Third Person's POV Most wolves would have dismissed it as coincidence-an imitation, nothing more. After all, replicas of rare relics appeared all the time. Freya's ruby necklace could easily be another clever imitation, copied from an old design that once belonged to the Williams Family. The true heirloom of the Williams line had vanished fifty years ago, disappearing along with the Alpha's younger sister-Everett's only sibling-on the night she fled into the borderlands and was never seen again. The Williams Family had been searching ever since. Searching for Naya. Searching for the necklace. Because if they ever found one… they might finally find the other. The heirloom had been the dowry of the former Luna, handcrafted by the master artificers of the WilliamDominion, forged with moon-silver to resist corruption. Naya had adored it as a child-so much so that the Luna had clasped it around her young daughter's neck as a keepsake. That piece had been unique. No second one existed in any marketplace across the continent. Which was precisely why Lana froze mid-adjustment as she helped fasten the ruby pendant around Freya's throat. "Wait-Freya, hold still," Lana murmured, leaning in. "There's… something etched into the chain. It's tiny, but I swear there's a letter." Freya blinked and lowered her chin slightly. "It's a name," she said softly. "Brown. It was on the necklace when my grandfather found my mother. She was still a baby then. They used the word ‘Brown' as her surname because it was the only clue to her identity." Lana exhaled, sympathetic. She already knew the story-Freya's mother, Myra, had been an orphan taken in by the Thorne family of the Stormveil Pack's fifth branch. In those harsh decades, orphaned pups were not uncommon; the wars had split Packs, burned territories, and taken countless wolfborn lives. Freya's mother had been one of the lucky ones-found, sheltered, raised. But several steps away, Jenny had heard every word. Her blood ran cold.Brown. The surname engraved into the Williams Family heirloom had been Brown-the Luna's maiden name before she married into the Alpha line. Her breath stilled. A storm roared through her mind. If this necklace was truly the same heirloom… If Freya's mother had been found with it… Then Freya's mother might not have been an orphan at all. She might have been Naya. The vanished wolf-sister of the Williams Family. Jenny's face drained of color. Her stomach twisted with dread and something uglier-fear. If that were true, then Parker Williams, the heir the family had long believed lost, shared blood with Freya. And Freya- the girl Jenny had always dismissed, always belittled- would be the trueborn descendant of the Williams Alpha line, the rightful heiress. The current family head had never married and had no children. Meaning the closest blood ties remaining could very well be… Freya Thorne. Eric Thorne. They, not Jenny, would stand closest to the Williams legacy. If their identities were confirmed, every plan Jenny had-marrying into Parker's line, securing the family's wealth, cementing her status-would crumble into dust. No. No, she would never allow that. If the necklace was the key, then the necklace had to be destroyed.Before anyone else could see it. Before Parker could remember anything more. Before Freya could be recognized. Her eyes sharpened, feral and cold. She had to act. - Across the hall, Parker watched Freya in her gown, the ruby pendant glowing like captured fire against her skin. And suddenly- his vision blurred. A different figure overlapped with hers: a woman in a faded floral dress, sunlight in her smile, the same red gem resting above her heart. "Do you like it?" she had asked. "Yeah," his young voice had answered, timid and earnest. "It's pretty." A shard of pain split through Parker's skull. He staggered, clutching his head. Sweat broke across his forehead. Images crashed over him-violent, unbidden. His mother kneeling in the wreckage of a war-torn outpost. Explosions shaking the ground as she pressed the necklace into the hands of a foreign traveler. Her voice trembling, desperate. Her scent-wolfborn, warm, fading. He'd known even then that the necklace was precious. Proof of her bloodline. The only link she had to her origins-her real family. Yet she had traded it for food. For medicine. For survival.Parker had made himself a promise that day, one carved into bone and spirit: I will find it again. No matter how long it takes. I will bring it back to her. His knees buckled. A voice rang through the haze. "Parker! Parker, what's wrong?!" Small hands grasped his arm-Freya's hands. He forced his eyes open. Her scent anchored him, familiar and soft-pack-kin, the scent he had ignored for too long. "I… remembered something," he murmured hoarsely. "Memories of our mother. She… she used to wear this necklace." Freya froze. "You… you remembered?" Her voice shook. "Parker, are you sure? You really remember?" He nodded faintly, pulling her into a tight embrace. "I'm sorry," he whispered, voice rough. "I forgot too much. And I came back too late." Late to return to the Pack lands before their parents were buried. Late, and so convinced he wasn't a Thorne at all. Late, and blind to the danger Freya had faced while protecting him-taking a bullet for him, while he denied her as kin. "Not late," Freya sobbed softly into his chest. "You're here now. That's enough, Parker. No matter what you remember or don't- you're my brother. You always will be." Her wolf's emotions rippled through her scent-relief, grief, joy tangled together. Parker held her tighter. This time, he did not let go. Across the hall, Jenny Williams watched with a darkening expression.No. This could not happen. If Parker regained his memories… If the Pack elders examined the necklace… If they traced the Brown engraving… Freya would rise. And Jenny's ambitions would die. She clenched her fists until her nails bit into her palms. She would destroy that necklace if she had to tear it off Freya's throat herself. - Night settled over the District, wolf-lamps burning low against the dark. Inside Freya's room, Lana hung up the pale moon-silk gown Freya had worn earlier. The gemstone shimmered faintly where it rested against its velvet stand. "Your brother's incredible," Lana remarked, glancing at Freya. "He saw you liked the dress and bought it without hesitation." Freya smiled softly. Ericc had always been good to her-when he wasn't in denial or drowning in the shadows of a past he couldn't remember. Tonight, though, he had remembered something. Something precious. The moment he saw the ruby necklace-their mother's necklace- the memories had rushed back. "Yeah," Freya whispered, touching the ruby lightly. "He… remembered because of this piece."