A Warrior Luna's Awakening (Freya and Caelum) novel Chapter 309

Chapter 309

Third Person’s POV

45 Free Coins

Wren’s eyes

widened in alarm the moment he saw Alpha Silas raise the glass of spiked liquor to his lips. His hand shot out instinctively, trying to block it, but Silas’s amber gaze lifted slowly, cold and commanding.

“Move your hand,” Silas said, his voice calm yet carrying an unmistakable edge of threat.

Wren hesitated, sweat gathering at his temples. “Alpha, you can’t possibly drink that… it’s been poisoned. It could-”

Silas cut him off with a soft murmur, almost to himself. “If my body is harmed… would she care?”

Wren froze. He knew exactly who Silas meant: Freya. The question was rhetorical, but it hit Wren like a punch.

“Move your hand,” Silas repeated, firmer this time.

Gritting his teeth, Wren reluctantly withdrew, stepping back. His mind raced. Silas’s reasoning was reckless, but the Alpha’s pride would not allow him to change his mind easily. Wren’s concern deepened. “Alpha… what if Miss Thorne doesn’t come to help you?”

“Then I’ll accept that I lost the gamble,” Silas said simply, lifting the glass and draining it in one smooth motion. The golden liquid slid down his throat as if daring the world to challenge him. He set the empty glass down, amber eyes locking on Wren. “Now… go. Tell her.”

Wren swallowed, his pulse quickening. The Alpha wanted to know–through this dangerous wager–whether Freya still carried any trace of care for him. Even if the cost was his own body, Silas was willing to risk it.

Meanwhile, Freya and Lana were deep in discussion with executives from several potential investors at the City Economic Summit. The negotiation was delicate, every word measured, every gesture calculated to inspire confidence.

That delicate balance shattered when Wren came rushing toward them, his expression taut with urgency.

“Miss Thorne! Alpha Silas is in danger. Please… come with me!”

Freya froze mid–step. Her heart stuttered at the news. “What?” she asked, voice tight with concern. Silas Whitmor in danger? That was impossible… wasn’t it?

1/3

Chapter 309

+5 Free Coins

Wren urged her forward, but Freya’s instincts screamed caution. She took two steps, then stopped abruptly, her gaze hardening.

“Miss Thorne?” Wren’s voice was laced with confusion and worry.

Wren hesitated, lowering his voice to a near whisper. “He drank… he drank liquor that had been tampered with. He refuses medical care, he only says he wants to see you.”

Chapter 309

+5 Free Coins

Freya nodded, steeling herself, and pushed the door open. The room was dimly lit, a single row of warm lights casting long shadows across the floor. The space felt intimate, almost too quiet, the air heavy with tension and faint traces of bourbon.

On the sofa, Silas Whitmor reclined, his jacket unfastened and collar open, revealing the broad lines of his chest and the hard planes of his abdomen. Even in this vulnerable state, he radiated the quiet dominance of a true Alpha, the kind that could command attention without uttering a word.

Freya’s steps slowed as she approached, taking in the sight of him–the way his hair fell in dark waves, the subtle sheen of sweat, the deep amber of his eyes now softened with a strange vulnerability.

“Freya… you… you came?” His voice was hoarse, labored from the poisoned liquor, yet threaded with that same low, magnetic authority she remembered.

His gaze met hers, amber eyes now tinged with something almost intoxicatingly human, the cold veneer lifted for just a moment to reveal raw need. Each shallow breath made his throat move visibly, a tremor that drew her attention despite the tension in her chest.

Silas’s lips parted, a slow, ragged exhale escaping as if it carried the weight of unspoken words. The lines of his face, so often set in imperious control, now held a seductive fragility, a reminder of the Alpha’s rare humanity when he was alone with her. Freya’s heart twisted, caught between fear, care, and the lingering pull of something that had never fully vanished.

She paused at the threshold, feeling the weight of choice pressing down like the gravity of the storm–swept cliffs that defined the borders of Stormveil territory. Every instinct–her loyalty, her caution, her pack–bonded senses–warned her. Yet the human part, the part that had once bared itself to him, urged her forward.

For now, the room held only the two of them, the faint amber light, and the heavy, palpable tension of past and present colliding. The Alpha and the Bloodmoon’s daughter, facing the consequences of old bonds, the poison, and the gamble that had been silently set before them.