The Alpha's Exiled Mate Chapter 263

Thorne's POV

I placed a fresh bouquet of roses—deep crimson ones this time—on the small table beside Martha's front door before knocking. It was my third visit in as many days, and I already knew what to expect. The door opened, and Martha's expression shifted from polite welcome to a carefully neutral mask when she saw me.

"Alpha Thorne," she said with a small bow of her head. "You're here to see Freya again?"

I nodded, lifting the roses slightly. "If she'll allow it."

Martha's eyes flickered to the flowers, and I caught a hint of sympathy in her gaze. "Come in. I'll... ask if she's willing to see you."

I stepped into the familiar entryway of Martha's modest home, my wolf immediately picking up Freya's scent—wild flowers and rain, now tinged with the medicinal smell of healing salves and silver detoxification herbs. My chest tightened as it had every day since discovering the truth about what she'd endured.

Martha disappeared up the stairs, and I heard the soft murmur of voices. Then Martha's footsteps returning alone.

"She says the garden already has enough flowers," Martha reported, her voice apologetic. "She suggests you can... discard those."

The rejection stung, but I simply nodded and handed the roses to Martha. "Perhaps you could find a place for them anyway," I said quietly.

Martha took them with a small sigh. "Alpha Thorne, she needs time. The truth about what happened to her... it's a lot to process. And her hand—"

"I know," I interrupted, not wanting to hear about Freya's injury again. The image of her limp, unresponsive right hand haunted me. "May I see her anyway?"

Martha hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, but don't expect much conversation."

I climbed the stairs slowly, each step heavier than the last. When I reached Freya's door, I knocked softly.

"Come in if you must," her voice called, flat and emotionless.

I entered to find her sitting by the window, staring out at Martha's garden. She didn't turn to look at me. Her right hand lay useless in her lap, the scars from the silver exposure still visible against her pale skin.

"I brought you flowers," I said, immediately feeling foolish for mentioning the rejected gift.

"I heard." She still didn't look at me. "Martha's garden has enough."

I moved to the corner of the room, taking a seat in the small armchair there. I pulled out a tablet and began reviewing medical journals on nerve damage repair in werewolves with silver exposure. I'd been studying everything I could find on the subject, determined to understand what Freya was facing.

"You don't have to stay," she said after several minutes of silence.

"I know." I continued reading.

Her eyes flickered toward me briefly, then away again. "Don't you have Alpha duties to attend to? A pack to run? A fiancée to visit?"

The mention of Kaelin made my jaw tighten, but I kept my voice neutral. "Mark is handling pack matters. And Kaelin is... recovering."

Freya made a small sound that might have been a laugh, though it held no humor. "How fortunate for her to have such excellent care."

I didn't rise to the bait. Instead, I simply continued reading, occasionally making notes. After an hour, I stood. "I'll return tomorrow."

She didn't respond, but as I reached the door, I caught her watching me in the reflection of the window glass. Her expression was unreadable, but she was looking. It was something.

---

The next day went much the same. I brought white roses this time, and though Martha still took them with an apologetic look, she didn't immediately suggest discarding them.

Freya remained by the window, seemingly ignoring me as I sat in the corner chair reviewing more medical information. This time I'd brought printed materials—detailed diagrams of werewolf nerve pathways and the effects of silver exposure on neural transmission.

"Why are you really here?" she asked suddenly, breaking nearly an hour of silence.

I looked up from my reading. "To support you before your surgery."

"Support me?" she repeated, finally turning to look at me directly. Her eyes were tired but still sharp, still challenging. "You sentenced me to three years in Forgotten Wilds. You believed I was guilty without question. Now you sit in my room for hours reading medical journals. What do you want, Alpha Thorne?"

"Thorne," I corrected her. "And I'm here because I owe you more than just an apology." I met her gaze steadily. "I owe you every day that was taken from you. Every moment of suffering you endured because of my failure to see the truth."

She stared at me for a long moment, then turned back to the window. "Reading about nerve damage won't change what happened."

"No," I agreed. "But it might help me understand what you're facing now."

She didn't respond, but I noticed her shoulders had lost some of their rigidity. We sat in silence for the remainder of my visit, but it felt less hostile somehow.

---

On the third day, the evening before her surgery, I brought pale pink roses. When Martha answered the door, she actually smiled slightly at the sight of them.

"Perhaps she'll keep these ones," she said, taking the bouquet. "She's in her room."

I found Freya in the same position, by the window, but there was a sketch pad on her lap. She was attempting to hold a pencil in her left hand, the lines on the page wobbly and uncertain. She quickly closed the pad when I entered.

"Roses again?" she asked, noticing my empty hands.

"I gave them to Martha," I replied, taking my usual seat. "Pink ones this time."

Freya watched me for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "Why do you keep coming back?"

The question hung between us, more pointed than her previous challenges. I considered my answer carefully.

"Because I owe you that much," I finally said. "Because I don't deserve forgiveness for what happened to you, but I can at least show up. Every day. Until you tell me to leave and mean it."

She studied me, her eyes searching my face for deception. "Why the roses?"

I felt my mouth quirk slightly. "I remember that you used to leave them on the steps of Moon Crescent Court. Every week. For almost a year."

A flash of surprise crossed her face, quickly replaced by caution. "You noticed."

"I noticed everything about you, Freya. I just... chose to ignore it." The admission cost me, but I owed her honesty at least.

She was silent for a long time. Then, "I'm scared about tomorrow."

The vulnerability in her voice made my wolf stir protectively. "Dr. Kraus is the best," I assured her. "And Miles will be assisting."

"And if it doesn't work?" Her eyes dropped to her unresponsive right hand. "If I can never design again?"

"Then we'll find another solution," I said firmly. "But it will work."

When Martha brought up a tray with tea, she was surprised to find us actually talking. As she was leaving, I heard Freya say quietly, "Martha, you can put the roses on the bedside table."

It was a small victory, but it felt monumental.