Chapter 107
Third Person’s POV
75%
Finished
The word “good” had caught in Silas Whitmor’s throat. He forced it back down, his voice rougher than he intended when he spoke again.
“How about another dress instead?”
“Another one?” Freya blinked at him in surprise.
He didn’t answer at once, just flipped the catalog at his side and pulled out a page–one featuring a gown that covered a woman from throat to ankle, concealing every line of her form. He held it out to her.
“This one. What do y
think?”
Freya stared at him in silence. If she wore such a suffocating garment, she might as well let the damned fabric trip her to death in the middle of a fight.
“Is there something wrong with the one I picked?” she asked, frowning.
Nothing was wrong with it. The black slit gown she had chosen suited her too well. And maybe that was the problem. The thought of other men seeing her that way–catching the strength and quiet fire in her beauty -sent something jagged through his chest.
Silas fell silent, shaken by his own reaction.
He had never cared what a woman wore before. Never given a damn about whether another wolf’s eyes lingered on her. But now, with Freya, unease coiled through him like a snare. The fear that another man would look at her too long. That her eyes would linger elsewhere. That she might not look back at him at all.
“If there’s nothing inappropriate about it,” Freya said, her voice steady, “then I’ll wear what I’ve chosen.”
She turned, ready to retreat into the fitting rooms. But his voice stopped her cold.
“Freya…” His tone was low, almost a growl. “Seems I care about you more than I thought.”
She froze, glancing back in confusion. “What?”
“Nothing,” Silas replied with a faint smile. It softened the hard edges of his face, though the truth of what he’d confessed lingered like smoke between them.
The following night, Freya accompanied Silas to the banquet.
It was hosted by the Ashbourne Trade Council, gathering government officials, tycoons, and the great names tied to the new island development. The Whitmors had a direct stake in the project, so Silas’s invitation had been inevitable.
Freya’s arm was looped through his, steady and composed, as they moved among the elite of Ashbourne. Silas exchanged the usual pleasantries, but his wolf never stopped tracking the weight of her presence beside him.
13:17 Tue, Sep 2
Chapter 107
༥ ༣ 75%
Finished
“Seems the Bluemoon pup has quite the tongue on her,” he drawled. “Would you like to try again?”
The entire hall went still. Conversations died. Every head turned toward the scene.
Aurora stood frozen, her pride warring with humiliation, while Caelum caught her arm, shielding her as he rounded on Silas.
“Alpha Whitmor, you’ve crossed the line! Even if she spoke out of turn, that doesn’t give you the right to strike her in public!”
“Oh?” Silas’s brow arched, his tone dripping with mockery.
“So when this same she–wolf tried to desecrate the Legion’s ashes at Ashbourne’s gates–when she rallied guards to hound Freya Thorne while she carried her family’s honor–you thought that was acceptable? And now you dare lecture me about lines?”
*
13:17 Tue, Sep 2 GM
Chapter 107
75%
Finished
Caelum’s face flushed hot, then pale, shame colliding with anger. The memory of that day at the airport gnawed at him still, a wound he had never managed to close.
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