Chapter 22

Ethan's POV

The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting long shadows across the temporary camp set up at the forest's edge. I stood motionless, my gaze fixed on the lone tent positioned away from the others. I had specifically arranged for Freya's quarters to be separate from the other competitors, hoping she could rest undisturbed after completing the first trial.

A gentle breeze carried her scent to me—earthy, with hints of wildflowers and the metallic trace of healing wounds. My chest tightened involuntarily as memories from the forest flooded back: Freya's skin gleaming like pearl in the moonlight, her body trembling beneath my touch, her soft moans echoing in my ears. I remembered how her fingers had dug into my shoulders, how her eyes had grown luminous with desire.

"Go to her," Rowan urged inside my mind. "She's injured. We need to make sure she's healing properly."

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to clear my thoughts. The scent of pine and earth filled my lungs, but underneath it all was Freya's unmistakable fragrance. Why did I care so much about a woman whose bond with me would soon be dissolved? I should be focusing on Riley, my supposed true mate, not this half-blood. Yet every time I closed my eyes, I saw Freya wounded, silver poison spreading through her veins, her face contorted in pain.

My feet moved of their own accord, taking me a step toward her tent. Just to check on her, I told myself. Just to ensure she was recovering well.

Just then, James's mental link cut through my thoughts. "Alpha, Lucas is waiting at the company. Says it's an urgent matter regarding Shadow Collection."

I halted mid-step, exhaling slowly. Duty, always duty. The weight of responsibility settled on my shoulders like a familiar, heavy cloak. As Alpha, my personal desires had to yield to the needs of my pack and business.

"I'll be right there," I replied, casting one last glance at Freya's tent before turning toward the parking lot. Rowan whined in disappointment, but I silenced him with a mental command. There would be time to sort out these confusing feelings later.

I drove through Silver Moon Territory, arriving twenty minutes later at the Blackwood Enterprise Group headquarters downtown. The building rose majestically against the city skyline—a masterpiece of modern architecture I'd commissioned to blend glass and steel with natural elements. The exterior walls reflected moonlight while the interior incorporated extensive woodwork and stone, projecting power while maintaining our connection to nature.

The elevator took me directly to the top floor, where James waited, dressed in a charcoal suit, his expression grave.

"Status?" I asked, stepping off the elevator.

We walked through office spaces specially designed for werewolves—walls constructed with soundproofing materials to reduce urban noise; air purification systems filtering out city pollutants to maintain our olfactory clarity; lighting adjusted to avoid irritating our enhanced vision.

"Lucas has been anxious since morning," James reported. "Almost locked himself in the design studio all day. Sebastian Laurent from Shadow Collection arrives tomorrow morning, and Lucas looks like he's about to have a breakdown."

I furrowed my brow. I completely trust Lucas's professional skills; his family has been studying silverware for generations, and his work is impeccable. However, he always lacks confidence, even after becoming the head of 'Moonlight Craft.' Perhaps it is this very cautiousness that contributes to his nearly perfect creations. Fortunately, I only need his talent, not his social skills.

The conference room door stood open. Inside, Lucas paced nervously, constantly adjusting his tie and drumming his fingers on the table. Seeing me enter, he immediately straightened, his posture almost submissive.

"Alpha Blackwood, thank you for making time..." his voice trembled slightly.

"Get to the point, Lucas," I said, taking a seat at the conference table and gesturing for him to do the same.

Lucas took a deep breath and opened a folder, revealing a series of exquisite silverware designs. "These are the pieces we've selected for Shadow Collection, designed by Rose Winters."

He paused, his voice growing increasingly uncertain again as he remembered his concerns. "But I'm worried... they may not be good enough. You know how particular Sebastian is. If he isn't satisfied with what Shadow Collection sees tomorrow..."

"You're the head of Moonlight Crafts," I interrupted, meeting his eyes directly, letting a touch of Alpha authority color my voice. "If you can't be confident in these designs, who can?"

Lucas visibly shrank under my gaze, his shoulders hunching forward as if trying to make himself smaller. James chimed in, "About Sebastian—we should know more. He manages Europe's largest supernatural luxury brand. His taste is extremely discriminating, but he has clear preferences."

"The key points?" I prompted, grateful for the change of subject.

"Sebastian is an obsessive collector," James explained, scrolling through data. "He's particularly passionate about rare spirits. His cellar reportedly houses over five hundred precious wines from around the world, including a few bottles of the legendary werewolf Blood Moon brew."

My eyes brightened as an idea formed. As Alpha, I was always looking for leverage, for ways to connect and influence. "We can appeal to that interest."

I stood and walked to the window, overlooking the city that was part of my territory. Lights twinkled below, reminding me of stars reflecting on water. "The southwestern corner of Silver Moon Territory contains an ancient vineyard that produces Blood Moon wine, a treasure of our family."

"I've heard about it," James nodded, his respect evident in his tone. "The grapes are harvested only during blood moons, and the brewing process includes some secret ingredient."

"Indeed," I turned, my gaze determined. "Have Grandfather Victor retrieve three bottles of hundred-year Blood Moon wine from the family cellar. It's the perfect welcome gift."

James raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Hundred-year Blood Moon wine? That's incredibly valuable..."

"Precisely why it demonstrates our sincerity," I met Lucas's gaze. "You only need to prepare your best silverware. I'll handle the rest."

The evening progressed as I organized documents in my office, thoughts alternating between tomorrow's meeting with Sebastian and the memory of Freya in the forest. I had nearly convinced myself to return to the camp after finishing here when the door suddenly burst open without warning. The intrusion triggered an instinctive growl from deep in my chest before I recognized the scent.

Riley stormed in, her eyes red-rimmed, clearly agitated. She appeared almost hysterical, her hands trembling, tears of anger glistening in her eyes. "Ethan! I can't stand it anymore! I have to tell you what Freya did!"