Chapter 353
Chapter 353
Freya’s POV
Silas Whitmor.
The realization hit like a jolt of lightning.
He didn’t even flinch under my weight. His lips curved, soft and unhurried. “You’re awake p>
My breath caught in my throat. He was lying in bed, wearing only a dark–grey sleep shirt, his silver hair a little tousled against the pillow. I stared, unable to process what I was seeing.
Why–why was I in bed with him? The last thing I remembered was being in his apartment… he’d offered me tea… and then-
“You drugged me,” I said coldly, my hand tightening against his throat.
He didn’t deny it. “Yes p>
I blinked, momentarily stunned by his bluntness.
“It won’t harm you,” he added smoothly. “It just made you sleep for a while p>
My pulse spiked. “Why would you do that p>
“Because I didn’t want you to go to C–Nation,” he said simply, as if that explained everything.
I stared at him, disbelief flooding through me. “You didn’t want me to go, so you–what- poisoned me p>
His expression didn’t waver. “You wouldn’t have stayed otherwise p>
“That’s your logic?” My voice rose, sharp with anger. “You think I can’t go just because you put something in my drink p>
“At least not until your shoulder heals.” His voice was calm, almost maddeningly gentle. “Before that, you’re not going anywhere p>
I pushed off of him, disgust and confusion tangling in my chest. My feet hit the cold floor. “I’m leaving p>
Silas sat up slowly, his posture composed as ever, eyes following me without a flicker of panic.
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My bag was resting on a nearby couch. I snatched it up, unzipped it–passport, WolfComm, everything still there. At least he hadn’t taken those.
Fine. I could call for help, get out of here, and never see him again.
I turned toward the door and stepped out–only to stop dead.
It wasn’t a hallway I stepped into, but a wide corridor filled with sunlight. And at the far end- glass doors opened to a vast balcony, where an endless blue stretched beyond.
The ocean.
I froze. What?
The Capital had no coastlines–no sea breeze, no waves. Yet here it was, the air filled with salt and the cry of distant gulls. I rushed to the balcony, my bare feet hitting the stone tiles.
And there it was–white sand, turquoise waves, and a fringe of dark–green jungle beyond.
No roads. No people. No movement, except the slow pulse of the tide.
A cold realization crawled up my spine.
“What is this place?” I whispered.
Behind me, footsteps approached–slow, deliberate, the quiet confidence of an Alpha who knew exactly what he was doing.
“This is an island,” Silas said, his voice smooth and measured. “Surrounded by sea on all sides. No way off except by ship or aircraft p>
I turned to face him. He was barefoot now, a loose shirt hanging open at the throat, his silver eyes gleaming faintly in the morning light.
“Take me back,” I demanded.
“Impossible,” he replied. “There are no ships docked here. No aircraft ready for flight p>
I stared, trying to read the truth in his calm expression. “You’re keeping me here p>
“Call it what you will p>
My heartbeat thundered in my chest. “You can’t p>
“I can,” he cut in softly. “Every three days, a helicopter drops supplies. If you need anything, I’ll
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have it sent p>
I took a step back, realization dawning like a storm. “You planned this p>
He didn’t deny it.
“Right now,” he continued, “this entire island belongs to me. Which means–for the moment- there’s no one here but us p>
His words landed like a blow.
Just the two of us.
I backed away, my wolf snarling beneath my skin. “What do you want from me p>
“I told you,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “I want you to heal. That’s all p>
Then, before I could react, his arms came around me–firm, steady, his scent enveloping me like smoke and storm metal.
“Freya,” he murmured, his voice low against my ear. “Once you’ve recovered, I’ll take you back to the Capital p>
I shoved at him, fury breaking through the daze. “So you’re imprisoning me until then p>
“Imprisoning‘?” He tilted his head slightly, his breath brushing my skin. “If that’s how you want to see it… then yes p>
The sound of my hand connecting with his cheek cracked through the air.
Silas didn’t move. The faint red mark bloomed against his skin, but his gaze didn’t waver.
“Freya,” he said softly, “does it hurt? Your hand, I mean p>
My chest heaved. “You p>
He caught my wrist before I could strike again. His fingers, warm and sure, closed around my palm, rubbing gently over my skin.
“If you want to hit me again,” he said, “use the other side p>
“Silas, you’re insane,” I spat, jerking free.
He gave a hollow laugh, the sound low and bitter. “I know. You’ve always known p>
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He looked at me then, his eyes strangely empty–and yet full of something I couldn’t name. Obsession, maybe. Regret. Desperation.
A man lost to his own madness.
“Freya,” he said softly, “just heal. When you’re better, I’ll let you go. If you never want to see me again, I won’t chase you p>
I stared at him, breath trembling.
A part of me wanted to believe him. The other part–the wolf inside me–knew better.
Because Silas Whitmor wasn’t just an Alpha of the Ironclad Coalition.
He was the kind of man who would chain the moon if it meant keeping it close.
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