Third Person's POV Parker's lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. Silas's decree hung in the air like an execution order-calm, absolute, and impossible to defy. The Ironclad Alpha's voice still echoed in his mind: "Unless the Williams Pack strikes her from their lineage, the Coalition will cut every tie." For the Williams, who had long sought to expand into the Capital's territories and secure trade with Whitmor's Ironclad Coalition, such a threat was nothing short of annihilation. Once, Parker wouldn't have cared if Jenny was cast out-let her drown in the consequences of her arrogance. But things had changed. He needed her alive. Only Jenny can save Lina's life. He turned toward Freya. Her expression was calm, too calm-those golden-hazel eyes of hers steady as a wolf facing the storm. "Miss Thorne," Parker began, his voice almost pleading. "Jenny only spoke a few words. She didn't mean to-surely such punishment is excessive. If you would intercede on her behalf with Silas Whitmor, the Williams family would-" Freya's voice cut cleanly through his attempt, cold as a blade sliding free of its sheath. "If you don't want me to hit you again, Parker, stop talking." The silence that followed seemed to hum with tension. She took a step closer, looking up into his face, her voice dropping into something quieter-too steady to be anything but true. "I'd hate for you to remember who you really are one day… and realize how much you'd regret saying these words." Her gaze locked with his. "Because the man I used to know-the one you used to be-would rather die than stand by while someone insulted our parents." For an instant, Parker couldn't breathe. Something ancient and buried deep in his blood stirred-something fierce, something proud. It pulsed behind his ribs, aching to break free. And then, like frost cracking across stone, that feeling vanished, leaving only a hollow cold. He turned away, jaw clenched, as if afraid of what he might remember. --- The enforcers arrived not long after, their black vehicles gleaming beneath the Ironhold Tower lights. Freya went with them willingly. There was no use resisting; by law, she had struck the first blow. Parker and Jenny accompanied her to the local precinct, both to make their statements. Inside the sterile, dim-lit office, Freya sat across from a uniformed officer, giving her account of the confrontation. She was calm-too used to conflict, perhaps. The faint scent of iron and ozone clung to her skin, remnants of adrenaline. Halfway through her statement, the door opened. A tall man in a charcoal suit entered, his badge flashing briefly under the lights. "I'm Victor Ashford," he announced smoothly. "Representing Miss Freya Thorne as her legal counsel." Freya blinked, surprised. "Victor? What are you doing here?" His fees alone were enough to bankrupt a small pack. There was no way she could have afforded him. "Lana called me," Victor replied evenly. "Said you were in trouble." Freya frowned slightly. "You didn't need to come yourself. You could've sent one of your firm's lawyers." "She asked me personally. And I don't delegate things that matter to her." His tone left no room for argument. Freya tilted her head, studying him. "I can't afford you, Victor." He smiled faintly, though there was something unreadable in his eyes. "Consider it a favor. You're her friend." Freya folded her arms. "You and Lana have a contract relationship. You don't owe her that much. Why go this far?" Victor's expression hardened. "She told you?" "She did," Freya said simply. "I don't know what's really between you two, but don't hurt her. And when your year is over-if she wants to leave-let her go." For a heartbeat, Victor's eyes flashed with something darker. His lips curved in a humorless smile. "Freya, you're assuming she's the one who'd get hurt. But maybe," his voice dropped to a murmur, "it'll be me." And as for letting go-he didn't say the words aloud, but Freya could feel the refusal in the quiet tension of his wolf. He had no intention of releasing Lana when the time came. Before she could reply, Parker and Jenny stepped out of another room, finished with their own statements. Jenny's glare was venomous the moment she saw Freya. "You-" "Don't." Parker's voice was sharp as a whip. He caught her wrist before she could advance. "Do you want to spend the night in custody? The man standing beside her," he nodded toward Victor, "is Victor Ashford-the top legal counsel in the Capital. He could have you buried under legal paperwork before dawn." Jenny froze, her fury collapsing into shock. "Victor… Ashford?" Freya said nothing, only watched as the girl's expression twisted with jealousy. It was almost amusing. Jenny couldn't understand why powerful men like Silas or Victor would stand by Freya's side, even momentarily. She couldn't comprehend that it wasn't charm or beauty-it was something older, quieter. Strength. Dignity. Bloodline. Parker stepped toward Freya, his tone low. "Today… I'm sorry." Freya's eyes lifted to his face. "You're not apologizing to me," she said softly. "You're apologizing to our parents." He flinched. The words hit something deep inside him, something that felt like guilt-or grief long forgotten. He didn't speak again, only turned away, leading Jenny out of the precinct. Victor waited until they were gone before breaking the silence. "He's your brother, isn't he?" Freya nodded once. "He is. He just doesn't want to remember." Victor's brows furrowed slightly. "I've heard the story. You found him weeks ago. You're certain?" "I'd stake my life on it." Freya's voice trembled with quiet conviction. "But whether he acknowledges Eric Thorne or not, I'll bring him to the Hall of Martyrs. He'll stand before our parents' names, and he will remember." --- Outside, Parker's car idled beneath the flickering streetlamps. The moment they got in, his WolfComm device buzzed. He glanced at the caller ID. Everett Williams. "Father," Parker answered, voice taut. "Is Jenny with you?" came Everett's measured tone. "She is.""Bring her to me." There was no explanation, no warmth-just command. Parker hesitated. "Understood." When the call ended, Jenny turned toward him, panic flashing in her eyes. "He wants to see me? He knows about today, doesn't he?" Parker's knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. "We'll find out soon enough." She gripped her skirt until her nails whitened. "I can't be cast out, Parker. I can't!" He said nothing, only drove through the night toward the Williams estate. When they arrived, the grand stone manor loomed before them, its windows glowing dimly. Inside, Everett Williams sat on a leather sofa, head bowed, prayer beads rolling between his fingers. Neither Parker nor Jenny dared to speak. The silence stretched long enough to become suffocating. Parker's gaze drifted to the beads-he remembered them from childhood. They had been a relic Everett had taken from a mountain monastery decades ago, after his sister's disappearance. He had never once taken them off. Finally, Everett's eyes opened. They were sharp, gleaming amber, the eyes of a predator who'd already decided his prey's fate. His voice was calm when he spoke-but it carried the weight of judgment. "Prepare a statement to the press in the C-Region," Everett ordered. "Effective immediately, Jenny Williams is to be struck from the family registry. From this day forth, all her actions bear no connection to the Williams Pack." Jenny's breath hitched, her face blanching to paper-white. "No… please-Alpha Everett, you can't-"