Third Person’s POV Freya turned her body slightly, preparing to move. That was when Jenny struck. Malice twisted Jenny’s face as she suddenly lunged forward, both hands shoving hard at Freya’s back. “Go die!” Jenny screamed. But Freya had survived Iron Fang Recon. She had learned long ago that danger never announced itself politely. The moment Jenny’s killing intent flared, Freya’s wolf sensed it. She twisted sharply to the side. Jenny’s hands met empty air. Before surprise could even settle on Jenny’s face, Freya stepped in, her movement clean and brutal. Her elbow came down with precise force against Jenny’s neck. A dull crack echoed. Jenny’s eyes rolled back. Her body went slack and collapsed to the ground in a heap, unmoving. Smoke curled around them, thick and choking. Freya stood there for a brief second, lips pressed into a thin line. Her right leg throbbed violently. The fracture screamed for attention, every nerve flaring in protest. Her lungs burned from smoke inhalation, her muscles trembling from exhaustion after the explosion and the prolonged strain of holding Jenny’s weight. Her physical condition was deteriorating fast. Could she really get Jenny out of here? Freya lowered her gaze to the unconscious woman.Images of Eric surfaced unbidden. The way his voice softened when he spoke of Lina. The tension he tried to hide behind forced calm. The fear he never voiced aloud. Freya clenched her teeth. She bent down, bracing herself, intending to hoist Jenny onto her shoulder— When the ceiling groaned. A deep, ominous crack split the air. Freya’s head snapped up. “No—” The ceiling above them began to collapse. Chunks of burning concrete and steel supports tore free, raining down in a violent cascade. Freya reacted instantly. She grabbed Jenny by the collar and dragged her with every ounce of strength she had, hurling her toward a slightly clearer patch of floor to the side. Jenny’s body rolled away. Freya tried to follow. But her injured leg betrayed her. Pain exploded through her lower body, locking her in place for a fraction of a second too long. She raised her arms instinctively, curling her body to protect her head and chest, bracing for impact— But the crushing blow never came. A shadow moved. A body slammed into her space. Something solid shielded her completely. Debris smashed down. Stone shattered.Dust and fire erupted. Freya’s vision blurred, ears ringing violently. When the dust settled enough for her to see, her pupils shrank. It was Silas. Not a firefighter. Not a medic. Not a professional rescue unit. Silas. He had thrown himself over her. Broken concrete and burning fragments slammed into his back, forcing him down to one knee, then nearly flat against the ground. Yet his arms were locked rigidly on either side of her body, caging her in, shielding her entirely. His face was pale as ash. Blood trickled from his temple. “Go…” he rasped, teeth clenched. “Get to safety… now. Move!” Freya stared at him in disbelief. What was he doing here? This was madness. She shifted, struggling to rise despite the pain screaming through her leg. “We’re leaving together,” she said fiercely. She pushed herself upright, hands shaking, ignoring the agony. Several heavy slabs of ceiling debris were pinning Silas down. More cracks echoed above them. Time was running out.Freya gritted her teeth and began dragging the rubble off his back, one piece at a time. Each stone felt impossibly heavy, her arms burning as smoke scorched her lungs. “Don’t waste time on me,” Silas murmured, breath ragged. “I won’t die. The rescue teams… they’ll reach us soon.” He hadn’t come here to be saved. He had come so she could live. That realization struck harder than any falling stone. “Shut up,” Freya snapped, hauling another slab aside. “I said we’re leaving together.” Her voice was hoarse, unwavering. Firelight flickered wildly around them. As she moved, the red gemstone at her throat swayed, catching the flames. The Moonheart Ruby refracted the firelight into sharp, burning shards of crimson. The sight made Silas freeze. His breath caught. His gaze locked onto the necklace. Memory slammed into him with brutal force. A battlefield. Smoke. Explosions. A ruined city far from home. A child’s voice. “Do you know this necklace?” a little girl had said, holding it carefully in her soot-stained hands. “It belonged to my mother. She loved it very much.” Her face had been smudged with ash, eyes bright despite the devastation around them. “She traded it for food and medicine,” the girl continued softly. “So more people could live.” “She said… one day, when things are better, I should buy it back for her. Then she’ll be happy again.”The memory fractured. Stone pressing down on his chest. Pain everywhere. Fear. And then— A small body forcing debris aside. Bleeding fingers. Trembling arms. “Don’t die,” the girl had sobbed, voice breaking. “Please don’t die. I’ll save you. I promise. We’ll get out together.” That was the first time anyone had fought for his life. His father hadn’t. His mother hadn’t. He had been kidnapped, dragged into a foreign warzone. He remembered the cold voice over the WolfComm. “A useless child,” his father had said flatly. “If he survives, he survives. If not, then he was never worthy of the Whitmore name.” The kidnappers had fled in fear, abandoning him beneath rubble and gunfire. He had expected to die. But a child had saved him. Small. Stubborn. Unyielding. The girl’s face had faded with time. But her words never had.And now— The necklace. The fire. The voice. Freya was still hauling stone from his back, her face strained with pain and determination. Silas stared at her as the pieces fell into place. His voice came out rough, disbelieving. “The necklace…” he said slowly. “It belonged to your mother. She traded it… for food and medicine… didn’t she?” Freya paused. The fire roared around them. And fate, at long last, began to bare its teeth.