Chapter8
1439 Words
The morning of the meeting came with the sky gray and the atmosphere cool, a thin mist curling over the pack grounds. Freya sat by the mirror, her fingers absently tugging at the hem of her gown. Her heart beat in an anxious rhythm, louder than the chirping of the birds outside. Samantha was with her, brushing her hair with gentle strokes, and murmuring words of encouragement.
“You’ll be fine,” Samantha said gently. “It’s just a meeting. Nothing you can’t handle.”
Freya nodded but didn’t answer. She had long since learned to mask her nerves with silence.
The door creaked open, and a lively voice spilled into the room. “There you are!”
Rita, Xavier’s mate, entered with her usual cheerfulness. She was younger than Samantha judging from the looks and close to Freya’s age, and from the moment Freya arrived, she had been among the few who reached out to her. Rita’s golden-brown hair was braided neatly, her smile as radiant as always.
“You look tense already,” Rita teased, dropping into a chair beside Freya. “Come now, this is no way to meet the day.”
Samantha chuckled softly. “She’s always like this. Freya takes everything too seriously.”
Freya turned her gaze away, cheeks warming. “I don’t. I just…” She trailed off.
“You just what?” Rita leaned forward, eyes twinkling. “You’re afraid of Alpha Logan, aren’t you?”
The words startled Freya, but Samantha only gave Rita a pointed look. “Rita.”
“What?” Rita shrugged innocently. “It’s not a crime to say it. Everyone feels it. He’s terrifying at times.” She lowered her voice, a conspiratorial smile playing at her lips. “But not to us, because we’re not the ones he has to share a bed with.”
Freya stiffened, color draining from her face. Samantha shot Rita another warning glance, but the younger woman wasn’t deterred. She reached for Freya’s hand, squeezing it warmly.
“Don’t take me wrong, Freya. What I mean is… you should let yourself breathe. Stop holding back so much. Logan may seem cold, but he’s not cruel. You need to meet him halfway.”
Samantha nodded in agreement. “She’s right. Logan listens to reason more than he admits. If you let him see more of you—your true self—it might change things between you.”
Freya pulled her hand free gently, rising to her feet. “You don’t understand,” she murmured, pacing toward the window. “I wasn’t given a choice in this. I was sold. My place here is not born out of affection, but out of debt. How am I supposed to… to be free with him when I was brought here like some bargaining token?”
Her voice cracked, bitterness seeping through. Samantha’s eyes softened, and for a moment, even Rita was quiet.
Before either of them could respond, the door opened again. A young maid bowed her head respectfully. “My ladies, the Alpha awaits. It is time.”
Samantha set the brush aside and stood. Rita squeezed Freya’s shoulder in encouragement before all three of them stepped into the hall.
They had barely taken a few steps when shadows blocked their path. Eve stood there with two other women, arms folded, her lips curved into a mocking smile.
“Well, look who it is,” Eve drawled, eyes raking over Freya. “Our precious breeder, summoned to play Luna for a day.”
Her companions snickered cruelly. One of them added, “Do you think she even knows what her place is? Or is she too busy daydreaming of being more than what she is?”
Freya froze, her heart plummeting. The words struck her where she was weakest, and though she tried to keep her expression calm, she could feel the sting of humiliation rising.
Eve stepped closer, her voice sharp. “You think you’ll last here, omega? The Alpha may entertain Samantha’s pleas, but sooner or later, he’ll get tired of looking at you. And when he does, you’ll remember who you are. A nothing. A wolfless shadow.”
The laughter of the women rang in her ears. Freya swallowed hard, wishing the ground would swallow her whole. She wanted to reply, to defend herself, but the words stuck in her throat.
Then a deeper voice cut through the air, cold as ice.
“That’s enough.”
The corridor fell silent.
Logan stood a few paces behind them, arms folded, his presence filling the hall with an unmistakable command. His eyes were fixed on Eve, sharp and unyielding.
“I’ll say this once,” Logan said, his tone dangerously calm. “If I hear of this again—if I hear that any of you so much as breathe insult toward her—you’ll answer directly to me. Do you understand?”
Eve’s face paled, though she tried to mask it with a scoff. “Alpha, I was only—”
“Do you understand?” His voice was louder this time, leaving no room for argument.
“Yes, Alpha,” Eve whispered, bowing her head. Her companions hurriedly echoed her words.
Freya stood frozen, stunned. She hadn’t expected him to appear, let alone defend her.
Without another glance at the women, Logan gestured to Freya. “Come. We’re leaving.”
She hurried after him, her legs weak. As they walked toward the stables, she dared a soft, trembling, “Thank you… for that.”
Logan didn’t look at her. His face was carved in stone. “I only did what was necessary. Don’t read meaning where there is none.”
His coldness stung more than Eve’s words had. Freya dropped her gaze, swallowing back the lump in her throat.
They mounted their horses in silence and rode out. The wind tugged at Freya’s hair, but it couldn’t clear the heaviness pressing in her chest. She tried not to let her eyes drift toward Logan, but his silence was a constant weight beside her.
When they arrived at the council hall, Freya’s unease grew. Wolves were gathered, elders seated at the long table, their sharp eyes following her as she entered. Murmurs rippled through the room, some glances curious, others judgmental. She felt like prey walking into a den of predators.
She took her seat beside Logan, keeping her eyes low.
The meeting began with formalities, but it wasn’t long before one of the elders, a broad-shouldered man with graying hair, spoke bluntly. “Alpha Logan, the council must know—when are we to expect pups?”
Freya’s head snapped up, shock flooding her. Heat burned her cheeks as the words echoed in the chamber. She sat frozen, utterly mute.
Another elder leaned forward. “It has been months since the girl arrived. The pack cannot afford delay. An heir is not a matter of choice, it is necessity. Legacy must be secured.”
Murmurs of agreement filled the hall. Freya’s skin crawled under their scrutiny. Their eyes weren’t seeing her—they were weighing her womb, her worth reduced to nothing more than the pups she had yet to bear.
Her lips parted, but no sound came.
Logan’s voice broke the noise. “Soon.”
The word was short, final, but it sent fresh ripples of whispers through the chamber.
“Soon is not enough,” another elder argued. “You are Alpha. Your bloodline must continue. Without an heir, the stability of Northridge is at risk. The girl must fulfill her duty.”
Freya’s nails dug into her palms. Her chest tightened as if invisible chains bound her tighter with every word. She wanted to vanish, to flee from their stares, but she was trapped.
Logan’s gaze shifted briefly to her, unreadable. Then he rose, towering over the council. “It will be done,” he said coldly. “This discussion is over.”
The authority in his tone silenced the hall. The elders nodded reluctantly, though discontent lingered in their eyes.
When the meeting adjourned, Freya hurried to stand, desperate to escape. But Logan’s voice stopped her.
“Freya.”
She turned slowly, heart pounding.
He studied her, his expression as hard as ever. “Go back and think on what was said. My patience is not endless.”
Her breath hitched. She lowered her gaze, fighting to hide the hurt welling inside her, and whispered, “Yes, Alpha.”
He walked ahead, his steps firm, leaving her to trail behind, her soul heavy with the cruel reminder that her life was not her own.
- Writer
