Alpha's STOLEN Mate Chapter 154

Elowen

Hearing Evelyn's cold response, I felt a pang of sympathy—but more than that, an overwhelming curiosity. I forced myself to suppress the urge to immediately bombard her with questions about her background.

"Well," I said carefully, keeping my tone light, "I'm just saying you have the opportunity to see her if you want. But if you don't want to, that's completely your choice. No pressure."

Scarlett seemed to pick up on the tension, placing a comforting hand on Evelyn's shoulder. "Exactly! If you don't want to see her, then she doesn't exist as far as we're concerned!" She forced a bright smile. "Besides, focusing on your vampire adventure sounds way more fun anyway!"

Evelyn looked at both of us treating her like fragile glass and immediately bristled.

"Oh for fuck's sake! I'm FINE! Seriously!" She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Stop looking at me like I'm some wounded bird! I don't need your pity!" She pointed at us accusingly. "You know what the lowest form of witch is? One who wallows in sympathy! It's absolutely pathetic!"

I couldn't help but laugh at her indignant expression. "Alright, alright! Since you're clearly doing just fine and definitely don't need our sympathy..." I leaned forward with undisguised interest, grinning wickedly. "Then you know what that means, right? We're going to—"

"Oh God." Evelyn saw exactly where I was going and groaned dramatically, running her fingers through her hair. "You two are relentless." She waved a hand in mock surrender. "Fine. Fine! You win. Ask whatever the hell you want. I'll answer."

Scarlett practically bounced in her seat with excitement. "YES! Evelyn, you're the BEST! Do you have any idea how insanely curious we've been about your story? Please, please tell us EVERYTHING about your past! Don't leave out a single detail!"

Evelyn made an exaggerated show of reluctance, examining her nails with theatrical indifference. "Well, you know, storytelling is quite exhausting. It takes considerable effort and energy, especially when it involves ripping open old wounds and putting them on display for your entertainment..." She sighed like a martyr. "But I suppose for my dearest friends—"

"Oh my God, Evelyn, stop being so dramatic!" I laughed, shoving her shoulder lightly.

Still, I wanted her to be comfortable. I led them both out to a quiet spot in the forest near the pack territory, bringing along a picnic blanket and—most importantly—a huge basket of Evelyn's favorite snacks.

---

Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the blanket where the three of us sat surrounded by food and drinks. Evelyn lounged back, sipping juice and letting the warm breeze wash over her face.

"Better," she murmured contentedly. "Much better. This place is way more suitable for confession than some stuffy bedroom." She took another sip, clearly stalling. "You know, proper storytelling requires the right ambiance. And snacks. Definitely snacks. Speaking of which, did you remember to bring those honey cakes I like? Because if we're doing this whole tragic backstory thing, I'm going to need—"

"EVELYN!" I practically shook her arm, laughing in exasperation. "Come ON! We're dying of curiosity here! Stop stalling and just START TALKING already!"

She smiled, finally opening up. "Alright, alright. So, my mother—Arabella—isn't just any witch. She's the highly respected leader of the Witch Coven." She paused dramatically. "But do you know *why* she became the leader?"

Scarlett jumped in immediately. "Based on the magical abilities you inherited from her, she must be the most powerful witch in existence!"

I nodded in agreement. That seemed like the obvious answer.

But Evelyn's smile turned knowing as she shook her head. "That's what everyone assumes, but no. See, the Witch Coven isn't a tightly organized hierarchy. It's not like your wolf packs where the strongest automatically leads. Powerful witches are scattered everywhere, and plenty of them never join the Coven at all." She leaned forward. "My mother's secret weapon? Political savvy."

That actually made sense. I remembered watching Arabella smoothly negotiate with Zane last night—she had the demeanor of a seasoned diplomat.

Evelyn continued, "She's one of the rare witches who can communicate effectively with other species without immediately alienating them. After she became leader, she dramatically improved living conditions for countless witches. She reduced the hostility other supernatural beings felt toward us. She even made the Witch Coven itself more respected and legitimate in the eyes of the broader community."

"If she's such an excellent leader," I asked carefully, "then why are you and she like strangers? What went wrong?"

Evelyn's expression flickered with something complicated—old pain, maybe, or lingering anger. "Good question. It all comes down to our fundamental disagreement about what magic should be used for."

She sat up straighter, her voice taking on a sharper edge. "She believes magic exists to maintain balance, preserve order, secure resources, and forge alliances. It's a tool for political negotiation and power brokering."

"And you?" Scarlett prompted gently.

"And I—" Evelyn's voice was fierce now, "—I believe magic is intensely personal! Magic is part of who I am, not some bargaining chip!"

Scarlett smiled with understanding. "You've always felt that way. Magic as something sacred and individual, not to be leveraged for political gain."

"Exactly!" Evelyn's eyes lit up with passion. "That's my core principle: magic should be personal, intimate, and free from external interference or exploitation."

She took a breath before continuing with the harder part. "When I was little, I showed exceptional magical talent from a very young age. Freakish amounts of power for a child, honestly. My mother had such high hopes—saw me as this golden opportunity." She picked at the grass absently. "She wanted to groom me as her successor, to eventually take over leadership of the Coven."

My heart sank, understanding flooding through me. "Oh no. That's the complete opposite of everything you believe in..."

"Bingo." Evelyn's laugh was bitter and sharp. "She didn't train me to create beautiful illusions for the sake of art or joy or wonder. No, she taught me how to use illusions to hide army movements during conflicts, or how to fabricate political scandals to discredit rivals."

"That's horrible," Scarlett whispered.

"It gets better," Evelyn said sarcastically. "She didn't teach me to commune with nature or explore the spiritual aspects of magic—things I was actually interested in. Instead, she drilled me on how to assess the commercial value of magical mineral deposits, how to calculate the profit margins on enchanted artifacts, how to negotiate resource extraction deals."

Her voice grew harder, more clipped. "And the 'social events' she arranged for me? Those weren't fun parties where kids could be kids. They were strategic diplomatic meetings with heirs of other powerful species. Incredibly boring vampire princes who talked about nothing but bloodline purity. Ambitious Alpha sons who wanted to discuss territorial expansion."

She looked up at us, her eyes reflecting old hurt. "I was seven years old when she started this. Seven."

I grabbed her hand without thinking, squeezing tight. "God, Evelyn. I had no idea you went through all that as a child. I'm genuinely so sorry I suggested you should see her. That was incredibly insensitive of me, pushing you toward someone who hurt you like that."

"And she never asked what you wanted?" Scarlett's voice was thick with emotion. "Never cared about your dreams or feelings?"

"Oh, she cared," Evelyn said darkly. "She cared very much—about molding me into her perfect successor." She pulled her knees up to her chest. "When I finally ran away at fourteen, she didn't come after me. Didn't send anyone to bring me back. I think part of her was relieved to be rid of such a disappointing daughter."

The three of us sat in heavy silence for a moment, the cheerful sunshine suddenly feeling at odds with the darkness of Evelyn's revelation.

My heart ached for Evelyn—for the little girl forced into a mold she never fit, for the teenager who had to run away to find herself. But what disturbed me more than her past was how clearly it still haunted her present. The pain in her voice, the tension in her shoulders, the way she'd reacted so strongly just to the mention of seeing her mother again.

*If she doesn't face this now, it's going to follow her forever.*

I couldn't stay silent.

"Evelyn," I said carefully, "you're one of the most powerful witches I've ever met. You're brilliant, independent, and you've built an incredible life on your own terms." I met her eyes. "So why are you still letting her have this much power over you?"

Evelyn's head snapped up, surprise flickering across her face.

Scarlett immediately reached for my arm. "Elowen, maybe we shouldn't—"

"No, I need to say this." I leaned forward, my voice firm but gentle. "I'm stating facts here. Last night, when your mother talked about you? She was completely composed. Cold, even. No emotion whatsoever." I gestured at Evelyn. "But you? You're still hurt. Still angry. Still affected by what she did all those years ago. And I don't want—"

"God." Evelyn let out a shaky breath, cutting me off. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then looked up at the sky like she was searching for an escape route. "Fuck. I want to tell you you're full of shit right now. I want to laugh in your face and say you don't know what you're talking about."

Her voice cracked slightly. "But I can't. Because you're right. You're so fucking right it hurts."

She dropped her hands and looked at both of us, something fierce sparking in her eyes. "Why the hell am I still letting that old woman control me? It's been ten fucking years!" Her jaw clenched. "She gets to move on while I'm still carrying this around like dead weight."

When she spoke again, her voice was hard with determination.

"Fine. I'm going to see her. March right up and have this out once and for all."