Chapter 295
Chapter 295
Chapter 295
Third Person’s POV
The next day.
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A sleek black car rolled to a stop before the wrought–iron gates of the cemetery. The vast cemetery stretched upward along a cold ridge, granite steps leading into the mist.
From the rear seat stepped Silas. He adjusted the cuff of his coat, his face carved in the same hard lines as the winter sky.
“Alpha Silas,” Wren moved forward quickly.
“No need to follow. Stay here with the others.” Silas’s tone was low, but absolute.
“Yes.” Wren bowed his head, signaling the guards to hold position by the car.
Silas ascended the stone stairs alone, his boots echoing softly in the silence. Today marked his own birthday. But more than that–it was also the death anniversary of his mother.
Every year without fail, he came. And every year, he was never the only one.
He was not surprised when another figure emerged from the veil of fog among the tombs. Cassian Whitmor stood there, tall and composed, a faint smile playing at his lips as though this were an ordinary meeting of father and son.
“You came,” Cassian said, his voice smooth. “To visit your mother p>
Silas’s expression did not shift. He strode past Cassian without acknowledgment and stopped before the tombstone. A woman’s black–and–white photograph gazed out from the polished granite. Her smile was bright, too bright—at odds with the truth of her life, the truth of her death.
Silas bowed three times, lowering his head to the woman who had never shown him love, but had still given him life.
Behind him, Cassian’s voice broke the silence. “I heard you’ve separated from Freya Thorne p>
Silas’s lips pressed into a thin line. He had men watching Cassian, of course. And Cassian, equally cunning, had eyes and ears shadowing his son.
“This is none of your concern,” Silas answered flatly.
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“How can it not be?” Cassian’s tone was almost amused. “You’re still my son. That girl once raised a hand to me. Now that she’s no longer under your protection, cutting off her hands as payment would hardly be unjust, don’t you think p>
Silas turned then, his gaze like the bite of an Arctic wind. The lethal aura of an Alpha rolled off him in waves, the cemetery itself seeming to bow beneath it.
“You dare touch her,” Silas said, each word honed to a blade, “and I will kill you p>
Cassian arched a brow. “So, for a woman who walked away from you, you’d raise your claws against your own father p>
Silas did not hesitate. “If she dies, nothing remains to hold me back. You will not live to regret it p>
Cassian barked a sudden laugh, his voice echoing among the gravestones. “For a woman who left you so easily? Worth it p>
Silas’s reply was swift, brutal: “And you–was it worth it? To lose your sanity for a woman who never once loved you p>
The two Alphas stood in the cold silence, locked in a gaze of ice and fury. Father and son, mirrored in ruthlessness, divided by a wound neither could heal.
At last, Silas turned away. As he stepped forward, his voice dropped to a lethal calm. “If you so much as scratch her, your ashes will never rest beside hers p>
Cassian’s eyes narrowed. “A threat p>
“A truth,” Silas replied without pause. “ Lay a hand on her, and I will grind you to dust p>
He descended the steps without looking back. The conversation, like the bond between them, ended there.
Cassian remained, turning back toward the grave. His fingers brushed the carved name of the woman who had once been his everything.
“Our son,” he murmured. “He will end as we did.” His lips curved in a bitter smirk. “Grind me to dust, will he? Boy, the day you died, my heart had already turned to ashes p>
While Silas faced the shadows of blood and memory, Freya Thorne’s world was shifting in a different way.
With her departure for D–country drawing closer, her days were consumed with preparation. She finished reports for the Bloodmoon Pack liaison, arranged contingencies for Stormveil’s
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fifth branch, and filled her WolfComm with contacts of embassies and military allies. Supplies for travel were stacked neatly in her apartment–field gear, encrypted devices, medical kits. Every piece spoke to the soldier she had once been in the Iron Fang Recon Unit.
As the sun dipped, Lana hooked an arm around Freya’s shoulders with her usual easy warmth. “Come on. Bar time. Tonight, we drink until you forget you’re the responsible one p>
The bar Lana chose was upscale, the kind that offered food alongside its liquor. She had even reserved a private booth.
But when the two women stepped inside, Freya halted. Kade was already seated at the table- and beside him, to Lana’s visible dismay, sat Victor Ashford.
“You brought him?” Lana’s brows drew tight as she shot a look at Kade.
“I’d like to know that myself,” Kade muttered, rubbing his temple. “I didn’t invite him p>
He explained in a low voice: when Lana had called him, Victor had overheard and insisted on coming along.
Lana’s face twisted in frustration. She turned on Victor. “Why are you here? Tonight was supposed to be just the three of us–me, Freya, and Kade p>
Victor leaned back casually, eyes gleaming with mischief. “I’m here to make sure you don’t get drunk and try something inappropriate with my nephew. It wouldn’t be the first time p>
Lana flushed scarlet, mortified. “That was a misunderstanding p>
Freya tilted her head, curiosity sparking. “What misunderstanding p>
“Nothing. Just nothing,” Kade cut in sharply, glaring at his uncle. “Victor, if you want to see Lana, fine. But don’t drag me into your excuses p>
Victor merely shrugged, his lips curving into a smile that said enough. He wasn’t here for Freya. He was here because of Lana.
Lana scowled. She had rejected him once. Why was he still lingering like a wolf refusing to leave the edge of her territory?
To break the tension, she clapped her hands. “Food first, then drinks. No arguing at the table p>
A waiter appeared, and Lana ordered plates of spiced meat, fried roots, and enough ale to loosen even a wolf’s tongue.
They ate, they drank. Slowly, laughter and conversation softened the edges of discomfort. But
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when Freya mentioned her departure, the mood shifted again.
“You’re going to D–country?” Kade asked sharply, his glass halfway to his lips.