A Warrior Luna's Awakening (Freya and Caelum) novel Chapter 69

Chapter 69

Freya’s POV

+8 Pearls

I boarded the plane with my parents‘ ashes cradled tightly in my arms. Because of the urn, I’d made sure to book business class this time–more space, fewer eyes.

But when I stepped into the cabin, my steps faltered. Aside from the attendants, there was only one other Whitmor, Alpha of the Ironclad Coalition..

Of all the wolves in the world, it had to be him.

passenger–Silas

“I told you,” his voice was smooth, cold, carrying that Alpha weight that pressed against my instincts, “we would meet again

soon.

I swallowed a sharp retort. He wasn’t wrong. Too soon, in fact.

I slid into my seat, the urn resting carefully on the table beside me. The Fates–or the Moon Goddess–must be laughing at me, because of course my assigned seat was right next to his. And with the rest of the cabin empty, it felt as if the predator and I had been caged together on purpose.

The engines roared, the plane lifted, and silence pressed between us—until his voice cut suddenly into the air, low and unsettling.

“Today, Freya Thorne, you gave me quite a spectacle.”

I stiffened. He had seen. Of course he had.

“You saw the chaos at the terminal?” I asked, though the answer was obvious.

“I saw everything,” Silas replied, voice even but laced with something I couldn’t place. “Saw you stand against a dozen guards with nothing but your body and your wolf, just to shield that urn. Saw the shock rods hit you, saw you stagger, refuse to let go. And I saw the moment you broke free–ashes clutched to your chest when you trampled Aurora beneath your boots and even sent Caelum Grafton sprawling with one strike.”

His gaze lingered on me, and my skin prickled under it.

*

“At that moment,” he murmured, “you burned so fiercely I could hardly look away.”

His words unsettled me more than the memory of the fight itself. Silas Whitmor was not a wolf who felt. Not for others. His kind admired strength, valued loyalty but life, death, blood? He treated them as pawns on a board.

So why now? Why me?

“Because they’re martyrs‘ ashes, you risked your life to protect them?” he pressed.

I lowered my head, eyes softening as they fell on the urn. “Not only martyrs. They’re my parents. Arthur Thorne. Myra Brown. They spent their lives protecting me. Isn’t it right that their daughter protect them, even in death?”

For a heartbeat, silence. Then he gave a short, bitter curve of the lips.

“Not all parents protect their pups.” His tone was sharp, almost mocking, but beneath it… there was something darker, a shadow I couldn’t read.

I looked up, meeting his eyes. “True. Some parents fail their children. But mine didn’t. They gave me everything. And I’ll bleed out on the floor before I let anyone dishonor their remains.”

“Then what about me?” His words were soft, but they struck like fangs. “If I treat you well… when I die, will you guard my ashes with the same ferocity? Not letting anyone touch a fragment?”

Death. Wolves rarely spoke of it so freely. Most avoided the word altogether. But Silas rolled it off his tongue as though it were nothing but another game piece to move, another mountain to climb.

“Alpha Whitmor,” I said carefully, my voice steadier than I felt, “with your power and your reach, I imagine half the continent would rise to defend your ashes. You won’t need me.”

“Yet you still don’t answer.” His stare pinned me. “You wouldn’t repay me?”

Moon above, what kind of question was this? He hadn’t done anything for me–nothing to bind me to him with debt or duty. My wolf shifted uneasily, but I kept my tone smooth.

“You’re strong and healthy, Silas. You’ll live long. Maybe centuries. Who can say what the future holds? For all I know, I’ll walk into the Moon’s embrace long before you.”

His brow furrowed at that, the faintest ripple of irritation crossing his face. “I don’t like the sound of that. You falling first.”

Then, with a voice like an oath, he said, “If that day ever comes, Freya Thorne, I will guard your ashes myself. And no wolf will lay a claw on them.”

هر

I nearly choked on my own breath. My ashes? Him, protecting them? That was not the future I wanted. Not at all.

And yet… the weight of his words lingered like a mark against my soul.

Send Gifts