Chapter 28

Freya's POV

A primal rage rose within me, so powerful I could barely contain it. My wolf was howling, clawing at my insides, desperate to charge forward and tear Riley's throat out. To mark what was mine. To eliminate the threat to my child.

My legs tensed, preparing to spring forward, when a movement to my right caught my attention.

"Freya," he called, his voice carrying that familiar Alpha command that made my wolf instinctively pause.

I turned to see Ethan striding toward me, dressed in the same hunting gear he'd worn at the trial's start. His face was tight with concern, jaw clenched in that way it always was when he was worried but trying to hide it.

"Don't listen to them," he said, gesturing toward where Riley and the other Ethan had been standing. "It's all illusions. The mist is playing with your mind."

He moved closer, and I could smell his scent—authentic and unmistakable. The pine and rain notes mixed with that unique Alpha musk I'd know anywhere. Even the slight hint of coffee from his morning ritual was there.

"How did you find me?" I asked, my guard still up despite everything in me wanting to believe he was real.

"I felt your distress. Your anger was so strong it pulled me to you. We are fated mates; you knew it at 18, but I only realized it now." He glanced at my bloodied palms where my claws had dug in. "You're hurt."

His knowledge of our connection, the way his eyes narrowed slightly at the edges when concerned—it was all perfect. This was Ethan.

"I've been watching Riley," he continued, lowering his voice the way he always did when discussing sensitive pack matters. "She's been setting traps throughout the forest. Victor suspected she might try something after what happened in the hunting trial."

"What exactly happened between us after I fell into that trap?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

My breath caught. Nobody else knew what had happened between us after Riley's trap in the hunting trial.

Ethan's lips curved into a mischievous smirk, his eyes darkening slightly. "Why bring that up now? Don't tell me you're looking for a repeat performance?"

Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I felt my face burning with embarrassment. That cocky, teasing tone could only belong to one person. This was definitely the real Ethan.

"I'm here to help you find the altar," he said, extending his hand toward me. His fingers were calloused in exactly the right places from years of Alpha training. "Trust me, Freya. Let's finish this trial together."

The first Ethan and Riley had completely disappeared, as if confirming his words that they were merely illusions.

I took a step toward him, relief washing over me. His eyes softened—that rare gentleness I'd glimpsed only in our most private moments.

"Also," he said, his voice warming as he reached for me, "we can talk about our future—"

"You're not the real Ethan," I said, certainty flowing through me as I pulled my hand back. How could Ethan possibly talk about the future with me? I wouldn’t even dream of such a thing. Of course, the illusion knows what I desire most—a gentle mate, a simple life... but it’s too hasty. It eagerly unearths the deepest wishes buried in my heart, ignoring the fact that even I don’t believe in them.

But unlike the Noah illusion that had dissolved instantly, this Ethan's face hardened with familiar Alpha stubbornness. His eyes flashed silver—a perfect imitation of Ethan's wolf.

"Don't be ridiculous, Freya," he snapped, closing the distance between us. "Of course I'm real. The mist is affecting your judgment."

Before I could back away, he grabbed my wrist with surprising strength. His touch felt solid, warm—disturbingly authentic.

"We're wasting time," he said in that commanding tone Ethan always used when brooking no argument. "The altar is this way." He pulled me firmly toward a path leading right—away from the rune markers I'd been following.

I tried to wrench free, but his grip tightened. "Let me go!"

"You're being foolish," he growled, his expression darkening exactly like Ethan's did when challenged. "I'm trying to help you. Riley has set traps along your current path. Do you want to end up poisoned again?"

His knowledge of past events made me falter. Could I be wrong? The way his jaw clenched in frustration, the slight flare of his nostrils—every detail was perfect.

"I'm your Alpha," he insisted, tugging me forward. "Trust me, Freya. I know what's best."

My wolf whined in confusion, responding to his authoritative presence. He sounded so certain, so much like the real Ethan in his stubborn belief that he knew better than everyone else.

A sudden, powerful kick from within my belly made me gasp. The force of it was shocking—stronger than any movement my baby had made before. In that moment of clarity, my eyes focused differently, and I noticed a slight unnatural shimmer around his edges, a subtle wrongness in the way the mist moved through him rather than around him.

"No," I growled, feeling my control snap. My bones began to crack and shift, the transformation tearing through me with furious speed. Within seconds, I dropped to all fours, my clothes splitting as silver-gray fur erupted across my body.

I lunged at him with a feral snarl, claws extended and teeth bared. "You're leading me away from the altar, not toward it!"

I slashed forward, fully expecting my claws to pass through the illusion like smoke. Instead, they connected with solid flesh. The impact sent Ethan flying backward, crashing hard against the floor. Blood immediately welled from three deep gashes across his cheek, bright crimson against his pale skin.

My wolf froze in horror, ears flattening against my skull as I let out a confused, terrified whimper.

Hurt Alpha. We hurt Alpha. My inner wolf cowered, tail tucking between my legs as I backed away.

The realization hit me with brutal clarity—even someone as powerful as Ethan couldn't defend against a shifted wolf when in human form. The advantage of teeth and claws was too great, too immediate.

Ethan sat sprawled on the ground, his fingers coming away red as he touched his wounded face. His eyes weren't angry—they were wounded, not just physically but emotionally.

"I didn't know you hated me that much, Freya."