she unbuttoned his outer jacket and peeled it off, tossing it aside.


    Next came his shirt. She moved to undo the first few buttons to help him breathe, working slowly to avoid waking his restless wolf. Just as she reached the second button, the lounge door opened abruptly.


    A cold, controlled voice sliced through the room. “So, you’re tending to Kade now? nning to strip him down just like you tried with me back then?”


    Lana froze, every nerve alight with rm. The voice… it could only belong to one person.


    A tall,manding figure stepped into view, draped in a ck suit that hugged his lean frame perfectly, aura of dominance and poise radiating like a wolf marking territory. His eyes, narrow and piercing, scanned the room with surgical precision. Lana’s heart sank. It was none other than Victor Ashford—her ex, whose Alpha influence in the Capital was near–legendary.


    “Quite the coincidence,” she managed, forcing a smile, though her wolf growled low, warning her of the tension.


    “Indeed,” Victor Ashford said smoothly, advancing into the room. His gaze fell on Kade sprawled drunkenly on the sofa. “If I hadn’te, would you have really stripped my nephew? Just like back then?”


    Lana’s cheeks burned red. “I wasn’t–he was vomiting. I was just helping him get out of the mess. That’s all.”


    Victor’s eyes narrowed, steel–sharp. “Then why undo his shirt buttons?”


    “To help him breathe!” Lana’s voice was sincere, bolstered by her own wolf’s protective instinct. Her gaze met his unflinching, ice–cold eyes. The subtle intimidation of his stare alone made her wolf crouch, defensive but restrained.


    He studied her for a long moment. Lana pressed on, voice calm but firm. “I have no ulterior motive. Kade isn’t someone I’m interested in. Even if he were standing there half–naked, I wouldn’t… I wouldn’t think anything.”


    Victor’s eyebrow arched slightly, and then he moved with decisive efficiency, lifting Kade onto his side of the sofa. “How much has he had to drink?”


    “Less than three bottles,” Lana replied, leaning back slightly to watch him, aware of themanding presence beside her. Victor’s wolf trailed Kade’s movements, a subtle undercurrent of dominance ensuring the younger wolf’s safety.


    9:44 Fri, Sep 12


    <b>81 </b>


    s


    Lana’s heart was still racing. Victor’s gaze lingered on her briefly, a silent warning and a reminder of their shared past—a past where wolves had fought, marked, and bled alongside humans, bound by territory, loyalty, and unspoken rules of