A Warrior Luna's Awakening (Freya and Caelum) novel Chapter 356

Chapter 356

Freya’s POV

I shrugged lightly. “Anything is fine,” I said, watching Silas move through the kitchen.

On this island, every meal was prepared by him personally. Ingredients were flown in by helicopter, fresh and carefully selected. Watching him in a simple apron, hands busy with pots and pans, stirred memories I hadn’t realized I still carried. I could almost see us back in the apartment in Deepmoor City, the months we had lived together–him always experimenting in the kitchen, clumsy at times, but with that persistent care that made even burnt toast feel like a feast.

Back then, after my parents passed away abroad, I had felt the world collapse in a single night. I was left with nothing–no family, no home, no anchor.

Even my marriage to Caelum Grafton had never truly given me a sense of belonging. Those three years were filled with a persistent feeling of being out of place, a guest in my own life.

But those few months with Silas… they had been different. For the first time since the world had taken everything from me, I had felt like I had a home again, even if only in the fleeting moments he had smiled at me, touched my hand, or brewed me a cup of tea in the early morning hours.

If only… if only Silas had been honest about the events surrounding my brother back then. If he had told me everything instead of keeping secrets, perhaps trust could have survived. Perhaps our bond could have endured. But the world was never kind enough to offer “ifs” and “maybes.”

I noticed Silas’s amber eyes flick toward me, sensing my gaze from the open kitchen. I lowered my eyes, hiding the sudden mist rising behind them. My hands held a new issue of a scientific journal—one he had clearly placed among the books in the study, carefully curated. These weren’t random selections; he had known exactly which titles would catch my interest. A wolf with intellect and taste, I thought with a faintly ironic smile.

“Dinner will be ready soon,” he called out, the timbre of his voice calm but commanding, echoing in the open–plan space.

Moments later, he returned with five dishes and a soup. For two people, it was far more than necessary, yet every dish reflected my preferences—simple yet flavorful.

“Try it,” he urged.

I picked up a piece with my chopsticks and took a cautious bite. My eyes widened slightly. “It’s…. surprisingly good. Better than your usual attempts,” I admitted.

Silas chuckled softly. “I took lessons. If I hadn’t improved, there would be a problem.”

1/3

I blinked, trying to reconcile the image before me. The Alpha of the Ironclad Coalition, the man whose word could topple empires, had spent time learning how to cook? He didn’t need to. Thousands of chefs would have offered their skills without question.

“Surprised?” he asked, smirking knowingly.

“A bit. Why bother?” I asked, curiosity piqued.

“You once said that if my father were alive, he would cook for my mother whenever he could. You said you wanted a husband who could do the same for you,” he said softly, eyes fixed on

mine.

The weight of his words pressed down on me. Memories of idle conversations, casual confessions, and dreams I had once shared seemed to hang in the air between us. I inhaled slowly. “My father never lied or deceived my mother. They trusted each other completely, their lives entwined until the very end. They protected each other with everything they had.”

Silas’s jaw tightened slightly. “Freya… I would give you my life if it would make you trust me again. Would that be enough?”

I shook my head, lowering my gaze to the food. “I don’t need your life, Silas. And I won’t blindly trust again, not now, not after everything.”

He pressed his lips together, eyes shadowed with a storm of emotion I could not name. The words hung unsaid between us.

Night fell, and I found myself in the same bedroom as Silas.

“Don’t you have your own room?” I asked, surprised.

“There’s only one bedroom here,” he said simply.

I paused, stunned. A villa with only one bedroom? I started toward the sofa. “Then I’ll sleep there.”

“Why not together?” he asked, gently taking my hand.

I frowned. “We’re not suited for that.”

“In Deepmoor City, it was fine, wasn’t it?”

“That was only because I owed you. And I made it clear–it was temporary. That was back then. Now, you’ve forced me to stay on this island. I owe you nothing,” I said firmly.

He smiled faintly, almost teasing. “Fine. I’ll sleep on the sofa.” He grabbed a pillow and blanket, placing them neatly, then picked up a bottle of pills and tipped several into his palm.

2/3

I froze, heart thudding. “What’s that?”

“Just something for insomnia,” he said, voice calm.

I pulled the bottle from his hand and examined it. Unlike the ones I had seen in Deepmoor, this bottle’s labeling warned no more than five tablets at a time. Yet there were clearly more than five in his hand.

“You’re planning to take all that at once? Are you trying to kill yourself?” I demanded, eyes wide with alarm.

Silas met my gaze evenly, unwavering. “I need sleep. There’s nothing fatal here,” he said quietly, but the intensity in his amber eyes made me instinctively back away.

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