A Warrior Luna's Awakening (Freya and Caelum) novel Chapter 139

Chapter 139

Third Person’s POV

The fear lingering in Silas‘ body did not fade.

It clung to him, bone–deep, muscle–deep–a primal, choking terror.

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His arms tightened around her as if the storm itself might rip her away again. Salt water dripped from his hair, slid across the sharp lines of his face, but he did not care. His wolf thrashed inside him, clawing, howling, demanding he hold her tighter.

“Freya…” His voice broke low against her ear, roughened by sea and truth. “I’ve realized–I truly love you.”

Freya stiffened in his embrace. Her breath hitched, her eyes widening in disbelief.

Had she heard him wrong? Love? He said he loved her?

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But then Silas’s next words cut through the crash of the tide and the murmurs of the crowd, a vow clear and undeniable.

“More than I thought possible,” he whispered hoarsely. “More than I believed myself capable of. Don’t make me feel this fear again, Freya. Don’t throw yourself into the jaws of death like that.”

Her lips parted, her voice a stunned murmur. “What?”

Silas finally lifted his head. His black eyes locked onto hers, sharp as a blade yet trembling with vulnerability. His entire body was drenched, water coursing from his hair and jaw, his skin pale from cold and exhaustion. But it wasn’t the ocean that had shaken him–it was her.

Unlike the calm, icy facade the Alpha of the Ironclad Coalition usually wore, tonight his gaze was fractured, unsteady, filled with raw terror and an ache so deep it threatened to undo him.

“From now on,” Silas vowed, his voice a low growl, “the ones you want to save, I’ll save with you. The dangers you want to face, I’ll face at your side. Whatever you want to achieve, I will move the mountains and carve the rivers until you have it. You don’t need to throw yourself to the wolves of fate. You don’t need to risk your life alone.”

Every word was drenched with the weight of his wolf’s oath. He would not break it.

Freya could only stare, her pulse hammering in her throat. He was serious. The man she had untouchable–here he was, trembling, breaking, confessing.

once

thought cold, distant,

Then Silas lowered his head further. His lips brushed the back of her hand, reverent, as though she were something sacred, untouchable by the filth of the world. His kiss was not one of dominance, but of supplication, a vow pressed against her skin.

“Don’t leave me, Freya,” he breathed. His words were fragile as ash, fierce as fire. “Not in any form. Not for anyone. Not for death itself.”

The whisper drifted into the night air, but it struck like thunder in the hearts of those who watched.

Not far away, Caelum’s blood drained from his face. His wolf snarled silently inside, rage and loss clawing through his ribs. The sight before him was unbearable–Silas Whitmor clutching Freya like she was his mate, his entire being collapsing into her presence. It was a picture that seared into Caelum’s vision, a wound deeper than any blade.

For a moment, he nearly lunged forward, ready to rip her from Silas’s arms, to remind the Ironclad Alpha that Freya was not his to claim.

“Caelum!”

“Then why didn’t you move tonight?” Caelum pressed, eyes burning into hers. “So many stood on that shore. Why was Freya the first? Why was she the only one who didn’t hesitate?”

Aurora stiffened, her voice sharp. “You’re defending her.”

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“I’m stating the truth.” Caelum’s tone was iron, though his lips trembled. His eyes softened with conflict, with pain. “Aurora, once, I remembered you as someone who would leap into the water without fear, someone who risked herself to save me. That memory…” He shook his head, his voice low. “That memory is what made me believe in you. But tonight, with a child drowning, you stood still. You stopped me from going after him. And I can’t reconcile that with the woman I thought you were.”

Aurora’s breath hitched, and for a moment, panic flickered in her eyes. “I stopped you because I care too much for you! I couldn’t let you risk yourself. If Freya hadn’t leapt, I would have gone. Do you not understand?”

Caelum’s gaze lingered on her, heavy, searching. “Would you?” he asked quietly.

Her jaw tightened. “Do you doubt me?”

“Not doubt,” he said slowly, though the words tasted like ash. “But something feels… different. As if the woman who once pulled me from the river is not the one standing here before me.”

Aurora’s mask cracked, and fear flitted across her expression. She reached for anger instead. “If you can’t trust me, if you’d rather believe in her, then perhaps we should end this charade. I’ll tell the press myself that you and I share no bond.”

Caelum flinched, his wolf recoiling. “Aurora, no. That’s not what I meant. I never said I don’t trust you.” His voice dropped, weary. “I just… don’t understand you anymore.”

And as the waves hissed against the shore, as Silas still clung to Freya with trembling arms, Caelum’s heart clenched. Because deep down, he knew–he was already losing something, someone, that mattered more than he dared admit.

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