Third Person's POV Jenny turned, chin lifted so high she looked nearly unhinged with triumph. "Oh? Freya actually dared to show up?" Her red lips curled. "You really think Silas standing up for you earlier solved anything? Hate to disappoint you, but he has already withdrawn his words. I will not be expelled from the Williams Family. And I will be attending the Whitmor anniversary banquet." Freya didn't flinch. Of course Silas had spoken to the Williams. He had promised her as much. She simply ignored Jenny and greeted the young man beside her. "Brother." Parker stiffened at the familiar address-little melody, once upon a time. "Freya… you've worked hard." His voice was low, heavy, threaded with something shameful and deeply human. He knew Silas must have stepped back because Freya had gone to meet him. He knew what it cost her. Freya blinked. It had been years since he had called her that gently. For a moment, the past flickered. Jenny snapped, "What did you call her?" "She's my sister," Parker replied, his gaze steady. "I call her Freya. Any problem?" "Sister?" Jenny's face twisted. "Wait-did you recover your memories?" "Even without recovering memories, DNA doesn't lie," Parker said quietly. "And the things she told me… the history we once shared… I can put the pieces together." Jenny's face paled, then darkened like storm-thickened clouds. "Your sister is me. Don't forget your place." "My sister was never you." Parker's voice turned sharp. "The only reason you're even standing here is because you can heal Lina." Jenny stiffened, triumphant again after a heartbeat. "Exactly. And since you said it yourself-I'm the only one who can save Lina-Freya should kneel. Here. Now. And apologize." Parker's expression froze. "Jenny, enough. I've done everything you demanded-everything. Don't test my boundaries again." "Oh, I will test them," Jenny hissed. "Unless you want Lina dead." Parker clenched his jaw, breath shaking. "If someone must kneel, then I-" He started to lower himself.Freya moved faster than breath. Her hand shot out, gripping his arm, stopping him with far more force than her slender frame promised. Her wolf flickered; her eyes glinted with silver. "So," she said softly, "you want me on my knees?" Jenny smirked. "Of course. If not for you, I wouldn't have been nearly expelled. You made me lose face. Shouldn't you pay for that?" Freya laughed-cold, clean, and sharp enough to shave bone. "And you think you deserve that?" Jenny's triumph wavered like a candle in wind. "You talk about saving Lina," Freya continued, voice dropping into something dangerously calm. "But you're not the only potential match. Her illness has a full year's window. In the Ironclad Coalition alone, thousands register marrow matches daily. Beyond that, the Northern High Courts, Ashbourne, Bluemoon, Silverfang-do you think no one will try to find a match for a soldier's daughter?" Jenny swallowed hard. "B-but what if… what if I truly am the only one?" "Then as long as you're alive," Freya said softly, stepping forward, "there will always be ways to strap you to a bed and extract what's needed." Jenny's breath hitched. Her wolf shrank back violently. "That would be a crime," she whispered. "Donor procedures require… require full consent." "Of course," Freya replied. "So if you refuse… I'll commit the crime." Her tone was calm. Too calm. "And surrender myself afterward." The killing intent rolling off her was not theatrical-this was a wolf from the Stormveil Pack's Fifth Lineage, the daughter of Myra whose blood carried the old wildness, the soldier of the Iron Fang Recon Unit who had survived operations most wolves didn't return from. Jenny's legs buckled. She nearly collapsed. Freya turned away with absolute dismissal. "Parker, Lana and I are choosing our gowns." Parker finally exhaled. For the first time in days, he understood: his sister was far more hardened, far more decisive, than he remembered. Jenny stayed frozen for a long while. Only when Freya emerged again from the fitting hall-now dressed in an elegant moon-blue gown that hugged her lines with effortless grace-did Jenny snap back into motion. Lana approached, her eyes bright. "Freya, your necklace-why don't you try it on with the gown?"Freya nodded, reaching into her case. She lifted the ruby pendant-Myra's relic-its ancient metalwork glowing faintly under the Auric Lamps. As she clasped it around her neck, the gem rested perfectly against her collarbone. On Freya, the necklace looked like a flame carried through centuries. Jenny stared at it. The blood drained from her face. Impossible. That necklace-its pattern, its ruby core, its distinctive setting-was nearly identical to the heirloom the Williams Family had been searching for since the Second Era. A piece tied to old promises, old debts, old betrayals. Was it coincidence? Or- Her throat tightened. A tremor ran down her fingers.