A Warrior Luna's Awakening (Freya and Caelum) novel Chapter 398

**Chapter 398**

In the shadows of the dimly lit room, a sense of foreboding hung thick in the air. Most wolves, if they were honest with themselves, would have brushed it off as mere coincidence—an imitation, nothing more than a clever ruse.

After all, replicas of rare relics were a common occurrence. Freya’s ruby necklace could easily be dismissed as yet another shrewd imitation, crafted from an old design that once belonged to the illustrious Williams Family.

But the true heirloom of the Williams line had vanished without a trace fifty years ago, disappearing alongside the Alpha’s younger sister—Everett’s only sibling—on that fateful night when she fled into the treacherous borderlands, never to be seen again.

The Williams Family had been searching ever since, their hearts heavy with the weight of loss.

Searching for Naya.

Searching for the necklace.

Because if they ever found one, they might finally uncover the other.

The heirloom had been the cherished dowry of the former Luna, a masterpiece crafted by the most skilled artificers of the William Dominion. It was forged with moon-silver, a metal known for its ability to resist corruption. Naya had cherished it dearly as a child, so much so that the Luna had fastened it around her young daughter’s neck as a precious keepsake. That necklace had been one of a kind. No duplicate existed in any marketplace across the vast continent.

Which was precisely why Lana froze mid-adjustment as she helped fasten the ruby pendant around Freya’s delicate throat.

“Wait—Freya, hold still for a moment,” Lana urged, leaning in closer. “There’s… something etched into the chain. It’s tiny, but I swear there’s a letter.”

Freya blinked, lowering her chin slightly to get a better look.

“It’s a name,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur. “Brown. It was on the necklace when my grandfather found my mother. She was just a baby then. They used the word ‘Brown’ as her surname because it was the only clue they had about her identity.”

Lana exhaled softly, a wave of sympathy washing over her. She already knew the story—the tale of Freya’s mother, Myra, who had been an orphan taken in by the Thorne family of the Stormveil Pack’s fifth branch.

In those unforgiving decades, orphaned pups were far too common; the wars had torn Packs apart, scorched territories, and claimed countless wolfborn lives. Freya’s mother had been one of the fortunate few—found, sheltered, raised with care.

But just a few steps away, Jenny had caught every word, her heart sinking as the implications unfolded.

Her blood ran cold at the mention of that name.

Brown.

The very surname engraved into the Williams Family heirloom had been Brown—the Luna’s maiden name before she had married into the Alpha line.

Her breath hitched in her throat, and a storm of thoughts raged through her mind.

If this necklace was indeed the same heirloom…

If Freya’s mother had been found with it…

Then Freya’s mother might not have been an orphan at all.

She might have been Naya.

The lost wolf-sister of the Williams Family.

Jenny’s face drained of color, her stomach twisting with dread and something far more sinister—fear.

If that were true, then Parker Williams, the heir the family had long believed lost, shared blood with Freya.

And Freya—

the girl Jenny had always dismissed, always belittled—

would be the trueborn descendant of the Williams Alpha line, the rightful heiress.

The current family head had never married and had no children.

This meant the closest blood ties remaining could very well be…

Freya Thorne.

Eric Thorne.

They, not Jenny, would be the ones standing closest to the Williams legacy.

If their identities were confirmed, every single plan Jenny had—marrying into Parker’s line, securing the family’s wealth, solidifying her status—would come crashing down like a house of cards.

No.

She could never allow that to happen.

If the necklace was the key, then it had to be destroyed.

Before anyone else could lay eyes on it.

Before Parker could unlock any more memories.

Before Freya could be recognized for who she truly was.

Her eyes narrowed, turning feral and cold.

She had to act.

Across the hall, Parker’s gaze was fixed on Freya, who stood in her gown, the ruby pendant glowing like captured fire against her skin.

And then—

his vision blurred, reality warping around him.

A different figure emerged, overlapping with Freya’s: a woman clad in a faded floral dress, sunlight dancing in her smile, the same red gem resting above her heart.

“Do you like it?” she had asked, her voice warm and inviting.

“Yeah,” his youthful voice had replied, timid and earnest. “It’s pretty.”

A shard of pain split through Parker’s skull, sharp and unexpected.

He staggered, clutching his head as sweat broke out across his forehead.

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