A Warrior Luna's Awakening (Freya and Caelum) novel Chapter 292

Chapter 292

Chapter 292

Freya’s POV

A

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His hand clamped around my wrist with a desperation that sent a shiver down my spine. Even with three fingers broken and bound in swelling, Silas held me as if the mere act of letting go would erase me from existence. His crimson–tinged eyes burned into mine, fevered and wild, like a wolf cornered and terrified of abandonment.

you

“Not a dream,” I told him quietly, forcing my voice steady. “Wren called me. He said refused to go to the healers. That’s why I came–to take you to the hospital and make sure your hand gets treated.”

For a moment he only stared, pupils dilating, breath ragged. Then he whispered, almost to himself, “I don’t need treatment. Let it stay broken. Let it rot if it must. Consider it punishment. If these fingers never heal, it doesn’t matter. Freya, I told you before–whatever punishment you give me, I’ll accept it.”

My heart twisted at his words, but I pressed my lips together, forcing myself to stand my ground. “I never meant to punish you,” I said at last, my voice low. “I lost control. I was desperate to leave, and I snapped your fingers in the struggle. That’s on me. That’s why I have to take responsibility and get you treated.”

From the front seat, Wren stiffened. Out of the corner of my eye I saw his shoulders lock, his head snapping slightly as if he couldn’t believe what he had heard.

So now he knew. Silas’s shattered hand was my doing.

I could only imagine what conclusions were racing through his mind—yesterday’s argument, Jocelyn’s schemes, my missing brother Eric, all tangled in blood and betrayal. But none of that mattered right now. What mattered was that the Alpha I once loved sat broken beside me, hand a ruin because of me.

Silas’s voice dropped, deep and hollow. “So you won’t punish me, not even a little?”

I swallowed, my gaze falling away. “I don’t have the right to punish you, Silas.”

his

His grip tightened fractionally. “But what if I wanted you to? What if I begged you to punish me?”

Something sharp pierced my chest, a mixture of sorrow and exhaustion. “For what? For failing to save Eric? I told you before–you weren’t bound to him, you had no duty to risk yourself for my brother. And as for the lies, for the betrayal… we’re done. We ended it. There’s nothing left to punish.”

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Chapter 292

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“You say we’re done, and yet-” His voice cracked suddenly. His gaze flicked downward, to the crumpled card still caught between his fingers. With a ragged movement, he lifted it. The card I had written on, the words etched in my own hand: May you live each year in peace. May we walk together until the end of days.

“You wished me peace. You promised me forever. And now you tell me to accept an end?” His voice was raw, frayed with anguish.

My chest seized. Just looking at those words again, at my handwriting, made my heart split open all over. I wanted to reach for the card, to tear it away, to save myself from the pain of those promises–but I couldn’t.

“I don’t know how to face you anymore,” I admitted, the words dragging out like claws over

stone.

It was like watching the light vanish from his eyes. His wolf–fire dimmed, leaving them hollow, shadowed. For the first time since I’d known him, Silas Whitmor looked beaten.

And then… he let go.

The sudden absence of his hand around my wrist was like ice water down my spine.

Wren’s knuckles were white against the wheel as he steered us toward the hospital. I could feel his tension like static in the air. No one spoke. The silence was suffocating, pressing down on the three of us until the sound of Silas’s uneven breaths was the only thing filling the space.

I kept my gaze fixed out the window, watching Deepmoor’s city lights blur against the glass. Yet every nerve in me was aware of his eyes, heavy on my profile, refusing to let me go even in silence.

I said nothing. Neither did he.

The words tasted like blood. They weren’t only for him. They were for me, too. A chant, a mantra. Not even a little. Not even a little.

Because if I admitted otherwise, I’d never leave him.

“Enough,” I said sharply, tugging at his uninjured arm. “Stop wasting time. I have other matters to handle tonight.”

At last, he moved, letting me lead him through the sterile halls. Wren trailed behind, silent as a shadow.

Registration. X–rays. The slow clinical rhythm of healers resetting what I had broken. Each snap of a splint into place echoed inside me like a chain tightening around my throat.

At last, his hand was secured, wrapped, bound. The healer’s words were merciful–no major complications, no need for a cast. Just time, rest, and patience.

I stood, my throat dry. “It’s done. I’m leaving?

I turned, forcing my steps away from the room, away from him. But I didn’t make it far.

Warmth slammed into my back–his arms, strong despite the injury, wrapping around me from behind.

“Don’t go,” Silas whispered against my hair, his voice hoarse and breaking. “Please, Freya. Don’t go.”

My body froze. My wolf howled, clawing at my insides, desperate to turn, to answer.

But I stood rigid, eyes burning. Because if I gave in now, if I let myself melt against him, I

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Chapter 292

knew I would never leave again.