Third Person's POV Victor should not have looked at Lana that way. Not with that quiet, burning devotion in his eyes-devotion that made it impossible to believe that a year later, he would willingly let her go. And certainly not in front of a room filled with pack elites, uttering words that hovered between a vow and a threat. Across the crowded hall of the Skyspire Convention Dome, Freya was pulled abruptly out of her thoughts when a man's voice cut through the ambient music. "Miss Thorne. It's been a long time." Freya turned, her expression polite yet distant, and found Smith approaching with a glass in hand. She recognized him at once-the regional head of one of the largest transnational tech conglomerates. Back when she worked under Caelum Grafton at SilverTech Forgeworks, she had negotiated several drone-technology proposals with him. "Mr. Smith," she acknowledged. "It has been a while." Smith offered a disarming smile. "I heard you left SilverTech. I've been hoping to bring you onto my team. Any interest in joining us?" "Apologies," Freya said, "I've already joined SkyVex Armaments." "Freya is our head of advanced R&D," Lana added quickly, stepping in with a diplomatic smile. "If there's a chance in the future, I hope SkyVex and your company can collaborate." Smith's gaze lingered on Freya. He didn't bother hiding the way he was evaluating her-her posture, her confidence, her mind. "Miss Thorne, are you sure? You would have greater opportunities with me." "I appreciate the offer," Freya replied. "But I believe in SkyVex. My goal is to build something powerful together with my team… and with my friends." "A shame," Smith said lightly. "But perhaps we'll still find a way to work together. Actually-could we talk for a moment? I'm still very interested in the unmanned aerial combat project you once presented to me." "Of course." As the two began discussing specifications and designs, a pair of sharply narrowed eyes tracked them from across the hall. "She's right there," Vaughn murmured, elbowing the figure beside him. "Yet you're pretending you don't see her?"Silas didn't respond. He stood like an iron statue-expression detached, posture cold-but his eyes betrayed him. They flicked toward Freya again. And again. And again. Vaughn snorted. "You're not subtle, brother. The man speaking to Freya? That's Smith. A notoriously icy bastard. But look-he's downright warm with her. Think he's interested?" Silas's jaw tightened. Women like Freya-quiet, resilient on the surface-became blinding the longer one looked. Their strength wasn't loud; it wrapped around you before you realized you'd fallen. It was inevitable that other males would notice her. Be drawn to her. Just as he once was. Just as Kade Blackridge had been. And now… Smith. Silas had chosen distance. He had chosen to leave her orbit. Therefore, she had every right to choose someone else. That was logical. But the wolf in him didn't care for logic. A dangerous heat ignited in his chest, something feral and jealous, growing unchecked like wildfire through dry brush. His control-usually flawless-frayed inch by inch. He watched Smith lean closer to Freya. He watched the two raise their glasses. He watched the man bend his head, too near her throat, too near the soft pulse where an Alpha's bond once might have rested- CRACK. The glass in Silas's hand shattered. Shards sliced into his palm, blood dripping between his fingers. "Silas!" Vaughn hissed, startled. But Silas didn't even look down. His eyes remained fixed on Freya and the man beside her.He was jealous-jealous to the point of madness. -- "Your pendant," Smith said, eyes lingering on the sapphire charm resting against Freya's collarbone. "It looks familiar somehow." "It was my mother's," Freya replied. "It appeared in an auction once. Perhaps that's where you saw it." "Possibly," Smith murmured. Before he could say more, a passing server stumbled. The tray tipped. A cascade of crimson wine splashed across Freya's champagne-gold dress. "Oh-gods, I'm so sorry!" the server gasped, horrified. "It's alright," Freya assured him gently. Still, the stain stood out starkly like spilled blood. Lana approached swiftly. "You should head to the private lounge. I brought a spare dress in my car-I'll grab it for you." Freya nodded, lifting her skirt slightly as she moved toward the curved hallway leading to the quieter wing of the dome. Lana turned to fetch the clothing-only to freeze. Silas stood some distance away, his gaze locked on the path Freya had just taken. He wasn't watching Lana. He wasn't watching the crowd. He was watching Freya. Lana's brows furrowed. It clicked. He's been watching her this whole time. Freya entered the empty lounge, grabbing several cleansing wipes from the counter. Wine clung to her arm and the curve of her neck, cooling against her skin. She cleaned herself in silence, the faint hum of distant music vibrating through the walls. Just as she tossed the last used wipe aside- A knock sounded.Lana must have returned with the dress. Freya crossed the room and pulled the door open- Only to find Silas standing there. She froze. "You… what are you-" He didn't let her finish. In a heartbeat, he stepped forward, seized her wrist, and pushed her back, pinning her between his body and the corner wall. The door slammed shut behind him, sealing them away from the world. His breath was harsh. His eyes were wild. "Why do you keep appearing in front of me?" he growled, voice low and ragged. "Didn't I tell you…?" He leaned in, forehead nearly brushing hers, the Alpha aura of the Ironclad Coalition pouring off him in waves-dark, volcanic, barely contained. "You should stay as far away from me as possible."