Freya's POV "Freya," Silas said suddenly, voice low, rough, raw. "What I mean is-I don't know how long I can keep myself from you." I stiffened. "What are you saying?" His eyes looked almost black under the overcast sky, the wolf in him pacing beneath the surface, restless and starved. "My control is slipping," he murmured. "I'm sleeping less and less. My mind's burning through itself. Even when I tell myself to stay away-" His jaw tightened. "I don't know how long that reason will hold." The words felt like ice pouring down my spine. He looked like a man at war with himself. And losing. "I take every precaution," he continued, voice quiet but hollow. "I remind myself every day that I am not him. That I am not my father. That I will not become that obsessive, twisted shadow he was." He dragged in a breath, but it trembled. "But I can't guarantee I'll stay this way forever." I stared at him, stunned, barely breathing. Then he added, even softer: "If one day I lose control-if I hurt you, or frighten you-then I want you to fight back. Freya, listen to me. Hit me. Break me. Cripple me. If you have to-kill me." "Silas!" I snapped, heat surging through me. "What is wrong with you? What happened?" "Nothing happened," he said, almost gently. Too gently. I stepped closer, refusing to let his calm tone fool me. "Your sleep. It's gotten worse, hasn't it?" His silence confirmed it. "I've noticed the shadows under your eyes," I said quietly. "You're not resting. Not at all." He pressed his lips together-confirmation again."You've seen a doctor?" I asked. "I have." "Which doctor? How do I contact him?" He lifted a brow. "Why? Are you planning to drag me back for treatment?" "Yes." My answer cut through the air like a blade. He blinked at me, genuinely thrown. "Freya… I told you to stay away from me. After we leave the cemetery, you should-" "Enough," I snapped. "Give me your doctor's contact." He just stared. Silent. Stubborn. Infuriating. So I pulled out my WolfComm and called Wren. As Silas's assistant, he had to know. "Which healer has Silas been seeing?" I asked without preamble. Wren hesitated only a moment before answering. "Vaughn. I'll send you his details." "Thank you." I hung up, looked straight at Silas, and said, "We're seeing Vaughn today." "Why?" Silas asked quietly. "We're no longer together. You owe me nothing." My chest ached-not because he said it, but because he believed it. "Because even if we're no longer together," I said, "I don't want to watch you lose yourself one day. I don't want that on my conscience. Is that reason enough?" He didn't answer. Didn't argue.Didn't look away. What he'd said earlier still lingered like a poison in the air. As if he was warning me. Preparing me. Like he truly believed he might become a monster. I inhaled slowly, turned toward the headstone, and bowed deeply three times. "Madam," I whispered, "I didn't know I'd be meeting you today, so I didn't bring flowers. I'll bring them next time." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Silas jerk slightly. Next time. As if he hadn't expected there to be one. "Let's go," I said, straightening. He didn't move. So I reached out, took his hand firmly, and pulled him. His hand tightened around mine-so lightly I almost didn't feel it, yet the warmth of his palm struck me like a memory I'd tried too hard to bury. His voice broke the moment. Low. Cracked. "My mother hated me," he said suddenly. "She wished I hadn't been born." My steps faltered. "That wasn't your fault," I said quietly. "It was your father's. You and your mother… You were both victims." "Freya," he murmured, "I told you before-don't pity me unless you can pity me all the way. Otherwise, keep your sympathy. Don't give me scraps." Because scraps made him hope. And hope made him dangerous. To himself. To me. I swallowed. "I understand."I released his hand. The warmth vanished instantly. I felt him reach toward me-just an inch, a half-inch-then stop, fingers curling into a fist before falling uselessly to his side. We walked out of the cemetery like two people holding pieces of something broken-carefully, quietly, pretending we weren't still bleeding from the edges. In the car, I checked the message Wren had sent. "Driver," I said. "Take us to this hospital." The driver glanced instinctively at Silas. Silas said nothing for several seconds. Then- "…Take us," he murmured. When we stepped into Vaughn's office, the man looked up, saw us together, and nearly choked. "…Did you two get back together?" "No," Silas said immediately. "Of course not," I added. "I brought him for treatment. His insomnia needs proper care." Vaughn leaned back in his chair, studying me with irritating sharpness. "And what is Freya's role in this?" he asked casually. I met his gaze without flinching. "He stood up for my family. Protected my parents' honor. I'm not ungrateful." Vaughn tapped his pen once, twice, then said: "But what if… the only cure for his insomnia-is you?"