Third Person’s POV


    Freya turned slowly, her eyes meeting Ss’s. “Let’s go,” she said.


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    Ss inclined his head, the familiar weight of his presence walking with her, steady and reassuring. But even as they moved. Jocelyn’s gaze lingered on their retreating forms. A sh of resentment burned in her eyes–she hadn’te here to witness Freya and Ss together, not after everything she had sacrificed.


    Jocelyn’s voice cut through the tension like a sharpened fang. “Freya, don’t you care that Ss’s heart might belong to another?” Her tone carried desperation, yet edged with venom. “There’s a girl… a girl who once saved his life. All these years, he’s been searching for her. Don’t you fear that if he ever finds her, he will turn his loyalty to herpletely? That you will be cast aside?”


    Freya’s steps faltered, just a fraction, yet it was enough. The hand she had sped around Ss’s stiffened in her grip. The warmth of his fingers–theforting pulse she had relied on–suddenly seemed distant, taut with tension.


    Even his breathing changed, shallow and rapid, betraying the calm mask he usually wore. Ss’s face paled, the color draining in an instant as if Jocelyn’s words had cut through his very veins. The warning in Freya’s heart tightened–this was no trivial usation. At least some truth lingered there. Ss had been searching for a girl who had saved his life.


    “I…” Ss’s voice was rough, caught in his throat. He opened his mouth, as if to exin, but words failed him.


    Freya lifted a hand, cutting him off. “Later. Go back!”


    She released his hand deliberately, the warmth and security that had anchored her slipping away in that single gesture. As her steps carried her closer to Jocelyn, Ss’s heart thudded in an unfamiliar panic. Each beat screamed <i>at </i>him, warning that distance was being forged, not by space, but by choices and truths left unspoken. He could feel it–the unrelenting pull of fate nudging Freya away. A surge of possessive instinct rose, wing at him. No… not her. Not now.


    Jocelyn forced herself to hold her posture, lifting her chin as if to appear defiant. “See? I told you the truth, Freya. Ss’s heart belongs to that girl. The moment she appears, you will be nothing to him!”


    Then, like a bolt of lightning striking a wolf’s nk, Freya’s hand shot out. The pnded with a sharp crack, pressing Jocelyn’s meticulously made–up cheek. Jocelyn reeled, pain shing across her features. “You… you dare hit me?!” she spat, fury mixing with disbelief. “Do you even know the consequences? I can call the authorities!”


    Freya didn’t flinch. Another strike followed, echoing in the hall, leaving a deep mark across Jocelyn’s face. She stared coldly, her voice carrying the authority of an Alpha yet tinged with raw emotion. “Call whoever you want. I don’t care. But Jocelyn, who gave you the right to demean me in my presence, to speak words Incant to wound and belittle met


    Jocelyn stammered, trying to find footing, her gaze flicking past Freya to Ss, standing a few <b>steps </b>behind. Those amber–gold eyes were no longer the warm presence she remembered–they were predatory, coiled like a wolf ready to strike. A warning burned in that gaze: linger, and Ss would not hold back. Not even for her. Not a p, not a word–he would unleash the full force of the Irond Alpha’s wrath.


    <b>172 </b>


    <b>09:23 </b>Wed<b>, </b>17 <b>Sept </b>W


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    Fear edged Jocelyn’s resolve. She could feel the power, the danger, and with a final<b>, </b>resentful re, <b>she </b>turned and fled.


    Freya pivoted, walking back to Ss. “Let’s go home.”


    His voice was hoarse, low and edged with tension. “Mm.”


    The ride back to their apartment was silent. The city passed like a blur, the sounds fading behind the solid bubble of their shared presence. Once inside, Freya removed her coat, turning to find Ss’s face pale and tight with something she hadn’t expected–guilt, perhaps, or the strain of unspoken truths.


    “Was what Jocelyn said… true?” Freya asked, her voice steady but carrying the weight of a question that could fracture trust.


    Ss stiffened, feeling as though the warmth in his blood had frozen. Every fiber of his being braced under her gaze, knowing a single misstep could shatter what they had built.


    “Don’t lie to me,” Freya pressed. “I’ve said before, the love I want is one built on trust. Lies destroy it. If there’s no trust, I don’t know how to share a life with someone who cannot be trusted.”


    Ss’s lips pressed thin. After a long moment, he spoke, his voice raw with memory and regret. “When I was a child, I was caught in a violent uprising abroad. There was… a little girl. She saved my life. But I don’t remember her face<b>. </b>I was small, the events… they blur. And yes, I’ve sent people to find her, over the years, though I’ve never expected anything more than knowing she was safe.”


    Freya’s pulse quickened. “So she’s always been in your heart?”


    “Always,” he admitted quietly. “I wanted to ensure she nevercked for anything. If she ever struggled, I would provide, repay the debt of her saving my life.”


    A tense silence settled between them. Freya’s own chest throbbed, a mixture of fear and something unspoken she hadn’t anticipated. She swallowed, the next words trembling on her lips.


    “And… if one day you find her? If she seeks you out, shows affection, wishes to be with you… could you… remain indifferent?<b>” </b>


    Her voice carried in the room, delicate yet fierce. Ss’s golden gaze met hers, locked in the unspoken truth of a wolf alpha: that past debts and loyalties could never erase the bonds forged in trust and love.


    O