The Alpha's Exiled Mate Chapter 86

Thorne's POV

My wolf was pacing anxiously beneath my skin as I watched Freya's chest rise and fall with shallow, rapid breaths. Her face was flushed with fever, an unnatural crimson against the stark white of my pillows. I'd been calling her name for minutes now, but she remained unresponsive, her body radiating heat that was excessive even for a werewolf.

"Damn it," I muttered, reaching for my phone.

I dialed Dr. Maloy's number, my finger tapping impatiently against the phone case as I waited. The old Beta had been treating Grey Alphas for three generations. If anyone could figure out what was wrong with Freya, it would be him.

"Alpha Thorne," he answered on the third ring, his voice still rough with sleep. "What can I do for you at this early hour?"

"I need you at the estate immediately," I said, my voice clipped with urgency. "Freya Riley is running a dangerously high fever and won't respond."

There was a pause, then a rustling sound as the doctor presumably got out of bed. "The Riley girl? I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Make it fifteen," I said and ended the call.

I turned back to Freya, studying her face. Even in this state, with her hair tangled from sleep and her skin flushed with fever, there was something that drew me to her. The wolf in me whined, urging me to protect what it considered mine.

*She's not mine*, I reminded myself harshly. *She never was*.

Yet I couldn't stop myself from brushing a strand of hair from her forehead, my fingers lingering against her burning skin. The moon-shaped birthmark on her neck seemed to pulse with a faint silvery light, a testament to her Riley bloodline.

True to his word, Dr. Maloy arrived in fifteen minutes. Edith showed him up to my quarters, her face carefully neutral as she took in the sight of Freya in my bed. I dismissed her with a nod and turned my attention to the doctor.

"She's been like this since I woke," I explained as he set his medical bag on the nightstand. "Her temperature is far above normal, even for one of us."

Dr. Maloy nodded, his expression grave as he began his examination. He checked her pulse, listened to her breathing, and lifted her eyelids to examine her pupils. Then he carefully turned her arms, revealing angry red welts along her skin that I hadn't noticed before.

"What is this?" I demanded, my voice dropping to a dangerous growl.

"Chemical burns," Dr. Maloy said, his tone clinical but concerned. "Rather severe ones, I'd say. They're inflamed and infected, which is causing the fever." He looked up at me, his gray eyebrows drawn together. "Has she been working with any caustic substances? Industrial cleaners, perhaps?"

My mind raced back to the previous day. I'd been at court, then at the club with Ryder and Sebastian, coming home drunk. Freya had been... I frowned, trying to piece together the fragmented memories. She'd helped me to bed, and I'd asked her to stay. But before that—what had she been doing?

"I don't know," I admitted. "She works as household staff, but I don't believe she handles industrial cleaners."

Dr. Maloy gently pressed on one of the welts, and Freya moaned in her sleep, her face contorting with pain. My wolf snarled in response, not liking to see her hurt.

"These aren't from casual exposure," the doctor said, his voice hardening. "This looks like direct contact with high-concentration cleaning agents or corrosive substances. The pattern suggests it was splashed onto her skin."

I felt my eyes begin to shift, gold bleeding into my irises as anger built in my chest. "Are you suggesting someone did this to her deliberately?"

Dr. Maloy met my gaze steadily, unafraid despite my obvious anger. "I'm suggesting that these burns weren't accidental, Alpha Thorne. Someone either deliberately exposed her to these chemicals, or she was trapped in a situation where she couldn't avoid them."

The doctor opened his bag and began preparing an IV. "She's severely dehydrated, and the infection has spread. I need to start antibiotics immediately and treat these burns before they cause permanent damage."

I nodded, stepping back to give him space to work. My mind was racing, piecing together the events of the past month. Freya had been ill several times since coming to the estate—more than would be expected for a werewolf, whose natural healing abilities should prevent most common illnesses.

"Could she be doing this to herself?" I asked abruptly. "As some form of protest against being kept here?"

Dr. Maloy looked up from inserting the IV needle into Freya's arm. "Self-harm isn't impossible, but these burns are in places difficult to reach on one's own," he said. "And frankly, Alpha, if she wanted to protest, there are less painful ways."

I paced the length of my bedroom, my wolf agitated beneath my skin. If Freya wasn't responsible for her own condition, then someone else in the household was. The thought of anyone under my roof daring to harm someone under my protection—regardless of her exile status—made my blood boil.

"I need to know who's responsible for this," I said, my voice barely above a growl.

Dr. Maloy nodded as he hung the IV bag on a makeshift stand created from a lamp. "I'll stay with her for now. The antibiotics will take time to work, but they should bring the fever down."

A knock at the door interrupted us. Edith entered after my curt "Come in," her eyes widening slightly at the medical equipment now surrounding Freya.

"Alpha, breakfast is ready in the dining room," she announced, her voice carefully neutral. "Shall I have it brought up here instead?"

"No," I said after a moment's consideration. "I'll come down. Have someone bring coffee for Dr. Maloy."

---

As I followed Edith downstairs, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that I was missing something important. The staff had been acting strangely yesterday—nervous, avoiding my gaze. I'd assumed it was related to Kaelin's visit, but now I wondered if there was more to it.

The dining room was quiet when I entered, only Martha moving efficiently around the table, setting out platters of food. She looked up when I entered, her face paling slightly.

"Alpha Thorne," she greeted me with a small bow. "I was just—" She paused, glancing around. "Is Miss Freya not with you? I haven't seen her this morning."

Something in her tone caught my attention. Concern, yes, but also something else—knowledge, perhaps?

"She's unwell," I said, studying Martha's reaction. "Dr. Maloy is with her now."

Martha's hand flew to her chest, her eyes widening with genuine alarm. "Doctor? Is it serious? What happened to her?"

I took my seat at the head of the table, gesturing for Martha to join me—an unusual request that clearly surprised her. "That's what I'm trying to determine. Dr. Maloy found chemical burns on her skin. They've become infected."

"Oh, Moon Mother," Martha whispered, her face crumpling with distress. "I knew something was wrong when I found her yesterday, but I didn't realize—"

"Found her?" I interrupted, leaning forward. "What do you mean, 'found her'?"