Freya's POV
My paws thudded on the soft ground as I raced, the trees fading around me. Darius's remarks still weighed heavily on my thoughts. It was me who murdered her.
Mom. The one person I had loved without a doubt, the one who had been taken from me far too soon. And now, the truth I had chased all my life was worse than I could have imagined.
By the time I reached Whiteclaw, I was drained, both physically and mentally. I transformed back to human form just before the pack's boundary and limped toward the main home. My clothing was ripped, my hair untidy, and my heart… crushed.
"Freya!"
Finnick's voice called out to me, filled with relief and worry. He was standing on the porch, and the moment he saw me, he ran toward me.
"Where did you go? I've been quite anxious! He looked me over and said, his hands on my arms. "How did you fare?"
Unable to look him in the eyes, I drew away. "I don't want to talk about it."
