Chapter 6

Freya's POV

My wolf's hunger felt different from my own - deeper, more primal. She didn't care about pride or schemes - she only knew our baby needed food. Between my growling stomach and my wolf's demands, plus a dark need to see their lies with my own eyes, I found myself moving forward.

I stepped into the dining room doorway just as Elena was setting down a platter of roasted venison. Riley sat beside Ethan, her chair pulled conspicuously close to his. She wore a fitted blue dress that matched her eyes perfectly, her hand casually resting on her knee in a way that drew attention to her supposed injury.

Marcus spotted me first. "Ah, there she is!" he announced, as if I were simply running late rather than deliberately excluded.

Ethan's head snapped up, his silver-gray eyes widening fractionally at the sight of me. For just a moment, something flashed across his face—surprise? guilt?—before his expression settled back into careful neutrality.

Riley's smile tightened almost imperceptibly. "Sister! You came!" She made a show of trying to stand, then wincing dramatically as she settled back down. "Sorry I can't get up to greet you properly."

"Don't strain yourself," I said flatly, taking the only remaining seat—directly across from her and Ethan, with Marcus at the head of the table.

Elena bustled over with practiced graciousness. "We were just about to eat," she said, placing a napkin in my lap with unnecessary force. "How fortunate you arrived just in time."

I glanced down at the table setting and froze. The silverware—hand-crafted with delicate moonflower patterns along the handles—was my mother's work. The set she'd created the summer before everything fell apart, each piece imbued with protective sigils only another silver crafter would recognize.

My throat tightened as I ran a finger along the familiar pattern.

"Marcus has been telling Ethan all about Riley's accomplishments in Europe," Elena said, breaking into my thoughts as she took her seat.

"Yes," Marcus jumped in eagerly. "The European packs were quite impressed with her. She made connections with some of the oldest bloodlines on the continent."

Riley ducked her head in false modesty. "It wasn't that significant, Father."

"Don't be modest," Elena scolded gently. "The European packs put great stock in blood purity. They were impressed by Riley's lineage."

I remained silent, focusing on the food I'd barely touched. My stomach churned, and I wasn't sure if it was the pregnancy or my disgust with this dinner. I could feel Ethan's gaze occasionally falling on me, but I refused to look up and meet his eyes.

Riley continued, "I've already contacted several European werewolf business partners who are interested in the North American market, especially Blackwood Enterprise Group." She gave Ethan a meaningful look.

Ethan's interest visibly piqued. "European werewolf business partners?"

Riley nodded enthusiastically. "They've been looking for a North American partner for their silver line." Her eyes flickered to me, then back to Ethan. "Though they are... particular about their associations. Blood purity matters to them, even in business partnerships."

My grip tightened on my mother's fork as Riley's implication hung in the air. Elena nodded sagely, as if this prejudice was perfectly reasonable.

"It's unfortunate," Riley continued with feigned regret, "but certain... mixed associations might complicate negotiations."

Ethan's gaze shifted between Riley and me, his expression thoughtful. The business opportunity clearly intrigued him, but I could see calculations happening behind his eyes.

I knew what she was implying—that my mixed-blood status would be an obstacle for Blackwood Enterprise.

The nausea returned, rising like a tide. These people—my blood relatives—were sitting around my mother's table, using her silverware, while systematically trying to erase every trace of us from Ethan's life and business.

"I thought we were here to discuss the hunting ritual," I interrupted, unable to stomach their performance any longer.

The table fell silent. Riley's hand flew to her knee, her face contorting in an exaggerated grimace of pain.

"Freya!" Elena gasped, wrapping a protective arm around her daughter. "How can you be so cruel? You know Riley can't participate because of her injury!"

Ethan's face darkened as he turned to me. "She lost her ability to shift protecting me," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "The least you could do is show some compassion."

I stared at Riley's hand pressed against her knee, noticing what the others missed in their performance—there was no tension in her fingers, no involuntary trembling that comes with genuine pain. Her entire body was relaxed even as her face displayed agony.

Ember surged within me, a growl building in my chest that I barely managed to suppress. My wolf sensed the deception, felt the injustice of our Alpha's misplaced loyalty.

I couldn't bear another moment of this farce. I pushed back my chair and stood, fighting a wave of dizziness that momentarily blurred my vision.

"I see there's no hunting ritual discussion meeting tonight," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "This was just another trap set by you and your daughter."

Marcus rose, his chair scraping against the floor. "You're not leaving—"

I turned to him, letting Ember rise close enough to the surface that I knew my eyes would flash with warning. My hand moved protectively to my abdomen in an unconscious gesture.

"I'm going home," I stated firmly, turning toward the door.

"Sister, please don't be like this..." Riley called after me, her voice a perfect blend of hurt and concern.

I continued walking, each step carrying me closer to escape from this house of painful memories and calculated cruelty. My hand reached for the front door handle when Ethan's voice stopped me.

"Freya, wait."