“Is this all you’ve got, Nightclaws?” Freya's voice cut through the clamor of battle, sharp and daring.
Gray’s head snapped in her direction, his sword gleaming with fresh blood. “Freya, what the hell are you doing out here?” he bellowed, his voice rough with authority and laced with concern.
She stood her ground, defiance radiating from her every fiber. “Saving your pack, apparently!” she shouted back. “You’re walking straight into a trap!”
Gray’s brows furrowed, irritation flashing in his amber eyes. “A trap?”
“They’re driving your warriors east,” Freya said, her voice urgent. “There’s a second force lying in wait. If you don’t reposition now, you’ll lose them all!”
Gray gritted his teeth. “And how do you know this?”
Her gaze was unwavering. “Because I saw it, Gray. And if you don’t trust me now, you’ll regret it.”
The intensity of her words made him pause, his instincts warring with his skepticism. Seconds ticked by like hours as the chaos raged around them. Finally, he nodded, calling for Finn, his Beta.
“Finn! Pull the warriors back from the east! Focus on the northern ridge instead!”
Finn skidded to a halt, his face bloodied and bewildered. “The northern ridge? But the rogues—”
“Now!” Gray snapped.
Freya stepped forward, her voice calm but commanding. “And send scouts to flank the eastern ridge. That’s where their second force is hiding.”
Finn hesitated, his gaze darting between Gray and Freya. “You’re listening to her?”
Gray’s eyes hardened. “She hasn’t been wrong yet.”
Finn swallowed hard and nodded, disappearing into the fray.
As the warriors adjusted their positions, the rogues’ attack faltered. Freya watched with bated breath as the Nightclaws gained the upper hand, driving their enemies back with calculated precision.
Gray turned to her, his expression unreadable. “If you’re wrong about the ridge—”
“I’m not,” Freya interrupted, her tone leaving no room for doubt. “But we need to move now, or we’ll lose the element of surprise.”
Gray exhaled sharply, motioning for a small group of warriors. “We’re taking the ridge. Freya, you’re with me.”
Her stomach twisted, but she nodded. “Let’s finish this.”
****
The eastern ridge loomed before them, eerily quiet under the moonlight. Freya's heart pounded as they crept through the dense forest, the tension thick enough to cut with a blade.
“They’re here,” she whispered, her senses tingling with unease.
Gray held up a hand, signaling the group to halt. He turned to her, his voice low. “Show me.”
Freya closed her eyes, focusing on the faint images flickering in her mind. “They’re scattered across the ridge, waiting for the signal to ambush.” She opened her eyes, meeting Gray’s gaze. “We need to hit them hard and fast.”
Gray’s jaw tightened as he motioned to his warriors. “Spread out. Keep quiet. Wait for my signal.”
The tension was palpable as the Nightclaws moved into position. Freya stayed close to Gray, her pulse racing.
A sudden rustle in the underbrush made her freeze. A rogue lunged from the shadows, claws bared. Freya stumbled back, her breath hitching.
Gray was faster. In one fluid motion, he drove his blade through the rogue’s chest, yanking it free as the body crumpled to the ground. “Stay behind me,” he growled.
Before she could respond, the forest erupted into chaos. Rogues poured out from the shadows, their snarls echoing through the trees.
Gray led the charge, his movements swift and deadly. Freya stayed close, shouting warnings as her visions guided her.
“Three coming from the left!” she yelled, and Gray relayed the message without hesitation.
The battle was brutal, the air thick with the scent of blood and the sound of clashing steel. Freya's heart pounded as she pointed out threats, her instincts sharper than ever.
“Gray, behind you!” she cried, and he spun just in time to strike down an attacker.
Despite the chaos, the Nightclaws fought with unwavering determination. Freya's visions turned the tide, giving them the edge they needed to outmaneuver the rogues.
Minutes felt like hours, but finally, the rogues began to retreat, their forces decimated. The Nightclaws let out victorious howls, their triumph ringing through the night.
Freya sagged against a tree, her legs trembling. Gray approached her, his face smeared with dirt and blood.
“You were right,” he said, his voice low but steady. “We couldn’t have done this without you.”
She managed a weak smile. “Told you so.”
Gray chuckled, the sound rough but genuine. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Before she could respond, he stepped closer, his expression turning serious. “Freya, I need to ask you something.”
Her breath hitched as he took her hand, his calloused fingers surprisingly gentle.
“You’ve proven yourself tonight,” Gray said, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it. “You’re not just a seer. You’re a fighter. You’re… more than I expected.”
Freya's chest tightened, her heart racing for an entirely different reason now. “Gray…”
“I want you to stay,” he said, his amber eyes locking onto hers. “Not just as part of the pack. I want you to stay as my Luna.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and electrifying. Freya stared at him, her mind reeling.
Gray continued. his gaze unwavering. “You’re the only one who can stand beside me. The only one I can trust.”
Before she could process his words, a sharp voice pierced the night.
“Murderer!”
Freya froze, her blood turning to ice.
Gray spun toward the sound, his jaw tightening as a figure emerged from the shadows—a woman with tear-streaked cheeks and rage in her eyes.
“She killed my family!” the woman screamed, pointing a trembling finger at Freya. “She is nothing but a murderer.
Gray’s head snapped toward Freya, his amber eyes went wide with shock.