A Warrior Luna's Awakening (Freya and Caelum) novel Chapter 146

Chapter 146

Freya’s POV

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+8 Pearls

I watched Silas settle onto the sofa with that easy, unshakable calm of his, pillow tucked beneath his arm like he belonged here. I should have argued longer, but the words dried on my tongue.

“Then, good night?” I said at last, trying to sound casual.

“Good night.” His lips curved in the faintest smile.

For a moment, I forgot how to breathe. That smile–subtle, almost boyish–was so different from the cold, untouchable Alpha I had first met. Lately, I had seen it more and more, glimpses of warmth breaking through the iron armor of the Ironclad Coalition’s Alpha. I turned quickly, forcing my eyes shut. I needed rest.

But while sleep pulled at me, I could feel his presence across the room. His wolf’s energy pressed faintly at the edge of mine, steady, watchful.

He probably thought I believed his excuse–that he feared someone might attack him in the night. But my instincts told me otherwise. His fear wasn’t of blades or bullets. His fear was me. That I would slip away, that I would break whatever fragile trust we had forged today.

The realization left a strange ache in my chest.

So this was what it meant to love someone–to carry so many fears. My father, Arthur Thorne, had loved my mother, Myra, with a ferocity that sometimes seemed reckless. I wondered, lying there in the dim lamplight, if his heart had pounded with the same restless dread Silas carried now.

But Silas was not my father. His wolf was tempered with steel. He would not make the same mistakes, would not drive me away with desperation. At least, that’s what I told myself.

Yet in the quiet, I heard his breathing change, heavier with memory. He shifted, and though I kept my eyes shut, I could sense his hand trailing across the scars on his back. I knew them, faint glimpses I had caught when his shirt shifted–pale lines carved by violence and survival.

Once, he had told me he kept those scars as a reminder, a vow to never forget what had shaped him. But now, in his silence, I felt the truth. He feared those scars would repel me, that I might recoil from the flawed flesh of his body.

“Freya,” his voice whispered, low as a wolf’s breath in the trees. “Don’t despise me…‘

The words dissolved into the darkness, too soft for anyone but me and the night itself to hear.

When morning came, it wasn’t his whisper I woke to, but the sudden weight of his hand brushing near. Half–asleep, instincts surged. I roiled, grabbed, and pinned him against the mattress with a move born of years in the Iron Fang Recon Unit.

Only then did my eyes snap fully open.

Silas lay beneath me, wide–eyed, lips curved in something dangerously close to amusement.

Heat flooded my face. I scrambled back. “Sorry, I wasn’t fully awake–I didn’t realize it was you.”

He only shrugged, his voice maddeningly calm. “No harm done. I only meant to wake you. But for the record–if you want to pin me down again, I won’t resist.”

My ears burned. Ancestors, what kind of Alpha spoke words like that with such seriousness?

If it had been any other male, I would have dismissed it as crude teasing. But Silas’s eyes were steady, his wolf calm, as though he truly meant it. His words struck deeper, left dangerous thoughts stirring in my mind.

No wonder the magazines in The Capital had once named him “the male most worth toppling.” For once, I understood the appeal.

The conference chamber was vast, banners of the Ashbourne council draped across the high ceiling, the scent of ink, parchment, and wolves thick in the air. Alphas, Betas, envoys–they gathered like predators circling the same kill.

I felt Jocelyn’s eyes spear me the moment we entered. My cousin’s lips thinned, displeasure curling her features. “Alpha Silas,” she said sharply, “why bring Freya here? She’s nothing but an ex–soldier. What could she possibly understand at a summit like this?”

Silas’s chuckle was soft but edged like a blade. “If you can follow the proceedings, Jocelyn, then surely Freya can as well.” Jocelyn’s face darkened, her wolf bristling. “Even if you’re infatuated with her now, don’t overestimate her worth.”

“How I view Freya,” Silas replied, his tone a warning growl, “is none of your concern.”

I caught the flicker of fury in Jocelyn’s eyes before she looked away.

Then the air shifted.

Caelum entered, Aurora trailing in his wake, her uniform of the Bluemoon Airborne Wing gleaming beneath the chandeliers. The Silverfang Alpha’s presence rolled through the hall like thunder–commanding, undeniable.

But his gaze caught on me almost instantly.

“Freya,” he said, voice low, dangerous, uncertain. “Why are you here?”

His question coiled between us, heavy with unspoken history, sharp with the scent of regret and challenge.

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