The Alpha's Exiled Mate Chapter 213

Thorne’s POV

I moved closer still, until I was standing directly in front of her. My scent enveloped her, and I saw her nostrils flare slightly in response. "I admit that I like—"

The door to the kitchen swung open, and Everett appeared with a tray of food. "Breakfast is ready," he announced, his timing suspiciously perfect. "It'll help with your recovery, Freya."

The moment shattered like glass. Freya looked away from me, her cheeks flushed, while Everett approached with deliberate slowness, his eyes never leaving me as he set the tray on the coffee table.

"I didn't prepare anything for you, Alpha Thorne," Everett said, his voice polite but cool. "I wasn't expecting you to stay."

The challenge in his tone was subtle but unmistakable. My wolf bristled at the Beta's audacity, but I kept my expression neutral.

"Dr. Everett, your hospitality leaves much to be desired," I remarked coldly. "Especially considering I've allowed you to maintain your position at Central Hospital despite your questionable judgment in aiding a patient's unauthorized discharge."

Everett's shoulders tensed, but he maintained his composure. "I did what was necessary to protect my patient when the hospital failed to do so. As a doctor, my first priority is my patient's wellbeing."

"As an Alpha, my first priority is the safety of all pack members," I countered. "Including Ms. Riley."

Freya stood up, her movement slightly unsteady. "Stop it, both of you. I'm not some territory to be marked."

She turned to me, her expression resolute despite the lingering weakness in her stance. "Thank you for your concern, Alpha Thorne, but as you can see, I have a place to stay. I don't need you to worry about me anymore."

The dismissal stung more than I cared to admit. I wanted to argue, to demand she come with me where I could ensure her safety, but I recognized the determination in her eyes. Pushing further now would only drive her away.

"I'll be investigating last night's events," I said instead, keeping my voice carefully controlled. "What happened at the hospital was unacceptable."

I turned to leave, but paused at the door, looking back at her one more time. "Freya," I said, my voice lower, "don't try to tell me you can't smell his intentions. I'll find evidence of what happened last night. You may not want to come with me now, but this isn't over."

With that, I left, the door closing behind me with a decisive click.

---

Freya's POV

The door closed behind Thorne, and I finally allowed myself to exhale. The apartment suddenly felt larger, the air easier to breathe without his dominating presence filling every corner.

Miles was watching me carefully, concern evident in his eyes. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, though I wasn't entirely sure that was true. Thorne's words echoed in my mind. *What if I don't want to forget about you?* What had he been about to say before Miles interrupted?

"Grey was right about one thing," I said quietly, sitting back down on the couch.

Miles raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what might that be?"

"I can smell your intentions," I admitted, meeting his gaze directly. "I've always been able to. I just... didn't want to acknowledge it."

A faint flush crept up Miles's neck, but he didn't look away. "I've never tried to hide how I feel about you, Freya. Not when we were young, and certainly not now."

The honesty in his voice made my chest ache. Miles had always been there, steady and reliable, while I had been infatuated with Thorne Grey. Even as teenagers, Miles had looked at me with the same warmth in his eyes, the same gentle affection that I'd been too blind to see—or perhaps too fixated on Thorne to value.

"I've been unfair to you," I said softly. "For years."

Miles shook his head, coming to sit beside me on the couch. "You never led me on, Freya. You never promised me anything. Your heart wanted what it wanted."

"And look where that got me," I said bitterly. "Exiled, branded, hunted."

Miles took my hand, his touch gentle. "You didn't deserve any of that. And despite what Grey says, he's the one who signed your exile papers. He's the one who sent you to that place."

I pulled my hand away, suddenly uncomfortable with the contact. "I know. But... there's something else going on. Something I don't understand yet."

Miles sighed, leaning back. "There's always something with the Grey family. Politics, power plays, hidden agendas."

We sat in silence for a moment, the breakfast growing cold on the tray between us.

"Miles," I finally said, "I need to be honest with you. Grey was right—I've known how you felt about me for a long time. I just... I couldn't return those feelings."

"And now?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

I shook my head. "I don't know. Everything is so complicated. My life is in shambles. I'm still legally an exile. I have no status, no position. I'm being hunted by multiple wolves. This isn't the time for..." I trailed off, unsure how to finish.

"For love?" Miles suggested gently.

The word hung in the air between us, heavy with implication.

"Even if I wanted to," I said carefully, "I can't offer you anything right now, Miles. My focus has to be on clearing my family's name, on finding Ethan, on surviving."

Miles nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I understand. And I'm not asking for promises, Freya. I just want you to know that whether you choose friendship or something more, I'm here. I always have been."

His words touched me deeply, and I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes. "Thank you," I whispered.

"For what it's worth," Miles added, a small smile playing at his lips, "I always thought you were too good for Grey, even when we were pups."

Despite everything, I found myself laughing. "Well, you're definitely biased."

"Absolutely," he agreed readily. "But I'm also right."

He rose from the couch, picking up the breakfast tray. "I'll reheat this. You should eat something—the antibiotics work better with food."

As he headed back to the kitchen, I found myself thinking about Thorne's interrupted confession. What had he been about to say? And why did part of me—a part I thought I'd buried long ago—want so desperately to know?