A Warrior Luna's Awakening (Freya and Caelum) novel Chapter 153

Chapter 153

Freya’s POV

Was this some kind of calculated seduction?

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That thought flickered across my mind, bitter and sharp. Silas with his calm, unyielding presence, with those eyes–those hawk–cut eyes that usually held only ice and restraint–now warmed with hunger. It was a dangerous thing, the way he looked at me. Dangerous because I wasn’t sure I could promise myself I wouldn’t feel something in return.

Could I really resist him? I wasn’t certain. Not with those eyes on me, stripped of aloofness, glimmering instead with a raw need that could set any wolf’s heart stuttering.

“Forget it,” I said finally, exhaling. “But don’t say that again. Not in front of Caelum.”

The light in Silas’s gaze dimmed, just a fraction. Still, he inclined his head. “As you wish. I understand.”

The rest of the night unraveled quietly. The investors drifted away after the island conference ended; the charity donations were counted, praised, and the political wolves congratulated one another. By dawn, the halls were emptied of ambition and the stench of forged alliances.

Silas and I boarded the ship back to Ashbourne the next morning. His presence beside me was both shield and weight. When we arrived at his estate–the cold steel–and–stone villa the Whitmors had claimed on the city’s cliffs–I expected silence, perhaps a moment’s respite..

Instead, we found a shadow already waiting within.

Cassian Whitmor.

I had never met Silas’s father in person. Yet I knew that face; every wolf who walked the Capital knew it. The Whitmor blood ran as sharp as the steel they were named for, and Cassian’s image had been immortalized in political briefings, on Ironclad Coalition documents, even in old war dispatches. Cold, beautiful, dangerous.

He stood in the heart of the room as if it were his own, and in a sense, perhaps it always would be.

The moment Silas saw him, his expression hardened to granite. His voice dropped, edged with warning. “Why are you here? I told you before–stay away from her.”

He stepped instinctively in front of me, every line of his body radiating tension, shielding me as though his father might strike at any moment.

Cassian chuckled, low and dark. “So defensive. Do you fear I’ll harm your precious treasure?” His gaze slid past Silas, landing on me like a predator studying prey. “I heard an amusing tale–that you, Alpha Whitmor, leapt into the sea with her to drag a

from drowning. Imagine my curiosity. I simply had to see the woman who made you abandon your mask of stone.”

pup

The weight of Silas’s silence was heavy. I could sense the battle in him, his wolf snarling to keep me behind him, his pride hissing at the intrusion.

But I would not cower.

I laid a hand briefly on his arm, an anchor, and then stepped forward. His fingers twitched to stop me, but I shook my head and met his gaze with calm steel. Then I walked past him until I stood face–to–face with Cassian Whitmor.

“Well?” I said, voice clear and unflinching. “Have you looked enough?”

One of his brows arched in faint amusement. “You are… not disappointing.”

“Good,” I said, my wolf bristling, my blood roaring with the taste of old promises. “Then it’s my turn.”

Before he could respond, I swung-

Cassian snarled, shock giving way to rage. He had not been struck like this in decades–not by rival Alphas, not by enemies, and certainly never by a woman.

Another punch landed square against his side, hard enough to send him reeling. He lifted his arm at last, striking back. His fist cut through the air, aiming directly for my face.

Because in the blink of a heartbeat, Silas was there.

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His body slammed between us, one hand snapping up to catch Cassian’s strike, halting it inches from my cheek. The sound of impact was like stone against steel, two predators colliding.

The room froze.

“Why?” Silas’s voice cracked through the air, colder than winter ice. His eyes were not on his father but on me. mingled in equal parts. “Do you not see what you’re doing? If I hadn’t stopped him, that punch would have shattered your

fury and fear

jaw.”

I looked up at him, steady, unshaken. “I saw.”

“Then why–”

“Because I wanted to hit him.”

The silence after my words was absolute. Silas’s eyes searched mine, torn between disbelief and something darker. Cassian’s laughter started again, low and dangerous, even as bruises blossomed across his body where my fists had landed.

And I–Freya Thorne of the Stormveil Pack–stood unrepentant, my fists still aching for another round.

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