"Do you enjoy this?" Freya hissed, her voice sharp as she glared through the iron bars at Gray. "Locking me away like some caged animal?"
Gray leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, the faintest smirk playing on his lips. His amber eyes glinted with an unreadable emotion. "I've had worse company."
Freya's chains rattled as she crossed her arms, frustration tightening her chest. "If you’re not here to let me go, then stop wasting my time."
"Actually," Gray said, straightening up, "I’m here to offer you something much more valuable than your freedom—at least, for now."
Freya raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued despite herself. "Oh? And what’s that? Another form of imprisonment?"
Gray’s smirk deepened as he stepped closer to her, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "I’m offering you the chance to earn your freedom. If you prove your worth to me, you’ll walk out of here unshackled."
She swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. "Prove my worth?" Freya scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her. "What are you, a king demanding loyalty from a prisoner?"
Gray’s expression darkened, and the air around them seemed to thicken. "You have a gift, one that could change everything. A gift that could help protect my pack. Use it for us, and you’ll be treated as one of us. But refuse, and you’ll be here, forever."
Freya's stomach twisted at his words. She hated how effortlessly he controlled the conversation, how easily he made her feel powerless. She had spent her entire life running from the power she couldn’t control, and now here it was again, being thrust into her hands like a curse.
"What exactly do you expect me to do?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Gray’s gaze didn’t waver. "I need you to use your visions to predict threats to my pack—raids, ambushes, anything that could harm us. If you can see it, I can prepare for it."
A wave of unease washed over her, but she met his gaze, unwilling to show weakness. "You really think I can control these visions? They come when they want, not when I need them."
Gray’s eyes narrowed. "Then you'll learn. If you refuse, I'll make sure life here is… unpleasant."
She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. "What if I say no?"
His voice turned icy. "That would be a mistake you’d regret."
She hesitated, the weight of her decision pressing down on her. She had no love for this man, no desire to help him, but what choice did she have? She couldn’t stay locked in this cell forever, could she?
"Fine," she said, her voice laced with venom. "I’ll help you. But only because I don’t feel like dying today."
Gray’s lips twitched, a flicker of satisfaction in his gaze. "Smart choice."
---
The sunlight outside was blinding as Freya stepped out of the dungeon, the warmth hitting her skin like a cruel reminder of the world she could no longer escape.
She squinted against the light, taking in the sprawling Nightclaw compound. Warriors sparred in the open field, their movements sharp and deadly, while wolves in their beast forms roamed freely, eyes glowing with a predatory gleam.
Gray was by her side, his posture relaxed, almost casual as if he were showing her some prized possession. "Try not to look so impressed," he said dryly, glancing at her sideways.
Freya's lips curled into a dismissive smile. "I’ve seen wolves before," she shot back, trying to mask the flicker of awe in her chest.
"Not like mine," Gray said, the pride in his voice unmistakable.
They crossed the courtyard and entered the main hall of the compound, the large wooden doors creaking as they pushed them open.
The moment they stepped inside, a figure appeared—a woman with long silver hair and eyes that gleamed like the moon. Lyra. Alpha Gray’s sister.
"What is she doing here?" Lyra demanded, her voice sharp, her gaze fixed on Freya like a predator sizing up its prey.
Gray’s expression remained calm, his tone unfazed. "She’s agreed to help us."
Lyra’s eyes narrowed, suspicion clouding her features. "And you trust her?" she asked, her voice dripping with disdain. "After everything that happened to her pack?"
Freya bristled, the insult stinging. "You don’t even know me."
"And I don’t need to," Lyra shot back, stepping forward with the grace of a queen. "You’re a liability."
Gray’s posture stiffened, his voice cutting through the tension. "Enough," he said, his command final. "Freya is under my protection now. She’ll be treated as a guest."
"A guest?" Lyra’s voice dripped with disbelief. "You can’t seriously think—"
"I’ve made my decision," Gray interrupted, his words a warning.
Lyra’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing more. With a sharp glare at Freya, she turned on her heel and stormed off, her silvery hair flicking behind her like a threat in itself.
Freya let out a low whistle. "Well, she seems delightful."
Gray sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he watched Lyra disappear. "Don’t take it personally. Lyra is protective of the pack, that’s all."
"Protective?" Freya snorted. "She looked at me like I was a dead carcass ready to be devoured."
Gray smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. "She’ll come around."
Gray took Freya to the training grounds.
"What am I doing here?" Freya asked, folding her arms.
"You’re going to learn," Gray replied, his tone matter-of-fact. "If you’re going to be part of this pack, you need to understand how we operate."
"I’m not a fighter," she said, her tone firm.
Gray’s eyes gleamed with humor. "Good. Because you’d lose."
Freya shot him a glare, but Gray merely chuckled.
"Relax. No one’s asking you to fight. Just watch and listen."
They watched the warriors train, their movements precise and deadly as Gray explained their strategies. By the end of it, Freya couldn’t deny the growing respect she felt for Gray’s leadership.
"You’re a good leader," Freya admitted, though she hated herself for saying it.
Gray glanced at her, surprised. "I know."
Freya rolled her eyes. "And humble too."
"Never needed to be," he said with a smirk.
As they walked back to the main hall, a strange feeling stirred within her—a mixture of unease and hope. Why did he let her out of the prison? Why did he bring her to the training grounds? Could she find a place here? Or was she simply trading one prison for another?
The thought nagged at her, but it wasn’t until Gray’s next words stopped her dead in her tracks that she knew things were about to change.
"I have an offer for you," Gray said, his voice low. "Two things, actually."
Freya turned to face him, curiosity piqued. She knew agreeing to whatever offer meant regaining her freedom "What are they?"
Gray smiled, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. "First, as we discussed, I want you to use your visions to help predict the future for the pack. Help us avoid threats.”
She froze and he continued as his expression darkened, and the air around them seemed to thicken. "You have a gift, one that could change everything. A gift that could help protect my pack. Use it for us, and you’ll be treated as one of us. But refuse, and you’ll be here, forever, as a prisoner.”
Freya's stomach twisted at his words. She hated how effortlessly he controlled the conversation, how easily he made her feel powerless.
She had spent her entire life running from the power she couldn’t control, and now here it was again, being thrust into her hands like a curse.
"What exactly do you expect me to do?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Gray’s gaze didn’t waver. "I need you to use your visions to predict threats to my pack—raids, ambushes, anything that could harm us. If you can see it, I can prepare for it."
A wave of unease washed over her, but she met his gaze, unwilling to show weakness. "You really think I can control these visions? They come when they want, not when I need them."
He didn't answer. Instead, he said. “The second—" he paused, his gaze steady, "—I want you to become my Luna."
Freya stopped in her tracks, her heart pounding. "What?"
Gray’s smirk deepened. "You heard me. Be my Luna. But that is if you prove to me how real your visions are.”
Her jaws dropped.