Page 77 of Alpha's Unclaimed Mate

That’s my father’s deep voice. He sent her away.

As the staff leaves the room, he comes over and sits beside me. His frame is weak and there are dark circles under his eyes, but there’s still a quiet strength in his presence.

There’s the slightest of smiles on his face as he grips my shoulder, the pressure strong but comforting. “I’m proud of you.”

It takes me a moment to register those words.Proud of me?The concept feels alien. I’ve always been a disappointment to him, the son who couldn’t measure up.

He leans in closer, gently touching my wrist, as if he wants me to believe his words. I want to, but I don’t. I can’t.

“Why?”

He holds my gaze, and his words are more deliberate this time. “Because you’ve started putting others before yourself.”

As he pulls me in for a hug, a lightness I’ve never felt before starts coursing through me like a cool breeze. My current pain and the years of bitterness between us are forgotten as I cry on his shoulder.

He passes me tissues and we stay like that for a while, until he finally moves away and smiles at me.

“Win her back.”

His words have me thinking, even after he walks out.

Over the next two hours, the door to my room opens multiple times to bring in food, drinks, medicines... I refuse everything—until my fated mate walks in.

With two massive bags in her hands.

She freezes by the door as she sees me sitting up. Her eyes rake all over me, scanning, frowning. I can’t imagine what I look like. I’m sure the cuts, bruises, and bandages might make me look worse than I feel.

I offer her a small smile before my gaze drops from her plump lips to her heaving chest.

“Typical,” she mutters, kicking the door closed with the back of her shoe and setting the bags aside with a soft thud. With her back to me, she continues to mutter while pulling things out of the bag.

"Ouch!"

She spins faster than a top, abandoning everything to rush to my side. “What happened?”

My pulse quickens as a smirk tries to tug at my lips. This might be my chance. I quickly suppress it, forcing a grimace instead, hoping it looks convincing.

“I think it’s my nerves,” I say, extending my palm. “My fingers are throbbing. Pain keeps shooting up my hand.”

She winces and sits beside me, her brow furrowed in concern. Her hands, surprisingly gentle, begin to work on my hand. Her eyes are not on mine, but there’s a faint blush coating her cheeks. Sparks dance all over my skin.

Oh, I’msogoing to milk this now.

Just as she is about to stop, I extend my other hand to her. She narrows her eyes for a second before starting to massage it.

“We can’t have one hand feeling neglected,” I say, wiggling my fingers dramatically. “I know you don’t like favoritism.”

She rolls her eyes, but continues working the other hand anyway.

“Has Leon been okay?” I ask softly.

She nods, looking everywhere but at me. “Yeah. He was here the first two days. I took him back after you spooked him by talking in your sleep.”

By the way the color deepens across her cheeks, I have a feeling I made a fool of myself in my sleep. “What did I say?”

“Gibberish.” She shakes her head, but her grip tightens around my hand.

Interesting.“Who’s he with now?”

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