Chapter 176

Freya's POV

I stood at the tall windows of Silver Moon Manor's council chamber, watching the five Bloodclaw prisoners in the courtyard below. Guards circled them constantly, silver chains binding the captives' wrists to prevent shifting. My fingers drifted to my abdomen, a habit I couldn't break—touching the empty space where my child had once grown. The hollow feeling never left me, even months later.

Through our soul bond, I sensed Ethan approaching before I heard his footsteps. His emotions flowed into me: determination, resolve, and something harder—the cold edge of judgment. I didn't turn when the heavy oak doors opened.

"The Council will convene shortly to decide their fate," Ethan said, his voice carrying across the room as he approached. "But tradition is clear on how we handle enemy combatants."

I finally turned. "And what does tradition dictate?"

"One will be publicly executed as a warning. The others will be marked and put to work." His expression remained impassive, though our bond revealed flickers of regret beneath his resolve. "It's been our way for centuries."

"It's barbaric," I said, surprising myself with my own boldness. "Executing prisoners will only deepen hatred between our packs. And slavery? Is that who we want to be?"

Ethan's jaw tightened. "This isn't a human ethics debate, Freya. This is survival. They would do worse to us."

"Which is exactly why we should be better." I stepped closer. "Those prisoners have value—information, bargaining power for future negotiations. Dead men tell no tales, and enslaved men only dream of revenge."

Ember stirred restlessly inside me. She didn't disagree with Ethan's approach—wolves understood power displays—but something else was bothering her today, something I couldn't name.

The council members arrived one by one. Elder Miriam, thin and silver-haired but with eyes that missed nothing, spoke first after hearing our positions.

"Alpha Ethan speaks wisely," she said. "I remember the Moonridge betrayal seventy years ago. We showed mercy to their warriors, and they returned to slaughter our pups."

James nodded, his expression carefully neutral though I knew he leaned toward Ethan's position. "The law of the packs is clear."

"Perhaps too clear," Lydia said, surprising me with her support. "Times change. Even traditions must evolve."

The debate continued, growing heated at times. I felt Ethan's frustration through our bond, but also something else—a grudging respect for my position, though he wouldn't admit it aloud.

"We'll reconvene tomorrow," Ethan finally declared. "The prisoners remain secure until—"

The warning horn's blast cut him off—three short bursts signaling intruders at our borders. Every wolf in the room tensed.

A guard burst in. "Alpha, two Bloodclaw wolves at the northeast boundary. They're... they're carrying a white flag."

Ethan's eyes narrowed. "James, assemble a team. This could be a diversion."

"I'm coming with you," I said, already moving toward the door.

"Freya—" Ethan started to object, then paused. Through our bond, he sensed my determination, and something else—an inexplicable urgency I felt but couldn't explain.

"Fine," he conceded. "Stay behind me."

At the border, a dozen of our warriors formed a semi-circle around the intruders. I recognized them immediately. Rovak, the Beta who had escaped our ambush, stood barely upright, his body a map of half-healed wounds. Beside him, Lyra clutched a bundle protectively against her chest.

Lyra's eyes darted frantically between our warriors, exhaustion evident in every line of her body. She positioned herself slightly behind Rovak, shielding whatever she carried.

"State your purpose," Ethan demanded, his Alpha authority making the air heavy.

Rovak swayed slightly. "We seek asylum."

"Asylum?" Ethan's laugh held no humor. "From your own pack? Why would we grant enemies sanctuary?"

"Because we're no longer Bloodclaw," Lyra said, her voice soft but steady. "Kassak is... changed since taking his Luna. He's become blind to everything but her desires."

"Riley," I whispered, the name bitter on my tongue.

Something moved in the bundle Lyra carried. A small sound—not quite a cry, but a soft coo—drifted from within. My heart lurched painfully, and Ember surged forward in my mind with such force I nearly staggered.

"Mine. Ours."

Back at the manor, we convened in a secure room. Guards stood at every exit, watching Lyra and Rovak with open hostility.

"This is absurd," Lydia spat. "They're spies, obviously. First Riley betrays us, now we're supposed to welcome more Bloodclaw into our midst?"

"I agree," Ethan said, arms crossed. "We've already suffered one betrayal. I won't risk another."

"We're not spies," Rovak insisted weakly from his chair. "Kassak would kill us if he found us. We barely escaped."

I studied Lyra, who hadn't spoken since we arrived. She sat hunched protectively around her bundle, her eyes never leaving it.

"We should judge each case on its own merits," I argued. "Not every Bloodclaw member shares the same beliefs or loyalties."

"Spoken like someone who hasn't lost packmates to their claws," Lydia retorted.

I straightened. "I understand loss better than you know."

Noah arrived then, summoned to examine Rovak's wounds. He moved efficiently, his human fingers gentle but thorough.

"These are severe," he said after his examination. "Multiple lacerations, three broken ribs, evidence of internal bleeding. Someone wanted him dead."

While Ethan and Lydia continued arguing with Rovak, Noah moved to check Lyra. As he knelt beside her, he glanced at her bundle, then shot me a meaningful look.

"Freya," he said quietly when I approached. "It's a baby. A healthy male infant, about three months old. He needs a proper examination."

Something electric shot through me. Ember howled in my mind, pushing against my consciousness with unprecedented force.

The arguing voices faded as I stared at the bundle in Lyra's arms. Something inside me recognized a truth I couldn't yet comprehend.

"Enough," Rovak's voice cut through the debate, unexpectedly strong despite his weakness. "Tell them, Lyra. She has the right to know."

Lyra's eyes filled with tears. She clutched the bundle tighter.

"Tell me what?" I whispered, stepping closer.

"She won't believe us," Lyra said to Rovak.

"She will," he insisted. "Tell her."

The room fell silent. Lyra looked up at me, then slowly, carefully unwrapped the bundle, revealing a perfect baby boy with a tuft of dark hair. His eyes, when they opened, were a startling silver-blue.

"Your son didn't die," Lyra said, her voice breaking. "We brought him here."