CHAPTER 235: CHAPTER 235 THE FINAL SACRIFICE

Freya’s POV

The morning sunlight filtered through the forest canopy, dappling the hiking trail ahead of us with golden light. Three weeks had passed since the confrontation with Aurora and the revelation about our daughter’s emerging abilities, and for the first time since then, we were having a proper family day—just the three of us, away from pack responsibilities and witch hunts.

"Mommy, look!" Isabella’s excited voice rang out as she pointed toward a small brook running alongside our path. "There are tiny fish dancing in the water!"

I squeezed Silvano’s hand before letting go to join our daughter at the water’s edge. My wolf, Selene, purred with contentment at the simple joy of seeing my family safe and together. The Alpha’s curse was broken, our bond stronger than ever, and for a few precious hours, we could pretend we were just an ordinary family enjoying nature.

"Those are brook trout, princess," Silvano explained, crouching beside Isabella. His powerful frame seemed softer here in the woods, away from the watchful eyes of the pack. "They’re special because they only live in the purest water."

Isabella’s eyes widened with wonder. "Like how I’m special because I only grew in Mommy’s tummy?"

Silvano chuckled, the rich sound warming my heart. "Exactly like that."

I watched as my mate helped our daughter slip off her hiking boots to dangle her feet in the cool stream. The sight of Silvano—the feared Alpha of Shadow Pack—patiently rolling up our five-year-old’s pant legs nearly brought tears to my eyes. How close we’d come to losing this, to losing him.

"The water feels like it’s singing to me," Isabella announced, wiggling her toes in the gentle current. "Do you feel it too, Daddy?"

A meaningful glance passed between Silvano and me. This was part of why we’d chosen this particular trail—to test Isabella’s sensitivity to natural energies in a safe environment, away from prying eyes and potentially dangerous situations.

"What kind of song is it singing, baby?" I asked casually, slipping off my own shoes to join her.

She tilted her head, considering. "It’s happy but... lonely too. Like it misses something."

Silvano nodded thoughtfully. "This stream used to be part of a larger river before the earthquake last year changed its course. The water remembers."

"That’s exactly it!" Isabella beamed, delighted to be understood. "The water remembers!"

I felt a mixture of pride and concern wash over me. Our daughter’s gift was beautiful, precious—and potentially dangerous in a world where witches like Morgana hunted for such talents.

"You’re very perceptive, sweetheart," I said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "That’s a special gift."

Isabella looked up at me, suddenly serious in that disconcerting way children sometimes are. "Like how I knew Daddy was hurting even when he pretended he wasn’t?"

The question caught me off guard. Silvano stiffened beside me, then relaxed with a sigh.

"Yes, pup," he admitted, his voice low and gentle. "Like that. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth."

"It’s okay," Isabella said with a shrug. "I knew you were trying to protect us. But it made Mommy sad, and that made me sad too."

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. Out of the mouths of babes.

"Sometimes grown-ups make mistakes when they’re scared," I explained. "Even strong ones like your daddy."

Silvano’s hand found mine, our fingers intertwining as naturally as the roots of the ancient trees surrounding us. "And smart ones like your mommy," he added. "We both should have trusted each other more."

Isabella nodded sagely. "That’s what mates do. The storybook says so."

A laugh escaped me. "Which storybook is that?"

"The one Grandma Victoria gave me. It says mates are supposed to be stronger together than apart." She splashed her feet in the water. "Like how the little stream would be stronger if it was still with the big river."

My eyes met Silvano’s over our daughter’s head, seeing my own emotions reflected there—amazement at her wisdom, and the deep, abiding love that had survived curses, secrets, and near-death.

"Your grandmother is very wise," Silvano said, his voice slightly rough with emotion. "And so are you, little one."

We continued our hike after a picnic lunch by the stream, Isabella skipping ahead on the trail, occasionally stopping to examine a particularly interesting rock or flower. Silvano kept her within sight while giving her the freedom she craved—the perfect balance I’d struggled to find in my overprotectiveness.

"I think about my birthday sometimes," Isabella said suddenly as we reached a small clearing. "When I was mean to you, Mommy."

The memory of that day—Isabella pushing away my hugs, declaring she wasn’t a baby—came flooding back. At the time, I’d attributed it to normal childhood rebellion, but now I wondered if her emerging abilities had made her sensitive to the tension between Silvano and me.

"We all have bad days, sweetheart," I assured her, kneeling to her level. "I wasn’t upset."

She shook her head stubbornly. "I was mean because I was scared. I could feel something bad around us, but I didn’t know what it was." She looked down at her sneakers. "I’m sorry, Mommy."

My heart melted completely. I gathered her into my arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "There’s nothing to forgive, my brave girl. Nothing at all."

"Your mother’s right," Silvano added, dropping to one knee beside us. "And you know what? Your feelings helped us discover the truth. If you hadn’t been brave enough to tell us how you felt, we might never have found out about the witch’s curse."

Isabella’s face brightened. "Really?"

"Really," I confirmed. "You helped save your daddy."

She beamed with pride, then threw her arms around both our necks, pulling us into a group hug. "We saved each other! Like a real pack!"

Silvano’s arm encircled us both, his strength enveloping his most precious treasures. I felt his lips brush against my temple as Isabella snuggled between us, and our bond thrummed with warmth and love.

"Like a real family," he murmured, his voice carrying the weight of promise. "One that faces everything together."

As we made our way back down the trail toward the car, Isabella’s small hand in mine and Silvano’s arm around my waist, I allowed myself to simply exist in the moment—to be neither Luna nor tech entrepreneur, but simply Freya, a wolf blessed with a mate who loved her fiercely and a daughter whose gifts, while fraught with danger, were also filled with wonder.

Morgana was still out there somewhere. The pack would need to remain vigilant. Isabella’s emerging abilities would require guidance and protection. But for now, in this perfect afternoon light, with Isabella chattering about teaching her stuffed wolves to swim and Silvano’s quiet laughter warming the air around us, I knew one thing with absolute certainty:

Whatever came next, we would face it as we stood now—together, a circle unbroken, stronger for having been tested by fire and shadow.

And that would be enough.