Third Person's POV Freya's laughter broke the heated silence, low and melodic, tinged with alcohol and desire. "Who else could I possibly tie down like this, if not you?" she teased. Silas's golden eyes glimmered with both amusement and warning, his voice rough with possessive hunger. "Even if you could, you won't. Freya, whatever you crave-love, chains, or fire-you bind it only to me. If you want to play with passion, I'll follow you into every shadow. But it can never be anyone else." The intensity in his words was a vow, primal and absolute. He would bend, submit, and even bare his throat to her games-so long as she never strayed from him. Freya's fingers traced the sharp line of his brow, sliding slowly down until they rested against his lips. "Fine," she whispered, her voice molten. "Only you." She kissed him then, at first soft and teasing, then deeper, as if sealing their pact. Her lips traveled from his mouth to the strong cut of his jaw, down to the hollow of his throat, and lower still. Silas's clothes were already stripped away under her eager hands. Her eyes lingered on him, unashamed and hungry. "Beautiful," she breathed. His lips curved in a rare smirk. "Do you like what you see?" "Like?" She laughed softly, her gaze devouring the lines of his body. "I love it. The strength of your frame, the way every muscle seems carved with purpose… the balance of power and grace. It's…" she exhaled, "…perfect." His expression flickered, something darker flashing beneath the gold of his gaze. "Even the scars?" he asked quietly. Her eyes softened at once, as he had known they would. Her wolf stirred, aching for him. "Especially the scars," she whispered. He let out a breath, satisfaction laced with self-mockery. He had used his scars-his broken history, the marks left by war and blood-to draw out her pity, to tether her closer to him. It was a selfish, almost manipulative instinct. Was it fear? Yes. Fear that her love was not yet deep enough. Fear that if fate turned cruel, she would abandon him as others had before. "Then love me more," Silas murmured, voice husky, vibrating with raw desire. "Love me until there's nothing left to doubt." The gravel of his tone, edged with command and plea, dragged her further into the storm of him, drowning reason, leaving only fire.-- At dawn, Lana was ripped from sleep by the sharp clang of the doorbell. She groaned, burrowing deeper into the blanket. "Moon's mercy… who the hell is pounding at this hour?" Her head throbbed. Her eyelids felt heavier than iron weights fighting to stay shut. Last night had been a blur. She had started drinking just to keep Kade company-he had been in a foul mood, pouring whiskey like water. At first, she sipped only to humor him, but as the night stretched on, the glasses piled up until she, too, had stumbled headlong into drunken oblivion. Somehow, she'd managed to drag him home before her own memory went black. Still half-asleep, Lana shuffled toward the door, hair mussed, lips dry. She yanked it open. "Who-" Her words died in her throat. Standing there, framed by the pale light of morning, was Victor Ashford. His face was as sharp and unforgiving as a blade drawn for judgment. For one stunned heartbeat, she thought she must still be drunk, hallucinating. Victor? Here? Panic flared, and she rubbed her eyes hard, as if wiping away the apparition. But when she looked again, his cold gaze hadn't vanished. With a strangled gasp, she slammed the door shut with a loud bang. Behind her, a groggy voice carried down the hall. "Who's at the door?" Lana stiffened, whirling to see Kade wandering toward her, rubbing his temple, his dark hair tousled, his wolf aura thick with exhaustion. Her mind scrambled. Why was he here-no, why was she here? Hadn't she taken him to his own apartment last night? "Who's out there?" Kade asked again, his voice rough from sleep. Before she could invent an excuse, the doorbell rang once more, sharp and insistent. Her heart skipped. And suddenly, clarity returned-this wasn't her home at all. She was in Kade's apartment. Somehow, after dragging him here, she hadn't made it back to her own place. She must have collapsed here, dead to the world. Kade frowned at her hesitation and brushed past, opening the door himself. Victor stood waiting, his expression thunderous. His gaze dropped immediately, taking in the sight: Kade half-dressed in disheveled sleepwear, Lana standing behind him with her clothes askew, hair wild from the night. The air froze."So," Victor said icily, his voice like the crack of a whip. "It seems I've interrupted something." Lana nearly stumbled sideways, her heart leaping into her throat. She clutched at the wall for balance, color draining from her cheeks. Kade, startled, blurted out, "We didn't-there's nothing between us! Don't put false charges on me, Ashford!" Victor's eyes flicked to Lana, sharp as daggers. She raised both hands in defense, blurting fast, "Relax! Even if I were the kind to indulge in a man's looks, I would never indulge in your nephew." Her tone was sharp, but her heart was racing. She valued her life far too much to test Kade's temper in that way. If anyone could handle his rough edges, it was Freya, not her. For Lana, bedding him would be a death wish. Victor's expression softened slightly, though the shadows in his gaze lingered. He stepped inside without invitation, his presence consuming the small space, and fixed Lana with his stare. "Why are you here?" "Why should I tell you?" she snapped, her pride bristling even as her stomach churned with nerves. "You don't have to," Victor replied coolly. "But if you won't explain, I have every reason to believe you're hiding something. And when the authorities come to your door, don't claim I didn't warn you." His words hit with the weight of law. Victor Ashford-the undefeated wolf lawyer of The Capital. His reputation was a wall of victories, his courtroom presence as fearsome as any Alpha's howl. Lana's breath caught, her bravado faltering. If he truly pressed, she wouldn't stand a chance. Grinding her teeth, she swallowed her pride. Better to survive humiliation than to risk his wrath. "Kade was drunk," she admitted, glaring at the floor. "I dragged him back here. I must've… passed out on his couch. That's all." Both men froze at her words. Victor's expression darkened further, suspicion igniting anew. Kade, mid-sip from a water bottle he'd just pulled from the fridge, sputtered violently, spraying the drink everywhere. "You slept here?" Victor's voice cut through the air, each syllable deliberate. "One bed. One room. And you expect me to believe-" Lana blinked, suddenly uncertain. She had woken up in a bed this morning… but in her haze, she'd assumed it was her own. Had she been wrong? Had she been lying inches from Kade all night without realizing? Her wide eyes darted toward him. Kade's gaze flicked back to hers, equally startled. His wolf stirred uneasily, caught between annoyance and something unspoken. Victor's piercing stare shifted between them, tension thick as the predawn mist, each second dragging like the scrape of claws across stone.