A Warrior Luna's Awakening (Freya and Caelum) novel Chapter 290

Chapter 290

Third Person’s POV

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Silas lifted his left hand, trembling as he pulled a small box from the nightstand drawer. His movements were hesitant, almost reverent, as though the box itself carried the weight of everything he had lost.

Slowly, he opened it.

Inside lay a prayer bead bracelet, carved from dark rosewood and strung with jade pieces that caught the dim light. Resting on top of it was a card–her handwriting unmistakable, strong yet delicate, the loops of her letters curling with warmth he could almost hear in her voice.

May you live each year in peace. May we walk side by side until we are old.

At the bottom, signed with the name that tore his heart in two–Freya Thorne.

Silas stared at it, dazed, the world tilting around him. Tears spilled silently down his face, falling onto the card and blurring the ink.

Peace.

Side by side until old age.

But without her, what meaning did those words hold? Without her, who would walk with him. into old age?

For all his foresight, for all the reputation he carried as the Ironclad Alpha who planned three steps

ahead in every negotiation, every battle, every deal–he had not foreseen this. Some things could not be calculated. Some sins could not be erased.

And some mistakes… could never be forgiven.

A voice, haunting and bitter, echoed through his mind–the voice of his father.

“Silas, you are my son. And like me, you will never know love returned. You will be denied, tormented, left to rot with regret. That is your fate.”

“No!” Silas’s whisper cracked, raw with defiance. His breath shook as he pressed the card to his chest, against his pounding heart, as though clutching her close. “I’m not you. I’ll never be you. I won’t lose her the way you lost everything.”

He rocked forward, the small card clutched tight as if it were her hand, her warmth, her

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Chapter 290

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heartbeat. In his mind’s eye he could see her still, luminous and furious, walking out the door without looking back.

His wolf howled inside him, clawing at his ribs, aching for the bond she had torn apart.

Meanwhile, across the city, Freya dragged her suitcase up a narrow flight of stairs to a modest apartment building. The door swung open, revealing Lana.

Lana’s eyes

widened. “Freya? Spirits above–what are you doing here with that suitcase?”

Freya’s voice was low, her expression calm, but her eyes betrayed exhaustion. “Can I stay with you for a few days? I’ll find another place soon.”

Lana stepped aside instantly. “You can stay here as long as you want. But… wait. Why are you leaving Silas’s place? Don’t tell me-”

“I’m not living with him anymore,” Freya said quietly.

Lana frowned, confused. “What happened? Did you two fight?”

Freya exhaled, steady but cold. “We broke up.”

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“Don’t even start,” Lana scoffed, waving a hand. “You’re practically the crown jewel of my company right now–you’re making me more money than half my staff combined. Consider this the least I can do as your boss. Think of it as… employee housing.”

For the first time that night, the corner of Freya’s lips softened. “Thank you, Lana.”

She carried her suitcase into the familiar room, set it down, and closed the door.

The next morning, Freya drove to the military district. Within the reinforced halls of the Iron Fang Recon Unit headquarters, she handed over an encrypted drive containing a video–five years old, but priceless. Evidence of her brother Eric, proof that he had once been alive, that he had not simply vanished into the void of war.

“I want an official search request issued to the D–territories,” she told the officer on duty. Her voice didn’t waver, though her heart pounded. “He was my brother. He was part of us. Find him.”

The officer nodded grimly, promising to escalate the request.

Freya stepped back into the daylight, the cold air hitting her lungs like steel. She had already decided: if the military could not bring her brother home, she would cross into D–territory herself. She would find the truth.

As she left the district gates, her WolfComm buzzed.

The name flashing across the screen made her hesitate–Wren, Silas’s private secretary.

Her stomach turned. Against her better judgment, she answered.

“Miss Thorne,” Wren’s voice came quickly, tight with worry. “Could you… please come see the Alpha? His fingers were broken last night. He refuses to go to the medics, refuses any treatment. I’ve tried everything, but he won’t listen to me.”

Freya closed her eyes, her wolf stirring uneasily at the words. The image of Silas’s pale face, his bones snapping beneath her hand, rose unbidden.

She gripped the steering wheel tighter, the echo of his broken voice haunting her.

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Chapter 290

But she said nothing.