The Alpha's Exiled Mate Chapter 257

Freya’s POV

Both wolves turned their heads toward me, their eyes still burning with battle rage. I stood my ground, heart hammering against my ribs.

"I'll go with you, Alpha Thorne," I said, my voice shaking. "Please... no more."

For a long moment, neither wolf moved. Then, slowly, Jasper backed away from Thorne, his posture still tense but no longer threatening. Thorne rose to his feet, his massive silver form swaying slightly before steadying.

The shift back to human form was never as seamless as the transformation to wolf. Both Alphas retreated to opposite sides of the clearing, the painful process of bones restructuring and fur receding hidden from view.

Thorne emerged first, his clothes torn but somehow still clinging to his frame. Blood seeped through the fabric in several places, and his breathing was ragged. His eyes, though returned to their human appearance, still held traces of wolf-light.

Jasper followed moments later, pulling on his discarded shirt with careful movements that suggested hidden injuries.

"Freya," he called softly. "You don't have to—"

I shook my head, cutting him off. "This is my choice." I managed a small smile that felt fragile even to me. "Thank you for today."

Jasper held my gaze for a moment longer, then nodded, understanding passing between us.

Thorne stood waiting, his expression unreadable as I approached him. Without a word, he turned and began walking toward the park exit, clearly expecting me to follow. I did, feeling the weight of Jasper's gaze on my back until we turned onto the path that led to the parking lot.

Thorne's car waited at the curb, sleek and black against the gathering dusk. Mark stood beside it, his expression carefully neutral as we approached, though I noticed how his eyes widened slightly at Thorne's disheveled appearance.

"Take the Delta team back separately," Thorne ordered, his voice rough from the shift. "I'll drive Miss Riley myself."

Mark hesitated for only a second before nodding. "Yes, Alpha."

The interior of Thorne's car smelled of leather and his mint-storm scent, now tinged with blood and exertion. I sat as far against the passenger door as possible, creating physical distance to match the emotional chasm between us. As he started the engine and pulled away from the curb, silence filled the space like a third presence.

I stared out the window, watching the park recede into the distance. My mind replayed images of the fight—the savage beauty of it, the raw power displayed by both Alphas. And all supposedly over me, a damaged Beta with a useless right hand and no real place in either of their worlds.

The silence stretched between us, taut as a wire. Thorne's knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched so tightly I could almost hear his teeth grinding. Occasionally he would glance in my direction, his expression complex and unreadable.

After what felt like an eternity, he cleared his throat. "You and Alpha Stone seemed to be enjoying yourselves."

The statement hung in the air, neither quite an accusation nor a question. I continued staring out the window.

"Does it matter?" I finally replied, my voice soft but edged with bitterness.

Thorne's fingers flexed on the steering wheel. "He's not suitable for you."

A harsh laugh escaped me before I could stop it. "And you believe you have the right to judge what's suitable for me?" I turned to face him, anger suddenly overriding my caution. "The same Alpha who sentenced me to three years of hell without even questioning the evidence?"

Thorne flinched as though I'd struck him physically. For a moment, I thought he might respond with anger of his own, but instead, he simply stared ahead at the road, his profile rigid in the passing streetlights.

After several minutes of tense silence, he unexpectedly pulled the car into an empty parking lot overlooking the city. The engine died, leaving us in a silence broken only by our breathing. Thorne turned toward me, and for the first time, I noticed how exhausted he looked, the lines around his eyes deeper than I remembered.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, the words so unexpected I wasn't sure I'd heard correctly. "I failed to protect you."

I stared at him, momentarily speechless. "What are you talking about? You clearly chose to save Kaelin when Derek gave you the choice. You're just doing what you've always done."

Pain flashed across Thorne's features. "I'm not apologizing just for that." His voice dropped lower. "Three years ago, I didn't investigate thoroughly enough. I didn't question the evidence presented to me."

The admission hung between us, heavy with implication. My heartbeat accelerated as I processed his words.

"Three years ago?" My voice had grown soft, almost a whisper. "You mean my trial?"

Thorne nodded, his eyes meeting mine directly. "Yes."

The simple confirmation sent a wave of conflicting emotions through me. Vindication warred with renewed anger, relief battled with lingering resentment.

"So now you believe I was innocent?" I asked, unable to keep the edge from my voice. "What changed?"

"Evidence has come to light that suggests—"

"Stop," I interrupted, suddenly exhausted by all of it. "Just stop. Three years ago, I was blinded by anger and I did hurt Kaelin. I admit that. But you never gave me a chance to explain, never questioned why I might have attacked her."

I looked out the window at the city lights below, each one representing a life untouched by the pain I'd endured. "It's too late for apologies, Thorne. What's done is done."

As I said the words, I realized I meant them. The damage couldn't be undone—not the silver scars on my body, not the emotional wounds that still bled, not the years stolen from me. An apology, even if sincere, couldn't erase that reality.

Thorne was silent for a long moment, his breathing measured and controlled. When he finally spoke again, his voice held a resignation I'd never heard from him before.

"You're right," he said quietly. "I can't undo what happened. But I can promise you this—I will discover the full truth, and those responsible will face justice."

Something in his tone made me look at him more carefully. There was more he wasn't saying, pieces of a puzzle I couldn't yet see. But I was too tired, too overwhelmed by the day's events to press further.

"You told me to go with you to say this?" I asked, suddenly feeling every ache in my body, especially the throbbing pain in my damaged hand.