A Warrior Luna's Awakening (Freya and Caelum) novel Chapter 390

**Shadows of Our Love: Chapter 390**

**Freya’s POV**

As I finally swung the door of my temporary home open, the moment felt electric. Lana practically leaped at me, her energy palpable, a whirlwind of concern and frustration.

“Freya! Moon above, you’re just getting home now? You mentioned you started driving back this morning! Even a human courier could have made it here faster! And your WolfComm was off! I was this close to filing a missing-person report with the Iron Fang Recon Unit!”

Her relief washed over me, an overwhelming wave that left me breathless. I took a deep breath, peeling off my coat as I stepped inside, the familiar scent of home wrapping around me.

“I made a stop along the way,” I replied, my voice steady. “I went to meet Everett.”

Lana froze mid-sentence, her expression shifting from worry to shock. Her eyes widened as I recounted every detail of my encounter with the Alpha—how I had stepped into his presence, how I had locked his throat with my elbow, and the moment I had ripped the pendant from him.

When I finished, she let out a long, incredulous whistle.

“So you actually locked the old man’s throat? Freya, he’s the head of the Williams Family! The backbone forged by their Alpha! And you just tore off his pendant!”

“I wasn’t about to sit there and let him decide my fate,” I said, my voice calm, almost flat. “He cornered me. I had to fight back.”

“Cornered you? Freya, he threatened you! You should have punched him through a wall,” Lana exclaimed, her anger bubbling over as she began to pace the room. “If I had been there, I would have bitten him myself!”

A quiet agreement resonated within me, my wolf echoing her sentiment.

I shook my head firmly. “He saved my brother once. I won’t hurt him unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

What I didn’t voice, the unsettling truth that gnawed at my insides, was how eerily similar Everett looked to Parker. The same brow line, the same shape of the eyes—it was like staring at an older version of my brother. A ghostly reflection of Eric trapped inside a man who was never truly one of us.

Lana’s fury ebbed away as she finally sank into a chair, the tension in her body easing.

“Alright… what now? You’re safe, and that’s what truly matters.”

“I need to take a day of leave tomorrow,” I announced, the weight of my decision heavy in the air.

She blinked, clearly taken aback. “Leave? Why? Are you hurt? Did he hit you? Did the guards hurt you? Freya, swear to the Moon—”

“I’m fine,” I interjected, raising a palm to calm her. “I need to go to the Whitmor Tower. To see Silas.”

“Silas?” Her voice shot up an octave, disbelief etched across her features. “Why him?”

“To talk about Jenny.”

“Jenny? What did she do this time? Didn’t Silas already declare he’d strip her from the Williams Family registry?”

“He wants her expelled,” I replied quietly, feeling the gravity of the situation settle over us. “But right now… she can’t be.”

Lana’s gaze pierced through me, demanding clarity. “Freya. Explain.”

“My brother’s savior,” I breathed out, the words heavy with emotion. “The woman who shielded Eric with her own body… she has blood cancer. She needs Jenny’s marrow. Without Jenny, she won’t survive. And the Williams Family is preparing to cast her aside because Silas is putting pressure on them.”

So yes, as absurd as it seemed, I had to protect Jenny.

For Eric.

His savior is my savior, too.

Lana fell into a contemplative silence, the weight of my revelation hanging in the air before she finally sighed. “You’re too soft-hearted. But… I get it.”

That night, sleep eluded me. My wolf paced restlessly beneath my skin, a bundle of nerves. Each time I attempted to close my eyes, visions of Parker brushing his fingers through my hair swirled in my mind, confusion and instinct mingling in his expression. Eric was still in there, somewhere, waiting for the chance to wake.

The following morning, I arrived at Whitmor Tower, the tallest structure that pierced the heart of the Capital. Its walls were a striking blend of steel, blackstone, and reinforced moon-glass, the Ironclad Coalition’s insignia gleaming proudly above the entrance.

I approached the reception desk, where a staff member greeted me with a polite bow.

“I’d like to meet Silas,” I stated firmly. “I’m here on a private matter.”

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