A Warrior Luna's Awakening (Freya and Caelum) novel Chapter 268

Chapter 268

Chapter 268

Third Person’s POV

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Jocelyn’s scream split the heavy air of the Whitmore estate, a raw, panicked sound that only seemed to provoke the Alpha seated before her. One sharp slap, and her lips split, blood immediately mingling with the metallic taste of fear.

“Continue,” Silas Whitmor said with casual indifference, his amber eyes barely lifting from the leather–bound tome in his hands. The air around him was cold, predatory, as if the very walls of the Whitmore estate held their breath at his command.

Another slap landed across Jocelyn’s face, then another—relentless, precise. The taste of iron filled her mouth as blood welled from her lips, the stinging pain blossoming into a fiery haze. She gasped between strikes, her voice cracking. “P–please… spare me… Whitmor… have mercy…”

She had known of Silas’s ruthlessness. She had seen it firsthand, watched him manipulate, dominate, and crush opposition, and in her arrogance, she had believed herself immune. She had thought herself clever, different, untouchable, and that his cruelty was reserved for fools who dared provoke him.

But now, when the cruel precision of his hand fell upon her own body, the reality was starkly different. Pain and fear coursed through her veins in a way she had never truly understood before. The world blurred around her as another strike landed, then another, until her face was numb, her body trembling from the exertion of resisting the inevitable.

“Jocelyn Thorne,” Silas said again, voice smooth and dangerous, “do you understand now?”

“Y–yes… I understand…” she murmured, the words spilling through bloodied lips. But beneath the surface, her resentment only deepened. How could he do this, all for Freya?

“Whitmor… you truly believe Freya will forgive everything you do? No matter the wrongs, she will embrace you, shield you?” Jocelyn’s words cut through the room, her pride as fierce as her pain.

“She will forgive me,” Silas said calmly, his voice carrying the unyielding weight of an Alpha. “Because I will never give her reason to truly despise me. Freya and I… we will grow old together. But you–those thoughts you harbor that should never exist–you’d better lock them away.”

Jocelyn laughed, a bitter, hollow sound, tears stinging her eyes. “And if you… if you have ever done something Freya despises? Will she forgive that too? I look forward to seeing that day!” Her words were venom wrapped in despair.

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Chapter 268

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By the time Silas returned to his private chambers later that evening, Freya Thorne lay sprawled across the sofa, clutching a photograph. Her delicate fingers held an image of a family of four–her family, captured in a single moment of joy and warmth.

Silas approached cautiously, his gaze softening as it fell on the photograph. He traced the outline of Eric Thorne’s face, the brother who had vanished years ago. His voice, barely a whisper, betrayed the rare fragility of an Alpha whose pack loyalty extended beyond mere politics.

“If I find you… tell me, Freya… will you forgive me?” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

He set the photo gently on the glass–top coffee table, intending to lift Freya and carry her to her room when her eyes, previously closed in sleep, opened. His body froze. Even his voice faltered slightly. “When did you wake?”

12:05 Sun, Sep 21

Chapter 268

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Freya froze, disbelief flickering across her features. “What?”

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“Kiss me,” he repeated, eyes dark with a strange urgency. “Do it, and I will feel whole again.”

Despite the absurdity, Freya’s instincts as a wolf recognized the Alpha’s need for connection, the raw vulnerability beneath his command. She raised her hand, placing it firmly under his jaw. “Fine.”

The kiss was gentle at first, exploratory, a meeting of heat and breath. His left hand circled her waist, anchoring her to him, while his right cupped the back of her head, drawing her closer. The world around them seemed to fade into shadows and warmth, a wolf’s intimacy manifesting in the delicate press of lips and the steady thrum of heartbeats.

Just as Freya leaned back to end the kiss, Silas’s dominance surged. He deepened the kiss with sudden intensity, a consuming fire meant to stake claim, to merge their breaths into one.

“Mm…” Freya murmured, struggling slightly. She could break away with ease, her strength and reflexes honed as part of the Stormveil Pack, but Silas’s hold was ironclad, an unspoken assertion of his position as an Alpha–and as the one she had chosen to trust, even amidst his relentless power.

The kiss lingered, a predator and mate in perfect equilibrium, a moment that spoke of loyalty, obsession, and the inescapable bond of wolf blood coursing through both of them.