A Warrior Luna's Awakening (Freya and Caelum) novel Chapter 286

Chapter 286

Chapter 286

Third Person’s POV

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Freya’s pupils contracted violently, disbelief flooding her gaze at the words that had just been

hurled into the air.

The guards moved at once, shoving Jocelyn forward and clamping a heavy hand across her mouth. She kicked and struggled, but their grip was merciless.

“Stop!” Freya’s command cracked through the tension like a whip.

The guards froze, still pinning Jocelyn in place.

At the same time, she turned toward Silas. “Let me go.

“”

But his arms were still locked around her, holding her as if he could shield her from the truth itself. His grip trembled against her ribs.

“Freya, don’t-” His voice rasped, breaking.

With a sudden wrench, Freya tore herself free, breaking his hold by sheer force of will. Silas staggered back two paces, breath caught, and instinctively reached to catch her again. But when his eyes collided with hers–burning, unyielding, demanding–his hands faltered in midair and fell uselessly to his sides.

Her voice rang clear, sharp enough to cut through marrow. “Silas Whitmor, whatever happens, I will hear Jocelyn’s words for myself. I’ll make my own judgment.”

Silas went rigid, his veins pounding, his chest rising and falling with violent restraint. His wolf howled within, begging her not to move closer. But his throat locked; no sound could break through. He could only watch as she stepped toward the woman who had just torn the veil from his deepest secret.

Stop. His soul screamed it. Don’t go any further, Freya. Please… stop.

But her boots carried her onward, steady, unrelenting, until she stood before Jocelyn.

“Release her,” Freya ordered, her voice low but filled with Alpha steel.

The guards hesitated, looking toward Silas. He gave no signal. His jaw was clenched tight, his face bloodless.

Impatience sparked in Freya’s veins. She gripped one guard’s wrist and wrenched it back with

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Chapter 286

a crack. His hand fell away from Jocelyn’s face.

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Freya’s eyes locked with her cousin’s. “Say it. Who was in the back seat?”

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Jocelyn burst into vicious laughter, her voice dripping venom. “How many times do I need to repeat it? Freya, the one sitting in the back seat was Silas Whitmor himself. You condemn Aurora for her cold indifference, yet what about him? Your precious Alpha. Your Silas. He did nothing while your brother begged for his life. He is no different–no, worse. How does that taste?”

Her words were sharp, poisoned barbs meant to wound. If she couldn’t escape this room alive, then she would drag them all into the abyss with her.

Freya’s stare burned like ice. “You say it was Silas. Do you have proof?”

“Proof?” Jocelyn’s mouth twisted into a smile of ugly triumph. “Five years ago, Silas and I both went to D–country. My bag was stolen, and I filed a report there. The police record mentions him by name. His car. His plate number. If you could track me down here, you can damn well dig that up too.” Her eyes glittered with a warped glee, knowing she had landed her blow.

Freya’s lips pressed into a bloodless line. Slowly, she turned toward Silas.

The man who had always been composed, unshakable, iron–willed. Now he stood pale as bone, silent, staring at her with hollow eyes. He didn’t deny it.

“Now you see?” Jocelyn sneered, fangs flashing as she leaned forward. “You know now that the man you trust most abandoned your brother to die. Eric clawed at that door, begged until his throat bled. And what did Silas do? He gave the order to tear him off, to throw him like garbage on the roadside. He never lifted a finger. That’s who he is. Cold, Ruthless. A wolf with no heart. You said you could forgive him anything–what about this? Can you still forgive

this?”

The door swung open. They slipped inside, Freya first, Silas sliding in beside her.

The ride to her apartment was thick with silence. Freya stared out the window, her WolfComm resting loosely in her lap. Not a word left her mouth.

Beside her, Silas’s body coiled like a predator cornered. His mind clawed for a solution, any explanation that might hold her, but nothing came. The truth he had fought to bury for five years had risen, and it had torn her trust open like a wound.

Fear–real, raw Alpha fear–gnawed at him. Not fear of enemies, not of war, but of losing her.

When the car pulled into the complex and halted before her building, Freya pushed the door open without a glance. She walked swiftly, her boots striking the pavement like drumbeats of judgment.

Silas followed at her heels, each step heavier than the last. Inside the apartment, the silence grew oppressive, thick as fog.

Freya stood at the center of the room, her back to him. For a long moment, the only sound was the rasp of her breathing.

Finally, her voice broke through, sharp and unwavering. “Five years ago, you saw my brother. Didn’t you?”

The words sliced the air, heavy with truth and accusation.

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Chapter 286

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Silas froze, his throat working but producing no sound. He wanted to deny, but every part of him knew denial was worthless now. He wanted to confess, but the words curdled in his chest.

So he stood in silence.

And the silence spoke louder than any answer.