The Alpha's Exiled Mate Chapter 23

Thorne's POV

I returned to the suite with Dr. Maloy close behind me, expecting to find Freya where I'd left her on the floor. Instead, the room was empty. My wolf instincts immediately heightened, scanning for danger, until I caught her scent leading toward the window. There she was, curled up on the floor in the moonlight, her face tear-stained and contorted with pain.

"You shouldn't be moving," I said, unable to keep the concern from my voice despite my efforts to maintain distance.

She tried to answer, but instead, a broken whimper escaped her lips as another spasm of pain visibly tore through her body. I could smell the metallic tang of blood in the air—her condition was deteriorating rapidly.

I crossed the room in swift strides, kneeling beside her fragile form. My hand moved almost of its own accord, brushing damp strands of hair from her face. Her skin felt alarmingly cool against my fingers.

"My physician is here. Let's get you to the bed," I said, keeping my voice steady and authoritative despite the unease growing inside me.

Without waiting for her response—she was clearly in no condition to walk—I slid one arm beneath her knees and another behind her shoulders, lifting her with minimal effort. She felt impossibly light in my arms, almost ethereal, a shadow of the vibrant woman who had once boldly declared her intention to become my mate.

As I lifted her, a small gasp escaped her lips, and her body tensed in pain. My wolf stirred protectively, responding to her distress in a way that surprised me. After everything that had happened between us, why did I still feel this primal need to shield her?

"Hold on," I murmured, my breath stirring her hair as I carried her toward the bedroom where Dr. Maloy waited.

I rushed through the bedroom door with her limp body in my arms, her weight alarmingly light against my chest. The scent of her blood and pain filled my nostrils, triggering my Alpha instincts to protect, despite everything between us. I carefully placed her on the king-sized bed, her pale face a stark contrast against the dark sheets.

"What happened to her?" Dr. Maloy demanded as he hurried forward, medical bag in hand. He was my pack's most trusted physician, a middle-aged Beta with salt-and-pepper hair who had treated three generations of Grey Alphas.

"Internal injuries," I said tersely, stepping back to give him space while maintaining a vigilant stance. "She collapsed during our... conversation."

Dr. Maloy shot me a questioning glance before turning his full attention to Freya. His hands moved with practiced efficiency, checking her pulse, examining her pupils, then lifting her shirt to reveal the violent tapestry of bruises across her abdomen. He inhaled sharply, his experienced eyes narrowing.

"These injuries are at least 24 hours old," he murmured, pressing gently on the worst of the bruising. "Significant internal tearing. But there's something else..."

He leaned closer, sniffing at the wound site, then pulled back with a concerned expression. "The damage is severe, but more concerning is the moon-silver residue inhibiting her healing abilities. Her wolf can't repair this damage properly."

Freya's eyes fluttered open at his touch, pain etched in every line of her face. "I... went to a clinic in the Shadow District," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

A growl escaped my throat before I could stop it. "Those places would only help you die faster," I snapped, the thought of her seeking treatment in those filthy underground operations making my wolf bristle. "What kind of 'doctor' would leave internal bleeding untreated?"

Dr. Maloy reached into his bag, pulling out a vial of glowing blue liquid and a syringe. "This is a specialized pack healing compound. It will stimulate her wolf's natural healing abilities and counteract the moon-silver suppression."

As he prepared the injection, Freya's eyes widened at the sight of the needle. She shrank back against the pillows, a primal fear response that seemed instinctive rather than rational. My chest tightened at her reaction. What had happened during her exile to make her fear medical treatment?

"It won't hurt for long," I found myself saying, my voice softer than intended. "The compound works quickly."

Dr. Maloy administered the injection with practiced ease, though Freya's body remained tense throughout the procedure. Once finished, he stepped away from the bed and gestured for me to follow him to the far corner of the room.

---

"Alpha Thorne," Dr. Maloy kept his voice low, though we both knew Freya could likely hear us if she tried. "The moon-silver levels in her system are abnormally high. Far beyond what standard exile protocols would produce."

I crossed my arms, keeping my expression neutral despite the unease growing in my chest. "What are you saying?"

The doctor's eyes darted briefly toward Freya before meeting mine again. "Did she receive... special punishment in the Wilds?" he asked carefully. "This concentration of residue typically only appears in wolves who've been subjected to extensive moon-silver disciplinary procedures."

I felt my jaw tighten. The standard exile protocol involved a single moon-silver collar fitting, followed by monthly maintenance checks by the Wild Guardians. Nothing that would leave this level of contamination.

"No special punishment was ordered," I said, my mind racing through possibilities. Had the prison guards taken matters into their own hands? Or had something happened in the Wilds that I wasn't aware of?

Before I could pursue this line of questioning, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I glanced at the screen—Ryder Foster, my childhood friend and current head of pack security.

"Continue the treatment," I instructed Dr. Maloy. "I need to take this."

I strode toward the balcony, sliding the glass door closed behind me for some semblance of privacy. The night air was cool against my face, carrying the scents of the city below—a mixture of exhaust, food, and countless wolves going about their lives.

"This better be important, Ryder," I answered.

Ryder's voice came through with its usual casual drawl, but I could hear the undercurrent of curiosity. "Word travels fast, Alpha. Heard you carried away the Moon Howl's main attraction. Enjoying yourself with the exile, are we?"

My grip tightened on the phone, a growl building in my chest. "Watch your mouth, Ryder. Remember your place."

"Always so serious," he sighed dramatically. "But seriously, Thorne, what are you doing? The pack is talking. You shut down her workplace, then you're seen carrying her off to your hotel? Kaelin is—"

"I don't answer to gossip," I cut him off. "This is judicial business. The Riley case has loose ends that need tying."

"If you say so," Ryder replied, not sounding convinced. "Just be careful. You know how Kaelin gets when her monthly symptoms flare."

I ended the call without responding, slipping the phone back into my pocket. The mention of Kaelin sent a wave of guilt through me, but I pushed it aside. My obligations to my fiancée were clear, but so were my duties as Alpha Judge.

Leaning against the balcony railing, I gazed up at the moon, nearly full in the night sky. Its silver light reminded me of another night, three years ago, when a younger Freya Riley had stood before me in a white dress at the full moon gathering.

Her eyes had been bright then, filled with confidence and hope as she'd approached me. *"Alpha Thorne,"* she'd said, her voice steady despite the whispers around us. *"I wish to become your mate. Our bloodlines together would strengthen the pack beyond measure."*

So bold, so direct. It had both impressed and amused me then. The Riley bloodline was indeed powerful, nearly as old as the Greys. The alliance would have made sense from a purely strategic standpoint. But I felt nothing for her. Besides, there was Kailin—the girl I grew up with, who had always needed me.

I clenched my fist, remembering how quickly that bright-eyed girl had disappeared, replaced by the defendant who stood in my court three years later, accused of attacking my fiancée. The evidence had seemed irrefutable then. Now...

"Why did you have to come back?" I muttered to the night air, uncertainty gnawing at me for the first time in years.