Freda's POV

The forest had always been my refuge. It shielded me from the cruelties of the world, hiding my brokenness beneath its ancient canopy. After my pack was destroyed by rogues, I’d lived like a shadow, moving unseen, unheard. The world I’d known had vanished in the blood and screams of that attack, leaving me as the only survivor—a forsaken wolf without a home.

When Alpha Wilfredo found me, I didn’t trust him. He was tall and imposing, his presence a storm that demanded respect, but his voice held a surprising gentleness.

“You’re Freda, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone kind but firm.

I nodded cautiously, my instincts urging me to run, yet something in his eyes stopped me.

“Your father was a good man,” he continued. “I owe him a debt. Let me give you a home.”

A home. The word felt foreign, almost meaningless after so much loss. But the promise in his voice made me pause. Against my better judgment, I accepted, following him to the Greystone Pack.

The pack was nothing like the one I’d grown up in. It was bigger, grander, but colder. Alpha Wilfredo treated me like a daughter, always making sure I had what I needed. But his Luna, Helen, was less welcoming. She watched me with thinly veiled contempt, her disdain simmering just beneath the surface. To her, I was an intruder, an unwelcome reminder of something she refused to name.

Despite the tension, I found solace in the company of Wilfredo’s sons, Jonas and Willard. Jonas was warm and easygoing, his humor a balm for the ache in my heart. But it was Willard who captured my attention. He was everything I wasn’t—confident, charismatic, and utterly captivating. The first time he smiled at me, I felt my walls begin to crack.

At first, he was distant, offering polite kindness without real interest. But over time, something changed. He started seeking me out, finding excuses to spend time together. Whether it was training in the clearing or quiet conversations under the stars, Willard made me feel seen in a way I never had before. Slowly, my guarded heart began to thaw.

One night, beneath a full moon, he found me sitting by the river, my feet skimming the water’s surface.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low and steady.

I shook my head, watching as he settled beside me. The silence stretched between us, comfortable and unspoken.

“You’re different from anyone I’ve ever met,” he said suddenly, his eyes fixed on the rippling water.

I glanced at him, my heart stuttering at the vulnerability in his expression. “Is that a good thing?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He turned to me, his gaze holding mine. “It’s the best thing.”

In that moment, the world faded. All I could see was him, his sincerity wrapping around me like a warm embrace. For the first time since losing my family, I felt something more than pain. I felt hope.

Our bond deepened in the months that followed, hidden from prying eyes. Willard’s position as the future Alpha and Helen’s watchful gaze made secrecy a necessity. But we didn’t care. We stole moments in the shadows, our love growing in defiance of the odds stacked against us.

He promised me a future—a life where we could be together openly, without fear. “Soon,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “I’ll tell everyone. I’ll make you mine.”

And I believed him. How could I not? He was my light in the darkness, the anchor that kept me from drifting into despair.

But promises are fragile things, easily broken. I didn’t know then how fleeting our happiness would be, how quickly love could turn to heartbreak. I didn’t know that the man I trusted with my heart would be the one to shatter it.

Looking back, I wonder if I should have seen the signs, if I should have known that our beginning would lead to a brutal end. But in those early days, all I saw was him, and all I felt was love.

Beneath the surface of our stolen moments, forces were already at work to tear us apart—forces I was too blind to see.

Freda's POV

The air felt heavy as I stepped into Willard’s office, my heart pounding with excitement and nerves. I clutched the small velvet box in my hand, the symbol of the life we were about to create together. My pulse quickened as I imagined his reaction to the news that I was carrying his child—our child. Everything I had ever wanted seemed within reach.

But as I opened the door, the world I thought I knew shattered into a thousand jagged pieces. Willard wasn’t alone. Sybil Carter, the perfect picture of elegance and allure, was in his arms. Her laughter, rich and familiar, filled the room, and I froze, unable to process what I was seeing. His hands gripped her waist as he tilted his head down to kiss her, his words murmured softly into her ear. Words I had thought were meant only for me.

It wasn’t just the intimacy of their embrace that broke me; it was the familiarity. The way his hands moved as if they knew every inch of her. The way she tilted her head back, her lips parted in a smile I had never seen her wear before. It was like watching someone else live my dream, a cruel and twisted mirror reflecting everything I thought we were.

“Willard?” My voice cracked, barely a whisper. But it was enough.

He turned, his expression morphing from shock to guilt. Sybil stepped back, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she straightened her blouse. “Freda,” he started, his tone uneven, “I can explain.”

“Explain?” My voice rose, trembling with the betrayal coursing through me. “You lied to me! You promised it was over with her. You swore I was the only one!”

Sybil’s eyes darted between us, her face a mixture of pity and triumph. She hesitated for only a moment before slipping out the door, leaving me alone with Willard and the wreckage of our love.

“It’s not what you think,” he insisted, stepping toward me, but I backed away.

“Not what I think? I saw you with her, Willard! How long has this been going on? Since she came back?” My voice broke, tears spilling down my cheeks. “I trusted you. I gave you everything.”

“It’s complicated,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Sybil and I…we have history.”

History. The word twisted in my chest like a knife. I had always known about her, the infamous first love who had left for a foreign pack, the one Willard swore he’d moved on from. I had believed him when he said I was his future. But now, it was clear that I had been nothing more than a placeholder for his past.

“You’ve been lying to me this whole time,” I said, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and heartbreak. “Do you even love me? Or was I just convenient because she wasn’t around?”

Willard’s face contorted with frustration. “Freda, it’s not like that. You know I care about you.”

“Care about me?” I shot back, my voice rising. “You promised me a future. You promised me a family. And all this time, you’ve been sneaking around with her?”

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he said, his tone sharp. “But Sybil and I…we have a bond. It’s not something I can just ignore.”

“A bond?” I laughed bitterly, my hands clenching into fists. “What about our bond, Willard? What about the promises you made to me? Or do they mean nothing because she’s back in the picture?”

“You don’t understand,” he snapped, his voice finally breaking. “I’ve known Sybil my entire life. She was my first love. Things were complicated when she left, and now that she’s back…”

“And now that she’s back, I’m disposable?” I interrupted, my chest heaving with the weight of my emotions. “Is that what you’re telling me?”

Willard’s silence was all the answer I needed. The pain in my chest was almost unbearable, a crushing weight that left me struggling to breathe.

“I gave you everything,” I said, my voice breaking. “I stood by you when no one else did. I believed in you when no one else would. And this is how you repay me?”

“Freda, please,” he said, reaching for me, but I stepped back, shaking my head.

“Don’t,” I whispered. “Don’t touch me. Don’t say another word. You’ve said enough.”

Before I could say more, the door swung open, and Sybil’s scent lingered in the air. Willard didn’t even hesitate; he pushed past me to follow her.

“Where are you going?” I demanded, my voice cracking with desperation.

“She’s upset,” he said over his shoulder, not stopping. “I need to make sure she’s okay. I’m sorry.”

Something inside me broke. Rage and heartbreak consumed me as I followed him, determined not to let him walk away without facing the consequences. He stormed out to his car, and I threw myself into the passenger seat before he could protest.

“I’m not letting you run from this,” I said through gritted teeth.

Willard slammed the door shut and started the engine, his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel. “This isn’t the time, Freda.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” I shot back. “I deserve answers, Willard. Why? Was everything you said to me a lie? Was I just…convenient?”

“You weren’t just convenient,” he snapped, his voice rising. “I do love you, Freda, but things with Sybil…it’s complicated. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then make me understand!” I shouted, tears streaming down my face. “Make me understand how you could stand there and promise me the world while sneaking around with her!”

“It’s not that simple!” he yelled back, slamming his hand against the steering wheel. “Sybil and I…there’s history there. Things I can’t just erase.”

“And what about our history?” I countered. “Does that mean nothing to you?”

The argument escalated, my voice rising with every accusation, every word a raw wound. Willard snapped back, his own guilt and frustration fueling the fire. Neither of us noticed the curve in the road until it was too late.

The tires screeched, and the car skidded out of control. Time slowed as we careened toward the edge of the cliff. Willard fought to regain control, but the momentum was unstoppable.

“Hold on!” he yelled, but the words barely registered as the car broke through the barrier and plunged into the abyss.

The last thing I remembered was the deafening crash and the sensation of falling, my world dissolving into darkness.

Freda's POV

Pain greeted me before my eyes even opened. A dull, aching throb in my head and a weight in my chest that made it hard to breathe. My body felt foreign, like it belonged to someone else, someone broken. The sterile scent of antiseptic and the faint hum of machines buzzed at the edge of my awareness, pulling me back to reality.

I forced my eyelids open, blinking against the harsh white light above me. The room was unfamiliar, its clean, minimalist design offering no comfort. My gaze landed on a woman standing nearby, her face soft but serious. She wore a uniform—a nurse.

“Where am I?” I croaked, my throat dry and raw.

The nurse’s eyes widened slightly, and she stepped closer, her movements careful. “You’re awake,” she said gently. “You’re in the Red Moon Pack’s medical wing. You’ve been unconscious for a long time.”

Red Moon Pack. The name sent a jolt through me, chasing away the fog in my mind. My heart raced as memories of the accident flooded back. The argument. The curve in the road. The car spinning out of control. Falling.

I gasped, my hand flying to my stomach. “My baby?”

The nurse’s expression softened. “Your baby is fine. You’re lucky—both of you are. Alpha Drake and his warriors found you at the bottom of the cliff and brought you here. You’ve been in a coma for a hundred days.”

A hundred days. My mind reeled, struggling to comprehend the enormity of what she was saying. Three months. I had been gone for three months, lost in the void while life went on without me.

“Drake?” I echoed, the name sticking in my throat. It couldn’t be.

The nurse nodded. “Yes. Alpha Drake Morgan. He’s the one who saved you.”

My stomach churned, a mix of disbelief and something sharper, more bitter. Drake Morgan, the man I had rejected as my mate, the one I had chosen Willard over, had been the one to find me? The irony was cruel.

As if summoned by my thoughts, the door to the room swung open, and there he was. Drake Morgan. His presence dominated the space, his tall frame and piercing eyes as commanding as I remembered. He stepped inside, his gaze locking onto mine.

“So, you’re finally awake,” he said, his voice low and clipped. There was no warmth, no relief, just the cold detachment of a man who had done his duty and nothing more.

I struggled to sit up, the effort sending sharp pain through my ribs. “Why?” The word escaped me in a rasp, barely audible.

Drake leaned against the wall, his arms crossing over his chest. “Why did I save you?” he asked, his tone almost mocking. “Maybe I have a soft spot for broken things.”

The sting of his words was immediate, but I bit back my retort. I had no strength for a battle of wits with him, not now. “I need to go back to my pack,” I said, forcing the words out despite the lump in my throat. “I can’t stay here.”

Drake’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening. “Go back?” He straightened, taking a step closer. “You think the Greystone Pack will welcome you with open arms after what happened?”

My stomach twisted. “What are you talking about?”

“They’ve moved on, Freda,” he said, his voice cold but steady. “Willard has moved on.”

His words cut deeper than I wanted to admit. I clenched my fists, trying to steady my trembling voice. “I have to go back. My life is there.”

“Your life?” Drake’s lips curved into a bitter smile. “The same life that led you to a car crash and left you for dead at the bottom of a cliff?” He shook his head. “You’re safer here.”

“Safe?” I snapped, anger flaring despite my weakness. “With you? The man who hates me?”

Drake’s eyes darkened, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “Hate you?” he repeated, his voice quieter now, almost dangerous. “Don’t flatter yourself, Freda. Saving you was an act of decency, not affection.”

The tension between us crackled like a storm, but I couldn’t afford to dwell on it. My priority was my child and finding my way back to the life I had left behind, no matter how fractured it was.

“Thank you for saving me,” I said, forcing the words past my pride. “But I can’t stay here. I have to leave.”

Drake stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he stepped aside, gesturing toward the door. “Do whatever you want. It’s not my place to stop you.”

His indifference stung, but I pushed it aside, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. My body protested every movement, but I forced myself to stand. The nurse rushed to my side, her hands hovering as if she wanted to help but didn’t dare.

“You’re not ready to leave,” she said, worry etched across her face.

“I don’t have a choice,” I replied, my voice firmer than I felt.

I took a shaky step forward, then another. Each one felt like a victory, a step closer to reclaiming what I had lost. But as I reached the doorway, Drake’s voice stopped me.

“You’ll regret going back,” he said, his tone colder than ever. “They won’t want you. Not after everything.”

I didn’t turn around. “That’s for me to find out.”

As I crossed the threshold, Drake’s final words followed me, lingering like a warning: “You don’t know the half of what you’re walking into.”