CHAPTER FOUR

Chapter 4

Freya lifted her head to look at him, her vision blurred by tears, yet unable to mask the disdain in his eyes. Her wolf tail hung stiff, a testament to her anger and sorrow.

“It’s her fault…” she choked out, her wolf throat struggling to suppress the low growl unique to their kind. “She killed Silas…”

Clara's eyes reddened instantly, rushing into Robert’s embrace, her fingers deliberately brushing across his wolf tail.

“Robert, the cat scratched me. I just wanted to lock it up, and it jumped by itself... Freya blamed me, so she hit me...”

Robert’s gaze turned icy, a cold glint flashing in his wolf eyes.

“A beast scratches you, and you don’t keep it under control. How dare you lay a hand on others?”

His voice was frigid, the werewolf’s imposing presence seeming to freeze the air around them. “No food for three days. Reflect on youractions!”

With that, he embraced Clara, turning away without casting another glance at her.

From the dining room came the sound of dishes clattering together.

Freya stood outside, glimpsing through the half-open doorway as Robert attentively peeled shrimp for Clara. His wolf paws expertly pinched the shrimp tail, a gentle twist shedding the shell entirely.

Just like the day he first taught her how to eat shrimp, with such patience, her wolf let out a pained howl.

“Try it.” In her memory, he smiled as he placed the peeled shrimp into her bowl, his wolf tail lightly swaying. “Whenever you want to eat, I’ll peel them for you anytime.”

But now, that same peeled shrimp lay in Clara’s plate.

The skies suddenly opened up, rain pouring down.

Freya braved the rain in the backyard, digging asmall pit where she gently placed the kitten. Raindrops soaked through her wolf fur, the icy touch causing her to shiver all over.

“I’m sorry…” she choked quietly, gradually covering it with earth, her wolf paws deeply embedded in the soil from exertion, “I couldn't protect you.”

By the time she returned to the villa, she was drenched and desolate.

Clara came over with a bowl of soup, feigning concern. “Freya, your Uncle Carver was just saying that. He doesn’t really intend for you to starve; have some soup.”

“No need.” Freya side stepped her, my wolf vigilantly eyeing her.

“Just a sip.”

Clara forcibly pushed the bowl on her, and in the scuffle, suddenly let go—

"Ah!"

The scalding hot soup splashed onto Freya, instantly reddening a large patch of her skin. Her wolf fur curled from the heat, and the burning pain on her skin was almost unbearable. A low, suppressed cry of pain escaped her wolf's throat.

Clara, however, was clutching her own hand and crying out, “It hurts! Robert, my hand is burned!”

Robert rushed over at the sound, his eyes immediately landing on the horrific red swelling on Freya’s arm.

His wolf’s pupils narrowed sharply, its tail stiffening with tension. Instinctively, he started to move forward—

“Robert…” Clara’s voice broke, tinged with a hint of tears as she raised her slightly reddened hand. “It hurts…”

Robert stopped in his tracks.

He looked at Freya’s pale face, then glanced at Clara’s pitiful expression. His wolf frowned in irritation.

His wolf, with its sharp instincts, could clearly tell the difference in their injuries, but in the end, he chose Clara. Freya stood there, the searing pain in her arm nothing compared to the agony gnawing at her heart. Her wolf’s eyes were dull, as though the last shred of hope had been extinguished.

“Don’t worry.” Finally, Robert bent down and picked Clara up, his wolf’s tail gently wrapping around her waist. “I’ll take you to the Pack’s hospital.”

As he turned to leave, he didn’t even spare Freya a second glance.

The burning tears finally spilled over, and Freya watched their retreating figures, her body trembling.

Her wolf’s claws dug deep into her palms, but she couldn’t feel the pain.

Freya returned to her room alone, the burn on her arm still stinging painfully as her wolf curled in agony. She gritted her teeth, trembling as she applied the medicine to herself, each tear falling onto the wound, but stubbornly refusing to make a sound.

Once the ointment was applied, she began to pullout her suitcase, starting to pack her things.

Each item carried a memory—

The photo album was from when Robert took her to the amusement park; the scarf was something he’d bought for her while on a business trip; the bookmark was one he had made for her with his own hands...

The butler entered the room and, seeing the scene, hurriedly spoke.

“Miss, sir was just angry for a moment. Please don’t hold it against him…”

Freya shook her head, her voice soft. “I’m not angry.”

“I’m getting ready to leave.”

A cold voice interrupted from the doorway.

“Leave?” Robert was standing there, his gaze sharp and his wolf’s eyes flashing with dangerous light. His wolf looked at her with disdain.

“And where do you plan to go?”

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