The Alpha's Exiled Mate Chapter 176

Freya’s POV

Before I could respond, Karen appeared at the end of the corridor, pushing a wheelchair. "There you are!" she called, hurrying toward us. "I told you to wait."

Miles straightened professionally as she approached. "Is this your patient?" he asked Karen, gesturing to me.

"Yes, doctor," Karen replied. "She's supposed to be resting."

"I was just helping her stay upright," Miles said, then turned to me. "Let me examine your injuries. If you've been prescribed bed rest, you shouldn't be wandering the halls."

"That's not necessary," I said quickly. The last thing I needed was Miles examining me and discovering the silver scars that mapped my body from the Forgotten Wilds. "Karen is taking care of me, and I'm already being monitored by doctors here."

Miles frowned, clearly not satisfied with my answer. "As a physician, I'd feel better if—"

"Really, I'm fine," I interrupted. "I just needed to stretch my legs."

Karen positioned the wheelchair behind me. "The doctor's right, Miss. You should be resting."

I felt cornered between them, but my stubborn streak wouldn't let me relent. "I don't want to go back to the room yet. I need some fresh air."

Miles and Karen exchanged a look that I couldn't quite interpret.

"There's a garden courtyard on this floor," Miles offered. "Perhaps a compromise? A short visit to the courtyard, then back to bed?"

Karen considered this, then nodded. "That seems reasonable, if the doctor is willing to accompany you."

Before I could protest again, Miles took control of the wheelchair from Karen. "I'll make sure she doesn't overexert herself," he promised.

Karen seemed satisfied with this arrangement. "I'll prepare your medication for when you return," she told me, then headed back toward my room.

I found myself being gently but firmly guided into the wheelchair by Miles. His hands were careful, avoiding my injuries with the precision of someone used to handling wounded patients.

"This isn't necessary," I muttered as he began pushing me toward the elevator.

"Consider it doctor's orders," Miles replied, and I could hear the smile in his voice even without seeing his face. "You always were stubborn, Freya. I see that hasn't changed."

The elevator doors closed behind us, and a strange silence fell. Being alone with Miles felt surreal—a ghost from my past life suddenly materialized in my present.

"I heard about what happened to your family," he said quietly as the elevator descended. "The exile. I was... I was in Europe when it happened. By the time I returned, you were gone."

I kept my eyes fixed on the elevator doors. "There was nothing you could have done."

"I could have spoken for you," Miles said, regret heavy in his voice. "I could have testified to your character. Instead, I came back to find you already sentenced."

"It wouldn't have mattered," I said, the bitterness I thought I'd buried rising to the surface. "Alpha Thorne had made his decision before the trial even began."

The elevator doors opened, and Miles pushed me into a softly lit corridor that led to the courtyard. Large windows revealed a small but well-maintained garden, with stone benches and flowering plants arranged around a central fountain.

"I should have been there for you," Miles persisted as he wheeled me through the glass doors into the garden. The fresh air was a welcome relief after days in the sterile hospital room. "After everything between us... I owed you that much."

I turned to look at him then, taking in the changes five years had wrought. His face was more angular now, with faint lines around his eyes that spoke of stress and long hours. But his eyes were the same—warm brown with flecks of gold that brightened when he was emotional.

"There was nothing between us, Miles," I said gently. "We were friends. You wanted more, but I was already promised to Thorne."

Miles wheeled me to a bench near the fountain and engaged the wheelchair's brakes before sitting beside me. "I regret not telling you how I felt sooner," he said. "Before the engagement was announced. Maybe things would have been different."

I shook my head. "It wouldn't have changed anything. The alliance between the Grey and Riley families was decided long before either of us had any say in the matter."

"And look how that turned out," Miles said bitterly. "The Riley family exiled, and you..." He paused, studying my face. "What happened to you in the Wilds, Freya? How did you survive?"

I tensed, unprepared for the directness of his question. "I did what I had to do."

"Those wounds you're nursing—they're not from the Wilds, are they? They're recent." His eyes narrowed. "Did something happen after you returned?"

I considered how much to tell him. Miles had always been perceptive, and as a doctor, he was trained to notice details others might miss. But I couldn't risk Kaelin finding out I had spoken about her, not while she still had leverage over me.

"I had an accident while shifting," I lied. "The full moon was approaching, and I wasn't careful."

Miles's expression told me he didn't believe me. I could smell the skepticism in his scent, mingled with concern and something deeper—protectiveness, perhaps.

"Freya," he began, his voice low and intense, "I want you to know that I'm here for you now. I won't fail you again. Whatever trouble you're in, whatever Thorne Grey has done to you—"

"This isn't about Thorne," I cut in, though even to my own ears, the denial sounded weak.

"Isn't it?" Miles challenged. "I saw how he looked at you that day in the hospital. Like you were his property that had wandered off. And now you're here, in Silverstone territory, injured and trying to hide it." He reached for my hand, and I was too surprised to pull away. "Let me help you. In the name of our friendship—in the name of your brother, Ethan, who was like a brother to me too."

The mention of Ethan struck a chord so deep I felt tears threatening. Miles had been close to my family, especially to Ethan. They had studied together, shared interests in medicine and science that had forged a bond beyond our social circles.

"Miles—" I began, but was interrupted by the beeping of his pager. He glanced at it and frowned.

"Emergency consultation," he said, clearly reluctant to leave. "I have to go, but this conversation isn't over, Freya." He stood, his expression serious. "I want to examine those wounds properly. And I want to hear the truth about what's happened to you. Will you be here when I get back?"