The Alpha's Exiled Mate Chapter 75

Thorne's POV

As I climbed the stairs to the attic level where the servants' quarters were located, I extended my senses, searching for Freya's distinctive scent. It was there, but... different. Tinged with determination and a strange mixture of relief and regret.

I paused outside her door, listening. The soft sounds of movement came from within—not the rustling of bedsheets that would indicate rest, but the more purposeful sounds of activity. Without knocking, I opened the door.

Freya stood by a small desk, her back to me. Scattered across the surface were drawings and digital sketches—designs of some kind, intricate and beautiful. At my entrance, she whirled around, her expression shifting from concentration to shock.

"Alpha Thorne," she gasped, instinctively moving to stand in front of her work. "I didn't hear you return."

I stepped into the room, my gaze moving from her face to the papers she was attempting to hide. "What are you working on, Freya?"

She hesitated, clearly debating whether to lie. Finally, she stepped aside, revealing the designs. "A submission for the full moon ritual design competition," she admitted. "The one sponsored by the Silverstone Pack."

I stared at the elaborate sketches, recognizing immediately the talent they displayed. The designs were stunning—innovative yet respectful of tradition, bold yet harmonious. They were also, unmistakably, created for Jasper Stone's territory.

"You're designing a ritual for Silverstone," I stated flatly. "For my rival."

Freya lifted her chin. "The competition is open to all wolves with design experience. The prize is fifty thousand silver coins."

"And you need money so badly that you'd offer your talents to Stone?" I couldn't keep the edge from my voice.

"I need a future," she replied quietly. "This competition could give me that."

I moved closer to examine the designs. They truly were exceptional—far beyond what most ritual designers could create. In another time, under different circumstances, Riley Designs had been renowned throughout wolf territories for their innovation and beauty.

"You can't enter," I said finally, gathering the papers in one swift movement. "You're an exile with a criminal record. The competition rules explicitly exclude wolves with your history."

Her eyes flashed. "Jasper Stone has already approved my entry. He's made an exception."

The revelation hit me like a physical blow. "You've been in contact with Stone? Behind my back?"

"He contacted me," Freya corrected, reaching for her designs. "And why shouldn't I speak with him? I'm not your prisoner, Alpha Grey."

I held the papers out of her reach, anger building in my chest. "No, you're my responsibility. And while you live under my roof, you will not collaborate with my enemies."

"Jasper Stone is a rival Alpha, not your enemy," Freya argued. "And this is just a design competition, not a political alliance."

"Nothing involving Stone is 'just' anything," I growled. "He's using you, Freya. Can't you see that? He wants to exploit your talents and your history with me."

"At least he values my talents," she shot back. "At least he sees me as more than just an exile to be pitied or a servant to be ordered around."

Her words struck deeper than she knew. Before I could stop myself, I tore the designs in half, then quarters, letting the pieces fall to the floor between us.

Freya's face drained of color, her eyes widening in horror. "What have you done?" she whispered.

"Reminded you of your place," I answered coldly, even as part of me recoiled at my own actions. "You are here to assist with the investigation into Moon Howl, not to advance your career or form alliances with rival Alphas."

She stared at the torn fragments of her work, her hands trembling. When she looked up at me, the pain in her eyes was raw and unfiltered. "My place?" she echoed, her voice breaking. "My place was taken from me three years ago when you sentenced me to exile for crimes I didn't commit. I've been trying to find a new place ever since."

I stepped back, suddenly aware of how cruel my actions had been. Destroying her work—her chance at rebuilding something of her former life—was beneath me. But I couldn't take it back now.

"You cannot leave Grey territory until your debt to the pack is paid," I said instead, falling back on formality to mask my regret. "And you cannot enter Stone's competition. That's final."

I turned to leave, pausing at the door. "I expect you at dinner to continue your treatment of my wound. Don't make me send someone to fetch you."

As I closed the door behind me, I heard a soft, broken sound—halfway between a sob and a growl. The sound of a wolf trapped between despair and rage.

And I had put her there.

---

Freya's POV

I sank to my knees among the torn fragments of my designs, a hollowness spreading through my chest. Hours of work, destroyed in seconds. My chance at recognition, at rebuilding some small part of my former life, scattered across the floor like confetti.

My wolf whined, pressing against the boundaries of my consciousness. She didn't understand the politics or the pride—she only knew that the Alpha, the one whose scent had become familiar and almost welcome, had hurt us. Had taken something precious and destroyed it.

With trembling hands, I gathered the pieces, though I knew they could never be properly reassembled. The digital versions still existed on my tablet, but recreating the hand-drawn elements would take days I no longer had.

"You have the money," a voice in my head reminded me. "Five hundred thousand silver coins. You don't need this competition anymore."

But it had never been just about the money. It was about proving to myself—and to the world—that I was still Freya Riley, talented designer and proud wolf, not just "the exile" or "the servant." It was about reclaiming a piece of my identity that had been stripped away with my family's disgrace.

And Thorne had understood that perfectly. That's why he'd torn up my designs—not because he feared Jasper Stone's influence, but because he knew exactly how much this opportunity meant to me.

I curled in on myself, my forehead touching the floor as a wave of despair washed over me. Three years ago, I had loved Thorne Grey with all the naive passion of youth. I had believed in his integrity, his fairness, his strength. Even after he sentenced me to exile, some foolish part of me had clung to the belief that he had been misled, that he hadn't known the truth.

But now I saw clearly: Thorne Grey was exactly what he appeared to be—an Alpha who valued control above all else. Who would rather destroy than allow something to exist beyond his influence.

The kiss we'd shared meant nothing to him. The moments of connection, the brief flashes of the boy I'd once known—they were illusions, mirages in the desert of my desperate loneliness.

I rose slowly, wiping tears I hadn't realized I'd shed. Kaelin's money sat in my account, the promise of freedom tantalizingly close. But Thorne's words echoed in my ears: *"You cannot leave Grey territory until your debt to the pack is paid."*

He would hunt me if I ran. I had no doubt of that. And no matter how far I went, an Alpha's reach was long, especially one as powerful as Thorne Grey.

I was trapped, more thoroughly than I had been in the Silver Shackle Prison. There, at least, I had known my sentence would eventually end. Here, in Grey Estate, under Thorne's thumb, I could see no end to my captivity.

My wolf howled inside me, a sound of pure anguish that never reached my human throat. In that moment, I hated Thorne Grey more than I had ever hated anyone—more than Kaelin, more than Cole Raine, more than the nameless enforcers who had beaten me in prison.

I hated him because, despite everything, some treacherous part of me still remembered the taste of his lips, the strength of his arms, the way his eyes had softened when he looked at me in the moonlight.

And that memory, more than any silver chain or exile mark, was the cruelest prison of all.