A Warrior Luna's Awakening (Freya and Caelum) novel Chapter 183

Chapter 183

Finished

Third Person’s POV

The storm winds clawed at the rotors of the Bluemoon Airborne Wing helicopter, snarling like wild wolves across the Ashbourne coast. Aurora’s face tightened as the craft pitched, her knuckles white against the cyclic. Every gust rattled her bones, reminding her that no accolade, no borrowed glory, was worth the cost of her own life.

Why should she risk herself for strangers?

Yet Caclum’s voice broke through the howl of the gale, questioning her resolve. His eyes–silver, steady–searched her face.

for an answer.

Aurora forced her lips into a tremulous smile, the fear in her chest twisting into something else entirely. “Because I have someone more important to protect now,” she declared.

Caelum blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “What?”

She didn’t hesitate. Not even with the rescue team listening. “You, Caelum. I care about you more than anything. If you Jweren’t here, I’d fly straight into that storm without fear. But with you on this aircraft, I can’t take the risk. Freya has already

gone ahead. Let her handle the rescue. If she fails, I’ll see you safely off this craft before I take the risk myself.”

The words struck him like a physical blow. His chest tightened, not with pride but with guilt. “I’m sorry, Aurora. I shouldn’t have doubted you. I-”

She cut him off with a quick shake of her head. “It doesn’t matter, Caelum. As long as you don’t doubt my feelings for you.”

In the cramped cabin, the rescuers exchanged silent glances. One rolled his eyes skyward, the gesture sharp with disdain. This had been Aurora’s plan from the beginning: demand to be part of the mission, insist on bringing along Caelum despite his bandaged arm and recent injuries, and now–use him as an excuse to retreat.

The irony was bitter. She had turned a rescue into a farce.

To the rescuers, Aurora’s motives were transparent: fear. She wasn’t skilled enough to face the winds, and rather than admit it, she cloaked herself in the excuse of love. Worse still, Caèlum seemed moved, his features softened as though he believed her every word.

The lead rescuer’s lip curled, though he bit back his contempt. Instead, he toggled his WolfComm headset, linking directly to Freya Thorne’s aircraft

“How are conditions on your side?” he asked.

A voice crackled through, steadier than the winds around them. “We’ve reached the site. Preparing to extract the trapped

crew,”

“Understood. Wishing you success.”

The channel clicked dead. In the sudden silence, the rescuer turned his sharp gaze on Aurora. “Since you care so much for your passenger, perhaps it would be wiser to return to base. If Freya’s team falters, and you waste precious time circling or retreating, you’ll arrive too late to save anyone. Dead wolves can’t be rescued by cowards.”

Aurora’s lips parted, but no words came. The insult cut deep, but she could not argue.

Back in Stormveil territory, the night broke open with the rhythmic thunder of rotor blades. Freya’s helicopter swept down onto the rooftop landing pad of the Thorne corporate tower, its sleek frame streaked with sea–salt and storm water. Medical teams were already waiting, their stretchers lined like soldiers ready for war.

“You’re safe,” he rasped, his voice hoarse with strain. “Moon above, you’re safe.”

On the fringe of the rooftop, Jocelyn Thorne’s eyes gleamed with envy, her jaw clenched so tight her teeth threatened to crack. The sight of Silas’s devotion tore at her insides, feeding the venom of jealousy until it burned her veins.

Not far from her, Caelum stood frozen. His gaze lingered on Freya–not the Freya in Silas’s arms, but the one in his mind. The woman who had flown into the storm without hesitation, who had once thrown herself into the sea to rescue a child that was not her own.

The image clashed violently with the truth he thought he knew.

Because hadn’t the records shown Aurora had been the one to save him years ago from drowning? Hadn’t the reports named her, supported by witnesses?

Yet when he saw Freya brace herself against the fury of the gale, risking her life for strangers, the doubt whispered: What if…?

He shook his head, forcing the thought away, as if his own heart had betrayed him. It couldn’t be. It mustn’t be.

Still, his gaze betrayed him. His eyes fell to Freya’s hand–those slender fingers that now brushed tenderly through Silas’s hair. Once, those same fingers had combed through his own locks in gentler times.

But that touch no longer belonged to him. It belonged wholly to another.

“Caelum.” Aurora’s voice broke through, tinged with jealousy she couldn’t mask. Her hand caught his sleeve, her smile thin, her tone brittle. “Let’s go.”

Her heart seethed with humiliation. Freya had taken the risk, stolen the glory, and even managed to return wrapped in Silas’s arms. Aurora’s own retreat, her excuses, had earned her nothing but disdain from the rescuers and pity from Caelum. Tonight, she had lost everything she sought to prove.

And she could not forgive it,