Chapter 103 My Frost

Chapter 103 My Frost
\- Princess Helena’s POV -
I was busy watching the blue sky where the white clouds kept moving slowly. Though they moved gently, it somehow helped me feel at peace.
I sighed. Five years. It has been five years, and despite the peaceful life I am living right now… I feel lacking. I thought it was just because of losing my wolf, but no. It is more than that. It is the feeling of not having my mate by my side.
Despite this human world, with its quiet life where I have no worries of sudden attacks, no enemies hiding in the shadows, no other creatures watching me… I still feel damn empty.
The wind brushed softly against my face, carrying the scent of cut grass and the faint sweetness of flowers from somewhere in the park. Children’s laughter echoed in the distance... light, carefree, and untouched by the cruelty I once knew too well. Their joy should have comforted me. Instead, it reminded me of everything I lost.
I looked around the park. I was sitting on a bench while watching children laugh and play at the playground. In this place, I am not afraid. Though I am fully human, I still feel dominant among them. They’re physically weak, and maybe it’s because of the training I had as a child that I feel stronger than the humans here, even though I no longer have the strength and powers I used to carry.
My fingers tightened on the edge of the bench as an old memory surfaced, training grounds soaked in sweat and blood, the sharp commands of my instructors, the cold discipline forced into my bones. I was raised to be strong. To lead. To survive. Even stripped of my wolf, those lessons never left me.
But there is one thing I am scared of right now… I sighed again.
Not enemies. Not hunters. Not war.
Exposure.
If the humans discover what we truly are... or what we once were... they may fear us. And humans destroy what they fear.
“What the hell did you do!?”
My attention was caught by an unfamiliar, high-pitched voice of a woman. I looked toward it, and my blood boiled the moment I saw what was happening. A woman, standing beside a chubby boy, had pushed a little 4-year-old boy down to the ground.
For a second, the world narrowed into a sharp, red haze.
I clenched my hands as I stood swiftly and walked straight toward the scene with heavy steps. My anger rose fast, hot and dangerous, but I tried to suppress it.
With all the things I went through in the werewolf world, I learned a lot. And one of the most important lessons… is not to be controlled by anger, because it could destroy the order of the mind. Anger makes you reckless. And reckless leaders die early.
So, I took a deep breath and helped the little boy stand up.
I faced him with a calm expression. “Frost, what happened?” I asked softly.
I could see the tears in his shimmering gray eyes, but I knew he was trying his best to hold them back. He bit his lower lip the way his father used to when he was trying to stay strong.
“Mommy,” his small voice cracked, “he told me I am a freak, and that… I… I don’t have a father.”
The words pierced deeper than any blade.
Yes. This little 4-year-old boy is my son. My Frost.
His fingers clutched the front of my dress as if he feared I might disappear. I resisted the urge to pull him into my arms and shield him from the world forever. He needed to learn. He needed to grow strong.
“Then?” I asked gently, encouraging him to continue.
“My son was telling the truth! He really doesn’t have a father. But look at what your son did!” The woman’s voice was loud, full of spite. I ignored her and kept my focus on Frost.
Her words buzzed around me like a mosquito, annoying but insignificant.
“Then… then, he p-pushed me, so I... I got mad, and… I p-punched him,” he said in between sobs.
Great. He deserved it. My son is so cute. He looked exactly like his father.
“Sshh. Do you remember what I told you before, baby?” I asked, still calm.
He nodded with his lips pouting.
“Can you repeat it?”
“Hey lady! I was talking to you! Teach your son some manners!” the woman yelled again. But I ignored her, because my son was more important than her noise.
She was annoying the hell out of me, but I kept my composure. This was the human world, not my territory. I couldn’t risk exposing myself or my child. If the humans found out about us, they might not accept us. That was the only fear I carried now.
“I-I am a m-man,” Frost said softly, “and m-men don’t cry.” His little voice trembled as he tried to stop his tears.
Oh, my baby. So cute.
A small smile formed on my lips. Pride warmed my chest, pushing away the cold emptiness for a moment. He was trying. He was learning strength in a world that would not be kind to him.
I smiled and nodded proudly. Then I stood, facing the woman.
“My child does not need manners like yours.” My voice was cold.
I turned my eyes toward her son, a big chubby kid who looked much older than Frost. His jaw was bruised, proof of my son’s punch. I couldn’t help but wonder how Frost did it, but clearly, he punches hard.
“Besides, it suits your son,” I added, the corner of my lips curling.
Gasps rippled from nearby nannies and onlookers. I could feel their stares, their judgment, their curiosity. Humans love drama. They gather around conflict like moths to a flame.
I took Frost’s small hand in mine. “Let’s go home, baby,” I said, and he nodded, still pouting.
As we started to walk away, I felt someone rushing behind me. The sound of hurried footsteps. The shift of air. The faint rustle of fabric.
Instinct.