Chapter 46
**Freya's pov.**
I felt the stares before I even saw them.
They weren’t new—not really. Ever since I stepped into the Hunters’ camp, people had looked at me like I didn’t belong. But now? There was something else in their eyes.
Fear.
It clung to them like smoke, silent and thick.
I slowed my pace and turned to Tiberius, who walked just ahead. “Why is everyone looking at me like that?” I asked quietly.
He stopped and turned toward me, gently but firmly placing a hand on my shoulder. His eyes locked onto mine.
“What do you remember… from the battlefield?”
I blinked. “What kind of question is that?”
But then I caught something in his eyes—something that made my stomach twist. Worry. Hesitation. Awe.
My breath hitched, and I stumbled over my words. “I… Victor. Victor saved me. One of Alaric’s wolves jumped me, and Victor stepped in. There was so much blood. Then I saw Cassian, you, Dorian, and… and…”
My voice trailed off into silence.
“I don’t remember anything after that.”
I looked up at him. “Gods, Tiberius. What did I do?”
Panic slammed into me like a wall. My heart pounded. My breaths came fast and shallow. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t *fee*. Only fear.
He pulled me into a tight embrace. “Shhh. You’re alright. Everything’s going to be fine. You just need to rest. Regain your strength.” I nodded wordlessly.
Without another word, Tiberius lifted me onto his horse, then swung up behind me. “You’re riding with me,” he said. “In your state, I’m not letting you go anywhere alone.”
I didn’t protest.
As we rode back toward the camp, I spotted Laya in the crowd.
Her glare could’ve cut through stone. Jealousy burned behind those eyes like wildfire. I didn’t care. I only leaned closer into Tiberius’s warmth.
He led me to my small cottage, quiet and careful. Just as he was about to leave, I surprised us both by reaching out and grabbing his hand.
“Don’t go,” I whispered. “Just stay. For a while.”
He paused, visibly surprised—but only for a moment. Then, with a soft nod, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
We lay down on my bed.
He held me—strong and steady—and ran his fingers gently through my hair.
We didn’t speak.
There were no words for what lingered in the air between us.
And somehow, I slept.
Morning cracked through the shutters like golden lightning. I stretched under the blankets and blinked awake, feeling... amazing.
Rested. Light. Buzzing with energy.
For the first time in *forever*, I didn’t feel broken.
When I sat up, I noticed him.
Tiberius.
Still here. Sprawled on the edge of the bed, shirtless, breathing evenly.
My gaze trailed over the hard lines of his body—muscle, power, heat. My mouth went dry.
Gods. He was beautiful.
And the thoughts swirling through me were *not* pure. I bit my lip.
He stirred and sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. “Morning,” he said, then smiled at me sleepily. “Seems your bed is more comfortable than mine. I don’t remember the last time I slept that well. I… should’ve left. Sorry.”
I was staring.
*Staring*.
What was wrong with me?
“Freya?” he asked, brow raised. “You good?”
“Of course,” I blurted. But my feet carried me toward him like I wasn’t in control. My hands found his biceps—firm and solid under my fingers—and I said, “Actually, things could be better…”
What the hell was I saying?
Tiberius stilled. “Freya…” His voice dropped an octave. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Something flared in me—defiance, irritation, heat. “I said I’m fine.”
I pulled away, stepping back from the bed. “I’ll see you later,” I added, voice cold. And then—gods help me—I started undressing.
With *him* still in the room.
His eyes went wide, but he didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
When I was down to just my underwear, I looked at him over my shoulder.
“You’ll find your way out, or should I help you?”
His jaw clenched. “I’ll manage.”
And then he left.
I exhaled, stepping into the hot spray of the shower, letting the water pour over me in thick waves. But even that couldn't drown out the voices.
*“He’s hot.”*
*“He’ll be ours.”*
*“We already have the hot one.”*
*“Tiberius is mine.”*
My heart slammed against my ribs. They had my voice—but it wasn’t me.
“What the fuck…”
“Stop!” I yelled.
The voices paused.
Then returned. One at a time.
Insistent.
Persistent.
*Me, but not me.*
I screamed louder this time. “STOP, STOP, STOP!”
The door slammed open. Tiberius. Victor behind him.
“What happened?” Tiberius rushed to me, eyes scanning every inch. “Are you alright?”
“Fucking hell,” I snapped, barely recognizing my own voice. “Do you people know any other sentence besides *‘Are you alright?*”
Tiberius exchanged a glance with Victor, then muttered something I didn’t catch. Victor nodded and disappeared.
“Freya. Talk to me. Is it starting?”
“Is *what* starting?” I shouted. “Why don’t *you* tell me what’s happening to me?!”
“Calm down,” he said softly.
I glared. “Say that again and I swear, I’ll cut your throat.”
He chuckled—*chuckled*. “I don’t think you’ve got the aim for that yet. But maybe one day.”
His smile dropped. “Now, tell me. Why were you screaming?”
I hesitated. “I’m… tired.”
He tilted his head. “Strange. You looked pretty damn lively this morning.”
I flushed.
“Freya,” he said, more gently now. “We have to trust each other. What did you hear?”
I looked at him. Really looked.
“…Voices,” I said.
He went very still. “How many?”
That threw me. Not *what* voices. Not *are you sure*. Just… *how many*.
“Two.”
He sat down, ran a hand through his hair, and muttered a curse.
I stepped closer. “You okay?”
He looked up at me and *smirked*. “Now you’re asking *me* that?”
Then his expression turned serious.
“Freya, you heard your wolf. And your hunter spirit.”
I blinked. “My *what*?”
“You’re Alpha-born. And the daughter of one of the greatest Hunters who ever lived. Last night, your wolf awakened—and stopped a war. You, or rather,
*she*, sent Dorian back to the kingdom.”
He paused, watching my reaction.
“Everyone saw it. That’s why they’re staring.”
I stared at him.
“You lived wolfless for a long time. Now, you’ve got to learn to coexist. With both halves.”
All I could say was:
“…Whaaaat?”