The Alpha's Exiled Mate Chapter 43

Freya's POV

My legs felt leaden as I climbed the stairs to the east wing. I made beds, dusted surfaces, and replaced towels in four guest rooms, moving more slowly with each task as my energy flagged. By the time I finished, my vision occasionally blurred at the edges, and I had to steady myself against furniture more than once.

When I finally made it back to the kitchen, dinner service was over. I found a plate of scraps set aside—the usual arrangement that ensured I'd never starve completely—but it was little more than crusts of bread and bone with scraps of meat still clinging to it. I ate it all, then drank three glasses of water, trying to fill the emptiness in my stomach.

Three days passed in much the same manner. I was given the most menial tasks, often assigned just before mealtimes, ensuring I received only the coldest, poorest leftovers. I slept in short, restless bursts, plagued by nightmares of Silver Shackle and the Wilds. My body grew weaker each day, but I forced myself to continue.

Then came the wine cellar incident.

It was early evening, and I had just finished scrubbing the marble floors in the east hall—a task that seemed designed to remind me of my first night at Grey Estate—when Edith approached with a new assignment.

"Alpha Thorne requires a specific bottle of wine from the cellar for tonight," she informed me, her voice crisp. "A 1982 Château Margaux. It's in the far corner of the reserve section, on the bottom shelf. Do not touch anything else, and do not, under any circumstances, drop that bottle. It's worth more than you are."

The wine cellar beneath Grey Estate was vast and dimly lit, with row upon row of bottles stored in wooden racks that reached from floor to ceiling. The air was cool and carried the rich scent of aged oak and cork. I moved carefully through the narrow aisles, squinting at labels in the low light, my empty stomach occasionally grumbling.

The reserve section was at the back, behind a decorative iron gate that stood open. I knelt on the cold stone floor, scanning the dusty bottles on the bottom shelf, my fingers tracing the labels gently.

Finally, I found it—the 1982 Château Margaux, its label yellowed with age. I reached for it carefully, but as I began to lift it from the rack, a hunger pang made me pause momentarily. The bottle wobbled slightly in my grip.

In that moment, a strong hand reached out from beside me, firmly grasping the bottle. A large palm, connected to a powerful arm wrapped in a dark gray wool suit.

My breath caught in my throat as I looked up into Thorne Grey's golden eyes.

He stood right in front of me, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. In the narrow space between the racks, our bodies were almost pressed together, his broad chest just inches from my face, his scent completely enveloping me—the familiar mint and metal now mixed with a subtle cologne that made the wolf inside me want to lean closer, to breathe him in deeply.

"Careful," his deep voice seemed to vibrate directly from his chest, resonating through my body, "this bottle costs more than most cars."

I tried to step back, but the wine rack behind me prevented any retreat. Thorne straightened, the bottle secure in his grip, but he didn't move away. Instead, his eyes narrowed as they studied my face.

"Are you feeling unwell?" he asked, his tone neutral but gaze unexpectedly perceptive.

"I'm fine," I replied quickly, forcing my voice to sound stronger than I felt. "Just focused on not dropping your wine."

He continued studying me, clearly not entirely convinced. "You look pale."

"The lighting down here isn't exactly flattering," I attempted a small smile, desperate to end his scrutiny. The last thing I needed was for Alpha Thorne to think I couldn't handle even simple tasks. Being seen as weak would only make my position here more precarious.

He opened his mouth as if to press further when his phone rang. With a slight frown, he pulled it from his pocket, glanced at the screen, and then back at me.

"I need to take this," he said, already lifting the phone to his ear. He held up the wine bottle. "I'll take this with me. Return to your duties."

As he turned to walk away, speaking in clipped tones about contract terms and delivery schedules, I leaned against the wine rack and exhaled deeply. Relief washed over me—not just because he was gone, but because he hadn't realized how truly exhausted I was becoming.

I couldn't afford to show weakness. Not here, not in front of him. I straightened my uniform, took a deep breath, and headed back upstairs to continue my work, ignoring the growing emptiness in my stomach and the heaviness in my limbs.

The days that followed brought no relief to my situation at Grey Estate. Edith's hostility remained constant, and the pattern of missed meals continued. Each day, I felt my strength ebbing further, my body becoming lighter yet somehow heavier to move. At night, I would lie awake, too hungry to sleep properly, then drag myself through the next day's tasks on determination alone.

I didn't see Thorne again during that time. He was either away from the estate or deliberately avoiding areas where I worked. I told myself I was grateful for his absence, but part of me—the wolf part, surely—remained acutely aware of his presence in the building, tracking his scent and the distant sound of his voice.

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On Saturday morning, nearly a week after the wine cellar incident, Edith assigned me to the gardens.

"The rare specimens in the west garden need trimming," she informed me, handing me a pair of specialized pruning shears. "Be extremely careful. Those plants were cultivated by Alpha Thorne's mother before her passing. Each one is irreplaceable and more valuable than you can imagine. If you damage even one, you'll answer to the Alpha himself."

The west garden was a sanctuary of exotic plants and flowers, arranged in elegant beds around a central fountain. It was early enough that dew still clung to the petals and leaves, catching the morning light like scattered diamonds. I moved through the garden carefully, referring to the diagram Edith had provided, identifying the plants that needed attention.

As I worked, memories surfaced unbidden. Three years ago, I had come to Grey Estate seeking Thorne, full of hope and misplaced confidence. I had been so certain of my welcome.

Instead, he had barely acknowledged me, treating me like an unwelcome interruption to his day. Even then, knowing he viewed me with indifference at best, I had harbored feelings for him—a schoolgirl crush that had blinded me to reality.

I snipped a dead bloom from a rare orchid, my movements precise despite my wandering thoughts and the tremor in my hands that had become more pronounced each day. The growing weakness in my body frightened me, but I had nowhere to turn for help.

Thorne had never given me any reason to believe he returned my feelings, I reflected. He'd made it perfectly clear he wasn't interested. Yet I kept pursuing him, convinced I could change his mind.

My fingers traced the crescent-shaped birthmark on my neck, partially hidden by my uniform's collar. This mark, unique to the Riley bloodline, had once been a source of pride. Now it was just another reminder of all I had lost.