She Is My Mate
Freya's Point of View
She said nothing.
She kept her eyes forward and her jaw tight and let the silence hold whatever it needed to hold. Every time her mother's name was brought into a conversation in this pack, it landed the same way. Heavy and deliberate, placed there on purpose, aimed at the one spot that never fully healed no matter how many times she told herself it had.
These wolves had spent years wrapping themselves in the idea that they were fair and decent and just. They said the right things at ceremonies. They stood in the right formations during pack gatherings. They used words like honor and loyalty the way someone uses a clean cloth to cover something rotten underneath.
None of them were clean. Not a single one.
"Freya." Ivy's voice came in soft and care
