Third Person’s POV


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    Eleanor’s eyes burned with disdain as she turned on Aurora, the mask of approval she had worn earlier slipping away in an instant. Her wolf aurashed out like a whip.


    “You’re no longer a co–pilot, and now you carry a stain so deep it reeks of disgrace. How dare you presume to be worthy of my son?” she spat, her voice sharp enough to draw heads from nearby shoppers. “Caelum, I forbid you from staying with this woman.”


    “Mother!” Caelum’s face darkened, his wolf bristling under the sting of her words. His mother’s outburst, in such a public ce, was humiliating–especially in front of Freya, who stood silently, her golden eyes glinting with predator’s amusement.


    Aurora stiffened, humiliation tightening her chest. Her wolf pressed against her ribs, restless and cornered. “Eleanor,” she bit out, the formal address ringing hollow, “Caelum and I are bound by true affection. You have no right to tear us apart.”


    But in her heart, she knew better. She was cornered, stripped of her title, her position, and now clung to Caelum as herst foothold. Without him, her wolf would spiral into nothingness.


    A sharp crack tore through the air. Eleanor’s hand struck across Aurora’s face, the sound of the p echoing like a whip in the cavernous shopping hall. Aurora staggered, pain blooming hot across her cheek,


    “True affection?” Eleanor sneered, wolf aura heavy, choking the space around them. “You’re nothing but a scheming temptress. A usurper. A mistress who seduced my son.”


    Aurora’s wolf snarled in protest, but her pride bled through her eyes as she clutched her stinging cheek. “Even if you are Caelum’s mother, you cannot treat me this way!”


    “Can’t I?” Eleanor snapped.


    From the sidelines, Lana gave a mockingugh, her wolf sharp and unrestrained, enjoying the spectacle. “Aurora, weren’t you the one who told Freya not to quarrel with her elders? You boasted that if it were you, you would endure anything–insults, even blows–for the sake of respect.”


    Aurora’s throat constricted, words jamming like broken ss. She had said that–smugly, when she thought it made her superior to Freya. Now those words turned back on her like a poisoned de, burying deep.


    Her wolf whimpered with humiliation.


    She reached desperately for Caelum’s sleeve, her voice trembling, almost pleading, “Caelum…”


    But before he could speak, Freya’s voice sliced through the chaos, cool and edged with derision. Her wolf pulsed dominance<b>, </b>amber gaze pinning him. “Caelum, since you’re so devoted to filial piety, shouldn’t you remind Aurora of her own words? That your mother is a senior, and even if she scolds her or raises her hand, Aurora should endure?”


    Caelum froze. The weight of Freya’s words crashed against him, his wolf’s throat closing with shame. He could not answer–his loyalty to his mother shed violently with his bond to Aurora. His jaw clenched, but the words refused to form.


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    <b>11:55 </b>Mon<b>, </b>15 <b>Sept </b>?


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    Eleanor, emboldened, unleashed another torrent of venom, her wolf baring its fangs. Aurora’s pride shattered under the weight, and atst she snapped back, her voice shrill with desperation. The retaliation only stoked Eleanor’s fury further, and soon Giselle, Caelum’s sister, joined the fray, her wolf spitting insults like venom.


    The argument descended into a full–blown pack squabble, ws unsheathed not in flesh but in words sharp enough to scar. Eleanor’s shrieks, Aurora’s desperate protests, Giselle’s taunts–their wolves shed with snarls that seemed to reverberate through the walls of the shopping mall.


    “Mother! Aurora! Enough!” Caelum roared, stepping between them, his Alpha aura ring to keep the peace. Yet even his dominance couldn’t entirely smother the chaos. The scene had already drawn too many eyes. Wolves and humans alike whispered, some raising their WolfComm devices to record, the scandal seeping into the air like blood in water.


    Freya watched with arms folded, her wolf calm, regal, every inch the predator surveying prey that had turned on one another. She turned to Lana, lips curving faintly. “We’ve seen enough. Let’s leave.”


    Lana’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Leave? I could watch this ‘dogfight‘ all day. Not long ago, they were united against you, and now look–mother, daughter, and lover tearing each other apart. It’s art.”


    Freya arched a brow, her wolf flicking its tail in amusement. “Stay if you want.”


    Lana gave the gathering crowd another nce. Several were openly recording, murmuring with growing excitement. She smirked. “No, you’re right. This will hit thework before long. I’ll enjoy it reyed a hundred times over.”


    Together, the two women walked out of the mall, their wolves brushing the air with dominance, leaving the chaos behind them.


    Just beyond the ss doors, a sleek ck vehicle was parked. Ss stepped out as Freya approached, his broad frame andmanding aura marking him instantly as the Irond Coalition’s Alpha. He moved smoothly, as though this meeting was nned all along.


    “Done with your shopping?” he asked casually, his wolf giving a respectful brush of recognition as he took the bags from her arms without hesitation. His hands dwarfed the delicate handles, setting them. effortlessly into the trunk..


    Freya tilted her head, studying him. “Yes. But the mall’s central screen… the sudden broadcast of Aurora’s scandals. That was no coincidence, was it? If I’m not mistaken, this mall is under Whitmor holdings.”


    Ss’s eyes darkened, the flicker of a predator’s grin tugging at his lips. “You’re right. And Aurora dared to humiliate you in my territory. If she thought she could wound you, she will pay the price My Luna is not prey. She is the storm.”


    Freya’s wolf stirred with satisfaction, silent but fierce.


    Meanwhile, across the city, Jocelyn Thorne sat in her chamber, her fingers tracing over a set of old photographs she had recovered days earlier. Her wolf fur bristled with unease. She had already confirmed with Ken Thorne, the patriarch, that the boy in the photographs was Eric Thorne–Freya’s brother.


    But why did his face feel so familiar? Why did her wolf’s instincts itch with recognition, as though this wasn’t merely a brother long/absent, but a ghost that lingered closer than she had ever admitted?


    Suddenly Jocelyn’s breath hitched. She lunged to her shelves, pulling free a leather–bound family album.


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    11:55 Mon, 15 Sept ?


    Pages turned rapidly beneath her hands until she froze, her wolf’s breath catching in her throat.


    71%


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    <b>11:55 </b>Mon, <b>15 </b>Sept??