The Alpha's Exiled Mate Chapter 78

Freya's POV

I stared at her without recognition, my wolf too close to the surface to process human speech. The scent of another wolf registered, but in my confused state, I couldn't identify it as friend or foe. A low growl rumbled in my chest, more fearful than threatening.

"It's Martha," she said gently, keeping her movements slow and deliberate. "You're safe now. I'm going to take you upstairs."

She reached out cautiously, and I flinched away, my back pressing against the cold stone wall. In my mind, I was back in Silver Shackle, guards approaching with moon-silver restraints, the pain that would follow.

Martha recognized the signs of trauma. "I won't hurt you," she murmured, releasing calming pheromones that only a wolf would detect. "Remember my scent, little one. Martha from the kitchen. I baked cinnamon rolls that you liked."

Slowly, recognition dawned. My nostrils flared, taking in her familiar scent—flour and herbs and motherly concern. My rigid posture relaxed slightly.

"M-Martha?" I whispered, my voice raw.

"Yes, child. Let's get you warm."

With gentle hands, she helped me to my feet. My legs buckled immediately, and Martha caught me, supporting my weight as we slowly made our way up the stairs. The light from the hallway was blinding after so many hours in darkness, and I turned my face against Martha's shoulder with a pained whimper.

"Who did this to you?" Martha asked, her voice tight with anger as she guided me toward the kitchen.

I shook my head, unwilling or unable to answer. My thoughts were still scattered, my wolf too close to the surface for complex speech. But as we entered the warmth of the kitchen, memories of the previous day began to return—Rebecca and Diane leading me to the basement, the sound of the door locking, their mocking laughter, their accusations about my family and Kaelin.

Martha settled me in a chair by the kitchen fire, wrapping a thick blanket around my shoulders. The warmth began to thaw my frozen limbs, bringing with it a rush of pain as circulation returned. I bit back a cry, tears streaming down my face.

"Those wretched girls," Martha muttered, preparing a mug of hot sweet tea. "I heard them whispering. Did Rebecca and Diane lock you in there?"

I nodded weakly, accepting the tea with trembling hands. "They... they knew what they were doing. Kaelin... told them about me. They took my tablet... my designs..."

Martha's expression hardened. "I'm reporting this to Alpha Grey immediately."

"No!" The word burst from me with unexpected force. "Please, no. It will only make things worse."

"Worse? Freya, they locked you in a freezing basement overnight! You could have developed hypothermia. You're still showing signs of shock."

I shook my head, clutching the warm mug like a lifeline. "If I complain, the rest of the staff will turn against me even more. They believe Kaelin's version of events—that I tried to harm her, that my family are traitors. I'm already an outsider here."

Martha's gaze softened with sympathy. "Oh, child. Is that why you're planning to leave?"

I looked up, startled. "How did you—"

"I've been a Beta for longer than you've been alive. I know when someone's making exit plans." She sighed, sitting down across from me. "The design competition, yes? For the Silverstone Pack?"

I nodded, too exhausted to deny it. "I was going to use the prize money to start over somewhere new. But Thorne found out and... destroyed my designs." My voice broke on the last words. "And now I can't even leave if I wanted to. He's made it clear I'm not allowed to go."

"Yet you've already taken money from Kaelin Brooks to do exactly that," Martha said shrewdly. "You've put yourself in a dangerous position."

"I know," I whispered, staring into my tea. "I took her money, promised to leave, but Thorne won't let me go. And even if I could leave, I don't know where I'd go. The competition was my chance to rebuild something of my old life, to use my skills again. Without that..." I trailed off, the hopelessness of my situation crushing down on me.

Martha reached across the table to pat my hand. "Rest today. I'll tell the others you're ill—which isn't far from the truth."

I nodded gratefully, too drained to argue. As I rose to return to my room, I noticed other staff members in the hallway, watching me with a mixture of curiosity and avoidance. News of my overnight imprisonment had clearly spread, but no one approached to offer help or sympathy. In their eyes, I was still just an exile, an outsider, unworthy of their concern.

The isolation stung, but it wasn't new. I'd lived with it for three years in the Wastes. I could endure it here, too, at least until I found a way out of this impossible situation.

---

I had just reached the servants' staircase when a commanding voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Riley."

I turned slowly, my body protesting every movement. Alpha Thorne Grey stood at the end of the hallway, his tall figure silhouetted against the morning light. His scent reached me—pine and winter air and power—triggering a confusing mixture of fear and longing in my wolf.

"Alpha Grey," I acknowledged, keeping my eyes lowered, partly out of protocol and partly to hide the lingering trauma I knew must be visible in them.

He approached with measured steps, his gaze assessing. "You missed breakfast preparation. Martha says you're unwell."

It wasn't quite a question, but his tone demanded an answer.

"Yes, Alpha. I apologize for the inconvenience."

He studied me for a long moment, his nostrils flaring slightly as he took in my scent. I knew what he would detect—fear, cold, exhaustion, the mustiness of the basement still clinging to my clothes and hair.

"Come to the dining room," he said finally. "I wish to speak with you."