Caelum's POV "She doesn't know a damn thing! If Aurora hadn't been injured from that fall, she would've shown her what real skill looks like!" The mocking laughter grated against my ears. My wolves. My brothers. Their voices were venom, and every word about Freya scraped something raw inside me. Lana's aura flared hot, sharp enough to make the air tremble. She stormed forward, snapping, "Caelum, are you even a male worth the name? You just let your pack brothers insult your mate like this?" Her words cut. I stiffened, shame flickering through me before I could bury it. My golden wolf hated the challenge, but the man in me… he faltered. Freya stepped forward before I could answer, her hand resting on Lana's shoulder, holding her back. Her touch was calm, but her eyes-Moon above, those eyes-burned cold and sharp like steel drawn under moonlight. She wasn't looking at Lana. She was looking at me. "You think flying separates wolves in rank? That my worth is defined by whether I can soar?" Her voice was steady, each word honed to a blade. "Just because I once bore the title of Caelum's mate, you all think you have the right to ridicule me? To drag me through the mud?" Silence fell. Even Ryker shut his mouth for a breath. No one had expected her to strike back like that-with poise, with dominance. I should've spoken. Should've defended her. Should've done something. But I didn't. I just stood there, my chest tight as she flicked her hair and walked off with Lana, their heads high, their scents defiant. Only when she was gone did Ryker scoff. "That bitch dares talk back like that? Caelum, you need to put her in her place. Make her remember she's just a discarded omega trying to act like a Luna." Something in me snapped. "Enough!" My voice came out low, tight, darker than I intended. "Freya is-was-my mate. No matter what's happened between us, that doesn't give you the right to disrespect her." Especially not after what I'd just seen. The image still burned in my mind-her in the cockpit, hands steady, every move precise, bending the skies to her will. She hadn't just been flying. She'd been commanding. But Ryker only rolled his eyes. "Are you serious right now? You're the one who trashed her the most. You said it yourself-Freya had no real skills. That you only marked her because Aurora left for training and you were spiraling." His words landed like stones in my gut. Because they were true. I had said that. Drunk. Bitter. Grieving. And I'd believed it. But now? I wasn't so sure. Those projects she'd handled in the Siverfang Tech-I'd never once had to lift a claw. She had taken care of everything, smooth, seamless. And I never questioned it. Never wondered what it cost her. And now, the same woman I'd dismissed as weak, fragile, replaceable… was taming rogue warbeasts, commanding aircraft, performing maneuvers that made seasoned combat pilots gape. A hollow ache dug into me, sharp and merciless. Three full moons and a thousand sunrises she'd been mine-and yet, looking at her now, I realized I'd never truly known her. "Let it go," one of the others murmured, clapping my shoulder. "Don't fight your own over a she-wolf. Aurora's looking for you at the exhibitor hall." I nodded absently, though my mind was still burning with the sight of Freya in the sky. Even as my feet carried me away, my chest felt heavier with every step. By the time I reached the Skyborne Pavilion, Aurora was already waiting. "You look pale," she said, frowning. "Something wrong?" I forced my expression smooth. "It's nothing. Stress from the Council and the Ironhold pullout." Aurora pressed me to sit, handing me her flask. "You need to take better care of yourself. Sit. Rest." I drank, but the chill inside me didn't fade. Not even close. At the center of the pavilion, the broadcast screen flickered, showing the distant runway where the next aircraft prepared for takeoff. "There's going to be a flight display soon," Aurora sighed, bitterness creeping in. "Shame I'm still grounded because of the damn fall. Otherwise, I'd be up there showing the pups how it's done." I hesitated. "Is it… really that difficult? Flying for display?"Her brows rose. "Are you serious? Precision flight is no joke, Caelum. It takes years of elite training, iron discipline, and instincts sharper than a battle-born Alpha's. You think some amateur can just step in and wing it?" Normally, I would've agreed. I might've even praised her, proud of her skill. But I couldn't forget what I'd seen. "Actually… what if someone else could do it?" I asked carefully. Aurora's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?" "Just hypothetically-what if a wolf who's never mentioned flight… turns out to be an expert?" Her laugh was sharp, scornful. "You're defending her now? Caelum, please. That omega couldn't fly her way out of a tree. You're insulting my rank-and every warrior of the Wing." I fell quiet. I didn't answer. Because I didn't know how to tell her the truth-that I had seen Freya fly. That I had seen her rule the skies like she was born for it. The screen cut to the next plane, a sleek Zivko Edge 540 painted obsidian and silver. It sliced into the wind like a blade, engines screaming as it lifted. The commentator's voice rose with awe. "This pilot-yes, pulling into a triple barrel roll-Moon above, this is high-difficulty maneuvering, folks! Absolutely phenomenal!" The camera zoomed in. Still too far to make out the pilot's face. But I knew. My gut knew. My wolf knew. It was her. It was Freya up there. And for the first time in a long while, I wasn't sure if I wanted to see her fall… or if I was terrified she would soar too high for me to ever reach her again.