Alpha's STOLEN Mate Chapter 18

Kaius

I sat in my study nursing a glass of whiskey that had long since lost its burn, staring into the flames crackling in the hearth. The alcohol did nothing to dull the persistent ache in my chest or quiet the memories that had been haunting me for days.

A soft sound at the door made me look up. A figure materialized from the shadows—so quietly I hadn't even heard him enter. Wraith stood before me, his unnaturally thin frame draped in dark clothes that made him blend seamlessly with the dimness. Everything about him was forgettable—average height, unremarkable features, the kind of face that disappeared in crowds. Perfect qualities for the kingdom's most effective spy.

"Wraith?" I set down my glass, genuinely surprised. "What are you doing here? I don't recall assigning you any missions."

He shifted uncomfortably, which was unusual. Wraith typically delivered reports with the same emotional investment as reading a shopping list.

"Beta Frost sent me to investigate Alpha Thaddeus," he said in his perpetually quiet voice. "After the assembly confrontation, he was concerned about potential challenges to your authority. I... have some findings to report."

I waved a dismissive hand, already losing interest. "Thaddeus? That pompous fool wouldn't dare move against me directly. What could he possibly be doing that warrants concern?"

Wraith hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with my casual dismissal. "Alpha King, I believe we should consider summoning him for a formal discussion. Since the public humiliation at the assembly, he's returned to his territory and begun... intensive preparations."

"Such as?"

"Daily combat training for all pack members. Aggressive recruitment of rogues and displaced wolves. He's doubled his fighting force in less than a week, and—"

The sound of approaching footsteps in the corridor cut him off. I straightened, recognizing the familiar cadence mixed with heavier, unfamiliar steps.

"The guests I've been expecting," I said, rising from my chair. "As for Thaddeus, stop wasting time on his pathetic posturing. He's probably just trying to salvage his reputation after I embarrassed him. The fool knows exactly how powerful I am—he wouldn't dare challenge me directly. Let him play soldier with his expanded pack. I almost hope he tries something."

Wraith opened his mouth as if to argue, then seemed to think better of it. Before I could blink, he'd melted back into the shadows, disappearing so completely that even I had trouble tracking where he'd gone. Impressive, even by his standards.

Frost entered first, his expression carefully neutral but tinged with something that looked suspiciously like guilt. Behind him came two figures I recognized immediately, despite the years that had passed.

Commander Theron looked every inch the career soldier—shoulders squared, spine straight, but his weathered face carried lines of worry I'd never seen before. Beside him, his mate Lydia appeared smaller than I remembered, her silver-streaked hair pulled back severely and her amber eyes—so like her daughter's—burning with barely contained fury.

The moment they saw me, I knew Frost had told them everything. Their expressions confirmed it—grief, anger, and accusation written clearly across their features.

*Damn it, Frost. I wanted to handle this delicately.*

"Please, sit," I gestured to the chairs arranged before my desk. They settled with the rigid posture of wolves preparing for battle, while Frost took his customary position at my right side.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between us. I remained standing, unsure how to begin a conversation that would inevitably end with me admitting I'd failed their daughter twice.

Lydia solved my dilemma by launching the first attack.

"Alpha King," she said, her voice trembling with controlled rage, "I respect your authority in all matters of pack governance. But when it comes to my daughter, I deserve answers!"

Her composure cracked slightly, years of suppressed maternal fury spilling over. "Four years ago, your rejection drove her to disappear without a trace. Four years we searched, followed every lead, hoped against hope she was alive somewhere. And when she finally surfaces, instead of notifying her parents, you imprison her? Torture her? Drive her to jump off a fucking cliff rather than face whatever you had planned?"

The words hit me like physical blows. I'd expected anger, but hearing it laid out so starkly—the pattern of harm I'd inflicted on their daughter—made my chest tighten with guilt.

Theron placed a gentle but firm hand on his mate's arm. "Lydia," he said quietly, his voice carrying the weight of command even in gentleness. "Frost explained the circumstances. Elowen chose to hide her scent, chose not to reveal herself. And at the end... she chose the cliff over returning to pack life. You know how stubborn she is. Once she sets her mind to something..."

His voice trailed off, but the implication hung heavy between us. *Just like four years ago, when she chose to disappear rather than accept help.*

Somehow, his measured defense of my actions made me feel worse than his mate's direct accusations. I sank into my chair, the weight of repeated failure pressing down on my shoulders.

"I owe you an apology," I said, my voice thick with guilt. "But dead or alive, I give you my word—I will find your daughter."

Lydia's eyes filled with tears she refused to let fall. Theron squeezed her shoulder, then leaned forward with the careful attention he'd always given sensitive intelligence briefings.

"Alpha King," he said quietly, "Frost told us something that seems... impossible. He said Elowen manifested as a white wolf. Is this true?"

I nodded slowly, the memory of her ethereal beauty in wolf form still vivid despite everything that followed.

"Incredible," Theron breathed, while Lydia stared at me in stunned disbelief.

"Do either of you have any insight into how this might have happened?" I asked. "Any family history of unusual bloodlines?"

Theron shook his head slowly. "Nothing in my lineage or Lydia's suggests white wolf heritage. If anything, we're aggressively normal stock." He paused thoughtfully. "This must be a direct gift from the Moon Goddess herself."

Lydia had been silent during this exchange, but now she looked up with a mixture of wonder and bitter irony.

"It doesn't fucking matter now, does it?" she said harshly. "She's gone. Jumped off a cliff because she'd rather die than deal with whatever fresh hell you had planned."

Then her expression shifted, becoming more thoughtful despite her anger. "Though now that I think about it... white wolf bloodlines are supposedly so powerful they suppress normal shifting abilities until the wolf is ready. Some don't manifest until their early twenties, and only after significant personal growth or trauma."

The implications hit me like a sledgehammer. I stared at her, pieces of a puzzle I'd been too blind to see finally clicking into place.

"You mean she wasn't broken at eighteen," I said slowly. "She was too powerful to shift."

"Exactly," Lydia continued, warming to the theory despite her grief. "All those years everyone called her defective, she was actually carrying dormant abilities beyond anything we'd ever seen. The Moon Goddess was probably protecting her until she was strong enough to handle that kind of power."

The guilt that had been gnawing at my chest exploded into full-blown self-loathing.

"The irony is almost poetic," Frost murmured. "She needed to leave the pack to become who she was meant to be."

"If only we could tell her that," Lydia whispered, her anger finally giving way to pure maternal heartbreak. "Do you think... do you really think there's any chance she survived that fall? Or are we just torturing ourselves with false hope?"

Before I could answer, pain exploded through my chest like liquid fire. I doubled over, gasping as agony tore through the mate bond with an intensity that made my vision white out at the edges.

*What the fuck—*

"Alpha King!" Frost was at my side instantly, his hands supporting me as I fought to stay conscious. "What's happening?"

The pain shifted, evolved from simple agony into something more complex—betrayal, jealousy, possessive rage that wasn't entirely my own. Through the bond, I could feel Elowen as clearly as if she were standing in the room. Not just her presence, but her emotions, her physical sensations...

*She's kissing someone else.*

The realization hit me like a second wave of torture. My mate—my supposedly dead mate—was alive, well, and in the arms of another male. I could feel his hands on her body, taste his lips on hers through our enhanced connection.

"Fuck!" I snarled, gripping the arms of my chair so hard the wood splintered. "That little—"

I caught myself before finishing the curse, suddenly aware of her parents watching my breakdown with growing alarm and confusion.

Slowly, fighting through the continued ache in my chest, I straightened and met Lydia's desperate gaze.

"I can guarantee," I said, my voice rough but certain, "your daughter is very much alive."

Lydia's hand flew to her throat. "How can you possibly know that?"

I touched my chest where the mate bond pulsed with renewed strength, carrying echoes of silver hair and champagne kisses and the phantom scent of another male's cologne.

"Because," I said grimly, "she just made sure I'd never forget she exists."