Author's POV
Logan stood by the arched window of the east wing, watching the soft movement of the trees swaying beneath the silvery moon. It was quiet — unnervingly quiet — the kind of silence that screamed beneath the surface. He clenched his jaw, the memory of Freya's last words haunting him like a curse.
“I’m done,” she had said.
Those two words, cold and final, struck deeper than any blade ever could.
He had tried — in his own Alpha way — to reach her. He had approached her in the training grounds, when her forehead glistened with sweat and her movements were sharp like daggers. She looked powerful. Unyielding. She didn’t tremble when he neared. She didn’t even flinch.
"Freya," he’d said gently. A softness most never heard from him.
She barely looked at him. "Alpha Logan."
The t
