The Alpha's Exiled Mate Chapter 126

Thorne's POV

The leather seat of my Alpha-designated car felt unusually stiff tonight, or perhaps it was just my own tension making everything uncomfortable. Through the tinted windows, I watched the city lights of Moon Bay flicker past like golden stars against the darkening sky. Mark sat in the driver's seat, his hands steady on the steering wheel as always, but his scent carried a note of unease.

"Alpha Thorne," Mark began, his voice measured as he glanced at me through the rearview mirror. "The news about Miss Brooks' participation in the Stone family's design competition has spread throughout the pack. The reception seems... quite enthusiastic."

I gave a noncommittal grunt, not particularly interested in social media gossip. The design competition hosted by Jasper Stone's pack was the last thing on my mind with all the recent complications at Grey Estate. Still, Kaelin's participation was something I'd known about, even if I hadn't given it much thought.

"Her ranking is quite favorable," Mark continued, clearly trying to gauge my interest. "The online discussions are focused almost exclusively on her designs."

"And?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

Mark shifted slightly, his Beta instincts sensing my growing impatience. "Some are suggesting that Miss Brooks' success reflects well on the Grey family and strengthens our position for the upcoming Alphas' Council."

I straightened in my seat, a low growl rumbling in my chest. "The designs are Kaelin's work, not Grey Pack business. Make sure any suggestions of Grey family involvement are shut down immediately."

"But Alpha, wouldn't the association be advantageous—"

"No," I cut him off sharply, my Alpha tone brooking no argument. "Kaelin's work stands on its own merit. I will not have the Grey name attached to her personal achievements. It would diminish her accomplishment and suggest we need such trivial matters to bolster our standing."

Mark nodded quickly, recognizing my decision was final. "Of course, Alpha Thorne. I'll see to it."

As we approached Grey Estate, the massive silhouette of my ancestral home loomed against the night sky. The moon, nearly full now, cast long shadows across the immaculately maintained grounds. As the car circled the driveway, I noticed a small figure in the rose garden, the familiar scent reaching me even through the closed windows.

Freya.

She was kneeling among the rose bushes, pruning shears in hand, her movements precise and practiced. Even in the dim light, I could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she attacked each errant branch with unnecessary force. Something was bothering her—more than the usual unease she carried in my presence.

My wolf stirred restlessly beneath my skin. Something about seeing her alone in the moonlight, surrounded by roses, triggered a possessive instinct I didn't want to acknowledge.

"Mark," I said, my eyes still fixed on Freya's silhouette. "The competition entry list for the Stone design contest—check if there is a name on Freya."

---

Freya's POV

The roses had done nothing to deserve my aggression, but I couldn't stop myself from attacking the bushes with perhaps more force than necessary. Each snip of the pruning shears was satisfying in a primal way, as if I could cut away my problems as easily as dead branches.

I knew I should have gone to bed hours ago, but sleep felt impossible with my mind racing. The design competition results had been announced this morning, and Kaelin had won—with my design. My work, my vision, my creation. The unfairness of it burned like silver against my skin.

I sensed his presence before I heard the car. An Alpha's aura is impossible to ignore, especially one as powerful as Thorne Grey's. My wolf instinctively perked up, alert and watchful as the sleek black car rolled up the driveway. I kept my head down, focusing on the roses, hoping he wouldn't notice me in the shadows.

But of course he did. Alphas miss nothing.

I felt his gaze on me like a physical touch, making the silver mark on my neck tingle. I refused to look up, refused to acknowledge him. After a moment, I heard his footsteps moving away toward the house, and I released the breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

The phone in my pocket vibrated, startling me so badly I nearly cut my finger on the thorns. My heart raced as I pulled it out, half-expecting to see Jasper Stone's name on the screen again. Instead, it was Martha.

Martha. My one true ally in this place, forced to leave because she'd tried to protect me. Guilt and relief warred within me as I answered.

"Martha?" I whispered, moving deeper into the shadows of the garden.

"Freya," her familiar voice came through, laced with concern. "I've been trying to reach you all day. Have you seen the competition results?"

My throat tightened. "Yes."

"That design—it's yours, isn't it? The one that Kaelin Brooks submitted?" Her voice hardened with righteous anger. "I recognized it immediately. Those moon phase embroidery patterns—you showed me the sketches."

"It is," I admitted quietly.

"Do you think it was Lucy?" Martha asked, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "She's always snooping around your room. She could have easily photographed your sketches and given them to Kaelin."

Martha and I got the same idea. Lucy's devotion to Kaelin was absolute, and she'd made no secret of her disdain for me.

"It... it could have been," I said slowly. "Lucy has access to my room, and she would do anything to please Kaelin."

"Freya, you should tell Alpha Thorne about this," Martha urged. "I know he doesn't know you entered the competition, but theft is serious—even for someone like Kaelin. This isn't just about the competition; it's about your work being stolen."

"I can't tell him, Martha," I said, my voice barely audible. "Thorne explicitly forbade me from participating in the competition. He'd be furious if he knew I tried to enter anyway."

A memory surfaced unbidden, clear as moonlight on water. Three years ago, I'd spent countless hours in Thorne's office, sketching ceremonial robe designs while he worked. I'd been so naive then, dreaming of the day I might wear one of my own creations at our binding ceremony. The scratching of my pencil had filled the silence as Thorne pored over pack documents, seemingly oblivious to my presence.

But one afternoon, I'd excused myself briefly. When I returned, I caught him studying my sketches, his golden eyes intent on the pages I'd left behind. He'd looked up, expression carefully neutral, but something in his gaze had shifted. "These are... impressive," he'd said in that detached way of his, before returning to his work. That small acknowledgment had made my heart soar foolishly high.

"Freya? Are you still there?" Martha's voice pulled me back to the present.

"Yes, I'm here," I sighed.

A strange, hopeful thought crossed my mind. If Thorne had seen Kaelin's submission—my design—would he recognize it as mine? Would he see the techniques, the stylistic elements that were uniquely mine? Some small, foolish part of me almost wanted him to make the connection, to remember that moment when he'd acknowledged my talent.

"Your old professor from design school recognized your style immediately," Martha continued. "She's been trying to contact you. She says there's no way anyone else could have created that particular integration of traditional pack symbols with the lunar cycle. It's your signature style."

My heart skipped a beat. "My professor? You've spoken with her?"

"She called the Moon Light Woods looking for you. The call was forwarded to me." Martha's voice softened. "She wants to help you claim your work, Freya."

"No," I said quickly, fear spiking through me. "Please, Martha, tell her not to get involved. I'm a disgraced flow-away with a silver mark. I'll only bring trouble to her door." I took a deep breath, steadying myself. "Thank you for telling me, but it's better this way. I'll handle it myself."