The Alpha's Exiled Mate Chapter 249

Thorne's POV

The Delta Force guards stood at attention as Mark and I approached the hospital's secure wing. They snapped to perfect posture, eyes forward but necks slightly lowered—the traditional show of respect to an Alpha. The heavy metal door slid open with a hydraulic hiss, revealing the sterile corridor beyond.

"Alpha Thorne," the senior guard acknowledged, his voice professionally neutral. "The prisoner is secured in interrogation room three. Silver restraints are in place, but adjusted to minimum toxicity levels as per protocol."

I nodded sharply. "Any unusual behavior?"

"He's been alternating between threats and bargaining, sir. Seems pretty confident for someone facing an Alpha tribunal." The guard's eyes flickered with disdain. "Medical staff has been monitoring his vitals to ensure the silver doesn't cause systemic damage."

A monitor on the wall displayed a live feed of Derek's holding cell. He sat slumped in a metal chair, silver chains binding his wrists and ankles to the floor. His face was pallid, the characteristic effect of prolonged silver exposure. Despite his compromised state, there was something defiant in his posture that made my wolf bristle.

"I'll handle the questioning alone," I told Mark, who immediately frowned.

"Alpha, protocol suggests—"

"I'm well aware of protocol," I cut him off, my tone leaving no room for argument. "I want him relaxed enough to talk, not posturing for an audience. Wait outside, but stay alert."

Mark reluctantly nodded. "Yes, Alpha."

The interrogation room was clinically bright, designed to prevent shadows where secrets could hide. As I entered, Derek's head lifted. A smirk crossed his haggard face, though it couldn't mask the fear scent that spiked in the room.

"Well, well," he drawled, leaning back as far as his chains would allow. "Judge Grey himself. I'm honored."

I didn't respond immediately, instead taking the chair across from him with deliberate slowness. I studied him—the defensive posture, the false bravado, the way his eyes darted to the door as if measuring escape routes despite the futility.

"You know," I finally said, voice calm and even, "most wolves facing an Alpha tribunal for kidnapping don't seem quite so... casual."

Derek's smirk widened, though it didn't reach his eyes. "What can I say? Second time around, even exile loses its sting."

I leaned forward slightly, letting my eyes flash gold. "Who said anything about exile?"

The flicker of genuine fear that crossed his face was satisfying to my wolf. Good. He should be afraid.

"Let's be direct," I continued. "You kidnapped my future Luna and a member of my territory. Why?"

Derek shrugged, chains clinking with the movement. "Money, obviously. Even in exile, we need to eat. I figured the Brooks family could spare some silver coins."

"And Freya Riley? Was she also for ransom?"

"Collateral damage," he replied too quickly. "Wrong place, wrong time."

My wolf growled internally at the lie. I could smell the deception on him, acrid and sharp.

"Interesting theory," I said, standing slowly. "Guard."

The door opened immediately, and the Delta guard handed me what I'd requested earlier—a small control panel. I adjusted the settings and watched as the silver chains around Derek's wrists loosened slightly.

"What are you doing?" Derek asked, wariness replacing his earlier smugness.

"Giving you a taste of freedom," I replied, my voice deliberately casual. "Just enough to let your wolf stir a little."

Derek's eyes widened as he felt the change—not enough silver to allow shifting, but enough that his wolf would wake, stretching against the confines of their shared skin. It was a calculated move; wolves were more honest when their dual nature was in harmony, the human side less able to construct elaborate lies.

"Now," I said, leaning against the edge of the table, "let's try again. Why Freya Riley?"

Derek's breathing had quickened, his pupils dilating as his wolf responded to the reduced silver. "Like I said, just trying to make some cash for—"

In one fluid movement, I pulled a small silver spike from my pocket and pressed it against the half-healed wound on his forearm. Derek's howl of pain was instantaneous, his body arching against the restraints.

"Lie to me again," I said quietly, "and the next one goes deeper."

The monitors outside the room would be registering his elevated heart rate and pain signals. I had perhaps five minutes before medical protocol would force intervention.

"You've been exiled once," I continued, removing the spike but keeping it visible. "You wouldn't risk permanent execution for mere money. Who put you up to this?"

Derek's eyes, now tinged with gold from his partially awakened wolf, stared at me with a mixture of hatred and calculation.

"You think I'm stupid enough to tell you?" he finally said, voice ragged from his scream. "Even if I did, you wouldn't believe me."

I smiled, a cold expression that made his scent spike with fear again. "For money? You've already been exiled once. You wouldn't risk permanent execution for just money. This kind of stupid plan? Getting caught would be inevitable. You wouldn't do this on your own initiative."

Derek laughed, a harsh sound with no humor. "Maybe I'm just that desperate. Three years in the Forgotten Wilds changes a wolf."

I leaned closer, letting my Alpha presence fill the small room. "Who instructed you to kidnap Freya? Who was pulling your strings, Derek?"

His eyes darted to the silver spike in my hand, then back to my face. I could see the calculation happening—how much pain versus how much risk in telling the truth.

"I was tricked," he finally muttered, shoulders slumping slightly. "She said it was just to teach that Riley girl a lesson."

My wolf went instantly alert, clawing at my insides. "SHE? Who is SHE?"

Derek stared directly into my eyes, a reckless defiance in his gaze. "Your fiancée. Kaelin Brooks."