A Warrior Luna's Awakening (Freya and Caelum) novel Chapter 357

Chapter 357

Third Person’s POV

Silas’s tone was calm, but the darkness in his eyes betrayed exhaustion.

“How could I possibly throw my life away?” he said quietly. “Once your wounds heal, I’ll get you off this island. I still need this life for that, don’t I?”

Freya frowned, her gaze fixed on the handful of pills in his palm. “Then why take so many at once? The label says the dosage shouldn’t exceed five tablets.”

“Five does nothing for me,” Silas replied flatly. “If I’m taking them, it’s because I want to sleep, not because I want to die.”

She hesitated, studying him. The dim light caught the silver strands in his dark hair, the sharp planes of his face. There was something different about him now–less of the Alpha who commanded soldiers, more of a man quietly unraveling.

“Your insomnia still hasn’t improved?” she asked softly. “Did you see a doctor after returning to the mainland?”

He gave a dry laugh. “Of course. Changed prescriptions too. Still no difference.” Then his eyes lifted to hers, calm but piercing. “Why? Are you worried about me?”

Freya pressed her lips together, saying nothing.

“You don’t need to worry,” he continued in that even, detached voice. “My body’s built up a tolerance. I need higher doses for it to work. I’ll be fine.”

Before she could stop him, he tilted his head back, about to swallow the pills. Freya’s reflexes kicked in—she caught his wrist midair, fingers tightening around his skin. “Silas,” she said sharply, “Isn’t it true that when you hold my hand, you can sleep without needing these?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Are you pitying me?” he countered. “If I said yes–if I admitted that your touch calms the chaos–would you stay here tonight? Would you hold my hand and make sure I sleep?”

Her breath caught. The question hung heavy in the air between them. She hesitated, her instincts warring–wolf and woman, empathy and pride.

But before she could answer, Silas spoke again, voice low but steady. “Could you keep pitying me forever, Freya?”

She froze, uncertain of what he meant.

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He smiled faintly, a bitter edge twisting his lips. “Because if your pity ends the moment you leave this island, then what difference does it make? Whether I take fewer pills or more, it all ends the same way.”

With that, he gently pried her fingers away, swallowed the pills, and chased them down with a swallow of water.

Freya turned her head, unable to watch. He had insisted on keeping his distance, and she should have felt relieved. But as she listened to the sound of him setting the glass down, her chest grew heavier, as though something deep inside her had cracked and refused to mend.

Outside, the sea wind howled against the glass walls, the waves striking the cliffs below like a heartbeat. The island, isolated and untamed, mirrored the silence stretching between them— two wolves caught in the same cage, neither daring to move closer nor farther away.

Meanwhile, across the city of The Capital, laughter filled a private lounge at one of the most exclusive clubs.

“Lana, you don’t look too happy tonight,” one of the women teased, swirling a glass of wine.

“Yes, didn’t you just secure a new contract?” another chimed in, her diamond necklace catching the light. “That project was a goldmine! You should be celebrating, not brooding.”

Lana Rook smiled politely, her gaze sweeping over the faces around her. They were all high- ranking matriarchs or business elites within the Capital’s social scene–wolves who had sharpened their fangs behind silk and perfume.

When she had first clawed her way into this circle, she’d done everything it took–charm, cunning, compromise. She didn’t particularly enjoy their company, but in business, clients. came first. Every alliance had to be tended like a fragile flame.

“Yes,” Lana said smoothly, raising her glass. “We did close the deal. I’ll count on you all to support us in the future. Tonight’s drinks are on me.”

“Generous as always, Lana,” one of them laughed. “Oh, and rumor has it a new batch of models just arrived at the club tonight. Shall we take a look later? You might find someone who catches your eye.”

Normally, Lana would have joined in the banter, maybe even entertained herself by appraising the new blood. But tonight, her heart wasn’t in it. She could only think of Freya–taken by Silas Whitmor to that isolated island, completely cut off from the outside world.

Freya had called once, assuring her she was fine, that Silas hadn’t hurt her. But Lana didn’t believe it. Not entirely. She knew what Alphas like him were capable of when they wanted control.

Still, business was business. Worrying about her friend wouldn’t change anything tonight. She

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forced a smile. “All right, let’s see them,” she said.

Moments later, the door opened and a line of young men entered the room, each of them handsome in their own way–polished, eager, and slightly nervous under the collective gaze of wealthy patrons.

Lana leaned back, glass in hand, disinterested–until one of them caught her eye. Her brows furrowed slightly, an unconscious sound escaping her lips. “Huh?”

The man looked up, startled by her attention.

“What is it, Lana? See someone you like?” one of the women teased, following her gaze. there–go sit by Miss Rook. Introduce yourself.”

“You

The young man hesitated but obeyed, walking toward her with an awkward smile. “Good evening, Miss Rook. My name’s Duke,” he said softly. “Nice to meet you… and all the ladies here.”

Duke.

The name hit her like a memory she hadn’t expected. There had been another man, years ago, with the same syllable in his name–the one who had helped her when no one else did. Could this be him? Or was it just coincidence?

The others noticed her distraction and laughed. “Our Lana looks smitten! Go on, Duke, pour her a drink. Don’t be shy.”

He quickly filled her glass, his hand steady but his

eyes uncertain.

Just outside the half–open door, Victor Ashford passed by with a few acquaintances, the low hum of conversation surrounding them. One of the men slowed, peering through the crack.

“Hey, Victor,” he murmured, “isn’t that your girlfriend in there?”

Victor stopped. His amber eyes flicked toward the room. Through the sliver of open space, he caught a glimpse of Lana–her hand resting on a glass of wine, her expression unreadable as a stranger poured her a drink.

Something primal and possessive flared in his chest, low and dangerous, like the rumble of a wolf warning its rival to back away.

The night had just turned colder.