The Alpha's Exiled Mate Chapter 100

Freya's POV

I hurried down the corridor, my heart hammering against my ribs like it wanted to escape. The servants' staircase offered a quick retreat, and I took the steps two at a time, desperate to put distance between myself and Thorne's bedroom.

My lips still burned from Thorne's kiss, my skin tingling where his hands had touched me. The conflicting emotions—desire, anger, fear, confusion—made my wolf restless, pacing anxiously beneath my skin.

Instead of heading directly to my attic room, I found myself moving toward the kitchen. My stomach twisted with worry—not for myself, but for Martha. She had helped me leave the estate and created a diversion. If Thorne discovered her involvement...

The bustling activity in the kitchen halted the moment I stepped through the doorway. Every pair of eyes turned to me, noses twitching as they caught the complex scents clinging to me—Thorne's dominant Alpha musk, Jasper Stone's foreign Alpha scent, and the unmistakable tang of arousal.

Lucy, who was chopping vegetables at the center island, curled her lip in a barely suppressed sneer. "Well, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence. Do you have any idea how much trouble you caused, Riley? We were all questioned like criminals because you decided to go shopping."

"That's enough, Lucy," Martha said sharply, wiping her hands on her apron as she approached me. Her eyes were kind but worried. "Are you alright, Freya?"

Before I could answer, Lucy scoffed. "Of course she's alright. She was summoned to the Alpha's bedroom and kept him waiting while we covered her duties. Some of us don't have that luxury."

Several of the kitchen workers snickered. I felt heat rising to my cheeks, part embarrassment, part anger.

Martha's expression hardened. "I said that's enough, Lucy. Back to your station, now."

Lucy rolled her eyes but obeyed, returning to her chopping with unnecessary force.

Martha gestured for me to follow her, leading me out of the kitchen to a small alcove in the hallway where we could speak privately.

"What happened?" she whispered, her eyes scanning my face. "Did he... does he know I helped you?"

"I'm so sorry," I said, my voice breaking. "He knows someone helped me leave. He'll figure it out, Martha. What if he exiles you? This is all my fault—"

"Hush now," Martha said, patting my cheek gently. Her weathered hand was warm against my skin. "It won't come to that. Exile? For helping you buy personal items?" She chuckled softly, though her eyes remained serious. "Besides, who would run this place without me? Grey Estate would fall apart in a day."

Her attempt at humor didn't ease my worry. "But Martha, he was so angry. The way he looked at me—"

"Did he discover why you really went out?" Martha interrupted, her voice dropping even lower. "About meeting with Alpha Stone?"

I forced a smile and shook my head. "No, he... he didn't give me a hard time about it. Don't worry."

The lie tasted bitter on my tongue, but I couldn't bear to add to Martha's burden. She had risked enough for me already.

Martha studied my face for a moment, clearly not believing me, but she didn't press. "Go get some rest, dear. Everything will look better in the morning."

I doubted that very much, but I nodded and turned to leave. As I climbed the stairs to my attic room, exhaustion settled into my bones. The emotional whiplash of the day—from the nervous anticipation of meeting Stone, to the terror of being caught, to the confusing intimacy with Thorne—had drained me completely.

I collapsed onto my small bed, not bothering to change out of my clothes. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out to find a message from an unknown number.

[Enjoyed our meeting today. Hope Grey wasn't too hard on you. Remember our arrangement. -JS]

Jasper Stone. I hesitated, then typed a reply.

[Please don't contact me again. And don't mention our meeting to anyone. It will only make things worse.]

His response came quickly: [Afraid of your Alpha? Don't worry, little wolf. I can keep secrets... for the right price.]

A chill ran down my spine. I didn't want to know what "price" Stone had in mind.

[There is no price. There is no arrangement. Leave me alone.]

I turned off the phone, tossed it onto the bedside table, and buried my face in my pillow. My wolf whimpered, sensing danger on all sides—Thorne's unpredictable moods, Stone's mysterious agenda, and the household staff's growing resentment.

Sleep came fitfully, filled with dreams of golden wolf eyes and the scent of two different Alphas, fighting for dominance.

---

Morning arrived too soon. The soft knocking at my door pulled me from uneasy dreams.

"Freya?" Edith's voice sounded. "Alpha Thorne has requested your presence at breakfast. I've brought you some clothes."

I groaned, rolling over to face the door. "Coming," I mumbled, forcing myself to sit up.

Edith entered with a stack of neatly folded clothing. My eyes widened as I recognized the quality of the fabric—these weren't servant's clothes.

"What's this?" I asked, taking the soft bundle from her.

"Alpha Thorne sent them," Edith replied, her expression carefully neutral. "He wants you dressed and downstairs in twenty minutes."

I unfolded the top item—a pale blue blouse made of fine silk, followed by a matching pencil skirt and a cashmere cardigan. All brand new, all expensive, all perfectly my size.

"I can't wear these," I protested. "These aren't appropriate for my position."

Edith's eyes held a warning. "These are Alpha Thorne's instructions, Freya. I wouldn't question them if I were you."

After she left, I stared at the clothes, my wolf uneasy. Why would Thorne want me dressed like this? What game was he playing now?

With reluctance, I showered quickly and put on the new clothes. They fit perfectly, the fabric caressing my skin in a way my usual worn garments never did. Looking in the small mirror on my wall, I barely recognized myself. With my hair freshly washed and the expensive clothes, I looked almost like the person I'd been before my exile—the daughter of a respected Beta family, not a disgraced servant.

When I entered the dining room, every head turned. Alpha Thorne sat at the head of the table, impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit. His eyes tracked my movement as I hesitated in the doorway.

"Miss Riley," he acknowledged, his voice neutral. "Join me."

Confused, I approached the table, expecting to be directed to stand behind his chair or perhaps serve his meal. Instead, he gestured to the chair at his right hand—the position of honor usually reserved for distinguished guests or high-ranking pack members.

The other servants in the room froze, their shock palpable in the air.

"Sir?" I questioned softly, certain I'd misunderstood.

"Sit," Thorne commanded, his tone brooking no argument.

I slid into the indicated chair, feeling the weight of every stare in the room. This was wrong. This violated every pack protocol. Servants—especially disgraced, exiled wolves like me—did not sit at the Alpha's table, let alone in the place of honor.

Martha approached with a plate of food, setting it before me with a quick, reassuring squeeze to my shoulder. The meal was elaborate—eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, and warm bread with honey—far more than the simple porridge I usually ate in the kitchen.

"Eat," Thorne instructed, already cutting into his own steak.

I picked up my fork, my hand trembling slightly. My wolf was terrified, instinctively keeping my posture low and submissive despite the honored seating position. Every instinct screamed that this was a trap, that showing comfort or enjoyment of this unexpected privilege would bring swift punishment.

"The food will get cold," Thorne commented without looking at me, his voice casual as if there was nothing unusual about this situation.

I took a small bite of eggs, then another. Hunger overcame caution, and I found myself eating steadily, though still with careful, measured movements.

The silence in the dining room was deafening. The serving staff moved with exaggerated care, as if afraid the slightest noise might draw the Alpha's attention. I could smell their confusion and resentment.

When I'd finished most of my plate, Thorne dabbed his mouth with a napkin and stood. "Miss Riley, you'll accompany me today. There's a matter at Moon Crescent Court that requires your presence."

My fork clattered against the plate. "Moon Crescent Court?" I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper.

Thorne's eyes met mine, unreadable. "Yes. Go upstairs and get your coat. The blue one in your closet will match your outfit. I'll meet you at the front door in ten minutes."