Freya's POV I froze for a heartbeat, the realization slicing through me like the cold winter wind that swept over the Runestone Grounds. So… Silas's mother had chosen that day-his birthday-to leave this world? The thought settled uneasily in my chest, heavier than any pack duty or battlefield I had endured. The sorrow that flickered across my expression must have been visible, because his voice, low and hoarse, cut through the quiet of the room. "You don't need to look at me with sympathy," he murmured, his words carrying the weight of self-reproach. I knew, though, that part of him might also hope my pity would bind me closer to him. But at that moment, looking at him, I couldn't summon that kind of false warmth. Instead, my heart ached quietly at the sheer isolation that emanated from him. Even after losing everything-family, lineage, and the pack ties that should have held him-he still carried himself with a quiet command. Yet he was truly alone. And somehow, I felt the pull, the innate desire to climb into his world, to breach the walls he had so meticulously built around his heart. "I'm sorry," I whispered, unable to keep the weight from my words. "It's nothing to apologize for," he said, softer now, almost ashamed. "On my birthday, I'll visit her grave at the cemetery. Beyond that… I'll just be alone, in a quiet place." My heart clenched at the image. "This year…" I began hesitantly, unsure how to voice the thought. "This year, would you… stay with me? Just stay, quietly. No celebrations, no words, nothing but presence." His voice was a murmur, fragile in its hope. I looked into his eyes and saw something I rarely did: a raw vulnerability, a man stripped of his Alpha armor, asking simply to be accompanied in silence. "Yes," I said softly. "This year… I'll be with you." Just those two words seemed to ignite warmth through his chest, spreading through him like wildfire across dry leaves. I could almost feel the tension in him melt away, replaced by something new-perhaps the first real comfort he'd known in decades. Birthdays had always been a torment for him, reminders of the mother he had lost and the isolation he endured. But with me by his side, even silently, perhaps this year could be different. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against mine, feather-light but charged with a hunger I hadn't fully realized until this moment. Soft. Sweet. Dangerous in the way it anchored me to him, and I realized how deeply he had sunk into me, body and soul. "I love you, Freya," his voice was hoarse, cracking with the intensity of it. "I love you so deeply, more than I ever imagined possible." Hearing him speak like this, so raw and unguarded, I understood something profound. For all his power, all his command over the Ironclad Coalition, his heart had been dormant-or at least, misdirected. Meeting him had changed that. All the love he had buried, all the capacity for passion he had contained, had found its focus in me. "I love you too, Silas," I said quietly, feeling my own heart swell. Yet beneath that reassurance, I could sense the imbalance. His love for me was a wildfire, uncontrollable, whereas mine… though genuine, was still measured, cautious. Our bond, though powerful, had yet to reach equilibrium. Later, I found myself dragging Lana through the crowded aisles of the SkyVex Armaments district, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of gifts and the subtleties of Alpha emotion. "It's strange," Lana observed, smirking. "Usually, it's me dragging you around, and now… you're dragging me?" "Silas's birthday is coming," I explained, a small smile tugging at my lips. "I want to get him something special." "Wow," she said, eyes lighting up. "His birthday? Are we talking a grand Alpha banquet?" I shook my head. "No. Just… the two of us. Quiet. Simple." She tilted her head, curiosity twinkling. "And his father?" I shrugged lightly. "Their relationship is… complicated. Not something I want to probe." Lana, perceptive as ever, let it go. "Still," she mused, "choosing a gift for Silas is impossible. The man has everything. You know what? Just be the gift. I bet he'd be thrilled." I rolled my eyes but didn't argue. Instead, we continued, weaving through the glossy floors and polished displays until we reached the jewelry section. There, a display caught my eye: a bracelet of small rosewood beads, strung together with a single jade bead etched delicately with a sheaf of wheat. I lifted it, turning it over in my hands. "Do you like this one?" Lana asked, leaning close. "It's simple. Elegant," I said, my fingers brushing the smooth wood. "The jade bead… the wheat carving…" My thoughts drifted. If he wore this, I thought, it would suit him perfectly. But more than that, I hoped it could carry a wish: a wish for peace, for stability, for life uninterrupted by grief. I nodded to the clerk, making the decision. "I'll take this one."Later that evening, back in my apartment, I placed the bracelet on my desk, staring at it thoughtfully. I took a blank card, scribbled carefully: Silas Whitmor: May you know peace, year after year. May we stand by each other, side by side, until the very end. At the bottom, I signed my name: Freya. Just as I slid the card into the small velvet box, the bedroom door swung open suddenly. "Freya!" The sound of his voice made my pulse quicken. He stepped inside, the faint scent of the city clinging to him, his presence filling the room like the first howl of a wolf under the moon. My heart thudded, knowing that, despite everything, our worlds were entwined now.