A Warrior Luna's Awakening (Freya and Caelum) novel Chapter 234

Chapter 234

Silas’s POV

66

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When Freya returned from the military sector, her scent carried something different–lighter, edged with hope. I noticed it the instant she crossed the threshold of the place we now shared. My wolf twitched inside me, restless, sensing the shift before her lips even parted.

She had gone to report to Aldred, the old commander, about her assignment protecting me as Ironclad Alpha. But the moment I looked at her, I knew that wasn’t all she had gained.

“What is it?” I asked, unable to ignore the flicker in her eyes. “Your mood feels… brighter than usual. Something good happened?”

Her lips curved, and for a heartbeat, she looked almost like the Freya I’d imagined in my loneliest nights–unguarded, alight.

“Yes. It’s good news.” Her voice trembled with joy. “There’s a new lead about my brother, Eric.”

The name hit me like a blade to the gut. My grip on the teacup faltered. Scalding liquid sloshed over my fingers before I could steady it. The burn barely registered, but she gasped softly, rushing toward me as if the world had narrowed to my hand alone.

“Silas!” Her small hands caught mine, pulling me with surprising strength to the washbasin. The water roared as she turned the tap, forcing my hand under the icy stream. The heat of the burn dulled, replaced by the cool shock.

Her touch–firm yet trembling–held me there. Her wolf was worried for me. For me.

I should have focused on the pain, but all I could think about was her words.

“Your brother,” I managed, my voice low, rough. “You said there’s a lead?”

“Yes, from the military.” Her eyes darted up to mine, fierce with emotion. “They found a drone. The serial matches one Eric operated before he disappeared. The Iron Fang Recon Unit confirmed it. They’re sending people to recover it, and if it still holds data…” Her voice cracked with hope. “Then maybe I’ll find him soon.”

The water splashed over my hand, but the only burn I felt was in my chest. My wolf twisted inside me, snarling in warning. If Eric returned, what would that mean for me? For her?

I clenched my jaw, but the tremor in my fingers betrayed me.

“Does it hurt?” she asked softly, tilting her head up at me.

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10:14 Tue, Sep 16

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Chapter 234

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I swallowed, forcing myself to meet her gaze. “If I told you it hurt–would you care?”

Her answer came without hesitation, cutting through the armor I’d built over years.

“Of course I would. You’re my mate–my partner. If you’re in pain, I’ll always care. But that doesn’t mean you can ignore your body. I want you to take care of yourself, Silas. I want you to live. To be well.”

Her words hit deeper than any blade ever had. No one had spoken to me like that before. Not my parents, who only measured me by my strength. Not my grandfather, who drilled me into a weapon and demanded I grow sharp enough to lead the Whitmors. Not even my most loyal warriors, who followed me out of duty, not love.

In the past, wounds meant nothing. I’d bled in silence. I’d told myself if I died, so be it- perhaps it would even be a release. But now? With her watching me like this, urging me to care for my own flesh… the thought of dying suddenly felt like betrayal.

I let her hold my hand under the cold water until the sting faded to a dull throb. She dabbed it dry with tissues, her movements careful, reverent almost. Then she asked, “Where’s your medicine box?”

I almost laughed. “I don’t keep one.”

She tilted her head thoughtfully. “If you don’t mind, I’ll make noodles. Simple, but filling. We can eat them together.”

10:14 Tue, Sep 16

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I clenched my jaw. “He’s been through things you and I haven’t. He knows sides of you I don’t.”

She reached out, brushing her fingers lightly over mine, and the storm inside me calmed. “He’s my comrade. My brother–in–arms. That’s all. You are my mate, Silas. You’re the one I’ll share my days and nights with from now on.”

Something inside me cracked, dangerously fragile. I wanted to believe her. Needed to.

By the time the delivery arrived, she was already bustling in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, hair brushing against her cheeks as she washed vegetables and sliced meat. I followed her, unable to stay seated.

“You should rest,” she chided, noticing me hovering. “You’re hurt.”

“I’ll stay quiet,” I said, leaning against the wall where I could watch her. “I just… want to be near you.”

She hesitated, then gave a small smile. “Fine. But don’t get in

my way.”

So I stood there, arms folded, my wolf strangely content just to watch her move. The sound of chopping, the steam rising from boiling water–it was ordinary, human. Yet in her presence, it felt sacred.

The apartment had always been cold, empty, just another place to escape duty. But with her in the kitchen, her wolf scent lacing the air, it was transformed. Warm. Alive.

For the first time in years, I let myself imagine a future: marriage, a shared home, her laughter echoing against these walls. I imagined cooking for her every day, learning what flavors she loved, setting bowls before her with pride.

And my wolf, usually restless, snarling for blood and dominance, went quiet–lulled by the simplest of visions: a life, not just survival.

Because of Freya.