The Alpha's Exiled Mate Chapter 264

Thorne’s POV

The surgery was scheduled for 9 AM. I arrived at the hospital at 7:30, unable to stay away despite knowing I wouldn't be allowed to see Freya until after the procedure. The surgical wing was quiet, the smell of antiseptic and silver neutralizing agents sharp in my nostrils.

A nurse recognized me immediately. "Alpha Thorne," she said with a respectful nod. "Ms. Riley is already in pre-op. Dr. Kraus and Dr. Everett are reviewing the procedure now."

"How long will it take?" I asked.

"At least four hours, sir. Possibly longer. The neural regeneration phase is particularly delicate."

I nodded, finding a seat in the private waiting area they'd designated for me. As the hours ticked by, I found myself pacing, ignoring the curious glances from medical staff passing through the corridor.

Mark arrived around noon with several urgent pack matters that needed my attention, but I could barely focus on what he was saying. Something about territory disputes on the northern border and scheduled appearances for the upcoming full moon ceremony.

"Alpha," Mark said, his voice cutting through my distraction. "These require your immediate attention."

"Handle it," I replied, my eyes fixed on the doors leading to the surgical suite. "Whatever decisions need to be made, I trust your judgment."

Mark hesitated. "Sir, with respect, the northern territory dispute involves Silverstone Pack. Given your recent... encounter with Alpha Stone, perhaps a personal response would be more appropriate."

The mention of Jasper Stone made my wolf bristle. The memory of finding Freya with him, seeing her laugh in a way she never had with me, still rankled. "Tell Jasper any grievances can wait until after the full moon," I said tersely. "My attention is required here for now."

Mark nodded and tactfully changed the subject, but I was barely listening. My mind had drifted to memories of Freya—not the broken woman in Martha's guest room, but the spirited young wolf I'd known years ago.

The first time I saw her, she couldn't have been more than eight years old. I'd been visiting the Riley estate with my father when I heard a small whimper from the garden. Following the sound, I found a tiny girl stuck high in an oak tree, too frightened to climb down. I'd scaled the tree easily, twelve years old and already showing Alpha potential, and carried her safely to the ground. She'd stared up at me with wide, grateful eyes.

"Are you a prince?" she'd asked, dead serious, and I'd laughed.

"No, just Thorne," I'd replied.

Years later, when I returned from studying abroad and took my place as Moon Bay's judge, she'd appeared at a pack gathering. No longer a child but a striking young woman, her blonde hair tamed into elegant waves, her eyes seeking mine across the room with that same expression of wonder. I'd recognized her immediately—something in her scent remained unchanged—but I'd pretended not to.

She'd pursued me relentlessly after that. Always appearing where I was, finding excuses to speak with me, leaving those roses on the courthouse steps. I'd rebuffed her firmly but gently, telling myself it was for her own good. An Alpha couldn't show preference for one wolf over another.

The day she finally confessed her feelings, standing defiantly in my office after hours, her chin raised proudly despite the rejection she surely expected, I'd felt something stir in my chest. Something I immediately suppressed.

"You'll regret this one day," she'd told me, refusing to let tears fall. "One day you'll realize what you missed, and I won't be waiting anymore."

And then, three years ago, the trial. Her standing before me in Moon Crescent Court, accused of attacking Kaelin, of endangering an Elite Beta. I'd looked into her eyes, searching for the guilt I expected to see, but finding only bewildered hurt and stubborn pride.

I'd sentenced her anyway, telling myself I was being impartial, that the evidence against her was overwhelming. But there had been a moment—just before the guards led her away—when our eyes met, and I'd felt a strange sense of loss.

"Alpha?"

Mark's voice pulled me from my memories. "Four hours have passed," he said gently. "Dr. Everett should be coming with an update soon."

As if summoned by Mark's words, Miles appeared in the corridor, still wearing surgical scrubs, his expression weary but not defeated. I stood immediately, my heart pounding.

"How is she?" I demanded, forgetting protocol, formality, everything but the need to know.

Miles approached slowly, removing his surgical cap. "The surgery was partially successful," he said, and I felt my breath catch. "We were able to clear most of the silver toxins and repair the main neural pathways. But some of the peripheral nerve damage was too severe."

"What does that mean?" I asked, my voice rough with tension.

"It means she'll regain the ability to grip, to hold a pencil, to manage basic movements," Miles explained. "But the fine motor control needed for detailed design work... that will require extensive rehabilitation. Months, possibly a year of therapy."

I absorbed this, relief and disappointment warring within me. "But she will recover? She'll be able to design again eventually?"

Miles hesitated. "With work and determination, yes. But it won't be easy, and it won't be quick."

"When can I see her?"

"She's in recovery now. She needs complete rest, but... a brief visit would be acceptable."

I followed Miles through the surgical wing to a private recovery room. The scent of antiseptic was even stronger here, mixed with the herbal compounds used to counteract silver poisoning. Freya lay still on the bed, her face pale but peaceful, her right arm carefully bandaged from fingertips to elbow. The steady beep of monitors confirmed her stable condition.

I approached quietly, almost afraid to disturb the air around her. She looked smaller somehow, more vulnerable than I'd ever allowed myself to see her before. Without thinking, I reached out and gently touched her left hand.

"The surgery was successful," I whispered, knowing she couldn't hear me. "You're not leaving me."

---

After ensuring Freya was stable and comfortable, I turned my attention to another patient in the hospital. I found Miles in the corridor outside Freya's room.

"How is Kaelin's treatment progressing?" I asked, keeping my voice neutral despite the surge of anger I felt at merely speaking her name.

Miles's expression became guarded. "Per your... suggestion, we're proceeding with caution. She can see light now, but her vision remains very blurry. We could restore her sight more quickly, but I've told her we need to ensure safety first."

I nodded, a cold satisfaction settling in my chest. "I think it's time I pay her a visit."

Kaelin's room was in a different wing of the hospital, one reserved for high-ranking pack members. When I entered, the lights were dimmed to accommodate her sensitivity. She turned toward the sound of the door opening, her eyes unfocused but seeking.

"Thorne?" Her voice was soft, vulnerable. "You finally came... I thought you'd forgotten about me." The hurt in her tone was perfect, the wounded innocence expertly crafted.

I remained standing at the foot of her bed, studying her. How many times had I fallen for this act? How many times had I rushed to comfort and protect her, never questioning the convenient timing of her symptoms?

"Is there something you'd like to tell me, Kaelin?" My voice was dangerously calm.

She blinked in confusion, her head tilting slightly. "What do you mean? I... I just missed you. You haven't been to see me in days."

"Nothing about Freya you'd like to share?" I watched her carefully, noting the slight tensing of her shoulders at the mention of Freya's name.

"What about her?" Kaelin's confusion seemed genuine, but I could smell the faint trace of anxiety rising from her skin. "Did you... did you find out something?"

"Didn't you tell me she was responsible for your blindness? That she pushed you into Derek's path?"

Kaelin nodded quickly, eagerly. "Yes! Yes, that's what happened. She pushed me and then that monster put silver in my eyes." Her hands twisted in the bedsheets. "Thorne, did you discover something? You have to punish her severely!"

I watched her performance with a detached fascination. Had she always been this transparent, or was I only seeing it now because I knew to look?

"I will thoroughly investigate," I said evenly. "And I promise, whoever is truly responsible will face severe consequences."

I turned to leave, and Kaelin's voice took on a panicked edge. "Thorne, wait! My moon phase syndrome is acting up again! Please, don't leave me!"

The desperation in her voice was real, but not for the reason she wanted me to believe. I paused at the door but didn't look back at her.

"You can't use that excuse to bind me anymore," I said coldly, and closed the door behind me with a finality that felt like the slamming of a gavel.