A Warrior Luna's Awakening (Freya and Caelum) novel Chapter 219

Chapter 219

Third Person’s POV

Silas lay slumped against the high–backed chair, his broad chest heaving, sweat dripping down his temples. His face was contorted in anguish, and the veins along his temple pulsed as though something monstrous pressed from within. His eyes remained closed, but the tension rolling off him was undeniable–his wolf fought for control.

Freya’s fury burned in her chest as she knelt by his side, her gaze sweeping the room until it fixed on Jocelyn. Barely an hour ago she had left Silas, and now she returned to find him reduced to this–a powerful Alpha writhing, consumed by torment.

The sight ignited something feral inside her.

Jocelyn scrambled weakly across the floor, but before she could rise, Freya stepped forward, her boot pressing down hard against her cousin’s back. The weight of a wolf blessed by the Bloodmoon Pack pressed her flat, grinding her ribs against the marble floor. Jocelyn’s breath hitched, and a strangled cry broke from her lips.

“Jocelyn,” Freya’s voice was low, a growl vibrating beneath every word, “I will ask you one more time–what did you do to him? And what is that scent on you?”

The sharp command reverberated through the chamber, making even the air feel heavier. Jocelyn writhed beneath Freya’s heel, but the pressure was relentless, as if the entire Iron Fang Recon Unit bore down upon her spine.

“Don’t just stand there!” Jocelyn screeched toward the servants clustered at the edges of the hall. “Pull her off me–now!”

But the servants only shifted uneasily, eyes darting toward Silas’s trembling frame. None dared move closer. They all knew Jocelyn’s standing had plummeted within the Thorne family, while Freya–last scion of the Stormveil Pack’s fifth branch, whose bloodline had given its all in sacrifice–was favored by the elders. Even the lowest servants whispered in admiration of her resilience, her defiance, her wolf.

Their hesitation only fed Jocelyn’s rage. Her cheeks flushed scarlet, eyes burning with humiliation. “You think you can shame me like this? Freya Thorne, if you dare humiliate me again, I swear-”

Her words cut off with a gasp as Freya leaned harder, driving her boot between Jocelyn’s shoulder blades.

“Listen to me, Jocelyn,” Freya’s tone dropped to a cold snarl, eyes blazing like winter flame. “If

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Chapter 219

you don’t tell me exactly what you did, and Silas suffers because of it, I will see to it that every day of your life becomes a nightmare. You will beg me for mercy that will never come.”

The weight increased; Jocelyn felt her spine strain, fear prickling down her limbs like ice. Freya’s wolf was in her gaze now, wild and merciless, and Jocelyn knew–if she refused, Freya truly would crush her into the floor.

“Fine!” Jocelyn’s voice cracked, trembling under the pressure. “I–I only sprayed perfume! Nothing else! I swear it!”

Jocelyn snatched them greedily, her breath quickening as her eyes flicked over the images. Photos, clutched close to Freya’s heart, secreted so near to her even in moments of chaos.

Her lips curved into a bitter smile. “So, she carries these with her everywhere…”

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There were only three photos that fell.

All three showed the same man.

In two of the photos, he was wearing a military uniform, and in one, he was shirtless, training.

Jocelyn’s eyes narrowed suddenly, staring at the hideous scar on the man’s shoulder.

This scar looked familiar to her, as if she had seen it somewhere before!