The Alpha's Exiled Mate Chapter 179

Freya’s POV

"No!" I gasped, deliberately pressing my palm against my wound to create a fresh stab of pain. The sharp intake of breath that followed stopped Emma in her tracks.

"Freya!" she exclaimed, rushing back to me. "What are you doing?"

"Don't go after him," I pleaded, meeting her eyes. "Please. It will only make things worse."

Emma's expression softened with understanding, and a hint of sadness. "You're still protecting him, even now?"

I shook my head weakly. "I'm protecting you. And myself. I can't handle any more drama right now."

Jasper watched this exchange with keen interest, his head tilted slightly as if solving a puzzle. After a moment, he turned to Karen. "Make sure she gets whatever pain medication she needs. I want hourly updates on her condition."

Karen nodded, clearly accustomed to following his orders without question.

With a final glance at me, Jasper headed for the door. "I have matters to attend to. Emma, stay with her."

After Jasper left, Emma pulled a chair close to my bedside and sat down, her expression troubled. "You should have told me how serious your injuries were," she said quietly. "I wouldn't have asked you to come back to work so soon if I'd known."

"It wasn't this bad until..." I gestured vaguely toward the door, implying Thorne's visit.

Emma leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Did he know you were injured when he came in here yelling at you?"

I considered the question. "I don't think so. He seemed shocked when he realized I was bleeding."

"That doesn't excuse it," Emma said firmly. "A true Alpha should sense vulnerability, especially physical injury. His wolf should have recognized yours was weakened, even with the silver suppressing it."

I didn't have the energy to defend or condemn Thorne. Instead, I closed my eyes, suddenly overcome with fatigue.

"You should rest," Emma said, noticing my exhaustion. "I'll stay until you fall asleep."

"The client's pendant design," I mumbled, remembering the project she'd assigned me. "It's due tomorrow... the sketches are almost done."

Emma shook her head. "Don't worry about that now. Your health comes first."

"No," I insisted, forcing my eyes open. "I want to finish it. I need to." Work was the one thing keeping me sane, the one connection to my old life and skills that remained intact.

Emma studied me for a long moment, then sighed. "We'll discuss it when you wake up. For now, sleep."

I wanted to argue further, but my body had other ideas. The pain medication the doctor had administered was finally taking effect, pulling me down into blissful unconsciousness.

---

When I woke again, the room was dimmer, and Emma was gone. In her place sat Miles Everett, flipping through a medical chart that I assumed was mine. The sight of him brought a mix of comfort and unease. I'd known Miles since childhood, but our reunion after my exile had been awkward at best.

"Spying on my medical history?" I asked, my voice raspy from sleep.

Miles looked up, setting the chart aside with a slight smile. "I'm your doctor now. Karen asked me to take over your care."

"Since when?" I struggled to sit up, wincing as the movement pulled at my fresh stitches.

"Since your previous doctor was called away to another hospital." Miles stood and helped adjust my pillows. "And since I have more experience with silver toxicity cases."

I tensed at his words. "I don't need special treatment."

"It's not special treatment to want the best care for a patient," Miles countered. "Especially one with your... complicated medical history."

The way he said it made me wonder just how much he knew about my time in exile. Had he seen the silver scars that marked my body? The thought made me uncomfortable.

"I don't want you examining my wounds," I said firmly.

Miles looked surprised, then hurt. "Freya, I'm a doctor. I've treated hundreds of patients."

"I know, but..." I hesitated, unsure how to explain without revealing too much. "I'd prefer someone else."

"Is it because we know each other?" Miles asked quietly. "Because I can assure you, my only concern is your health."

I shook my head. "It's not that. I just... I don't want you to see me like this." The admission cost me something, a piece of pride I couldn't afford to lose.

Miles studied me for a long moment, his wolf clearly sensing my distress. Finally, he nodded. "I'll respect your wishes. But I'll still be overseeing your treatment plan, even if another doctor performs the physical examinations."

"Thank you," I said, relief washing over me. The last thing I needed was for Miles—who had known me as the proud daughter of the Riley family—to see the full extent of what exile had done to my body.

Miles moved toward the door. "I'll check on you tomorrow. Try to rest."

After he left, I lay back against the pillows, staring at the now-familiar ceiling. My thoughts drifted to Thorne, to the shock in his eyes when he realized I was bleeding. Had he truly not known how badly I was injured? Or was his surprise merely at seeing the physical evidence of what his fiancée had orchestrated?

I closed my eyes, too tired to untangle the complexities of Thorne Grey's mind. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, and I needed strength to face them.

---

The next morning, Emma arrived early, bearing a small bag that she placed on my bedside table.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, scanning my face with a critical eye.

"Better," I lied, though the pain in my side had dulled to a persistent throb rather than the sharp agony of yesterday.

Emma nodded, looking somewhat relieved but still concerned. "I brought your sketches from the office." She patted the bag she'd brought. "I can take them to the client this afternoon. You should focus on resting."

I studied her expression carefully. There was something hesitant in her voice, a slight tension around her eyes that hadn't been there before.

"You're not telling me something," I said, pushing myself up slightly despite the pain. "What is it?"

Emma shifted her weight, avoiding my gaze. "Nothing important. It's just... the client is quite particular. I can handle the meeting myself—"

"Who is the client, Emma?" I interrupted, my suspicions growing.

"I don't think that's relevant right now," she replied, too quickly. "What matters is that your designs are excellent, and I'm confident they'll be well-received."

Her evasiveness only strengthened my resolve. "I want to be at that meeting."

"Freya, be reasonable," Emma sighed, gesturing to my hospital bed. "You're in no condition to—"

"I can go this afternoon," I insisted. "Karen said my vitals are improving, and it would do me good to get out of this room for a while."

Emma's expression shifted between concern and something like resignation. "This isn't a good idea."

"Maybe not," I conceded. "But it's my design, my first commission since returning. I need to be there." I leaned forward, wincing slightly but pushing through the pain. "Please, Emma. This means everything to me."

After a long moment, Emma nodded reluctantly. "Fine. The meeting is at three this afternoon. But if Karen or Dr. Everett says you can't go, we're not arguing with them."

"Deal," I agreed, already planning how I would convince Karen to let me leave. "Now, are you going to tell me who the client is, or am I going to be surprised?"

Emma gathered her purse, avoiding my eyes again. "You'll find out soon enough. Just... prepare yourself, okay?"