“Freya, keep up!” Finn, the wolf Alpha Gray had assigned to Freya muttered with a smile.
Freya trudged behind Finn, her patience running thin. The young warrior had been tasked with showing her around the Nightclaw territory, but his excitement was doing little to ease her mood.
“I didn’t ask for a grand tour,” Freya muttered, swatting away a low-hanging branch.
Finn grinned over his shoulder. “You’re part of the pack now. Might as well learn your way around.”
“Prisoner, you mean,” Freya corrected, narrowing her eyes.
“Details,” Finn said with a shrug, clearly unbothered.
Freya rolled her eyes but followed, her curiosity piqued despite herself. The pack’s territory was vast, much larger than her home had been.
The thick forest buzzed with life, but there was an underlying tension in the air, like a storm waiting to break.
“Over there is the training ground,” Finn said, pointing to a clearing where warriors sparred fiercely. The sharp clash of blades echoed through the trees. “And beyond that is the Alpha’s private quarters. No one goes there without permission.”
“I’ll make sure to avoid it,” Freya replied dryly, even though she already saw the training ground the day she went touring with the Alpha.
Finn snickered but didn’t push further.
By the time they returned to the pack’s main settlement, the sun was dipping below the horizon.
Freya felt a chill run through her as she noticed several warriors staring at her, their gazes wary and suspicious.
“They don’t trust me,” she said quietly.
Finn hesitated before replying. “Can you blame them? Word spreads fast, and people are afraid of what they don’t understand.”
“They should be afraid of their Alpha’s enemies, not me,” Freya shot back.
Finn sighed. “Trust takes time. Just… don’t give them a reason to doubt you more than they already do.”
Freya opened her mouth to argue but stopped short when she spotted Gray emerging from the packhouse.
His presence commanded attention, and even the most seasoned warriors straightened under his gaze.
“Freya,” Gray called, his voice firm but not unkind.
She approached him reluctantly, her stomach twisting. “What is it now? Another test?”
“No,” he replied. “I need to speak with you. Alone.”
Finn gave her a small, encouraging nod before slipping away, leaving her to face Gray.
Gray led her to his study, a dimly lit room lined with bookshelves and maps. The heavy oak desk at its center was covered in papers and documents.
“You’re hiding something,” he said bluntly, closing the door behind them.
Freya crossed her arms. “What are you talking about?”
“Your visions,” Gray said, his amber eyes piercing. “You talked about the battle and you didn't say anything about me and I'm sure you’ve seen more than you’re letting on.”
Freya's chest tightened. “You think I enjoy keeping secrets? If I told you everything I’ve seen, you’d—”
“Try me,” Gray interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Freya hesitated, the memory of her latest vision flashing in her mind. Blood. Fire. Gray himself, wounded and surrounded by enemies.
“It’s not that simple,” she said finally. “My visions… they’re fragmented. Sometimes they’re clear, but other times…”
“You saw something about me, didn’t you?” Gray pressed, stepping closer.
Freya looked away, unable to meet his gaze. “You don’t want to know.”
Gray grabbed her wrist, his grip firm but not painful. “Tell me.”
Her eyes snapped to his, anger flaring. “Fine. I saw you. Wounded, surrounded by enemies. You were dying, Gray. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
Gray’s expression darkened, but he didn’t release her. “And the pack?”
Freya pulled her wrist free. “They were losing. Everything you’ve built… gone.”
For a moment, silence filled the room, heavy and suffocating.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Gray asked, his voice low.
“Because every time I open my mouth, people either laugh at me or blame me for what happens,” Freya snapped. “Why should you be any different?”
Gray stared at her, his expression unreadable. “I’m not laughing.”